Little Girl, I Say to You—Arise”

When I was new to the Faith, I started seeing images.

At first, I convinced myself I was making them up, just pictures in my mind. But over time, I would come to learn that this was the Holy Spirit revealing things to me—supernaturally.

Looking back, I remember my very first prayer. I said, “God, if You are real, I’m going to have to see You. Literally.”

Well, He answered. Radically.

At 22 I got saved and shortly after baptized. The day I was baptized by water, I received my first vision. I was on my way home when I saw the image of a veil being removed.

What made this even crazier was I had no knowledge of Scripture. He was showing me things I hadn’t even learned yet.

Within a span of 13 yrs the Holy Spirit has shown me things that would come to pass weeks, months or even years later. He would use symbols, has hung words or scriptures like a banner over people but mostly images.

Shortly after seeing a veil being removed an image of a little girl showed up.

In my mind’s eye it was always the same little girl around the age of 4 or 5. I could see her clearly but I wasn’t able recognize who she was.

All I knew, was any time I saw this little girl, I would see a man not too far away. This man was strong. He was kind, loving, and safe.

Depending on the season I was in spiritually, I would see her in different scenarios. Sometimes she was following closely behind him. Sometimes asleep in his arms, or clinging to his legs at his feet. Sometimes she was holding his hand. Other times, dancing with him.

What moved me most were the moments he would wipe her tears, dust her off, pick her up, stroke her hair, heal her wounds. He was always protecting her.

Shortly before my 5 year backslid, I saw the little girl playing near the woods. Running carelessly toward the trees, so sure that she wasn’t too far from him. But I felt uneasy.

Then the man appeared. He snatched her by the hand and placed a transparent bubble like barrier around her. She didn’t want him. She wanted to run free. I felt this overwhelming grief sweep over him as he let go of her hand.

It was like he knew—he had to let her go so she could understand his love in a deeper way. But I struggled watching him let her go. Everything in me wanted him to stop her, to run after her, to call her back. He could have. He had the strength. He had the authority. And yet… he chose not to.

I didn’t know who this man was at the time, but deep down, I sensed that his choice not to intervene wasn’t out of anger—or because He didn’t care.
But because he knew that a love that is chosen means more than a love that is controlled.

It was the kind of love that waits. That grieves. That trusts—even in the wilderness.

I watched him stand still—eyes heavy with sorrow, yet hands open. He wasn’t abandoning her; he was giving her the freedom to stay, not as someone forced, but as someone willing to.

And somehow, in that heartbreaking release, there was a holiness. A painful mercy. One that I wouldn’t understand until I lived it.

I watched her run, her heart pulling her forward, until he was no longer in sight.

She had only taken her eyes off him for what seemed like minutes… but she ended up lost in the wilderness.

And then, something I never expected: I could no longer see him. His image, his presence—it was gone.

I saw the little girl again. She was surrounded by darkness, inside what looked like the same barrier the man had placed around her. But now it was cracked—like glass. What once looked durable was now fragile.

I saw her sitting on the floor, arms around her legs, head down. Defeated. Like she knew she couldn’t find her way back. It was as if she wasn’t just waiting—she was longing, aching—for him to find her.

In real life, I was walking through the darkest season I had ever known—grief, addiction, and suicidal thoughts. I was alive in body, but inside, I felt completely dead. And yet, no matter how far gone I felt, I couldn’t shake the image of her sitting beneath the shattering glass.

I thought she symbolized God’s love for His children. Or maybe she represented childlike faith, or the intimacy we’re meant to have with the Father. But it was strange—because I had no understanding of what a father-daughter relationship was. My dad left when I was two.

So why was she alone now? Surely she would die without him?

I remember clearly the night I was going to end my life. Just days before, I had seen the girl again—lost in the wilderness. In my heart, I spoke to her: I’m lost too. I’ve lost sight of God, just like you lost sight of your father, and I no longer knew the way back to Him either. I placed my hand on the cracking glass and inwardly prayed that he would find her.

The night I was going to end my life, I said those same words out loud—but to God.

I told Him I was too far gone and that I needed Him to come and find me, because I didn’t know my way back.

And if you know my testimony, you know what happened next.

I had a movie-like vision. I was supernaturally delivered after being told to find Him at church. Where I sat at the altar, unknowingly hugging my legs, head down. Just like the girl.

