Good Morning Gorgeous,

It’s a brand new day. A fresh new start. A new day to rise and FLEE to the throneroom of grace.

The Lord has EXACTLY what you need today. And as you run to Him, He will provide the needed salve for your wounds.

Three years ago my family experienced a tragedy while ministering. The raw truth of this tragedy is it came in the middle of a season where I was growing spiritually at a rapid pace. I had received my prayer language, was experiencing God use me to minister to people in ways He had never used me before, and felt very close to Him.

And tragedy struck and really caught me off guard. I had been through deep trauma and loss prior to this event, but this one was different.

Because I was close to the Lord, closer than I had ever been, I found myself battling and overcoming very differently than any other time. And after I walked through healing and triumph with the Lord, He prompted me to write a book.

It’s published and available on Amazon as a paperback or in Kindle version.

Surviving the Midnight Hour: Walking in Victory Following Trauma, Loss, or Sudden Change https://a.co/d/4D0sxhw

This week I feel led to share the entire first chapter. So I am sharing it here:

   In 2021, I came face to face with evil. I was deep in homeless ministry. My family traveled around our town each weekend to meet with people who were living in dire situations. We would bring hot meals, toiletries, tarps for the rainy season, towels, and clothing. Then, we would pray with them. We would tell them about Jesus. And the ministry grew. People were partnering with us. Supplies were rolling in.     

The people we were ministering to started to trust us. This was a big deal because the survival skills necessary to live in the elements tend to make people very guarded and slow to trust. It was a beautiful breakthrough when they began to open up to us. We felt a shift begin to happen as we ministered, and we were beginning to minister more to their spiritual needs than their physical. And then seemingly out of nowhere tragedy struck.

     It was a Sunday afternoon. Church had been amazing that morning. I remember praising Jesus at the altar and dancing in His Presence. Everything felt right. Ministry felt right. My relationship with Christ felt strong, and I was growing. I was stepping out more and more both in ministry and in my willingness to be vulnerable in the Presence of the Lord. Just that morning, I remember feeling like sunshine was on my cheeks as I worshipped and praised with more abandon than ever. Who knew that just hours later, a deep darkness would descend upon me swiftly and without any warning?

      In hindsight, there was a major spiritual battle happening as we prepped to go out that day. Normally, we ministered on Saturdays. Today was different. We were heading out on a Sunday. We were tired from the day before. We had spent Saturday moving a camp of people from where they were living behind a deserted strip mall to a new location in the woods. It had been all over the news that a community of people living behind this vacant building was being forced to leave rather suddenly. To the news, they were an interesting story. To the community, they were an eyesore. To us, they were people. People with their own stories, traumas, and losses. Most importantly, they were valuable to the Lord. We saw the treasure in them, and when they were permitted to move to another area, we were happy to help them move their camp. That had taken up most of Saturday, so the plan was that Sunday after church we would bring them pizza and drinks. Then, we would have a quick time of encouragement and prayer. This was to be a new start for them away from the eye of the public and the news.

     So there we were ministering, doing what we believed God had called us to do. We felt like we were making a big difference. As we finished up, we said our final prayer, and we were packing up the car to leave. In a split moment, everything changed. Our dog Maxwell, our pup we had gotten during Covid, was just coming up on his first birthday. He was with us each time we went out and ministered from the time we started the ministry until this day. He rode along pretty much every single time we went out into the field. He would stay in the car, and as people would come and get supplies out of the back of the van, he would greet them. He would sit in the backseat and stick his head through the seats to see the people. He would wag his tail, and sometimes, he would bark and be protective.

      He went with us just about everywhere we went since the day we brought him home. Anything we did as a family, Maxwell came along. We had shifted where we went out to eat so that we only went to places that had outdoor seating. We would go to parks and other places that were dog-friendly. So naturally, when we went out to minister, he always came along. This day was no different. He had traveled along and greeted all the people as we unloaded coolers, supplies, and pizzas. But this day he wasn’t interested in staying in the car. He kept trying to get out. We had put him back in already, buckled in the kids, and we were closing everything up. I went around to the back of the van to finish packing up, and it seemed like the moment I was about to shut The people we were ministering to started to trust us. This was a big deal because the survival skills necessary to live in the elements tend to make people very guarded and slow to trust. It was a beautiful breakthrough when they began to open up to us. We felt a shift begin to happen as we ministered, and we were beginning to minister more to their spiritual needs than their physical. And then seemingly out of nowhere tragedy struck.

     It was a Sunday afternoon. Church had been amazing that morning. I remember praising Jesus at the altar and dancing in His Presence. Everything felt right. Ministry felt right. My relationship with Christ felt strong, and I was growing. I was stepping out more and more both in ministry and in my willingness to be vulnerable in the Presence of the Lord. Just that morning, I remember feeling like sunshine was on my cheeks as I worshipped and praised with more abandon than ever. Who knew that just hours later, a deep darkness would descend upon me swiftly and without any warning?

