Four Nights With The Devil

by Peter Hockley

  I Love you!

  You’re free now!

  I Love you! I LOVE YOU!

  Auntie Margaret ended her prayer and, slowly, the fiery waves in my torso subsided. Debbie pushed a tissue into my hands for drying my tears and, for what seemed like a very long time, I sat in silence, amazed at what I had experienced and unable to gather the words together for any kind of meaningful sentence.

  Auntie explained that a bed would be made up for me in the spare room and then went off to see to it. Sitting alone with Debbie, I turned and thanked her for everything she had ever done for me. Only at that moment could I see just how much Debbie had put up with, over the eighteen months she had been my friend. My mood swings, endless taunting and jesting, the groaning and whining that came with an impossible number of hangovers; I realised I hadn’t been half the friend to Debbie that she had been to me. I also apologised for everything I had said to her that evening, while under the influence and control of raging demonic powers. Though I didn’t feel shame as such—Christ had cut all of that from my heart—I was acutely aware of how much I had hurt Debbie’s feelings with my words that day. Deb smiled and told me not to worry about anything. She knew that none of those things had come from me – rather they were the attacking words of evil spirits that formerly inhabited me.

  My friend and I – now brother and sister in Christ – spoke with a refreshing openness and companionship. Rather than two people attempting to understand each other across a chasm of differences, we now stood on the same side of the gulf, sharing a common foundation and our conversation was immediately richer as a result. I had known Debbie for more than a year and a half, though it felt as if we were meeting for the first time. I was only now beginning to know the best friend I ever had.

  Not long afterward I retired to bed and enjoyed the deepest, most restful sleep I could remember. It took a while to drift off, not through fear, but because my astonished mind replayed the four previous days that had changed my world forever. Events I would have laughed off as impossible, implausible or downright insane had transpired in my life and my mind flipped and spun dizzily, trying to comprehend it all. In time, awareness of the unfamiliar bedroom faded, with thanks and praise to God and to Jesus Christ – my Saviour – still falling from my lips.

  When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.

  (Proverbs 3:24 NIV)

  I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. (Psalm 4:8 NIV)

  Chapter Eighteen: Saved

  When I opened my eyes the next morning, Debbie had already left for work. Becky and Sharon were also gone, so only Auntie Margaret and Esther remained. I ate breakfast silently, full of wonder at God and His glory.

  My first full day as a Christian was the greatest of my life. I bounced and skipped my way through the whole day, brimming with life and energy. I had fallen completely and madly in love with Jesus and it showed. The nightmare was over. Though memories were still vivid, nothing troubled or unsettled me at all and as the day wore on, it felt increasingly as if my battle with satanic forces happened long ago. Everything and everyone I encountered looked strikingly beautiful; the world was vibrant, alive and full of colour. I walked through the streets of Oxford and felt affection for the strangers who passed me; my heart longed for them to discover the sheer power and all-consuming joy of knowing Christ; to have God touch their lives in the way He had touched mine. Something truly miraculous had been wrought inside of me and I wanted to share it with the world.

  I went home shortly before lunchtime and found Aunt Jane in the house by herself, while my mum was out at work. Before joining my relative downstairs I returned to my bedroom, calm and completely unafraid. The room was cold and in a mess when I entered, where Mum and I had rooted out all the materials for burning in the fire. The bed was unmade and in a real state. The wrinkled sheets were in disarray and, looking at the disorder, I recalled the way I had writhed and thrashed so violently in the grip of demonic possession. The memory didn’t frighten me. I was free of evil and I knew it. I knelt on the bed and leaned across to the opposite wall, bringing my face up close to the thin, blue letters that remained from Saturday night, a lifetime ago:

  YES THEY ARE ALIVE

  Sickened by the truth, I wet a tissue and scrubbed those deceiving words from existence. I sat with Aunt Jane in the living room and we talked for a while. I reassured her that I was completely fine and carried no ill-effects from my waking nightmare. I promised that the distress she had seen in me the night before was gone and encouraged her that God had delivered me from all evil. Not only, but Jesus Christ had come to live in my heart and granted me to know a peace and satisfaction unlike anything found on earth.

  Aunt Jane, more than twenty years older than my mum, being one of the eldest of Mum’s thirteen siblings, was an atheist like everyone else in the family. She was courteous and spoke respectfully of my new faith, although I detected a spike of warning in her voice, not to bring any religion too close to her. She cited several awful experiences from her past as reason enough not to believe in God. I felt a tinge of sadness for her, because Aunt Jane, though pleasant enough to me, seemed such an unhappy woman inside. The echoing emptiness of the soul was deafening in her. In Christ, I possessed the remedy, my own echo now silenced for good, but my aunt wanted none of Jesus and, with regret, I left it at that.

