The Enemy Attacked My Faith Talk!

Photo by Lampos Aritonang on Unsplash

The bushes scraped against my face as wave after wave of nausea washed over me. How did I end up in this position? A group of silver-haired slow moving church mothers comes to my rescue. As I rose to meet them, one prepared to anoint my head with oil, and another handed me a bottle of water. “This is so bizarre,” I kept thinking as her weathered, oily hand brushed my forehead. I had not felt a single moment of sickness before this…