The Battle for Aunt Helen’s Soul
When the nursing home called and said Aunt Helen was having a bad day, I immediately jumped in my car and went to see what was going on.
Since my aunt and I had just been shopping the day before, I couldn’t even imagine what had caused this anxious call. I didn’t expect what I found.
As I walked into her room, an ugly feeling disturbed me. I sensed a frightening presence, and the pungent odor of sulfur almost stifled me. I felt an uneasiness I wasn’t sure I even wanted to understand.
My first instinct was to run, but knowing God wanted me there, I knelt beside her and softly spoke her name. Her frantic eyes looked into mine and her shaking hands grabbed me.
“I’m dying!” she shrieked.
I didn’t know what to say.
“They’re coming after me!” she screamed. “They’re on fire, they’re all dressed in red, and they’re coming after me.”
Her restless eyes searched mine.
“I’m so afraid! Don’t let me die like this,” her frantic voice pleaded.
“I’ll stay with you tonight,” I whispered as I caressed her wrinkled cheek.
The hours passed slowly, and quite often she sat up in bed with frightened eyes that saw something I couldn’t see.
“They’re here!” she would cry out. “They’re going to get me.”
By this time I’d figured out what the ugly feeling was. A battle was going on in that tiny room. A fight between Satan and Jesus for Aunt Helen’s soul. I could actually smell the conflict.
At ten o’clock that night I knew I needed to ask Aunt Helen an important question. I asked the nurse sitting across the room for a few minutes alone with my aunt. The efficient woman smiled and walked out of the room.
I always felt that my aunt hadn’t accepted Jesus as her Savior. She knew who Jesus was and believed He was God’s Son, but I’d wanted to talk to her about whether she’d taken the final step to salvation and asked Him into her heart.
I always dismissed the nagging feeling because I felt I had plenty of time to confront her with this. Now I was worried it might be too late.
Her eyes were closed most of the time. But every now and then she’d open them wide and look fearfully into the darkness before her.
“Aunt Helen?” I asked in as calm a voice as I could muster.
She turned and looked directly into my eyes. I knew she was aware of what I was saying.
Breathing a prayer for strength, I whispered, “I have something to ask you.”
Her eyes were glued to mine.
“Have you ever asked Jesus into your heart?”
She looked quickly away, and I had my answer.
“I know you love Jesus and always have,” I quickly soothed. “But you must accept Him as your Savior by asking Him into your heart.”
Her tormented eyes again looked briefly into mine. A sadness filled them that I’d never seen before.
My mother had told me many years before that Aunt Helen had had an abortion when she was a young woman, and I’d always thought she felt unworthy of life because of it. A sixty-eight-year-old sin had kept her from the many blessings our Father in heaven had for her on this earth. That one decision had burdened her through her entire life. Now she was afraid to die because she didn’t feel worthy of heaven.
“Aunt Helen,” I began softly. “Do you feel you’re not going to heaven because of the abortion you had when you were eighteen?”
She lowered her head, and her blue eyes filled with tears.
“God forgave you a long time ago, Aunt Helen,” I said. “But you’re still harboring shame and guilt. Please forgive yourself and ask Jesus into your heart. Then you’ll be assured of your place in heaven.”
Several minutes passed and I could feel the battle still raging in the shadowy room. My heart pounded and my nose burned with the stench of Satan.
Suddenly, Aunt Helen grabbed both my hands. She wrapped her bony fingers tightly around mine and said in an authoritative voice, “Lord Jesus, come into my heart!”
We both heaved a mighty sigh of relief as I gathered her into my arms.
The room was immediately filled with peace. The battle was over, and once again Jesus had been victorious.
The rest of the night I sang and read the Bible to my aunt.
Only once after that did she cry out that they were coming after her. I countered with, “They can’t get you, Aunt Helen. You now belong to Jesus.”
Still, today, I can see the peace in her eyes as she smiled at me and settled into the pillow.
Death came at 10:10 the next morning. My eyes filled with tears at the loss of my dear aunt. But tears of joy quickly followed because I knew she was safe in the arms of Jesus.
I thanked God that He’d chosen me to talk to Aunt Helen about her salvation. I thanked Him, also, for the lesson I learned in those few tormented hours. I learned that our Savior never gives up on us, that He’s fighting for our souls as long as there is breath in our bodies.