It all began with Unloved and Unwanted.

Or maybe it really began as far back as junior high and high school. Or even further back to before I was even born. Whenever it began, The Rose In The Fire has really been the journey of my lifetime — and very much a God-ordained thing.

Sometime in the early 1970s, in junior high no less, I became deeply involved in witchcraft and the occult. My best friend and I started a coven and did seances, spirit writing and the Ouija board. It was all so real to me and I remember being so caught up in exploring the supernatural that one night I even wrote out a covenant promising to serve Satan. I don’t remember the exact words and the piece of paper is long gone, but I do remember writing it with a dip pen and a tiny jar of silver ink.

I was obviously young and had no idea what I was doing, but youth and ignorance don’t matter to the master deceiver. When you fling open the door to him, he comes right in and steals the key — and you can’t get rid of him. You won’t even realize how he’s at work in your life, because he specializes in the occult — which means “hidden.”

Sometime later a frightening experience caused me to to walk away from witchcraft. Soon after that, I decided to become a “Jesus Freak.” I was 14 and in ninth grade. It was 1972 during the so-called “Jesus Movement” and it seemed that all my friends were doing this. One friend told me I had to “accept Christ” by “going forward” at a Youth for Christ rally, and the next one happened to be a roller skating event. So that’s what I did — on roller skates, no less.

Frankly, I didn’t know what I was doing then, either. (Nor have I ever been a good skater!) But they gave the invitation and my friends all began nudging me excitedly, so I raised my hand. They took me to a back room where I talked with an older girl (probably a college student) about what it meant to follow Jesus. Up until that moment, this was more or less just something cool I was doing along with my friends. But as I bent my head to pray, I remember thinking, this is really serious. I didn’t know much about God, but I knew I really did want Him to live in my heart.

And so I became a Christian in a humble moment that has completely defined the trajectory of my life.

There are those who would insist that if you are a Christian, you can’t be possessed or oppressed by demons. I can tell you that this isn’t true. I was saved and I loved Jesus, but the enemy I had invited in never left me. For over 20 years after committing my life to Christ, I struggled with intense fear, anxiety, and depression. Worst of all, I experienced demonic nightmares where I would become paralyzed and unable to speak. It would feel like I was floating in a rushing wind.

Yes, Jesus was my Savior, but I also needed Him to be my Deliverer.

When I was a college student in the late 1970s, two pastors prayed over me for deliverance. The Lord gave one of them a picture of a huge metal door that was slightly open. On the other side were many demons trying to force the door open, but as we prayed, a huge angel slammed the door shut. I thought my deliverance was complete, but it was apparently only the first step. The fears, depression, and dreams continued for several years afterward.

In 1983 I met and married my wonderful husband, Richard. We settled in the Finger Lakes area of upstate New York and eventually we had two sons. In 1991 we joined a new church and right after that God brought me into a season of deliverance.

Very shortly after we joined, the parents of a church member came into town for a visit. This older couple had a ministry of deliverance and it was arranged that Richard and I would meet with them one evening. I had never seen this couple before and have never seen them since (although I wish I could, to tell them how their ministry ultimately affected me). I recall their names were Jim and Betty.

After introductions, Jim explained the way they worked together. Betty would get a word of knowledge and he would then pray to cast out spirits. There was nothing weird or scary about the two hours or so that we spent together. Everything was done calmly and quietly, but it was completely life-changing. I could say a lot about all the things that happened for both of us that evening, but there is one thing I will never forget.

In the course of praying over me, Jim and Betty targeted two spirits. Betty said, “She has Unloved.” Jim said, “Unloved has a sister spirit, Unwanted.” For the only time during the evening, he then spoke directly to these two spirits: “I know you have been in Meghan since she was in her mother’s womb, but you must come out now.”

As he said this, two things happened.

First, I was completely shocked. Jim and Betty had no way of knowing anything about my life, but they had definitely gotten this from the Lord. My family was dysfunctional in many ways, and while I know now that my parents did love me, when I was a young child they didn’t or couldn’t show me this in the ways I needed. So from my earliest memories I grew up believing that nobody loved me. I even remember as a child lying awake at night and saying it out loud into the darkness: “Nobody loves me.”

Where would such a belief come from in the heart of a child? Apparently from the lies of two spirits that were active in my life from before I was born.

I can’t prove that the part about my mother’s womb was true, but I do believe it is. There were circumstances surrounding her birth and relationship with my grandmother that lead me to think she was not particularly wanted. In looking back and considering family stories I have heard, I now believe Unloved and Unwanted are so-called generational spirits that have passed through the women of my mother’s family at least as far back as my great-grandmother.

Thus it resonated in my spirit that everything Jim and Betty had discovered was real, especially since the second thing that happened as they prayed over me was that God immediately gave me a mental picture of Unloved and Unwanted: two old hags, bent over and wearing long black skirts with black knitted shawls, their streaked grey hair drawn back into tight buns.

There was a lot more that went on that evening, but that was the only picture I received. As I carried it away with me and pondered it for some time afterwards, I understood that I was supposed to do something with it.

So I began writing a story.