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Understanding your story - the spiritual dimension - Gates of contestation

Updated: May 19

My dear friends, dear followers,

Here we go again. The groundhog greets us daily.

It is exhausting and grueling when we are exposed to the same low blows in our lives, when we encounter the same patterns of devaluation, darkness and pain over and over again:

  • Again and again, the partner who sleeps with the best friend.

  • Again and again, deaths over which we have no control.

  • An abnormal accumulation of illness, deceit, lies, job losses.

  • People who keep getting in our way.

  • Time and time again, the colleague who is mare-bitingly defending her territory, even though we don't want anything from her,

In short: the same old crap that is heaped on us again and again. It's so annoying because it's the same old story. And because we don't seem to have any influence over it, but instead watch helplessly as it leaves our lives in ruins, reopening old wounds time and time again.

Phenomena like these are not primarily associated with trauma, although they can traumatize, they are not misinterpretation, although we may at some point > smell a demon behind every bush <, they are not > God's learning assignment for us < - they are loopholes, Satan's fishhooks. He secured them for himself from our earliest childhood by sending someone our way whose heart was darkened and who was willing to be his tool.

It is the third dimension of sin: Besides that in which we misbehave (sin), besides that in which we fail to do good (guilt), there is the transfer of guilt and sin - to us. It is what breaks us. And it is what can leave us open to Satan's attacks for life.

These hidden places are called on a spiritual level: > Gates of contestation<. It is the Achilles heel, the leaf on the back of the invincible Siegfried, the thing that can bring us down again and again. Unprotected and vulnerable, this point in our soul has the power to bring us to our knees like no other. Supposedly unprotected, we are at Satan's mercy here. Gates of contestation bring in those things in our lives that we cannot control or influence- but which destroy and kill us inside.

We often try desperately to resist: We hold our own worth against ourselves, we try to change our behavior, to look more closely- and yet we end up facing the same old thing. It drives us crazy. It makes us want to throw in the towel, it leaves us feeling empty and discouraged. "Not again!"

Those who opened these gates of destruction in our lives were fellow human beings. As Christians, we have to face a fact: Spiritual warfare is real, and just as God has his temples, so does Satan. Just as we can commit ourselves to blessing, others commit themselves to cursing - and they are not our friends. They are man-eaters.

Their goal is not to bless. Their goal is to prevent blessing. A few years ago, David Pierce once said in a speech: "Don't kid yourselves. There are whole circles in Amsterdam dedicated solely to praying to Satan against Christian marriages. They meet to destroy what God wants to give." And after years in the New Age and esoteric scene, I say: he is absolutely right. It's the truth: they do exist, the black magicians, and they are not even- rare.

People who are dedicated to evil, to the destruction of self-worth, of life and hope: you don't recognize them at first glance. Black magicians often have a friendly, well-off, often Christian façade. They are also not always (although often!) hidden narcissists. They are people who operate in all social classes and professions. They are fathers, grandfathers, recognized members of society. They are - supposedly - Christian leaders, social workers, mothers, nurses. But: they will always try to prevent good and promote evil. They will always try to keep others down. They will threaten and spread fear. They will devalue and destroy. They serve- in one word- another master.

John Eldredge's favorite credo is that we live in a spiritual battle whose prize is our heart. Our heart is the battleground of the spiritual world- according to Eldredge. The battle that rages: the prize is our soul, our life. We cannot look away, as much as we may want to: this battle is real, and it begins in earliest childhood. Whether we accept it or not has no influence on whether it takes place. The spiritual realms are even more real than our short-sighted perception in the so-called reality we live in.

Unjustified attacks.

For a long time, the following situations were a recurring theme in my life: Bullying, exclusion, and completely unexpected attacks always came when I least expected them and when I was not aware of any guilt. It became the mantra that Satan threw at me through a variety of situations and people: "You think you're good, but you're abysmally evil, worthless, self-centered, you might think you can be something, but you're really just dirt, nobody wants to be friends with someone like you..." "You're fake, a lie, you shouldn't even be here, you presume to be something you're not..."

I couldn't explain it to myself.