  I met Debbie in the town centre after she finished work. We spent the rest of the afternoon together in a coffee bar, where I did most of the talking, trying to express in words the immensity of my exhilaration and vivacity. Deb listened with a smile, while I gushed with excitement about Jesus Christ, who was alive in my heart and had set my spirit ablaze with His holy fire. I yearned for more of His presence. Whatever elixir of joy this was that God had poured into my life, this heavenly panacea for the soul that transformed my innermost being and recreated my very nature, I wanted more; with aching hunger and thirst I wanted more.

  I talked about the days of my binge-drinking and nightclubbing – a remote memory that seemed so far away now – and a knowing smile spread across my friend’s lips. I picked up on the expression and asked what was so funny. Debbie said she had a confession to make and explained that she knew the real reason why I abruptly lost my appetite for the wild nightlife. “I prayed that you would lose interest,” Deb told me, laughing. “Every single weekend you went clubbing, I got on my knees and prayed to God for you to be completely bored while you were out.” I could hardly believe my ears and broke into a smile of my own. “Are you serious? You actually prayed for me to be bored?”

  “Yes, I did!” We were both cracking up now and I recalled how suddenly nightclubbing become painfully dull, when once I loved boozing and revelling above all else. Debbie’s petitions to God certainly worked. Across the table, the young woman’s eyes sparkled with playful mischief. “It was so funny listening to you whining that you didn’t enjoy going out anymore – you had no idea what was happening! I always asked God to keep you safe, but every time I prayed, too, that He would open your eyes to see those places for what they were. I prayed that you would end up hating nightclubs – and you did!”

  Laughter over old memories faded and my mind swam back again to the present. I confessed to Debbie just how frightened I was the night before, certain I would die and perish in hell, and how truly grateful I was that God had brought her family into my life – I was sure – for that one dark moment when I needed the Lord’s help and a sea of prayers.

  Debbie explained why neither she nor her mother came to my front door, while I was in the throes of satan’s worst attack. When they first arrived, at the same time the devil threatened to make me take hold of a knife and kill them both, Auntie Margaret heard the voice of the Lord in her spirit, instructing them not to enter the house. Instead, they felt compelled to remain in the car and pray for my deliverance. While Auntie prayed, Debbie tried raising me on my mobile phone, which I had left s
itting on my bed. After ten minutes, the pair eventually felt a strong impulse to return home and wait for me there.

  Both were strong enough in faith to believe the power of God would free me from the bondage of demons. They trusted the Lord’s instruction to them and had no fear about leaving without me. Their hearts were filled with peace and they had full assurance that the battle for my soul was already won through Christ. The supremacy of Jesus over satan was demonstrated when I reached their house and, despite the demonic threats against the Christians, as soon as Debbie opened the door, the devil’s influence all but vanished. When my friend laid her hand on my shoulder, the disarming power of the Lord Himself came through her touch and all murderous intentions were instantly quenched.

  Thinking back over it all, I wondered if it had been necessary for Mum and I to be alone in that moment; for me to have the chance to speak to her about all that was happening, for her to hear the whole story from my own lips and for us to have enough time to burn the occultic books, including my conversations with “God” in the notepad; destroying every physical trace of my spiritual connection to evil.

  I thought perhaps the incident at the gate was also important for me. There, God exposed the many lies of satan and his impotence in bringing any of his threats to pass, giving me the strength to defy the Tormentor and move toward total deliverance at Debbie’s house. Had the Christians entered my door, I have no doubt the outcome would have been just the same: Jesus would be victorious and I would be released from demonic possession. By stepping out of the front gate on my own, however, I saw for myself the absolute rule of God over the devil. Though fear remained with me the whole way to the house of my friends, with every footstep I took, God was reaching down into the darkness and drawing my soul up from the hellish pit.

  In the coffee shop, I mentioned to Deb my astonishment at the extent to which satan’s tricks, temptations and deceptions had blinded and imprisoned me all my life. The Kenyan gestured to the large window beside us that looked out onto the street and the hordes of people passing by. “Not only you,” she said.

  I shook my head, remembering the years of confusion and separation from God – at times I was an uncouth, insensitive brute; proud and interested only in self-destructive lusts and carnal excess. At other times I was sunken in the mire of despair and misery; lost, demoralised and plagued by the fear that my shallow existence was worthless and doomed to annihilation, every last trace of me carried off by the wind and forgotten. What a dismal cavern I had tumbled down, before the arrow of truth pierced my heart and the hand of a gracious Saviour rescued me, revitalised my failing spirit and renewed my confidence; lifting me out of the gloom and bearing me into the light of His unfailing love, calling me His own. Now I had purpose and was acutely aware of an inner desire to serve the God of Christianity – the true God – with all my strength and for all of my days.

