Chapter 4: THE GIRDLE OF TRUTH.

MY BREATH WAS coming in fits and starts as we spiraled down the inner wood of that massive tree. I tried to catch my breath. I consoled myself with the exhilarating fact that we had escaped. Granted, we dropped out of there like being dispatched through a trap door-but we were safe.

Even as I accustomed myself to a controlled slide downward, I looked at my surroundings. I had no idea where we were going, but Ruach did not seem worried, so I supposed that this was part of the plan. Intermittently, smaller demons passed us, flying upward. They were intent on reaching their destination, and we were still invisible.

As we slid further from those fallen angels, I began to ruminate on what I had seen in the castle. I believe I was too stunned at first to understand the implications of what I was seeing. I always thought satan had a vise-like grip on all the participants of his organization. But now I saw that, in reality, it was difficult to control them. Rebellion breeds rebellion. If he turned on God, others would turn on him. Not only was I stunned by their undercutting of a leader whom they feared, but I also realized satan was losing control over those under him. He had become scattered, stale. I saw clearly that he had been away from the Light-He who is Life and the source of all fresh, clear thinking. Therefore, he could only repeat his former plans and actions over and over again. He was right; mankind was simple. But we were not going to be fighting this battle-Jesus was. Only He could win against such an old, wily foe as satan.

I began to look at the contents of that hollow tree as I passed downward. Jewels encrusted the inner trunk-but I could tell that they were not real. They did not have the luster. Other desirable "gets" were handily available: furs (fake), gold (fake-it had to be), even antiques and oil paintings (all fake, I was sure). There were stacks of fake Dresden china and plastic for crystal, rolls of knockoff Persian rugs, and plaster copies of statuary. The inside of the tree was like a warehouse of all that looked good but was worthless. What was this tree anyway? Was it the other tree in the garden? Even as the tree of life was still in the garden of God above, was this-? I dared to think: Was this the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? "Of course, of course," I said to myself. "If the tree of life is above, the other tree in the garden would have its taproot plunging into Hell." I had wondered where it had gone, but I knew that all that seems "good" without God is flesh.

Did I witness the first chink in the armor that eventually would lead to the disintegration of all satan's plans of ascending to Heaven and raising his throne above "the stars of God"? Had he read Isaiah's prophecy? "What am I thinking?" I asked myself. "Probably, he was listening when it was given." I thought I might be able to remember it, so I mumbled it to myself as I continued downward: "How you have fallen from Heaven, O star of the morning, Son of the dawn! You have been cut down to the earth, You who have weakened the nations! "But you said in your heart, 'I will ascend to Heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God, And I will sit on the mount of assembly In the recesses of the north. 'I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.' "Nevertheless, you will be thrust down to Sheol, To the recesses of the pit. "Those who see you will gaze at you, They will ponder over you, saying, 'Is this the man who made the earth tremble, Who shook kingdoms, Who made the world like a wilderness And overthrew its cities, Who did not allow his prisoners to go home?" "Oh dear God," I said within myself, "what are You showing me?" Then reality set in with sobering clarity. The unity of hate was actually fragile. All manner of treachery grows in the dark, and even as open battle was destroying the earth, in darkness satan's kingdom was unraveling-moving all of us closer to fulfilling Isaiah's prophecy. With a thud, we arrived at the base of the slide. Thank heavens, it was not Hell as I had feared.

The entryway at the bottom of the slide was a tangle of tree roots. It looked something like the rotunda from which we had escaped-but now, instead of the top of the tree, it seemed to be the root system. I wondered what fed a tree whose fruit was "the flesh." Some of the roots were so large they seemed to house rooms and multiple tunnels. Ruach spoke out loud to me: "Do you have your footing?" He became visible (except His face). He was wearing a wheat-colored robe that hid His gleaming armor. I answered that I did. The floor on which we were now standing was dirt. Bugs and other insects were crawling in and out of the soil: worms, nightcrawlers, black beetles, spiders, and the like-those you might find if you turned over a rotted log in the forest. The smell was moist, rich, and woodsy. "Where are we?" I asked as I regained my equilibrium. The cloak of invisibility disappeared. "Oh goodness," I thought, "I don't want to lose that."

"You will not," Ruach said, reading my thoughts. He continued, "Before you join your Beloved on the field of battle, the Lord must test your armor. This is your proving ground. Until your armor is tested, you are a liability to yourself and others.

