Living Mist from the Jaws of Darkness

Note to reader:

For the hurting and hurt.

For the in pain and healing.

For the afraid and lost.

For the silenced and oppressed.

For the courageous warriors.

As I’ve battled with excruciating jaw pain out of nowhere for 16* days, God has shown me multiple visions. The pain is still there making my words jumbled, my spirit weary, and the darkness heavy as this spiritual attack wages. Nevertheless, somehow I know, these words and the power of Love need to be read now. Because I know Who wins, because I have that same power in me, and because God will not be silenced, I speak what He has shown me so far… Get ready my brave friends, choose courage, and yes, please keep praying. *Also, please share, God is chasing someone into His Love with these words…

Living Mist from the Jaws of darkness

by Justine Froelker

I am shackled in a way I have never seen before. Thick cuffs around both wrists with heavy chains up to another thick cuff around my throat. That isn’t where it stops, though. From the cuff around my throat are more chains that lead to an impenetrable armor that goes around the back of my head, along my jaw and covers my mouth. There is a small suffocating grate for breath in front of my mouth. The armor is locked, tight, and painful – my eyes scared, breath short and shallow.

Jesus stands before me, we’re on the threshing floor, our threshing floor. Still surrounded by the fields of wheat, He has shown me to be the promises of God’s harvest for me. 

It is dark and sunny at the same time, and the air is thick.

I look at Jesus, unable to speak through the pain and fear, my eyes begging Him to help me. Jesus says,

“This is not of me. This is not of you. Daughter, this is not a lie you are believing. Not an idol you’ve made. Not a punishment. Not a fluke. This is not of this world. This is an attack to keep you quiet and in the darkness. This is not your truth. Your truth is of me. Your truth is me. This is not me.”

With a knowing of the dark spirit upon me, I try to breathe. I try to speak.

Only pain.

Suddenly I hear the gush of the summer sky open up with heavy rain even though it is still sunny out. The concrete steams, and a smirkish twinkle comes into Jesus’ eyes.

Jesus looks into me as I am soaked in the showers of his healing grace and love. The steel chains, bondages, and locks disintegrating with each raindrop. Nothing even left to be blown like chaff from the threshing floor. I am washed clean, only the steam rising up from the threshing floor, a mist of Spirit.

I go outside in hopes to see the promise of God in a rainbow, I mean the conditions are perfect, right?

Except, nothing.

I praise still.

The pain returns, and worse.

I am weary.

Very weary.

Feeling the prayers of my sisters’, laughter comes a bit followed by a good night’s rest.

As I am googling for relief God reminds me, Daughter, this is not of this world, it will not be fixed of this world.

***

Listening to my sister Rebecca pray over me for the second time, I am overcome with breath-stealing sobs.

I see the shackles, chains, and armor again – it not loosed. Not even a little. Tight and even more painful still. 

I am getting scared.

I am scared.

I see and feel a mist come from the grate that is over my mouth in the armor around my jaw, as if no matter what the enemy tries, no matter how much pain, no matter how long this lasts, I will speak. 

God will speak through me. 

A mist of Spirit from me, still from me who is shackled, in pain, and weary.

The pain is greater through the sobs, and fear settles into my soul as the pain only increases.

Remember, daughter, I will not be silenced.

I can’t do this like this, Father, I can’t.

We will.

Remember.

From the beginning, a mist welled up from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground.

Daughter, this is me. 

This is me in you.

Drink up.

Speak.

Soak the earth.

We will win.

***

Gertie lays her head directly on top of the knot in my jaw and rubs along the tension for what feels like a few minutes. God, are we sure these dogs aren’t your angels? I laugh as she makes eye contact as if winking and saying, of course, we are.

Suddenly, I am back shackled and silenced in pain on the threshing floor, standing in front of Jesus, again in our spot upon the threshing floor. The floor I fought for my life in January after a severe allergic reaction, the floor where I broke the contract of disappointment, the floor where Jesus has shown me the great harvest that is coming, and now the floor where I battle with the spirit of death, fear, and hate as it tries to stop me from speaking.

Jesus reminds me with a pull of His eyebrow and half-smile,

“Remember, you have My sword.”

I glance down and realize I am holding His sword of Spirit. My eyes are opened in an instant to see the full armor upon me, my full armor of God, there this whole time.

I feel the heavy sword in my hand – looking down at it knowing I will never be able to lift it in my weary state. Jesus takes my armored jaw, chin in His hand, lifting my face to His just as the strength of Him courses through my body to lift the sword up to break off the opposite wrist chain. With a loud crash and a bright spark together, we lift it breaking the other wrist free. And without a word from either of us, I take my hands up to my jaw – all the time looking at Jesus – ripping off the neck collar and jaw armor in one loud swoop. It crashes to the threshing floor with a loud clang. 

“Am I possibly free? Without pain? Could it be?” I both ask and beg Him.

And with the same smirkish twinkle in His eyes, Jesus grins right as a mist rises from the threshing floor soaking me once more.

Go.

Speak.

Go and water the earth.

***

My friend Brooke prays and speaks and anoints my home and me. My body rushes with warm Holy Spirit from head to toe as she lays hands on me praying in tongues. The tension lifts. Of course, it lifts a bit, satan is not welcome here, and he knows it.

