It Sounds Like God To Me

© Copyright 2007 by Phil Scovell - All Rights Reserved



                                      14

                             Trapped by claustrophobia


                                 By Phil Scovell






          Over on the other side of the apple orchard, was another  unkempt
     field.   It appeared  to be,  in actuality, several  lots where  homes
     could be built.
          In  this  rundown  area was  an  old  house.   It  was  small and
     occasionally we met  there just to  hang out and  play various  games.
     Fort, that  is, being attacked  by indians or other  warriors, school,
     clubhouse, or just about anything we could think of and we could think
     of a lot.   It was also where I smoked my first  cigarette.  The kids,
     who lived in  this part of  the neighborhood, were  not kids we  often
     played with for obvious reasons.  My dad and I had a little talk about
     the cigarette smoking ordeal later.  No, he didn't spank me but he did
     listen to my story and explained why we didn't smoke as Christians.  I
     was about 8 years old at  the time.  I didn't smoke again.   Well, not
     until  my dad died and I  was a teenager and  a pot and tobacco smoker
     for a defiant period of time of my life.
          One day, while playing in this old house, we discovered it had an
     attic.    It was  mid summer  and  pushing back  the ceiling  door, we
     climbed into the super  heated attic to look around and  I mean it was
     hot, too.   So  we came up  with this  big idea.   We decided  to take
     turns, one by one, to climb  up into the hot attic, close the  ceiling
     door, and weight for the boys downstairs to  count to one hundred.  We
     did exactly  that, taking turns, and  everyone passed the  test.  What
     men we were.   With this  in mind,  I want to  tell you about  another
     experience I  had when I  was about  the same age  but this time,  the
     experience brought sudden fear and panic.
          My dad had built a luggage carrier out of wood for the top of our
     car.  One day  he had removed it from the car and  laid it upside down
     on the ground in the backyard.  Why upside down?  So  if it rained, it
     couldn't  collect water.  You  see, it was just a  big square box with
     huge suction  cups on the bottom with straps  so it would stay clamped
     to the  roof of the car.   Dad would drape a large  tarpaulin over the
     luggage to protect it from the weather.
          Discovering the  luggage carrier one  day, I thought it  would be
     neat to lift one side and  climb beneath it.  I did so  and lowered it
     to the ground.   It was a tight  fit but I had plenty  of room to move
     around on my  belly.  There  was no logical  reason for what  happened
     next because  I head  done such things  hundreds of times.   Suddenly,
     fear washed over me.  "What if you can't get out!"  I started to panic
     and quickly lifted the carrier off of me.  I was not trapped, I was in
     no danger, but something made me not only frightened, but like someone
     was going to stand on top of the carrier and keep me pinned inside.  I
     was  going to die.   I  shook the  feelings off and  ran away  to play
     elsewhere; putting  as  much  distance  between me  and  that  luggage
     carrier as possible.
          Over the  years, this memory  frequently came to  mind.  I  never
     understood  why.     Yes,  there  was  fear  and  a  strong  sense  of
     claustrophobia directly associated with the memory every time it  came
     to mind.  I was just a kid, though, and I always quickly dismissed the
     memory of having no value.  After all, it wasn't true, I was fine, and
     besides, I'm a grown man now and it happened decades ago.
          Recently, when the memory suddenly popped into my mind, I stopped
     what I was doing and focused on it.  "Lord?" I queried, "what is wrong
     in  this memory?   You are allowing  it to return for  some reason and
     there is something wrong.  I can feel it."  I let myself feel the fear
     and the strong claustrophobia.
          "You are trapped.  You will never get out alive."
          "What do you feel?" I heard the Holy Spirit ask.
          I told Him.
          Suddenly, I  was  viewing the  memory  from outside  the  luggage
     carrier.  Always before, the memory was of  me underneath and trapped.
     Now  I was viewing the entire memory  from the outside but I was still
     underneath  it and it  was laying flat  on the ground.   Something was
     instantly  different, though.   A  golden  yellowish illuminating  man
     figure was bending over the luggage  carrier and reaching out with his
     arms as if he were poised to grabbed it and pull it off at any second.
     I  nearly laughed  when I  realized what  I was  seeing.   At  first I
     thought it was  Jesus but  the form didn't  seem like Jesus.   Then  I
     realized  it was  an angel.   I was  never in  any danger at  any time
     because the angel was there even if I couldn't see him.
          Are  such  childhood memories  important?    What do  you  think?
     Claustrophobia and fear of being trapped and apprehension of impending
     death are not of God.  Not then, as a child, and not  now as an adult.
     Was this memory effecting my life?  You tell me.
          Now, when this  memory comes to mind,  I see the luggage  carrier
     flat on  the ground,  knowing I  am under  it, but  I always  see this
     golden illuminated man  poised to  snatch it  off of me  at a  seconds
     notice.  This is what the Bible calls the renewing of the mind.
          I have no  doubt this story has sparked similar  memories in your
     own life.    Jesus wants  your  mind  devoid of  all  such  unpleasant
     memories.  If you allow Him, He can make your  memories of such events
     perfectly whole.   Do you need  help finding the  lie and hearing  the
     voice of the Lord?  I'll  be glad to teach you how easily  it works in
     your every day life.