LXXIV

THE SPIRIT OF A PERSON IS THE CANDLE OF THE LORD, SEARCHING ALL THE INWARD PARTS OF THE BELLY

PROVERBS 20:27

DESTINY KNIGHT-STORM and then MARCELLA (MARCY) SMITH

My whole body tensed and my toes curled when Marcy asked if she could hit Brock in the stomach, as Amy had just done to Brock playing their little game of teasing. Only I sensed with Marcy that it wasn’t a game.

It had been only a few days since Sevenia’s prophetic dream of two girls on the run, hiding out under an abandoned railroad bridge. Marcy was sixteen and had been forced into prostitution for the past two years. Oralee, aka Ora, was only eight and had been on the verge of being forced into child pornography as well as prostitution. Marcy had rescued Ora. Then Sevenia, Brock and I rescued the two sex slave escapees.

The two girls had been staying with Brock and me since we found them. Oralee took an immediate shine to my husband. She was fascinated with his big muscles and multiple scars. She somehow perceived that Brock is the kind, loving, Godly man that truly he is.  

Marcy, on the other hand, seemed to dislike Brock. Maybe it’s because at a casual glance, Brock can appear to be rough, macho, and even mean. But I’m sure the big picture had to do with her history with the male population. She had pretty much known nothing from men her entire life except use and abuse.

Marcy had been watching an impromptu self defense class that my husband was leading. His pupils were Oralee, Sevenia, our spiritual daughter Amy, and me. After we finished, Amy and Brock were teasing each other as they typically did. As usual, Brock got the feisty young woman’s proverbial goat. As their custom was, Amy wanted to hit Brock in the solar plexus. He placed his hands on his hips, braced himself, and she struck her blow. Marcy, witnessing this exchange, asked if she could try.

“Sure,” Brock had told Marcy. But I could see concern in his eyes.

Marcy took Amy’s place in front of Brock. With a look of determination in her eyes and pursed lips, she hurled her fist at Brock’s mid-section with everything she had. She said, “ouch,” and then shook her fist. Her countenance turned to pure anger, and her fist flew to Brock’s mid-section again.

Brock, having relaxed some, grunted. Then, as though she were in front of a punching bag, she began to hurl a barrage of punches. Left, right, left, right.

“Stop it!” Amy shrieked.

“No!” Brock ordered. “Let her be!”

The effort of talking when he was being bombarded with punches caused him to go to one knee. She connected solidly with his nose, and blood spurted onto his lips, chin, and shirt.

“Oh, no!” Marcy said in surprise, as a hand went to her mouth. She dropped to her knees, shrieking. “No, no, no! I’m so sorry!”

Marcy not only began to sob, but she also wailed in absolute misery. I soon discovered that Matthew 10:19 not only applied when you were talking to rulers. Although I was paralyzed with shock and concern over what happened, I found myself moving toward Marcy. I knelt behind her and wrapped my arms around her, spooning her into myself. I had no conscious thoughts of the words that came out of my mouth. It must have been the Holy Spirit speaking through me.

“It’s okay,” I said gently, yet firmly. “You’re gonna be okay. You have a home here as long as you need. Actually, we’d like to do whatever it takes to make you our daughter. If you will have us.”

Even as I spoke those words, I worried I was rushing things with the teenager. Was I insane asking a severely broken girl that we barely knew to be a part of our marriage, making us a unique family? Maybe from a worldly perspective. But just as God knows our hearts, down to every thought, He also knows every circumstance. He knew Marcy had never in her life experienced human love. Her life had been a continual string of anxieties and loneliness. She had never had a real home, a safe place.

She broke from my embrace, turned, and looked at me astonished. Her eyes were haunted but hopeful. “After what I did, you would still have me?”

“Of course,” I replied with what I hoped was a warm smile.

“I want to be your daughter, too!” Ora declared, as she ran to me and hugged me from the side.

I laughed through tears and put an arm around the little girl. “Of course, you too, Sweetie!”

I looked at my husband. We had only briefly discussed the possibility of adopting, or at least foster parenting the two girls. So I already knew he would be okay with the idea. Sevenia had given him a paper towel for his nose, which along with his hand, covered the lower half of his face. But I could tell by his light brown eyes crinkling in the corners that he was smiling.

“Wow, you want to be my daddy?” Oralee asked Brock right after she broke away from me. Brock was sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him. Ora bounded into his lap, and he hugged her as he laughed.

“There’s nothing I’d like better,” he said, and then kissed the top of her head. “Except if Marcy was also your sister.”

I was already cringing inwardly as I still wondered if we were taking things too fast. But I loved how Brock phrased it. Saying he’d love Marcy to be Ora’s sister rather than his daughter or father to her. Marcy stared at Brock trancelike and completely dumbfounded. Then she spoke with a small voice. “I’m sorry about what I just did, Br… I mean, Mr. Storm, Sir.”

“I understand, Marcy,” Brock said mildly, and gave her a reassuring smile. “And I’ll give you all the space you need, for as long as you need it. Also, please just call me Brock.”

“Okay,” Marcy replied, snorted a laugh, sniffed, and said, “Thanks.”

