I penned the creative writing below a number of years ago as I reflected on my own miserable season of sifting by Satan. I was wrecked almost beyond repair by what I’d experienced because I’d never been taught that a believer could love Jesus deeply with a pure heart and serve Him with sincere devotion and yet be flabbergastingly seduced by the enemy. 2 Corinthians 11:3 had said it all along but I’d missed it.
But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ.
I loved Jesus. I wasn’t looking for trouble. But make no mistake. Trouble was looking for me. By God’s grace, I’ve been called to teach. After what I experienced, I made it my goal to teach anybody who would listen what can happen, how to avoid it and how to find the way back if you didn’t. I love the Body of Christ. I want us to make it. I don’t want what caught me off guard many years ago to catch you off guard. Redemption for me is warning you so you can learn in the Bible classroom what I was forced to learn on the most despairing field trip of my life. I want us all to know what can transpire if we’re not alert, fortified and accountable and how critical it is to be on vigilant guard over our souls. I want my brothers and sisters warned about what can happen if we self-treat our woundedness, brokenness and stress and the unmet needs and wants of our bodies and souls in the dark instead of letting Jesus treat them in the light. I also long for people to know that we can never fall so far into a black hole that Jesus can’t pull us out. We can never be so addicted that Jesus can’t deliver us and set us free. We can never be so messed up and used up that God can never use us again. We can never go so far from all that is holy and right and true that the Father would no longer welcome us home with a fresh clean robe and kisses.
Fortification starts with knowing we can all be had.
“My name is Had. You may know me, but you may not know my new name. You may have no idea what I’ve been through because I do my best to look the same. Oh, I’m scared to death of you. I used to be just like you. I once held my head up high without propping it on my Bible.
I was well respected back then. I even respected myself. I was wholeheartedly devoted to God, and if the truth be known, somewhere deep inside I was sometimes the slightest bit proud of my devotion. Then I’d repent because I knew that I was wrong, and I didn’t want to be wrong. Not ever.
People looked up to me. And life looked good from up there. I felt good about who I was. That was before I was Had. Strangely, I no longer remember my old name. I just remember I liked it. I liked who I was. I wish I could go back. I wish I’d just wake up. But I fear I’m wide awake. I’ve had a nightmare. And the nightmare was me. Had.
If I could really talk to you, if you could really listen, I’d tell you I have no idea how all this happened. Honestly, I was just like you. I didn’t plan to be Had. I didn’t want to be Had. One day I hadn’t, then the next day I had.
Oh, I know now where I went wrong. I rewound that nightmare a thousand times, stopping it right at the point where I departed the trail of good sense. The way ahead didn’t look wrong. It just looked different. Strange, he didn’t look like the devil in that original scene. But every time I replayed it, he dropped another piece of his masquerade. When he finally took off his mask, he was laughing at me. Nothing seems funny anymore. I’ll never laugh again as long as he’s laughing.
If only I could go back. I would see it this time! I’d walk around the trap camouflaged by the brush, and I would not be Had. I would be Proud. Was that my old name? Proud? I can’t even remember who I was anymore. I thought I was Good. Not Proud. But I don’t know anymore.
Would you believe I never heard the trap shut? Too many voices were shouting in my head. I just knew I had got stuck somewhere unfamiliar, and soon I didn’t like the scenery anymore. I wanted to go home. My ankle didn’t even hurt at first. Not until the infection set in. Then I thought I would die.
I lay like a whimpering doe while the wolf howled in the darkness. I got scared. I pulled the brush over me and hid. Then I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of there or I was sure it would kill me. I didn’t belong there. I refused to die there.
I pulled and pulled at that trap, but the foothold wouldn’t budge. The blood gushed. I had no way out. I screamed for God. I told Him where I was and the shape I was in. And He came for me.
The infection is gone. He put something on it and cleaned it up instantly. As He inspected my shattered ankle, I kept waiting for Him to say, ‘You deserved this, you know. You’ve been Had.’ Because I did and I know and I have. He hasn’t said it yet. I don’t know whether He will or not. I don’t know how much to trust Him yet. I’ve never known Him from this side. My leg still hurts. God says it will heal with time. But I fear that I will always walk with a limp.
You see, I wrestled with the devil, and he gave me a new name. My name is Had.”
–”Had” by Beth Moore from the book When Godly People do Ungodly Things