Hell on earth is the time period in our lives that causes pain, suffering, turmoil, and emotional distress. This book give you real life challenges that we may face from time to time and how the "gate of hell shall not prevail" This book will liberate you from emotional prison and free you from unforgiveness, hurt, broken heart, and bitterness. I share with you some very personal hell like situations and how I survived them: * Surviving South East Washington, DC * Know that The Spirit Is Real & Speaks In The Middle Of Your Hell * You Can Survive A Broken Marriage * Surviving The Hell Even In The Church * Doors Can Open While Hell Is Raging * God's Devine Purpose In Your Hell Experience * Don't Let Your Hell Make You Bitter * You Can Go Through Hell And Survive

Surviving the Hell

The Key for Making It Through Difficult TimesBy Darryl K. Williams

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Bishop Darryl K. Williams
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-4327-6

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS...........................................................viiINTRODUCTION...............................................................ixCHAPTER 1 SURVIVING SOUTHEAST WASHINGTON DC................................1CHAPTER 2 THE SPIRIT IS REAL AND HE SPEAKS.................................9CHAPTER 3 WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE?.........................................15CHAPTER 4 HEARING THE CALL.................................................19CHAPTER 5 SURVIVING A BROKEN MARRIAGE......................................23CHAPTER 6 SURVIVING THE HELL, EVEN IN THE CHURCH...........................28CHAPTER 7 DOORS CAN OPEN WHILE HELL IS RAGING..............................33CHAPTER 8 GOD'S DIVINE PURPOSE IN YOUR HELL EXPERIENCE.....................37CHAPTER 9 DON'T LET YOUR HELL MAKE YOU BITTER..............................40CHAPTER 10 YOU CAN GO THROUGH HELL AND SURVIVE.............................43ABOUT THE AUTHOR...........................................................47

Chapter One

Surviving Southeast Washington DC

Hell is defined as the eternal place of torment, reserved for Satan and all of his angels and those who refuse the Lord Jesus. Other resources, however, state that hell also is any place of pain or turmoil and the cause of difficulty and suffering. This definition is not to be compared to the scriptural definition of hell (eternal punishment), but there is a level of pain, turmoil, difficulty, and suffering that individuals deal with here on earth. Hell on earth refers to the situations that we encounter that cause emotional and sometimes even physical suffering.

You can't escape or get out of the hell until God's purpose is fulfilled. Rest assured that we all experience hell on earth, regardless of our culture, financial status, or social status. Hell will find us, and no one is exempt. It is important for parents to know that they can raise well-rounded and productive children, even if they are not fortunate to raise their children in a well-to-do community.

Some may conclude that living in Washington DC in the '60s wasn't that bad, but there were some unseen dangers of which I wasn't aware until later in life, and some dangers I did see as a child.

The projects were low-income housing that provided affordable rental property for low-income families. I could not say that the housing was for African Americans only because our next-door neighbors were Caucasian. I recall very clearly on one side of our street were apartments and on the other side were attached row houses with an upstairs. Southeast Projects, where I lived, carried a reputation of being a rough area of the city, and to this day if you mention Southeast to some people, you usually will get some type of reaction about its being the roughest part of the city. Low income wasn't the only problem in Southeast; there were other challenges as well, such as drugs, crime, and even killings from time to time.

I clearly remember late one night when a DC transit bus drove through our neighborhood, and we received a knock on the door that awakened our entire house. It was a bus driver, saying he had been robbed and beaten. My mother phoned the police, and we watched out the window at the driver until the police arrived to ensure he was safe.

I also remember the presence of drugs, alcohol, and teenage pregnancy in the projects. In those days, becoming pregnant before marriage was frowned upon. I recall one teenager girl in our neighborhood who moved suddenly to live with other family members in the South. We were told later that she was sent away because she was pregnant. What has happened to the shame of sin in our communities and churches? It seems that sin is being normalized and sometimes even celebrated and flaunted. What has happened to our convictions when we find ourselves acting with hell-like behaviors? Please understand that I don't feel we should judge or condemn people. We should meet them where they are and love them.

My mother didn't play. She was very strict when it came to our safety and the choices we might make that could damage our lives. We were well aware that she would not tolerate any of the above issues. My mother's parenting style was so effective that it made the boundary lines very clear, and I'm not sure exactly what she would have done if any one of us crossed those lines with her knowledge—and I think we all didn't want to find out.

Realistically, for me, growing up in the projects was not as bad as some might have experienced. I have precious memories of our community being close-knit during an era when you knew your neighbors next door, across the street, and even around the corner. What I mean by a close-knit community is that when one suffered, we all suffered together. Food was an issue for most of us in the community—having second helpings at dinner was not an option. Sometimes, the entire meal consisted of a bowl of lima beans.