"Goodness," I said, "I don't want that. How do I test the armor?" "You do not," He said, "The Holy Spirit applies the tests-given when you least expect them. It is up to the soldier of the cross to pass through these tests. Depending upon your heartfelt decisions, you will either move forward or be given an opportunity to try again." "The same test?" "The same." "No pressure," I singsonged under my breath. "Shall we?" asked Ruach formally with a bow. He gestured toward the massive, nearby root. The sign over the broad doorway read: "Thieves' Market."

I quietly said, "Lord, help me," as I passed in front of Ruach to enter the poorly lit tunnel. One string of colored Christmas tree lights hung willy-nilly to provide partial illumination. However, there was brilliant light at the end of the tunnel. Therefore, both Ruach and I increased our pace. I wanted to get to that light and the source of the joyous music and laughter up ahead.

Quickly, we burst into a vast, bustling dome. People from all nations were everywhere: buying, trading, bartering, dancing, being whipped around in carnival rides, and eating cotton candy. The booths in the center of the floor were festive with flags, colored balloons, and blinking holiday lights. Barkers were hawking their wares at every tent and selling tickets to rides and to the attractions within the tents.

Ruach and I mingled among the visitors that were gazing at and purchasing the wares. The merchandise was odd, and truly, I did not know what most of it meant or who would buy it. For sale were Soul Catchers (whatever they were), Facade Enhancers (I thought I might be able to guess at those), Veneers, Name-Dropping Classes, Vanity Tours, and Embellished Resumes. You could visit a "delusionist" the same way some people might see a fortune teller. Some of the barkers were puppeteers teaching false doctrines that tied people up and kept them dangling like marionettes.

There were kissing booths for those who wanted to court various doctrines as though they were potential marriage partners, then throw them off as soon as a new doctrine came along. There was a maze called Maze of Errors (that did not sound promising) and a stuffed pillow booth called Hug-a-Bug, where people could test the truth by squeezing the pillow to see how the truth felt to them instead of relying on the written Word. Boats were available for lazy river rides so that people could be carried downstream by their favorite opinions, and there was the House of Many Winds where people could be tossed to and fro by "every wind of doctrine." I was particularly perplexed by the Human Pretzel machines, which twisted and contorted people so that they could live for the approval of others. Deception was everywhere.

Milling in and out of those dazzled by the festivities were others who looked like hooded monks. "Who are these?" I asked Ruach. He answered, "Hypocrisy always wears religious robes. These perform spiritual duties before others, but actually, they defraud God's people." As I watched, these false monks were apprehending one after another of those participating in the market. The monks were guiding them to dark caves on various sides of the periphery. I pushed through the dancers on the ballroom floor doing the delirious "Dance of Death," whereby they kept themselves distracted by any means possible.

At the edge of this frantic dance, the light grew dim and hazy. I stood very still, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Finally, I could see where the monks were leading the attendees. They were taking them into the dimly lit caves. Within the caves, the monks had stacked cages, one on top of another. Inside these cages were hollow-eyed humans, peering out, hugging their Hug-a-Bug pillows, or repeatedly playing the Canned Applause they had bought to encourage themselves falsely.

I felt pity for those who were being tricked. All the lively music, the thrill rides, the aids to besting the system were lies. Lucifer, the Father of lies, was distracting and diverting the Christians and deluding the unsaved. I turned to Ruach. "They are being duped." "Yes," He said. "If they had taken seriously the names of the rides and merchandise, they might have shown more care. But they lied to themselves." "Lied to themselves?" "Yes. Only if one joins in with the enemy's lie against himself can he be captured. He himself must overpower the voice of the Holy Spirit urging him to resist." "But why would they not resist?" I asked. "Ulterior motives." My breath caught. I had made mistakes in this way. I had chosen incorrectly and been dragged off and caged so that I was stunted, unable to fulfill God's plans for my life. I had been sidetracked for years at a time. I felt acute pain in my stomach. I bent over and cried out. There was so much noise even at the edge of the market that the cry passed for a laugh.

Ruach addressed me: "Yes, your flesh hindered you in the past, but now you have no time to live according to the flesh, squandering your time here on earth. You are a soldier of the cross, and you have accepted a sacred mission from your Father. You have a job to do-we all do. The time is short. Do you feel pity for those captured and caged? Then let the Warrior King be victorious in your life, and He will rescue others through you," He concluded.

I thought, "This is a side of Ruach I have not seen. Here are the brass and steel I had expected from the army of God." But I too was a part of that army. I was being trained to fight alongside angels. Was I taking hold of the training being offered to me? Was I showing brass and steel?