      In hindsight, there was a major spiritual battle happening as we prepped to go out that day. Normally, we ministered on Saturdays. Today was different. We were heading out on a Sunday. We were tired from the day before. We had spent Saturday moving a camp of people from where they were living behind a deserted strip mall to a new location in the woods. It had been all over the news that a community of people living behind this vacant building was being forced to leave rather suddenly. To the news, they were an interesting story. To the community, they were an eyesore. To us, they were people. People with their own stories, traumas, and losses. Most importantly, they were valuable to the Lord. We saw the treasure in them, and when they were permitted to move to another area, we were happy to help them move their camp. That had taken up most of Saturday, so the plan was that Sunday after church we would bring them pizza and drinks. Then, we would have a quick time of encouragement and prayer. This was to be a new start for them away from the eye of the public and the news.

     So there we were ministering, doing what we believed God had called us to do. We felt like we were making a big difference. As we finished up, we said our final prayer, and we were packing up the car to leave. In a split moment, everything changed. Our dog Maxwell, our pup we had gotten during Covid, was just coming up on his first birthday. He was with us each time we went out and ministered from the time we started the ministry until this day. He rode along pretty much every single time we went out into the field. He would stay in the car, and as people would come and get supplies out of the back of the van, he would greet them. He would sit in the backseat and stick his head through the seats to see the people. He would wag his tail, and sometimes, he would bark and be protective.

      He went with us just about everywhere we went since the day we brought him home. Anything we did as a family, Maxwell came along. We had shifted where we went out to eat so that we only went to places that had outdoor seating. We would go to parks and other places that were dog-friendly. So naturally, when we went out to minister, he always came along. This day was no different. He had traveled along and greeted all the people as we unloaded coolers, supplies, and pizzas. But this day he wasn’t interested in staying in the car. He kept trying to get out. We had put him back in already, buckled in the kids, and we were closing everything up. I went around to the back of the van to finish packing up, and it seemed like the moment I was about to shut The people we were ministering to started to trust us. This was a big deal because the survival skills necessary to live in the elements tend to make people very guarded and slow to trust. It was a beautiful breakthrough when they began to open up to us. We felt a shift begin to happen as we ministered, and we were beginning to minister more to their spiritual needs than their physical. And then seemingly out of nowhere tragedy struck.

       One of the gentlemen we were ministering to tried to help by chasing Maxwell. He did not know that you could not chase Maxwell because he would turn it into an instant game. Maxwell ran from the man toward traffic, and I yelled stop. Momentarily, Maxwell stopped, and he looked at me. That look of contemplation on his face is etched into my memory. I see it often and have to catch my breath at times at the flashback. So there we were, frozen in time. He looked at me, and he looked at the six-lane highway that was now so much closer than it was before he played the game of chase.

Time continued to stand still. It felt like everything just stopped. Then, before it even happened, I already knew what the worst outcome could be at this moment. I repeated, “Maxwell, no.” He stared at me, and he stared at the traffic. The temptation to run just took over. He ran right into the oncoming traffic. The accident was almost immediate. I ran right after him. I didn’t look. I didn’t think. I just ran right into traffic, and I just threw myself onto his body in the middle of US 41 and cried and cried. I prayed for a different outcome. All of the traffic stopped. All three lanes going in that direction stopped. My husband picked up sweet Maxwell and carried him out of the road and over to the side. He was just moments from passing. I began to cry out and pray from the depths of my being. I began to pray in tongues through the Holy Spirit. I was screaming, “No! No! No!” The mourning wail that came from deep within me was like nothing I’d ever experienced. And in that trauma, in that moment of deep deep anguish, the enemy was right there capitalizing on my pain.

He asked me, “How could God promise no weapon formed against you shall prosper? How could the scripture be true if this weapon has prospered?”

An ambulance appeared on the scene. They put me inside because I was inconsolable. The police arrived and asked a lot of questions. I remember sitting in the ambulance and going through multiple stages of grief in waves. The shock, the denial, the questioning, the bargaining, the anger, sadness, and circling back through them all again.

And just like that, my world went dark, and I felt the midnight hour come over me. My perception was off. My sight was skewed. I could no longer see or hear the truth. Momentarily, I saw everything through the lens of loss.

I felt vulnerable. I felt exposed. I felt like the enemy had more access to me than I realized. And I wanted to run, hide, and tuck myself away from ministry, teaching the Word, leading women in prayer, and all of the things I had been doing for the kingdom. I knew I had arrived on the enemy’s radar and desired to retreat. At this moment, my next steps would be crucial for how long midnight would last. In the natural, the dark of night is very predictable. You know generally when the sun will set and when it will rise again.

When midnight settles in the spiritual realm, we can both SURVIVE and SHORTEN it when we battle back with our spiritual weapons. Spiritual Midnight can last hours, days, months, years, or decades, depending on how quickly we invite God into the darkness and allow Him to bring about the sunrise after our darkest nights.