My mother worked at the local elementary school and at the end of her workday, she would bring home the leftover lunches for us and others in our community. My brother and I used our red wagon to deliver those leftover lunches to those neighbors my mother thought could use a helping hand. Other neighbors did the same whenever they had extra—they would share with us and others in our community. Today, I am not proud to say that in my current neighborhood, where I have lived for the past five years, I know possibly three of my neighbors.

One morning when I was a child, there was a lot of uproar on our street and many of the neighbors gathered outside to find out what had happened. There had been an altercation between a married couple, and the wife had stabbed her husband. He made it out of the house and collapsed in a field across the street, where he died. This couple had five children, and I often played with two of the sons from this family. Our mothers would often visit each other in their homes. The family seemed like a normal family. It took a while before things were back to normal, but this family remained in the community for years, and the community supported them through that hell. Eventually, we all played together again like nothing had ever happened.

One thing city life has taught me is how to move on and get past the past. I'm grateful to my mother for being the woman she was—strong, a fighter, and a praying woman. She raised five children on her own and always would say, ""What else could I do? You have to do what you have to do so you can survive."" This is an encouraging word for single mothers who feel at times that they can't make it. Know this: strong women have gone before you and paved the way; they serve as an example.

Our society is changing, and I would like to encourage our brothers who now find themselves in a single-parent situation. Always remember, when in your place of torment, test, and challenge, to look for Jesus in the midst of your heated circumstances. I survived living in the projects in DC because my mother made Christ a part of our home. In addition, my mother was very present and watched her children and other children in our community like a hawk.

In the summer there was no central air conditioning in the homes in our neighborhood, so our parents would gather on someone's front porch, and the kids played outside until the late hours, guarded by the many parents. If someone passed through our community or didn't belong there, everyone knew it. In our community, every adult was your parent. That meant that they disciplined every child in our community and contacted the parents after disciplining that child. Parents never had a problem with someone in the community disciplining their children.

My mother, however, rarely needed assistance in disciplining her children. One day, when she'd gone out on an errand, my brother decided to take one of her cigarettes, and he invited me to join him—that was the first time I ever smoked a cigarette.

Well, we couldn't hide much from my mother—at least, not for very long. When she returned home she knew that we had been smoking. My mother made us smoke her entire pack of cigarettes. I was so sick that after that day, I never enjoyed a cigarette again. My mother made sure that my brother and I regretted that smoking break.

My mother also made sure that we said our prayers each night. I remember the nights of kneeling and praying beside my mother's bed to recite the Lord's Prayer. One by one, my siblings and I had to each take a turn saying the prayer, and if we got one word wrong in the prayer, we were sent to the back of the prayer line to do it until we got it right. Sometimes it seemed like it was hours, and often I would become mad at having to recite the prayer over and over again. As a child, I wasn't aware that I would need to know how to call on the Lord Jesus later in life. My mother opened the door of prayer for us.

If your family is going to survive the hell in today's world, you must teach your children how to call on God. Prayer provides your children with God's supernatural protection at all times, even when you, the parent, can't physically be with them. Prayer also teaches your children that God's presence is always with them and that he is accessible to them as well.

Not only did my mother teach us to pray, but she also had house rules that provided us with clear expectations, responsibilities, and consequences. I have met parents who fear their children, and some children even control the home. My mother was never afraid of her children. As parents, if you don't provide your children with strong guidance in their early years, you are asking for trouble as they grow older. What happened to some of the old-school methods of raising children; of training up a child in the way he should go? We must learn to invest in our children, and when we do, I strongly believe we will get a tremendous return.

One of the fun family times we experienced was when we would play records, and all five of my siblings and my mother would dance and sing. We all would take turns dancing with her. There was so much laughter and fun, and it didn't cost us anything, and I knew I was loved. Children need to see they are important. Giving your time to your is a good way to show them you love them. Discipline also plays a key role. There were times when I thought my mother was going to kill me because we grew up in a time when children were spanked by their parents, family members, teachers, and neighbors, if needed.

I know times have changed, but effective discipline is needed if our children are going to survive. I think of Eli the priest in 1 Samuel 2. He didn't discipline or take any actions against his unruly sons and because of it, it cost them their lives. Scripture teaches ""Correction is grievous unto him that forsaketh the way: and he that hateth reproof shall die"" (Proverbs 15:10). I strongly believe that if we show love to our children—and yes, that is shown by discipline—it could save their lives and cause them to survive the hell-like times in their lives.

