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How do YOU respond to the horror of abuse?

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What does abuse feel like? World Race leader Andi Wendel gives us a picture from Guatemala.   This young lady is mentally handicapped. Her name is Lisa. She is 26 years old. She lives in an orphanage that resembles hell. She sees in the spiritual realm. There is a battle raging in and ar…
By Seth Barnes
What does abuse feel like? World Race leader Andi Wendel gives us a picture from Guatemala.
 
small ilsaThis young lady is mentally handicapped. Her name is Lisa. She is 26 years old. She lives in an orphanage that resembles hell. She sees in the spiritual realm. There is a battle raging in and around her.
 
We were there only to clean the grounds yesterday. But I could feel the Spirit leading me to the girl’s dorm. I walked into the main room of the girl’s dormitory at the orphanage, which looks like a 1940s psych ward at a creepy hospital. There are two old metal school desks at one end of the room. A chair in the absolute center of the room. And a TV barely hanging onto the wall at the opposite end. There was one person in the whole dorm. It was Ilsa. She was standing about 4 feet from the chair looking directly at it. Frozen. Tormented.
 
I walked in very slowly. She turned and saw me. She immediately started backing into the corner, terrified of me. She backed away abruptly. I stopped, dropped to my knees, and laid my palms open before her. She still backed away.
 
She got to the wall, and positioned herself directly under the TV, facing the chair still. I stayed kneeling on the floor about 5 feet from her. I started to pray. In English and in the Spirit. Nothing.
 
I started crying. I couldn’t help it. She had such fear all over her. Her eyes kept darting around the room. She was seeing tormentors. I kept praying. I started singing. I was sensing sexual spirits. Harassing spirits. It was awful. I was in pieces before her. She just kept staring, eyes darting. 
 
I said, in English, ‘God loves you.’ She shook her head, ‘no.’ I choked up. I said it again, in English. ‘God loves you.’ Again, a certain head shake, ‘no.’ I said it again, ‘GOD LOVES YOU.’ And again, a head shake. 
 
I felt led to get up– go to her. Slowly. Very slowly. Very humbly, low, peacefully, gracefully. She hesitated. I started singing. She stayed. I moved a little closer. She shook her head. I prayed in the Spirit. I cried out. PEACE! IN THIS ROOM IN JESUS’ NAME! I sang. 
She let me come closer. I reached out my hand, palm up, slowly. She shook her head. I waited. Sang. She looked up at me. Something was breaking. Leaving. I reached my hand closer. She shook her head more. I couldn’t wait any longer. I rested my hand on hers. And an outpouring of the Spirit came off my tongue over her in tears and song. She started to cry. I kept praying peace. I stayed beside her for a long time.small meilsa
 
Finally, something disarmed. She calmed. I felt a release. The atmosphere changed. Ilsa started to move, not frozen anymore. Another girl walked into the room. She started talking to me and Ilsa– looked at me and made the hand motion for, ‘she’s crazy,’ to me– and my heart broke even more. I yearned to know enough Spanish to say, ‘yes, but she sees more clearly than the rest of us do.’ I could only get out, ‘yes, but…’ with some hand motions signifying more.
And I approached Ilsa again. Had my palms out once again, and she received me. Came to me. Hugged me. Clutched me. And clung to me. She smiled.

So I leave you with a question: Suppose you were in Andi’s shoes, how would you respond to Ilsa?

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