MARCY SMITH

I had an encounter with an angel and she saved my life. This cute, sweet human being was a little Hispanic girl, and her name is Oralee. “My Light,” that’s what Oralee’s name means. If she hadn’t come into my life in that pit of hell, I would most likely be dead. I had a suicide plan that I was on the brink implementing when “My Light” entered my darkness.

Ironically, her saving me was in the form of her needing me. When she showed up that fateful day, she had become the youngest girl I had ever seen Sinbad bring in. I guess you would call Sinbad my pimp. Anyhow, he was the guy that controlled me after I was initially kidnapped, or you could say sold to a guy I only knew of as Mr. P. In my mind, the P stood for pervert.

I suppose the best way to describe the brothel where I lived is a minimum security prison. We, the inmates, spent most of the time locked in our rooms. Even when we were “working.” But there were opportunities to escape. Nobody ever did because we were heavily brainwashed. Plus, material wise, our accommodations were pretty decent. I had a big comfy bed, a big screen TV, and the food was okay. We had no phones or computers because we weren’t allowed access to the outside.

It seemed pretty foolish to run off with Oralee Yet I just couldn’t stand the thought of that sweet innocent little girl being violated. I didn’t want her to experience the life I had for the previous two years, especially when she was so incredibly young. I suppose I was operating by faith, rather than by sight, even though I didn’t realize it then.

I don’t even know how we ended up under that bridge. Once out of the mansion of filth, we just went. We stumbled upon an area that was used for bonfires during warmer times. It was there we found old tarps that we used for a makeshift structure. Not far from that spot, we saw the old bridge. The underneath was already set up as most of a shelter. The tarps we hung were sort of like doors.

But I’m not gonna lie. Only minutes after we fled, I thought, what have I done? This thought only escalated as minutes turned to hours, and hours to days. Why didn’t I go to the authorities? It might have been the brainwashing, or the simple fact that I didn’t trust “authority.”

But Oralee never lost faith. She made us pray for strength and help at least once an hour. I went along, but not necessarily out of belief. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Plus I didn’t want her to lose hope.

When Sevenia, Destiny, and Brock showed up, I was beyond amazed! I consciously realized that Ora’s prayers were likely answered. Yet the bitter cynic and pessimist in me would not believe. Something in my subconscious told me they were likely predators. But then moments after seeing and talking to Sevenia, I knew she was akin to Ora. By that I mean a true child of God, filled with, well, light. Unlike the dark demon girl I felt like.

But then I looked at the man she was with in the fading twilight and my defenses went right back up to high alert caution. In the partial light, he looked beyond menacing. Yet something in Sevenia’s eyes, her whole demeanor, tipped my scales to the side of trusting them. What choice did I have? Our little hut barely kept us warm, and all we had to eat for three days were corn nuts and fruit rollups. All we had to drink was snow melted over our campfire.

It was like a taste of heaven entering Destiny and Brock’s home. Not that I was confident such a place really existed. But this was a step in the right direction. As was Brock. By that, I mean, he began to show me that not all men are creeps. Not all men are violent, controlling, sex freaks. I’m not gonna lie. I’m a man hater. I’d never met a good man. So how could I trust Brock who was, well, all man?

If you’ve never seen Brock, which I’m sure you haven’t, he’s built like a pro wrestler or NFL football player, or something. And he sort of looks like a movie actor, kind of like George Clooney. But he’s got a few scars on his otherwise pretty face. They’re not gross, but this one curls from his left lip like a hideous half grin. It’s kind of cool and freaky at the same time.

But for such a rugged, scary dude, he’s got really nice eyes. The nicest I’ve ever seen on a guy. They are light brown, warm and friendly. They also seemed to look at me with, I don’t know, compassion or something, rather than lust or anger. I think that’s why they were the key in making me start to trust him. Especially after I wigged out on him and went kind of nuts throwing punches.

I couldn’t believe I did that! But when I saw how relaxed the other girls were around him, I knew he was different from any guy I had ever been around. I was blown away when Amy asked to hit him, and he let her! I had hit a guy once. He was a Jon who tried to do something extra vile to me. Sinbad, my slave master, took something like an electric cattle prod to me afterward. I never misbehaved again. That is, until I split with Oralee. My Light.

Poor Brock! I stepped up to him, seething with anger over every guy who ever wronged me. Amy was definitely only teasing him with her comment on his six pack abs getting soft. That first punch hurt my wrist. This only fueled my anger, and in a fit of madness, I unleashed a volley of punches, welcoming the pain. Somebody freaked out. Brock told them to let me be. Then he went to one knee, and I accidently hit him solid in the nose, causing blood to spurt.

This was like a switch, turning off my anger. Remorse quickly took its place, but for selfish reasons. These people had been so incredibly nice to me and Oralee, and I repay them by spazing out. As I had been enjoying their hospitality, it not only was in the back of my mind, but solidly in the front, that this wouldn’t last. Then I realized my actions were only gonna speed up the process.