Finally, my mother invested in her children by sacrificing for her children. This sacrifice was evident by how my mother often denied herself by eating only after all her children had eaten; that is, if anything was left. My mother didn't want to accept public assistance, so she entered the workforce to provide for her children. She also maintained the home we lived in and took classes from time to time to further her education. My mother always sacrificed for her children so that our needs were provided. Even though we didn't have much, we had love. I knew my mother loved me by the way she took care of me and often placed my needs ahead of her own. It's important for parents to know that it's not their time; it is their children's time. They should not make sure they look good and well groomed while their children go neglected

She further sacrificed so that we could attend private school for several years. She wanted to ensure we received a good education so we could survive and become independent. The real truth is that not everyone can afford private education for their children. Some public schools are very appropriate for providing a learning environment. Parents can ensure their children are receiving proper education by being actively involved in their children's learning process, such as attending Parent Teacher Association meetings, getting to know their children's teachers, and establishing a relationship with teachers. Know this: if you invest in and sacrifice for your children now, it will save you and your children from some hell in the future. Remember, though, that even though you invest and sacrifice for your children, they can still make wrong turns that can create a lot of pain and suffering for them and for you as a parent. Let us not forget the wrong turns in our own lives. If your children take wrong turns after you have sacrificed, you should rest in the peace of God, knowing that you honestly invested and did your part as a parent. Believe in God for a tremendous return on your investment in your children, regardless of how long it takes. The longer you invest in your children, the greater the return.

Chapter Two

The Spirit Is Real and He Speaks

During my late teens, I experienced the death of my father, who was absent from the home for most of my younger years. Early in my teenage years, however, my father became very involved in my life, and a strong bond developed between us, as well as much healing. I still value today the time that God allowed us to grow close. Growing up without my father had created a void during my childhood. I saw him from time to time but sometimes not at all during those younger years, which made me always feel like part of me was missing. Some nights I would sit at the top of our stairs, waiting for him to come home. Often I would fall asleep there and awake the next morning at the top of the stairs, with no father. I am grateful to my grandfather and my three dynamic uncles, who helped fill the void my father created by spending quality time with my brother and me. My grandfather was a strong man in the way he led his home. His presence made a statement and brought such comfort and security to me as a child. My grandfather had a particular chair that was his alone, and everyone knew it. In addition, at the family dinners, Granddad had the armchair at the head of the table.

He taught us how to plant a farm, watch the crops grow, and then harvest the crop we helped plant. I shall never forget those summers and weekends with my granddad. I say to the single mothers, you can never fill the shoes of your children's father, so just be the best mother you can be, and make sure you find positive males for your sons to bond with and establish healthy relationships. To the men who are not present or active in their children lives, take the time to invest in them. There's probably a young child who desires to see that father, even occasionally as opposed to not at all. Remember, it's never too late to establish a relationship.

After years passed, my family moved out of the city and into suburban Maryland. It was there that I started to experience life as a teenager. I learned what house parties were; I began to see that drugs and alcohol were easily accessible. I continued to attend church and experience life at the same time—partying and drinking wine became very close associates of mine. This was due to my not really learning in church—or maybe I just missed that class—that I must forsake all to follow Jesus. Children can be raised in a Christian home and attend Sunday school on regular basis, but they must take what they learned and apply it to their daily temptations. I learned that temptation only became stronger as a teenager, and my interest in church began to decrease. I also had a level of curiosity, along with the freedom, to make my own choices.

I still recall one of my bad choices on one Saturday night. I was at a party in an apartment complex called Dodge View Apartments in Landover, Maryland. I remember it as if it were yesterday—I was dancing and had some alcohol in my system. The music was loud, and the apartment was vibrating from the number of people, the dancing, and the music. I learned later that the devil can create much fun and good times for you for a season but never show you the outcome and the damage—some of what we thought was fun actually was destructive. I was surrounded by evil, by things that could have ruined my life—drugs and alcohol were present that night. But God spoke at that time, in the midst of my hell and danger, and I heard a voice say, ""You don't belong here anymore."" I ignored it the first time I heard it but felt weird. Then, ten or fifteen minutes later, the voice repeated it again: ""You don't belong here anymore."" This time it was much louder. It also appeared that no one else could hear what I was hearing.

When the Lord calls you out, no one else may be called out at the same time. It was made clear to me later that the Lord was interested in me as an individual. I became very fearful and stood against the wall. I first wondered if someone had put some type of drugs in my drink, because I knew that all kinds of drugs were in that type of environment.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Surviving the Hellby Darryl K. Williams Copyright © 2011 by Bishop Darryl K. Williams. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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