by Jill Austin
“Satan, you can destroy the temporary clay shell, but we both know the fight is greater than that,” the Son replies. “What enrages you is that living souls inside the earthenware vessels are made in My image and created to love Me. That’s what this war is all about!”
Looking down through the realms of Heaven, Satan points his long, twisted finger of accusation to the Potter’s Field on the outskirts of Comfort Cove. “War? You mean this little battle I’m winning! Just look at those shattered, broken vessels! Your image? They resemble me more than You! They’re damned already!” His insane laughter echoes through the corridors of time, spewing poison onto the field below.
The Father looks sternly at the diabolical creature. “Satan, you’re the father of lies and greatly deceived. Betrayal bought this Potter’s Field of broken lives, but My Son’s blood will turn this field of despair into a door of salvation.”
Spitting foul-smelling liquid from his mouth and convulsing in agony, Satan is reminded of his utter defeat at the Cross. He cowers, lowering his slimy, black form to the ground.
HAVE YOU SEEN FORSAKEN?
The Father points to earth, “Have you noticed that little clay vessel named Forsaken?”
Recovering slightly, Satan stands still cowering and looking away. His mocking laughter rings through the throne room. “She is rightly named…Forsaken is what she is and will remain. Your Son’s image is so marred in that vessel, Heaven and hell both know You can never salvage that one! I already have a destiny planned for her, and she will be a prophetic voice for my evil kingdom.”
The Father is deeply moved with compassion as He watches Forsaken. Her brokenness cannot be denied. Her demonic perversion, sinfulness and utter lack of desire for Himself is obvious, yet He confidently states, “I, too, have a plan, a destiny for this clay vessel you call Forsaken. She will become a beautiful Bride for My Son and will bring many others to the same relationship.”
Satan spits yellow foam from his mouth and rages, “This vessel is as much Your enemy as I am! She hates Your religious ways and Your foolish, boring holiness. By the time I’m finished with her, she’ll be given over completely to ruthlessness and cruelty!” His red eyes fill with fiery hatred and he screams, “She already belongs to me! She’ll never love Your Son. I own her heart, and she will serve me and die in my embrace.”
With his heart energized with renewed hatred, Satan is almost frantic to leave the discomfort of the throne room and rush out and fulfill his diabolic plans to destroy the fragile little vessel. But instead of exiting, he looks almost foolish as he stands in humiliation, knowing he can’t leave until he bows before the God of glory. Reluctantly he kneels, the Father gives a nod and he is released to his delusions of grandeur.
Hearts aflame with fervent passion for the little clay pot, the Father and Son look deeply into each other’s eyes with a knowing smile. Turning to Holy Spirit, they commission Him to descend to the Potter’s Field.
The challenge is on!
CHAPTER SEVEN
DEATH STALKS
Nearly insane with diabolic rage over the challenge for Forsaken’s soul, Satan descends to his hellish lair to summon Death for a special assignment. The familiar vile stench, hideous wailing and tormented screams of the eternally damned vessels help to calm him after his encounter at the throne.
Death instantly appears out of the yellow and green sulfur smoke, bowing slavishly low before Satan, the Prince of Darkness. Although they are friends of no one, mutual hatred and an unquenchable thirst to destroy the work of the Godhead bind the two demonic rulers together in a fiendish camaraderie.
With heaven’s fragrance still in his nostrils, Satan seethes with hatred, “I have a project that requires your attention.” He spits, “I’ve just returned from the throne room where I was challenged to a wager that I don’t intend to lose.”
Pointing to the Potter’s Field, the dark figure hisses, “See that sniveling, pathetic little pitcher with the cracked lip? That’s the one we’re after! I’ve already done most of your work for you. She’s crushed and broken and already ours. Suicide is with her now, and she’s very close to giving up—but since the challenge, I’m changing my plan.”
Hungry to taste the blood of another victim, Death drools from between his large, yellow fangs. “Wouldn’t it be easier to let Suicide finish her off? We know how much you love to see us dragging their pathetic corpses to you.”
“Don’t be so anxious, I have big plans for this vessel! One of my best spiritualists, Madam False Destiny, began mentoring her. I want her back there for more training. Bringing her to me too soon would be a shallow victory. Killing her now is our last resort.”