The people who constantly denied me my own path, my own value, condemned and excluded me, changed - but the basic tenor did not. It was always the same sentences, always the same accusations. As soon as I wanted to spread my wings, to fly - I was encircled and pushed into a corner by people in higher positions, who beat me up, denied me my existence, robbed me of the air I needed to breathe and my hope. If I fought back - I was in a bad way: they told me that the desperate defense was a sign that they were right. Gaslighting, hatred, victim/perpetrator exchange. Threatening, taunting, superior threat and condemnation, abuse of power.

I asked Jesus yesterday, after one of those attacks I am so familiar with, to show me the gate of contestation, to show me where it all began. I didn't know, and it was driving me crazy. Quite a while ago, I asked him to close this gateway on a spiritual level and let his angels protect it so that Satan's attacks would stop. They keep hindering me, keep appearing when I am facing breakthroughs. "It feels, Jesus," I said, "like I'm being beaten up and spat on for no reason while I'm holding a bouquet of flowers for the other person. And then they blame me when I eventually hit them back and triumph over me in self righteousness, because they think that gave them the right to hit me. I didn't do anything! Why does it occur again and again?" I put it in his hand, and I hoped for knowledge and healing.

I believe firmly that God brings such causes, such roots to consciousness, and I believe that He gives real healing and deliverance.

This morning I listened to a song, a song that I like. Not a Christian song, no, it was <School>- by Supertramp. It starts with the beginning of "Play me the song of death." ( English: "Once upon a time in the West") . And suddenly I sensed that it was important...and I listened inside myself. The first thing I remembered was the following story:

My brother played this Supertramp song to me once when I was about 8, 9 years old. I looked at him with wide eyes and wanted to flee. The first few bars of this harmonica alone made me freeze and noticeably darkened the atmosphere around me. A supernatural darkness, atmosphere. I felt threatened and trapped. My brother knew that I couldn't stand Enrico Morricone's "Once upon a Time in the West", that it filled me with panic! Why was he playing it for me? Concern came into his eyes when he heard my defenses: "No, no, I'm not listening to that!" I whimpered. But he insisted that I keep listening. "It's almost over, Sibby, it's not going on like this, this is just the beginning. It's not the song, honestly! Keep listening! Do you hear me? Damdamdamdamdamdam...damdamdamdamdam...and now the drums. Do you hear how cheerful it gets? Isn't that a cool song?" My shoulders relaxed. His joy was spreading. Yes, School is a good, cool song. And yes, it got positive, and my brother was sitting next to me, who loved me so much. There was nothing to fear.

Just, "It's not that song." What had happened, what was the reason for a child to react so panicked to a Morricone western song? Well, it's not particularly child-friendly, that may be said - because it plays with disharmonies. But ... it's just a song, isn't it?

<Play me the song of death > was a torture for me, a nightmare that seemed to threaten my very existence. Everyone just laughed when I stood in the hallway as a five-year-old child and shook miserably as soon as the song was played on my father's tape recorder. Especially loud when ... a friend of the family was with us and he turned it up extra loud while I trembled and cried, paralyzed, trying to escape this horrible song. Panicked tears ran down my face and my little body froze. "Death is coming for you, it's chasing you, it's coming for you! Can you hear him? Tap. Tap. Tap." he had whispered to me diabolically, in a threatening voice. And then he laughed, loudly and brutally. As a result, I thought that every time this song sounded, death would come for me. I was waiting for death. I was afraid of death. I was afraid of this man and what he had made of a classic Western soundtrack. He was an adult, what he said had to be true...

"Now you and I have a clear word with each other! You may think we like you, but you're wrong! You're only here with us because we feel sorry for you! I don't know what you're imagining, but I'm miles above you, I'm the manager of a bank, you're antisocial bastards! Nothing will come of you, you're nothing! You're not worth the same as my children, and if it were up to me, they wouldn't have anything to do with the likes of you either! Stay away from me and be a bit more grateful that you can be here at all! I only tolerate this because I'm a good friend of your father! And if you say a single word to anyone about what I say to you here, you'll get to know a completely different side of me, do you understand me? No one will believe you anyway, they'll say you're lying!" And then it sounded again: Enrico Morricone's Song of Death - from his study.