Choose to Praise

The accident happened on a Sunday afternoon. That morning, I had worshipped at the altar with joy and abandon! I remember the exact song. It was “Never Gonna Stop” by Life Church Music. How fitting is that? The morning of the day of the accident, I had worshipped with total abandon to a song with the lyrics, I’m never gonna stop praising you. The next Sunday, exactly one week later, I had a choice to make. Did I truly mean that declaration I made to the Lord in worship prior to the accident? Would I really never stop praising? Or would I only praise God in the mountaintop seasons? Did I have praise in my spirit even when I was in a place of deep deep anguish?

On the drive to church, I remembered my praise the week before. I remembered the JOY I felt in the Presence of my Savior. And I thought about the tragic accident that happened right after. The grief was still very raw. During my contemplation, I felt this holy strength rise in me, and I determined to praise with everything within me. I walked into the sanctuary feeling the grief, but a new feeling was there. I felt like I was entering a battlefield where I was guaranteed victory. I would praise. I would lift the name of the Lord on high. I would not hold back or be silenced by the pain. My emotions would not be the determining factor of what my praise looked like. I would praise with full abandon on the mountain top and in the valley.

When the worship music came on, I went to the front. I stood in the same place where I worshipped God the week before, when everything felt perfect and orderly in my life. Now, everything was chaotic and shattered and definitely not perfect or orderly, but that wouldn’t change my praise.

This dance. This praise. This worship was to be a weapon shot back against all forces of hell that were trying to steal, kill, and destroy my destiny.

Praise through Tears

Somewhere in the worship set, the same song, “Never Gonna Stop,” came on again from the previous week. I went back to the altar. I planted myself in the same spot I had worshipped the week before. I danced. I sang. I worshipped with tears running down my face. I sang of His goodness. I danced in His Presence. I told Him I loved Him. I told Him I would stay faithful. I confessed His goodness again and again and again. Even when my experience on the earth appeared opposite of what I was declaring, I declared it anyway. I declared the truth. I declared the truth of His Word in the face of loss, the face of trauma, and in the face of the lies the enemy was screaming at me in the dark.

Woman of God, Man of God, you WILL survive this season. The sun will shine on your face again. You must FIGHT, and the fight looks nothing like how the world fights. You have weapons in your arsenal that will obliterate the devil’s schemes to keep you in darkness. I know the pain is real. Sometimes the loss is so deep it feels like you may split in two. Sometimes the rejection is so sharp that the emotional pain becomes physical.

Even in this deep anguish, you can praise. In the depths of darkness, you may not feel like praise. The lies of the enemy may be so so loud. You may even feel justified in withholding your praise from the Lord. This is the moment to fight hard to get your mouth to declare His goodness. Fight hard to get your feet to move in praise. Fight hard to sing praises to the Lord.

Ask Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Helper, to come and strengthen you to praise. Call on Him for help in getting your lips to move, your hands to go up in surrender, and your feet to dance. We sing a praise song in church with this line, “When I move my body, when I move my feet, the darkness flees.”

It doesn’t make sense in the natural, but in the spirit realm, you are winning spiritual battles when you praise His name amid fiery trials.

This type of praise confuses your enemy. Satan doesn’t get it. He had everything in heaven and chose not to praise. How could a mere mortal who has been stripped bare continue to praise God? It messes up his plans, confuses his schemes, and makes him flee!

Bring a Sacrifice of Praise

You will receive from the Lord as you worship Him from a place of deep anguish. This is where we can offer up a sacrifice of praise. Remember, David wanted to buy the threshing floor from Aranuah the Jebusite so that he could build an altar to the Lord. Aranauh offered it to David free of charge, along with the animals for the sacrifice. David refused the offer. He offered to pay the full market price. He said that he would not offer the Lord that which cost him nothing. Will we only offer praise when all is well and our soul is at peace with life’s circumstances? Or will we offer the type of praise that costs us something?

When we praise despite the darkness surrounding us, we are bringing the Lord a sacrifice that is valuable and has great worth. This type of sacrifice is a pleasing aroma to the Lord. He will draw near to you and consume your sacrifice. He will give you wells of strength and battle plans for how to proceed; the lies of the enemy will be silenced, and your spirit will be renewed.

No wonder the enemy wants to stop your praise!

Dear Lord,

I need You. The dark is heavy and feels like it’s swallowing me whole. I need Holy Spirit to help me to praise. I need help to get my lips to move and my body to respond to Your goodness in all seasons. I trust You, Jesus. I trust You, Jesus. I still trust You, Jesus. I will praise You in every season of my life. I will sing of the goodness of the Lord whether it’s daylight or midnight. I will not be moved by what I see, feel, or experience. I will continue to bless Your name even when it’s hard. I will sing of Your goodness when it feels like there’s no breath in my lungs. I will move my feet even when it feels like there are anchors attached to them. Lord, help me! Strengthen me! Come and consume my sacrifice of praise. Let it be a pleasing aroma to You.

In Jesus’s Name, Amen.

Blessings and triumph!

Vanessa Lynn