Totally given over to the loathsome thirst for destruction, the wicked schemers are drunk with hatred and the unquenchable craving for victims’ blood. Reveling in their wicked plans they look at the pathetic vessel. “I not only want to win this challenge but I want to twist the knife deep into the Godhead’s heart by capturing Forsaken’s affections,” Satan snarls. “She must be made to love me. We will finally triumph over the Son when she becomes my trophy.”
He leaps to his webbed, gnarled feet and grabs Death by the throat, slamming him up against the wall. As he dangles, Satan growls inches away from Death’s contorted, fearful face, “If you fail me, humiliate me or if I lose this challenge, I’ll claw your decaying flesh off your putrid body and leave you to die in The Ancient Caverns.”
DEATH SEEKS FORSAKEN
Shaken, Death ascends to the Potter’s Field. His huge web-like wings spew sulfuric vapor, paralyzing the inhabitants of this rejected acreage with terror. Deep guttural growls escape from his gaping, wet mouth. Eerie screams rip through the field as he moves among the shattered lives with merciless contempt.
Suicide’s shriveled heart beats rapidly as he sees Forsaken reach for the rusty knife. She tries to summon enough courage to plunge it into her broken heart. Spirits of self-hatred and insanity dance wildly. Completely abandoned to their greedy cravings for pain and destruction, they join Suicide in this diabolical celebration of fiendish joy at another victim’s gruesome demise.
Out of view and in deeply recessed shadows, the soft glow of Valiant’s presence begins to burn with a golden light. Holy indignation rises in him as he watches the Father’s adversaries plot to bring this little pot fully into their evil grasp. He quickly puts up his shield and unsheathes his sword to destroy the vile spirits before they take her life.
Just as he is about to charge into full view of the spirits, Death intercepts Suicide and calls off the attack. “I hate to ruin your little party, but the plans have changed,” he hisses condescendingly to the lesser-ranking spirits. “I’ve been given this choice assignment. Satan is battling the Godhead over this despicable, insignificant, sniveling little pot. Why either would want her is beyond me.” Pointing to another rejected vessel, he tells Suicide, “There’s your next victim. He thinks he’s so bad that not even God can save him.”
Spitting and murmuring curses at the high-ranking devil, Suicide slowly uncoils his ghastly, snake-like grip from Forsaken. She drops the knife weeping in anguish. “I don’t even have the courage to do this right. Can anyone help me?”
FALSE PROMISES, LIES AND DESTRUCTION
Death spins around, focusing his slimy attention on Forsaken, and with hypocritical comfort whispers, “Madam saved you once. She could do it again. Why don’t you just go to the inn and beg her to take you back? She loves you like a daughter.” Black talons soothe her troubled brow.
Penetrating into the vile darkness of the enemy’s camp, Holy Spirit powerfully advances against the dark chaos and confusion that perpetually reign over this field. Contending fiercely for her soul, He releases a vision of Forsaken sitting on her grandma’s lap.
In a soft, still voice, He gently whispers, “Forsaken, your Grandma Pearl is the one who really loved you like a daughter. Don’t you remember how she told you about Master Potter and that He loves and saves broken vessels?�
��
Death opens his yellow mouth and pours out verbal poison, “That’s a lie! Everyone knows Master Potter throws broken vessels into the Mountain of Fire to destroy them—your own father told you so. The only hope you have is to go back to Madam’s.”
Covering her ears with her hands, Forsaken closes her eyes tightly, trying in vain to block out the voices and painful memories. “I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do! I can’t even think straight!”
MEMORIES OF GRANDMA PEARL
In the midst of the painful darkness and assaulting memory fragments, Forsaken’s heart is suddenly warmed by thoughts of Grandma Pearl. After my baby brother was born Mom didn’t have time for me. He was so sick. Thank goodness for Grandma Pearl.
It was Grandma Pearl who frequently took her for weeks at a time to her small country cottage when Forsaken’s father went on his violent, alcoholic binges. She was only seven when Grandma Pearl died unexpectedly. Then she spent large parts of the day roaming the docks to escape her abusive home.
