Several months ago I had a gruesome dream in the middle of
the night. In it, Satan and his minions
were torturing and mutilating women and children and I was forced to watch in
horror. In my dream, I remember sobbing
and begging them to stop.
I was awakened from my dream by my baby daughter crying,
wanting to be comforted. The dream had
seemed so real that as I picked her up out of her crib, I was still shaken. With heart still pounding and
my trembling hands I rocked her back and forth, willing myself to push the
images from my dream out of my head and the fear from my heart.
As she quieted down and fell back to sleep in my arms, a
simple but almost audible phrase slipped into my mind, “…but he has no power
here.”
That simple phrase brought me great comfort not only in the
quiet of my daughter’s bedroom that night, but also as terrible
tragedies unfolded around the world in the months to come.
I remind myself of that phrase often when the atrocities of humanity seem too terrible to bear.
“…but he has no power here.”