I will speak. In pain still, with less fear and more knowing, I know I must keep going. As I begin working on this very piece the pain hits without a warning. The jolt immediately sends pain into my skull, entire face, and down my neck. As if the enemy is saying, “don’t even try,” with each throb of pulsing pain.

Oh, how much he underestimates me and my Jesus.

I see the big steel lock on my jaw muscle, the knot that feels like it could literally take me deep down into the darkness and kill me.

The darkness tells me it is there for forever, saying, “See how much and how long you can really keep going. It is locked and you don’t have the key and neither does your Savior”, darkness snarls at me.

“We don’t need a fucking key!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I reach up with my left hand. My arm that is adorned with the birthstone butterflies of our would-be three babies. I grasp the cold lock in my hand as it burns into the palm of my hand. Looking back at Jesus, and with a smirk of knowing in both of us, I crush the lock off my jaw. The ash of the pulverized steel floats softly to the ground of the threshing floor through my tight fist.

Can it possibly be over? Please now, take this pain God.

And Jesus says,

“It was always over. It was over the day I loved you so much I died on the cross for you. Daughter, walk into this love and receive your anointed call.”

“What about him?” I ask glancing first down at the powdered steel lock and then beside me at the spirit of darkness.

“What about him? He doesn’t stand a chance my warrior daughter.”

Again, my eyes are opened to see the chariots of fire, my armor, shield, and sword, my community of intercessors and healers, the fields full of harvest and His great angel armies.

Surrounded.

Surrounded in the fight.

Held in the pain.

The enemy can keep trying. he has gotten me to believe his lies before, to contract with trauma, to believe I am invisible, to be too scared to speak, and to doubt the love and faithfulness of God.

he has nearly won, or so he has thought.

Not this time.

Not ever.

his attempts to silence me, most of all to squelch the light of Jesus, are for naught because I am a stubborn ass, passionate, determined warrior daughter of the One True King. I have His healing power, love, and grace coursing through me under this armor, even if it includes painful locks and chains on me right now.

His great love, His great grace, His great Light, and His great power in me will not be silenced.

Daughters and Sons, this is me. 

This is me in you.

Drink up.

Speak.

Soak the earth.

We will win.

***

*I am in God’s armor. His presence and power and my light shining bright through and from under it, back on the threshing floor with Jesus.

Jesus knows I am asking to crawl up in His lap, wrapped in His love. Instead He takes me up in our dance. My face on His chest, arms wrapped around one another, suddenly I am swept away, feet on top of His in a wonderful dance.

My pain is less – different. I notice it through my smile just as He takes His scarred hand and places it on top of my jaw picking up speed spinning me around upon the threshing floor. With a quiet crinkling sound the pain dissipates some. I look up at Him, smiling even bigger, feeling the warmth from His chest fill my whole body, just as He takes my left arm, the one adorned with my three, and places my hand over my jaw. 

His scarred hand on top of mine.

His pierced by darkness, mine by loss. 

Scar upon scar. 

Scar covered by scar.

Scar healed by scar.

With a quick glance from Him again my eyes are opened suddenly to see them behind us playing amongst the fields of harvest on the hill. Their squeals of joy and laughter fill the air.

My three.

My three in our harvest.

Tears of great promise and forever wonder stream from my eyes. No longer tears of fear and pain, the healing water flows through and from me into the waiting for harvest fields. The slight trickle soon gushes to a strong babble which makes my three turn around looking back at our Jesus and me – their mama, upon the threshing floor.

With their three smiles somehow the tear-filled streams rise up the hills towards them through the promised harvest Jesus and I have been planting for many years, the years since they were only born to Him. 

We all stand in awe and wonder at the living water, the same awe and wonder I as their mama have for them every day, now an awe and wonder now looking back at her.

With squeals and splashes, squished noses and crinkled eyes my three look into me, as if saying, “We’re okay mama, we’re better than okay, go and water the earth.”

As quickly as we saw one another, they go back to playing, chasing, splashing, and laughing among the harvest and streams on the hillside. 

Their happiness fills the air.

The babbling streams nourish the hills of harvest.

The rush of Spirit blowing through the fields heals.

And Love courses through it all.

Including me.

***

***

***

One day I will receive a prophetic piece** of art to go with this writing, until then, it felt like this incredible piece by Ed Binkley was perfect to end with (used us permission from the artist). I am also sure there will be additional visions to this journey to share with you all. In the meantime, I could use as many prayer warriors as possible. Also, please refer to the following scriptures that have helped build me up, arm me, and that have been shared by my community in prayer. Genesis 2:6, Genesis 15:17-18, Genesis 15:1, Psalms 91, Hebrews 1:7, Matthew 26:53-54, Joshua 1:9, 2 Kings 19:16, 2 Kings 18:19-19:37, Isaiah 37, Judges 15:14-16, Esther 4:15-16, Job 37:6, Job 5:10, Job 36:27-28, Matthew 11:28-30, Deuteronomy 4:29, Hosea 6:3, Ephesians 6:11, 2 Timothy 1:7.

Scriptures added on 7/14: Psalms 18, Phillipians 1:12-14, Songs 4:15, Psalms 37:3-5, Proverbs 18:45, Isaiah 51:21-23.

Thank you for reading and sharing.

With courageous resilience, expectant hope, and muchness,

Justine

*Edits/additions on 7/14/20

**New artwork by Emily Baker – please email to commission this incredible artist at emilytheresebaker@gmail.com.