In an open vision, Forsaken sees herself as a fragile child in the little white-steepled chapel on the outskirts of Comfort Cove sitting snugly next to Grandma Pearl. Grandma had on her favorite church hat, a gingham bonnet, always freshly starched and pressed with a blue ribbon tied under her chin, which she wore as faithfully as she prayed or read the Bible.
The sounds of rich organ music fill the vision as she sees sunlight streaming through the colorful stained-glass windows. The aroma of the rustic cedar pews brings Forsaken back to a time long forgotten, a time of sweetness, safety and innocence. The only places she ever felt safe were here and at Grandma Pearl’s.
Forsaken’s eyes fix on a golden-framed picture of a man on a Cross whose body is bruised, beaten and broken. Forsaken stares, half curious and half repulsed, at the picture. Maybe He would understand my bruises. Did His father do this to Him too?
Everyone in church seemed to be singing with gusto on that particular sunny morning, but all Forsaken heard was her own little voice, “On a hill far away stood an old rugged Cross, the emblem of suffering and shame.”
HOLY SPIRIT’S COUNTER INVASION
As the vision fades, tears streak down her face. Oh Grandma, why did you have to leave? I need your help. No one understands me like you do.
Holy Spirit comforts her. Gently, softly He whispers, “Remember the picture over the altar? Master Potter also suffered evil at the hands of others so that He could save you out of this field of despair. Call out to Him.” These revelatory words of truth pierce the darkness with blazing light, challenging the demonic grip on her mind.
Death, sensing that he might lose this battle, screams, “He never saved you as a child, why would He save you now? Where was He when your father abused you? Look at you—you’re disgusting, broken and sinful. You’re nothing but a used-up, discarded whore. Who would want you? You’re too far gone.”
“Don’t believe it, no one is ever too far gone. Master Potter looks for the weak and broken vessels to heal.” Holy Spirit’s flaming words of truth illuminate the darkened garbage dump, sending confusion through the lower-ranking demons. They scurry off in fear to avoid the heavenly brightness, finding comforting refuge under piles of decay and rotting flesh. They screech out an SOS, pleading for hellish reinforcements to arrive.
Enraged at Holy Spirit’s life-giving words, Death erupts into a fit of blasphemous curses. Yellow-green sulfuric gases explode from his mouth.
A whirring sound like a swarm of locusts is barely audible in the distance but rapidly grows to ear-piercing levels. The skies above Forsaken turn black from a thick backlash of demonic reinforcement. Within moments, the moon appears to dim as it is overshadowed by the churning, pulsing dark cloud.
DEMONIC REINFORCEMENTS
The reinforcements drop from the skies like a downpour. They hit the field and slither toward Forsaken. The archers take careful aim and shoot fiery arrows of accusation. Others hurl spears or throw poisonous daggers.
Angelic warriors, the ground troops, hurry into place, forming a large protective circle with Forsaken in the middle. They face outward. Valiant draws his sword and the tip bursts into flame. In moments his whole being is engulfed by fire, but he is not burned.
“Our God is a consuming fire,” he yells.
Extending his sword, he touches the next angel who immediately ignites into a pillar of fire. The holy fire spreads from angel to angel. These living pillars of light form an impenetrable circular barrier against the wiles of the approaching demons.
Death is trapped inside this fiery angelic circle with Holy Spirit and Forsaken. Even though he is cut off from his demonic horde, his focus is undeterred as he tries to capture Forsaken’s soul. Seething rage boils within him as he hears the voice of Holy Spirit and sees the fiery angels protecting Forsaken.
Death vehemently spews to Forsaken, “You’re mine and always will be. No one has ever loved you.”
Holy Spirit continues, “Forsaken, Master Potter loved you and was always there even though you did not know it. He wept over your abuse. No one is too far gone for Him to save.”
Death escalates the battle as he brings up painful areas of Forsaken’s past.
“Was He there when you lived on the docks? Was He there when Antagonist beat you? Madam treated you better than some invisible God! She’s your only family now. You should return to her.”
Covering her head with her arms, Forsaken cries out in great agony. “What should I do? Someone help me.”
