My War Room Story

The year was 2006 and as I walked from class to class at seminary, I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I had lived in North Texas for a year and was struggling.

Worried about my marriage, saddened that I didn’t have many friends and dealing with a loss of identity, the combination was toxic. I needed someone or something to throw me a lifeline to pull me out of the pit I was in.

One day after a day of classes I was driving home listening to the wrong voice. “No one cares about you, Lisa. Why don’t you just run your car into the wall and end it now?”

As you can deduce, I didn’t follow through but that was a wake up call. I realized the enemy of my soul didn’t want me to finish seminary and that’s why my personal life was upside down. He knew my Achilles heel and was throwing a barrage of fiery darts and distractions to prevent me from moving forward.

I was under attack and I needed to fight back.

Ephesians 6:12 says, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

And that’s when I established my own War Room.

I chose to pray in my bedroom. With curtains drawn, I knelt next to the bed and prayed every day, sometimes for over an hour, many times with tears streaming down my face. I was often flat on my face, humbled before God, asking for mercy.

For my marriage, I bought a book by prayer author, Stormie Omartian, called The Power of a Praying Wife. In her book, Omartian included many prayers and Scriptures that were appropriate for my situation so I prayed them over my husband and myself. Being a social creature, I asked the Lord to bring me friends. I prayed for my children. I prayed for hope.

In my War Room, God began to turn my thinking around and lifted the blanket of oppression. That made home a more pleasant place to be. I watched miracles happen in my marriage. God also provided friends and ministry opportunities at my church. As prayer began to carve through the haze of sadness, God gave me a glimpse of a brighter future.

And as I look back, I realize that through the trial, my relationship with my Father in Heaven became more intimate and I learned how to pray powerfully.

I believe we underestimate the power of prayer in our lives. Instead of a last resort, it should be a first resort. Instead of a couple of minutes, sometimes we should spend hours in the War Room lifting up our family, our friends and our country. God honors the prayers of his children and desires to help those who humble themselves before him.

But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you (Matthew 6:6).