I’m not gonna lie. When I lost it and went to my knees balling, it was purely selfish. What was going through my head was that I had blown it. They would kick me out. Would Sinbad find me and kill me? I guess I would have to find a new pimp, one that could protect me from Sinbad. Maybe being a whore would be better if I did it willingly. What choice did I have?

I felt somebody behind me. Part of my brain warned predator! But I didn’t care. Destiny’s arms wrapped around me and she pulled me snuggly into herself. It felt wonderful! I felt loved and valuable! I had grown up not knowing parental affection. Couple that with the vast majority of my human contact being perverse, you might think I would shy away from a display of love. Not so, I relished it!

Destiny uttered reassuring words into my ear. They were nice and all, but then she said something that flabbergasted me. She said she wanted me to be their daughter if I would have them. If I would have them? I said as much, mentioning what just happened. Destiny just simply replied ‘of course.’ Then My Light spoke up. “I want to be your daughter, too!”

Destiny laughed and put her arm around Ora and said. “Of course, you too, Sweetie.”

Then the little angel ran to Brock and asked him if he would be her daddy. The way he laughed and hugged her broke down another big chunk of the defensive wall that I felt toward him. As a matter of fact, I felt jealous, but I think in a good way. But then he said something that broke down even more of the wall. He told Oralee, the only thing that would be better is if Marcy was her sister. That’s me!

I couldn’t believe it! After the way I just behaved toward him. Treating him like a punching bag and then bloodying his nose. He could have knocked me into oblivion. In the world I knew, all men would have. It occurred to me that it took a great deal of trust for me to assault him like that, even if it was twisted thinking.

Yet he didn’t retaliate at all. He didn’t even try to block my punches. He treated my hostility with patience. My ingratitude with kindness. My hatred with love. Did these people really love me? How? I didn’t believe it. They didn’t know me. If they did, they wouldn’t love me. And they eventually would find out I’m unlovable. I’m just a pretty shell hiding an ugly soul.

How does one understand one’s own feelings? Especially when one’s psyche has been severely damaged. They were beginning to make me have hope, and that just wasn’t a good idea. The higher my hopes, the further the fall.

Now that precious little Ora was safe, I needed to find my way back to Boston. I’m gonna miss her, Oralee, My Light.

(DESTINY’S BIBLE STUDY NOTES and QUOTES)

“You shall seek Me, and find Me, when you shall search for Me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:13)

By nature we are alienated from God. The whole heart must be yielded to God, or the change cannot be wrought in us by which we are restored to His likeness.

God desires to heal us, to set us free. But since this requires an entire transformation, a renewing of our whole nature, we must yield ourselves wholly to Him.

The warfare against self is the greatest battle that is ever fought. The yielding of self, surrendering all to the will of God, requires a struggle. But the soul must submit to God before it can be renewed in holiness. Holiness is wholeness for God.

God does not force the will of His creatures. He cannot accept an homage that is not willingly and intelligently given.

Man is doing the greatest injury to his own soul when he thinks and acts contrary to the will of God. (See Proverbs 8:36)

Many wonder, How am I to make the surrender of myself to God? You desire to give yourself to Him, but you are weak in moral power, in slavery to doubt, and controlled by the habits of your life of sin. Your promises and resolutions are like ropes of sand. You cannot control your thoughts, your impulses, and your affections. The knowledge of your broken promises weakens your confidence in your own sincerity, and causes you to feel that God cannot accept you. But you need not despair.

What we need to understand is the true force of the will. This is the governing power in the nature of humanity, the power of decision and choice. Everything depends on the right action of the will. The giving of our affections to God.

Through the right action of the will, an entire change may be made in our lives. By yielding up our will to Christ, we ally ourselves with the power that is above all principalities and powers. We will have strength from above to hold us steadfast, and thus through constant surrender to God we will be enabled to live the new life, even the life of faith.

Jesus loves to have us come to him just as we are, sinful, helpless, dependent. We may come with all our sins and weakness and fall at His feet in penitence. It is His glory to encircle us in the arms of His love and to bind up our wounds, to cleanse us from all impurity. Here is where thousands fail; they do not believe that Jesus pardons them personally, individually. They do not take God at His word.

God does not deal with us as finite men deal with one another. His thoughts are thoughts of mercy, love, and tenderest compassion.

Do not give ear to the tempter, say to yourself, “Jesus has died that I might live. He loves me, and wills not that I should perish. I have a compassionate heavenly Father; and although I have abused His love, and squandered His blessings. I will arise, go to my Father, and say, ‘I have sinned before heaven and before You and am no more worthy to be called Your child: Make me as one of your hired servants.’ The parable tells how you will be received. “When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” Luke 15:18-20.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love: therefore with loving kindness have I drawn you.” (Jeremiah 31:3).

With the rich promises of the Bible before you, can you give place to doubt? Our heavenly Father hates the sin, but loves the sinner. He gave Himself in the person of Christ, that all who would, might be saved.

Whenever you are doubting and fearful, look up. Jesus lives to make intersession for us.

As you read Bible promises, remember they are the expression of unutterable love and pity. The great heart of Infinite Love is drawn toward the sinner with boundless compassion.

As you draw near to Him with confession and repentance, He will draw near to you with mercy and forgiveness.