HOLY SPIRIT SPEAKS
Holy Spirit tenderly begins to show Forsaken visions of the wonderful plans and destiny for her life. “He loves you, Forsaken, and has been waiting for you to come to Him. But you have to say yes. Nothing is too hard for Him. No one is beyond hope.”
Suddenly a memory flashes through her mind, a memory long forgotten. She was a small child, playing on the docks with a pack of stray dogs that had become her family. Suddenly a team pulling a milk wagon went out of control. The horses reared up just as an adorable puppy leapt from her arms and dashed into the street. Without thinking, she dashed after him. Looking up at the huge panicking horses, she froze in terror.
Unseen by her, Valiant grabbed the team, held their harnesses in each hand and restrained them long enough for a burly dockworker to scoop her up and carry her safely to the other side of the road. She knew that day she had escaped sure death, but never realized she was protected by Heaven.
Another scene fills her mind. She is lying on the floor, bruised and bloodied under Antagonist’s merciless rage. What she never knew was that he had bragged about killing her that night to his friends at the tavern. She sees Antagonist taking bets over her demise while laughing with his drunken, low-life cronies. She had thought it unusual for him to pass out cold from alcohol right in the midst of a beating. Now she sees the same large angel sitting on his chest, pinning him to the floor.
How many times has he saved me? she wonders.
As Holy Spirit continues speaking the truth, Forsaken’s demonic-inspired confusion starts to lift; redeeming love begins to stir deep inside her.
Maybe there is hope for me. Maybe Master Potter can heal me.
Death, sensing he may lose this battle and be punished and disgraced before Satan’s evil throne, screams in rage at the thought of having to prostrate himself in front of his cruel master, groveling for his life. “No! That’s a lie. Master Potter destroys broken vessels. He throws them in the Mountain of Fire.”
Holy Spirit challenges Forsaken, “That voice is the voice of Death trying to destroy your life and future. Master Potter doesn’t destroy vessels; He rescues them. Just cry out, ‘Master Potter save me,’ and He will—because He loves you deeply and longs for you to come to Him. Time is running short and you’re in grave danger.”
From the depth of hell the murderous voice of Satan commands Death, “You fool! She must not come to Him. Kill her quickly or we’ve lost her soul!”
Frantically, Death snatches h
er into his gnarled talons, and Forsaken cries out from the excruciating pain. “Master Potter, if You’re really who my grandma said You are—please save me!”
HEAVEN RESPONDS TO A CRY FOR HELP
The groans of prisoners appointed to die never fail to inflame the Father’s heart of mercy to bring salvation. The name of Master Potter thunders across the field, releasing His violently passionate love, electrifying the spirit realm. Heavenly portals open and an avalanche of praise and worship roars across the Potter’s Field, driving the demonic horde into increased frenzied terror.
Valiant swings his fiery sword and shouts to the angelic ground troops on the Potter’s Field, “For the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit that this Bride may come forth.” They move like pillars of fire throughout the damned field, routing out the hidden swarms of evil strongholds. Demonic reinforcements arrive and the battle is fierce and bloody as the sound of war resounds throughout the land.
In a flash, Valiant takes an ancient silver shofar from his waist and blows a mighty blast, sounding a war cry to open up the heavens. Michael, the archangel, and his magnificent warriors mount their huge white stallions and descend from the ethereal realms to drive back the screaming satanic hordes. Their assignment is straight from the Father—to rescue this lost, broken soul.
Catching the scent of the battle, the horses charge into the fray, obeying the commands of their riders. Muscles rippling with strength, they strike paralyzing terror in the enemy forces as they carry the splendor and majesty of the Lord’s own angelic host. The gusty wind of the Spirit blows like a golden whirlwind around them.
Explosions of resurrection power bombard screeching demons as angelic hosts rejoice in the strength of the victory of the Cross. The warriors wield flashing swords and wreak havoc in the Potter’s Field. Swirls of fiery glory break the dark fog of oppression holding Forsaken prisoner as the first light of dawn rises in the eastern sky. This power invasion from Heaven annihilates the demonic stronghold in Forsaken’s soul.