The Game of Life
This is the story of a woman gambler who lost the game of life. I am going to call her Consuela. We were both from Cuba. Consuela invited her Cuban friends to come over once a week to play cards.
One day, Consuela had an accident with a leg injury, leaving her unable to drive, so she invited me, my mother, and another lady named Martha to play cards at her house.
Consuela knew I was a Spirit-filled Christian. The other ladies were Catholic, and Consuela explained to me that her husband was an atheist and did not let her practice Catholicism or anything else.
One day at her house, I asked her if she would let me pray for her legs. She agreed, and I asked her to sit straight up in her chair so I could lift her legs and see if they were the same length. The legs were obviously different lengths, in the amount of an inch or so. My mother and Martha were around us watching closely, and they saw the difference.
I prayed for her legs, and there was a sudden movement as both legs became the same length. Consuela said excitedly that she could feel a pull in one of her legs. Her eyes were like saucers, I guess from trying to decide whether to believe the miracle or not. Martha, on the other hand, started walking in circles with her hands in her face, crying “Oh, my God!!” non-stop. My mother bit her lip, and I could see her mind going at full speed looking for an explanation that was logical and earthly, and not finding any, she went back to her chair and sat in silence.
The whole group of card-playing ladies really never fully accepted me because I was “a holy roller”. I had written a booklet especially for them which I titled, “A Letter To My Catholic Friends”. It was intended to explain why I was not a Catholic. I had it printed and gave one booklet to each lady. My supernatural testimony was there, which was enough for someone to ask some questions, but it elicited only one comment from one lady who did not agree with me on one minor point.
About two years later Consuela invited a new friend to her house and threw a party so she could introduce her new friend to us.
Not long after that, I went to Consuela’s house with a relative of mine who had not been there. Consuela wanted to show her the house (I went along for the tour) and she opened a cabinet door where there was a hidden altar. She promptly shut the door, but I can’t believe she had forgotten that the altar was there. It was almost like she wanted me to see it.
I knew what this altar was. It was a Santeria altar, Santeria being a specific form of witchcraft from Cuba. I acted as if I did not see it and did not question her about it.
She already had experienced the power of the Lord Jesus Christ and the miracle on her leg done in His name, and she never mentioned it or asked any questions about it. I realized that the new friend was inducing her into Santeria.
Consuela had always been an avid card player. She was the one who insisted on playing for money. Although she was very affluent, she would get angry if she did not win.
At our table, she was the best player, and I came in a close second. But I played primarily so I could bring my mother, as this was her only weekly outing and she enjoyed it. Secondly, because I enjoyed solving any kind of puzzles like card games. And thirdly, because of the fellowship.
I did not mind if I lost, but I tried to play the best I could. This was a dumb card game, the kind that children play. It was nothing like poker or bridge–just a step up from Old Maid.
We had played the same card game every week, and by now I knew the average time it took to win a game. One day, Consuela started to win games faster than normal. I found it strange and started observing her. When it was her turn, she would pick a card from the pile in expectation. And sure enough, it was the card she needed. I would watch her lay her cards down with an expression of triumph in her face.
I got a funny feeling, like there was something abnormal happening. Just then, the Holy Spirit told me, “witchcraft!” Very low, and shielding my face with the cards in my hand, I said, “I break the power of this witchcraft, in the name of Jesus.”
Things started to change. I watched her. The cards she was picking were not as she expected. At the beginning she showed unbelief, as if there was something wrong. Then she got angry.
I can’t remember who won that game. I went home and forgot all about it.
The next time we played, she started winning right away. She would lay her cards down when the rest of us were barely starting. Then I remembered what happened the week before, and again I commanded the power of witchcraft to be broken in the name of the Lord Jesus.
This time, Consuela knew it was not a coincidence. She started looking around the table, and she zeroed in on me. She knew I had done it, got very angry, and did not want to play with me again. She formed a new table with other ladies and left me and my mother out.
I wonder about those poor ladies losing every game they played, not knowing what was really happening.
Consuela had made a pact with the devil to satisfy her desire to win. A pact with the devil, selling her soul for four dollars a game. And that, after witnessing the power of God in her own body.
Recently I saw her at a restaurant with a young lady. When she looked at me, I saw fear in her face. She left the restaurant as fast as she could after finishing her meal.
I hope something happens that causes her to repent and bring Jesus into her life. If that does not happen, I wish her a very, very long life.