I was at his mercy, the man who said that, the man who had scared me so much, because not only was he "miles above me", he was also a friend of our family. I had been homesick for weeks. My mother was on a cure, and I was - as so often - with the family I was taken to - for weeks. I had been transferred to a small village school for a few weeks in my second year - and I was lonelier than ever, missing my best friend, my teachers, my mom. I was just seven years old. On the day this "conversation" took place, he had angrily dragged me out of the house and brought me down a small path to the parking slots which were in a dead end behind the house. No way to escape open. What had happened? I had happily run into his study, with his daughter, unaware that he would chase me out again, shouting and threatening with a "You've got no business here!". Nobody knew what was happening in the parking lot afterwards. I was told later, I behaved like a soft wind you barely recognize in their house later on.

I held my tongue - intimidated -, said nothing and lost trust in people, in adults who pretended to like me as long as my parents were there. I lost trust in what used to be a safe haven - because they were good, close friends. And I learned that day that I was worth nothing, that my heritage would forever seal my fate.

I had done nothing to justify this reaction, this aggressive assault and devaluation. There was ( and is ) no guilt of my own - a seven-year-old child is not to blame for the darkness and subtle aggression of a grown man. But the fiery arrow - it had been there and started its destructive work.

So for many years I avoided Enrico Morricone, any song that began with the intro to "Once upon a Time in the West", because it made me tremble completely irrationally. Because it was diabolically occupied. I lost contact with my father's friend when the couple split up and my parents divorced. I only saw him sporadically - and avoided him. The story sank into my subconscious and was pushed out of my everyday life and thoughts. Endlessly, but again and again, these words were repeated: In different guises, by different people. It was Satan's gateway that this man created - consciously or unconsciously - but certainly with all the darkness and infamous pleasure of torturing a small, helpless girl.

We have to find these gates of contestation in our lifes, but we can't do it alone. Ask God for your open gates and ask Him to close and seal them first and foremost. You must be secured before you start your work of healing! Ask Him to take away the power Satan has had in your life through others. Then ask him to show you where the root of the recurring attacks lies. Once you know, you can rip it out - it will lose its power. And then let God put your story back on track.

Spiritual warfare is real and connected to us. With our stories. With our hurts. If we think we can end the attacks just by working through our traumas, we are deceiving ourselves and will be trapped once and again. We must be aware that fire arrows can only hit where our armor is not intact. Otherwise - they bounce off. The solution is not avoidance, it is not building walls of protection, but asking God to shore up our defenses and close the holes and breaches that Satan has precisely and deceitfully placed in innocent children's hearts like a barb.

"Father, close the gates of tcontestation in my life that are designed to bring me down. Let the attacks come to nothing by sealing me up. And then show me where the windows were open, I didn't find them. Fill my heart with your blessing alone. Show me what opened them, so that there will be peace in the future."

Can I listen to the Morricone song today without being afraid of death? Yes, for a long time. I think I owe it to Supertramp and my brother that I can: "It's almost over, Sibby, it won't go on like this, this is just the beginning. It's not the song, honestly! Keep listening! Can you hear? Do you hear how cheerful it's getting?"

We have to decide whose tools & vessels we want to be. My brother was an instrument in the hand of God and brought healing beyond all measure. Did he know that? My brother suspects a lot and then just does it. But knowing - no. Often it is our heart attitude that brings decisive healing - not what we consciously do.


Satan will continue to send his minions. Death will remain a reality.

But the accumulation and abysmal despair will give way. It will change you, HE will be watchman at this point. Blowflies only come in through windows that are open. Satan can only attack where windows are open. Or, more down-to-earth, because our feelings are down-to-earth and worldly: you can only be hurt where a wound is scarred but not yet healed. Yet- it has a spiritual dimension and equivalent. So get rid of the honey- and the ants will be gone.

Let Jesus into your heart - and life. For he does not play a song of death.

Be blessed.

Daughter of Zion.


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