CHAINS DO BREAK

Author DARLENE JUANITA CONARD

“The people which sat in darkness saw a great light and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death light is sprung up.” Matthew 4:16 KJV

As a fifteen-year-old teenager I struggled between life and death. Self-mutilation became my source of relief. Several friends encouraged me to try it. The experience gave me a high. Of course, it doesn’t make sense. How can tearing into the skin with razors and glass make one high? It’s just as addictive as drugs, alcohol or anything else. I’ll get into that another time. I couldn’t handle the physical and mental abuse any longer! No one cared! No one listened. Everything behind closed doors stayed there. No one believed me anyway! Chains of depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies lured me into a cold atmosphere. Nothing, I felt nothing except justified and liberated. No empathy, concern, joy, or awareness of goodness: everything or anyone was completely shut out. The thirty pills prescribed by the Psychiatrist only worsened my condition. Pain on top of pain created a wall against God and everyone else.

Every church I walked into rejected me after seeing me dressed in black from head to toe, with dream catcher earrings dangling from my ears, and dark makeup on my face. “Can’t you wear something different? Do you have to come like that? This is the house of God.” Many pastors as well as church members passed me by in disgust. I decided to convert to necromancy. After being rejected five times what else could I believe. Apparently, I’ve been destined for hell. I belonged to darkness. If there was a God, if Jesus really did die and was resurrected, He didn’t want to waste time on me, rehearsed in my thoughts. Cutting became more than just getting high. “Witch, that’s what I want to be a full pledge witch!” Tarot cards, palm reading, spell books, seances, you name it! I participated. While walking home from town a lady approached me inviting me to church. She went on to tell me that I was on my way to hell. “Tell me something I don’t know!” My black-coated nails dug deep into the tracts handed to me, shredding them into pieces like confetti. “Take your Jesus to some other fool!” Finalizing my statement, the shredded biblical literature I held tight in my fist flew in her face. “I’ve been there, church is full of hypocrites!”

I refused to allow myself to be close to my grandma. Let me make myself clear! Ignoring and saying you don’t believe in demonic powers doesn’t make them go away. My grandmother’s prayers, whom I came to know in 1999, refused to cease praying and fasting for me. As I walked down the street alongside my sister, I experienced a tug of war. “Wouldn’t you like to go to church? You can be free of all this. Another voice protested, “Remember what happened? You aren’t welcome in the church, any church! You’ll never escape the pain. Remember what your dad did to you? You’re nothing! He said it, it was said in school, and you’re a disgrace to God! The constant war between good and evil intensified.

God gave me dreams. One night I dreamt of a Man hanging on the cross. Lightning lit the sky. Thunder shook the foundation of the earth. Muscle and skin hung from His bloody disfigured torso like shredded sheets. He was unrecognizable. No longer was I distant I suddenly found me at His feet. Slowly as I looked up it was then His blood dripping on me. The dreams didn’t stop. I did everything in my power to keep from thinking. God always wins! Darkness retaliated. What made me feel powerful suddenly left me helpless. “Who am I? What am I?” Fear kept me up through the night. Many nights I woke up choking, feeling something moving over my body, evil laughter, whispers. Throughout the day I experience fatigue, physical sickness, and confusion. On several accounts, I attempted suicide by tightening a cord in a knot around my neck. My middle sister forced her body into the door until the lock broke and removed the cord. I took overdoses of valium, anything that kept me from thinking.

I was twenty-five when I allowed my grandmother fully in my life. She invited me to Bible studies her friend held in her home. Grandma’s friend invited me to a Pentecostal service in my hometown Richwood, WV. She and Grandma’s love and kindness changed my attitude about Christianity. They actually cared about me! That Sunday morning, I felt something foreign to my spirit. As the new friend I made sang, “There’s a Miracle in Every Pew” by Aaron Wilburn, I knew then how miserable I was. Ignoring the thought of onlookers, and what they may be thinking I made my way to the altar and fell on my knees. “God I can’t carry this anymore! I can’t go on like this, take it and do with me what you will!” I experienced the presence of God. Drenched in His love, mercy and grace all my broken pieces laid spread before Him. From that moment on I have not been the same. All the chains that held me back shattered through the name of Jesus! Darkness fled. From that moment on I saw things from a different view.

Smiling at me the pastor said, “God is going to use you in a mighty way.” My grandma and her friend’s perseverance encouraged me to fight in prayer for others. Don’t think for a moment that the blood of Jesus has or ever will expire. Cast away the thought that the prayers for lost loved ones go unheard. Give no place to the voice that says, “You’re wasting your time!” I’m here to testify that the consistency of fervent prayer breaks chains of darkness! “Me?” In disbelief, I looked around at the few intercessors standing by. “God wants to use me?” Tears streaming down my face soaking my black T-shirt I stood frozen in disbelief. I spoke things against God blaming Him for the evil that enslaved me! I cut on myself and cursed Him. I was studying spell books, and practicing the rituals. He would use me?” … “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” James 5:16 KJV

At one time feelings of shame kept me from sharing my testimony. I realized something, what if the testimonies of those in the Bible went unpublished? How would anyone know His glory embellishes the broken souls of men, women and children of all nations. No limits! “Speak of your testimony, the Holy Ghost urged during a group meeting of people from all over the United States. For the longest time, I hesitated. Without further delay, I gave my testimony. “Thank you for sharing. I thought I was alone. I would have never thought that someone like you went through so much.” The ladies tear-filled eyes locked on mine. “Don’t ever be ashamed,” she continued. We must share our testimony! “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony, and they loved not their lives unto the death.” Revelation 12:11 KJV I have withheld from speaking all of my past life for a reason.

This will be written into a book. It doesn’t matter who believes my story. Those who are fighting the same battle need to know they aren’t alone. Here I am relaying messages of hope, assurance and redemption through Jesus Christ. Being an author, and artist, volunteering in my community was far from anything I could possibly see myself as. Jesus can change anyone or any circumstance. … “my speech and my preaching were not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power: That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God. Howbeit we speak wisdom among them that are perfect: yet not the wisdom of this world, nor of the princes of this world, that come to naught: 1 Corinthians 2:4-6 KJV Wherefore I say unto thee, “Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.” And he said unto her, “Thy sins are forgiven.”

God bless, my prayers are with you always! Darlene J. Conard