I straightened my back. "Yes, I want to help, and if this armor needs to be tested first, I want it tested."

Suddenly a neon arrow appeared in front of me, squeezing in and then popping out to point to the Testing Ground. I chuckled. "Well, that was quick." "The way lies before you, Anna," Ruach said. Instantaneously a door appeared. A sign over the door read: "Answer and You Exit." "That's very odd," I said out loud. "In fact, this whole market is getting stranger and stranger." I turned to smile at Ruach but found I was speaking to no one. I paused a moment to take in the implications of that, then crossed to the door and opened it with a determined grip.

It was very dark in the room to which the door gave me access. As my eyes adjusted from the market lights to the strange gloom, I realized that there were demons in black robes packed into this large area. On the walls, which I felt were moving (before I saw that they actually were moving), were venomous peacock spiders ready to strike. Thousands of them were preening and dancing and eating one another. I pulled away from the walls. "Come in," a computer-generated voice said. The demons parted to allow me to move forward. I cringed as I walked toward the voice, not wanting to touch anything. As I walked, I thought, "How right that in a market filled with deception and unbelief that the one addressing me would not be real." Finally, I reached a small wooden table on which sat one of those large black eight-ball "oracles." People used them as party games years ago. Supposedly you could ask the eight-ball anything, tilt it, and it would answer.

The Oracle spoke: "You're disappointed." "No," I protested, "I was expecting, well, I don't know what I was expecting." "Well," the ball said archly, "I'm not just a pretty face." "No." I half laughed at his critique of himself. This elicited hisses from the demons and threatening waves of colorful peacock by the spiders. "Oh, dear," I said. Their reaction sobered me. I think until this point I had not felt that I was in danger, but I began to feel uneasy in the pit of my stomach. "Well," the ball snapped, "I suppose we can expect nothing better from someone like you." I was being baited. I thought it best to let it pass. Finally, I asked, "May we proceed?" "Don't be pushy," the Oracle seethed. I gave a tight smile and held my ground.

The computer-generated voice cleared its throat and continued: "In your studies, you have found that throughout history, most people groups develop a main God and a Son of God-many even have a worldwide flood in their stories. They have different names, but all lead to generally the same conclusions. Therefore, if one is honest, Christianity is not unique. In the end, all of these 'ways' are essentially the same. To know this is to enter into that God-consciousness written of in Psalm 82 in the texts you follow. It says: 'You are gods.' What say you?" Internally, I called out to God: "Let the Spirit of the Lord be upon me." But the Oracle was right. I had studied all the major religions. However, Christianity is not just a story meant to explain the mysteries of life; it is a relationship-a relationship with a living Person who walked the earth and is still alive in the spiritual realm. I know this Person. I know Him well, and I love Him. "Lord," I prayed within myself, "be with me now."

I looked back at the Oracle. I felt the strength of the Lord's courage rising up within me. "You greatly err in your understanding of the Scripture. The truth is that it is also written that Jesus clarified the meaning of this passage in John 10:35. Jesus spoke of the psalmist, the writer of Psalm 82, when He said, 'He called them gods, to whom the word of God came.' In other words, that is what the psalmist was calling the prophets. There is but one God." Just saying this truth emboldened me. I continued: "But of Himself, Jesus said: 'I am the way, and the truth, and the life.' Our Father sent Him into the world to live, die, and live again to testify to the truth that He alone is the Way." "The legends of false gods are mankind's way of explaining the story of our Savior written by our heavenly Father in the stars. But the early fathers like Adam and Noah, who knew what was being told through the stars and planets, died out, and the clear story of the Messiah written above was lost in time until Jesus Himself came to earth. He lived that which is written above. There is no other way. Just as there is no other way than the Father giving grace to someone born spiritually dead in order that they may have the opportunity to choose Christ and live. Today, I am spiritually alive. I live because I have exchanged my 'death' for His life. There is but one way to join the family of God, and that is through Jesus, the door." Suddenly, the girdle of truth tightened around my thighs-strengthening me to stand. At the same time, bedlam broke out in the packed room. The hoods flew off the demons as frills flared from their necks like prehistoric lizards, and the aggressive peacock spiders attacked like lions-leaping in my direction.

But I disappeared through a trap door that must have been the exit, for I shot right out into the hall where Ruach was waiting. Still trembling as I stood, I said, "Answer and you exit! Thank You, Lord."