Since that day, there has been many more visions, symbols and supernatural encounters with the Lord. Those that I know will be revealed at a later time, but for the sake of time, I’ll fast forward to a few months ago. (Bare with me, it all goes together)

I saw another vision of the little girl but only her tiny hand being led by his out of the wilderness into the light that was shining through that darkness.

At that moment, I believed the Lord had delivered me from suicide. Or so, I thought.

The next morning God spoke a word to me about the difference between needing healing and needing deliverance. A powerful word that He revealed to me in Isaiah 61. I genuinely believed that He was revealing to me why the deliverance from my suicidal bondage didn’t happen right away.

So, I started praying and asking God what the vision meant and what was the purpose of the little girl? Who is she? Why this particular girl? What did all of this have to do with each other?

Then, I saw her—at the altar. Sitting. Hugging her legs. Same broken glass barrier. But this time, the man reappeared and shattered it. He steps toward her, takes her hand in his, and helps her rise again.

Then I saw her standing in front of a mirror. Her tiny frame from behind. The man standing next to her.

But when I looked into the reflection—I didn’t see her.

I saw me. My reflection was battered and bruised, with open wounds from head to toe.

I couldn’t bare the sight of it. I turned away, trying to bring the girl back—but she was gone.

“Lord, what does this mean?”

He answered: “This is my daughter, whom I love.”

“This isn’t the little girl. This is me. I don’t know her.”

And He said, “The little girl is you.”

I didn’t understand!

In the vision, I saw myself trying to hide from my reflection. Running back to the pile of shattered glass, trying to piece it back together. I kept cutting myself. Blood dripping from my hands. The pain—I could feel it in my physical body.

Then as quickly as the pain came, a still and calming presence swept through and I found myself again sitting in front of the pile of broken glass. Hugging my legs with my head facing down.

“I don’t know what you’re showing me.”

I saw myself seated in stillness, until a hand reached down. I grasped it tightly, and with its strength, I rose. The man pointed to the mirror again.

I saw the little girl once more—arms wrapped around his neck, fear in her eyes. And then, like a movie, everything played out. The bubble was a hedge of protection. I thought I built it, but it was His.

And in that moment, He revealed the truth: I didn’t recognize her because she was a version of me that existed before I spiritually died.

Which made sense because I was separated from my mom at age 4.

He then told me I would never see her again.

Those words shattered me, because my soul was crying out for wholeness. I wasn’t content with just breathing—I wanted the life He promised. I wanted to be alive in Christ.

Then I saw myself staring at my reflection again! This time I was no longer battered, but stronger. As I began dissecting my reflection, looking over all the wounds, they were no longer open. They were now scars.

I looked to the side of the mirror and I saw the man standing there. He handed me a helmet, a shield, a belt and a sword.

“Now you’re ready,” He said.

In the mirror, I no longer saw the scared little girl. I saw a warrior.

As I reached down to pick up my sword, I saw the little girl—trying to lift it and hand it to me. Struggling to hold it. I leaned down and looked into her eyes one last time.

There was no more fear.

Without a word, I turned toward the lighted path ahead that led to a green pasture. The man walking steadily before me. I could only see one step at a time. I turned back to see the little girl running into her Father’s arms.

Peace washed over me as I watched as they walked away hand in hand. She was safe now.

And in that moment, I remembered the words of Jesus in Mark 5:41:

“He took her by the hand and said to her, ‘Talitha cumi!’ (which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise!’)”

He had once spoken those words to her. Now, they were meant for me. And in hearing them, I was not only brought back to life—I was healed.

I turned back towards the path set before me and The Holy Spirit assured me that I would one day reach that place—but the journey ahead would be long but necessary.

Then suddenly I saw the man stop walking forward. I noticed the staff in His hand, and in the distance, a single sheep running wildly into the wilderness. In that quiet moment, I understood—He wasn’t leaving me; He was being who He has always been, the One willing to leave the ninety-nine.

“When will I see You again, Lord?”

He said, “Anytime you grow tired from battle, or feel the weight of your armor… prepare an altar. Sit before it, hugging both legs if you must. And wait for Me. I will always meet you there.”

In that moment, I finally understood the difference—deliverance breaks the chains, but healing equips your soul for the battle to live unbound.