Christine Rhyner Christine Rhyner
I choke back tears, feeling surrounded by death and destruction.
“I don’t think I can bear the idea of facing you after all you’ve been through,” Mr. Ray confesses.
“But God has a purpose in all of this,” he tries to reassure me. “Perhaps He is trying to test your patience. Either that, or He wants you to understand just how precious is life He will hopefully commit to your care. Ultimately, you’ll be more appreciative after all of this heartache and delay.” Then he hangs up the phone.
Hopefully commit. Mr. Ray’s choice of words doesn’t sound rock solid about John and I becoming parents. It dawns on me that this is war, spiritual warfare. I call my sister Mandy.
“This is a spiritual battle,” Mandy agrees. “Here’s these wonderful, Vietnamese babies who could have a hope and a future in the US. Of course, the enemy doesn’t want that!” she exclaims.
I feel pumped up to do battle, not against flesh and blood, but dark spiritual forces.
