16 September 2016
The Jericho march around the block of the whisper house continues. This is day three, and the defeated enemy has really stepped up his game to try and scare me out of the march.
As I left my building I heard the sound of water falling—lots of water falling. There was water gushing from the balcony in the building next to mine. So much water that it seemed that a water pipe had burst or something. This was more than just someone leaving a tap on. I responded immediately in prayer right there at my front door. And what I prayed was a renewed prayer for invisibility (see The Retroactive Power of Invisibility).
The first lap started well. I noticed that the broken beer bottle had been cleared away from the sidewalk. That’s a good start, and I was feeling pretty good. I was singing “Lord of All” by Carman softly to myself as I rounded the second corner and then the third. Then as I approached the house—The house!—I saw water coming from the front porch. I looked up to see a naked man peeing off the porch.
Startled as I was, I didn’t make a sound, and I didn’t halt the march, but continued. The strange thing is that when I looked up I felt my right top lip curl up, just like the Elvis lip. It’s strange because I can’t curl my lip that way no matter how I try.
The man didn’t seem to see me, so I know that I was invisible once again.
As I continued walking out the remaining six laps, I found myself walking faster and faster, fueled by righteous anger and determination to oust this squatter, be he an evil angel, demon, or human. Whatever he is, he’s gotta go! God has given me this house, and I intend to take possession of it. Nobody, human or evil spirit, will stop me from taking possession of what God has given me.
On the next lap he sat unconcernedly smoking a cigarette. Smoking and peeing sure makes him sound human.
On the fifth lap I saw him leave, walking down the alley in a yellow sweater and khaki slacks. And then when I finished I did as I had done on the previous two days. I took down the last poster, tore it in half, and disposed of it in two different trash cans on the way home, praying that the anarchist fundraiser would flop. In fact, tonight would be the first of the two nights of the fundraising party.
Then I spent the rest of the day formatting the book. This is my ninth book. The first book was a memoir about my dad for his three grandchildren, and all the rest are about my life as a missionary, adapted each year from my blog. With crazy stuff like the pre-dawn peeing squatter, I never lack for material. God is good!