  I had lofty goals and ambitions and was determined to use every precious gift God gave me to be a blessing and help others. I told Debbie, honestly, I wanted to be a preacher – that I would one day travel the world for Jesus and, on a public platform, proclaim the Good News of Salvation. From my very first day as a born again Christian, I felt the calling of God so deep in my spirit. I didn’t know what training was necessary, or what one had to do to become a minister of the Gospel, but my heart told me that preaching was my future and, at long last, I felt the peaceful assurance that I had discovered my reason for being.

  Chapter Nineteen : Victory

  A few nights later, I sat in bed reading my Bible, pouring through the scriptures with a newfound love for the Word of God. The Bible was no longer a locked treasure chest that refused to give up the goods. God had opened my heart to understand Him and His Word was alive to me now, filled with glorious truths and precious promises that nourished my spirit and deepened my relationship with Christ. I wanted to absorb as much scripture as possible and yearned to know all I could about Jesus, my Saviour. As an introduction to Christianity, Auntie Margaret had also given me a series of small mini-booklets. Each one contained simple, foundational teachings on faith and I devoured the words, greedily. Zeal burned bright within me and I couldn’t get enough.

  I was so engrossed in reading that I felt no tiredness and never noticed the clock display go well beyond 2am. When I did glance up and realised how late it was, I closed up the books and prayed, thanking the Lord for all that He had done, all He had given me and for every wonderful new day I enjoyed. No sooner had I switched the light off and put my head on the pillow, I heard it:

  I STILL HAVE YOU!

  My eyes opened in a flash. Less than one week after becoming a born again Christian, the devil had come back.

  YOU’RE STILL MINE!

  The very same stomach-twisting fear seized me as before. I was sure that being a Christian, having been so dramatically saved from evil by Christ, I would never have to deal with satan ever again. I imagined he was gone for good.

  I was about to have my first lesson.

  YOU CAN’T GET RID OF ME JUST LIKE THAT

  I TOLD YOU, GOD DOESN’T LOVE YOU

  HE DIDN’T SAVE YOU!

  I was up now and hugged the bed covers tight. “That’s not true. You’re a liar! Jesus saved me.” My retaliation was weak and feeble. Faith wilted under the shock of satan’s return. A voice of anger and spite blasted me in response:

  NO, HE DIDN’T!

  YOU STILL BELONG TO ME!

  In my mind’s eye, shadowy black demons leaped out from the darkness and lashed at me with savage talons that longed to rip me apart; I could almost feel them lacerating my flesh. I was out of bed before I knew it and racing for the light switch. Even as the room lit up, the enemy continued attacking my mind. I dived back under the bedcovers and pulled them tight around me, muttering desperate prayers for God to send help at once.

  YOU’RE NO CHRISTIAN!

  JESUS HATES YOU!

  My strength all but failed and I panicked. The demons had caught me off guard; I was totally unprepared for another spiritual battle, naively expecting a life forever free of the devil and his assaults. Memories of the first satanic encounter held no fear since being born again, but a new assault from the evil one brought terror rushing at me. satan tore my confidence right out – like pulling a rug out from under my feet. I wasn’t sure how to confront him or what to do. My heartbeat quickened and I tried so hard to focus on Jesus and recall the way His Spirit touched my heart with such fiery power and love, His voice telling me that He loved me as I sat weeping in Auntie Margaret’s living room, but the memories were a blur of dread and confusion. Jesus had saved me – I knew it – only, when I reached down inside of me for the truth of it I came up with nothing. The devil mocked me:

  IF YOU’RE SAVED, WHY AM I STILL HERE?

  WHERE’S YOUR JESUS NOW?

  WHERE IS HE?

  Where was my Lord? How could the devil even come close to me again if Jesus loved me as He promised? No demon could touch me if I was truly God’s child. I feared Christ’s protection over me was not merely removed, but had never been in the first place. Terror-stricken and no more than a babe in Christ, all faith and hope was destroyed.

  YOU HAVEN’T REALLY CHANGED, PETER

  YOU’RE NOT SAVED. I STILL HAVE YOU!

  YOU’RE MINE!

  God was with me. I suddenly recognized the voice of His Spirit call to my heart.

  Pray. You must resist satan and pray at once!

  Sitting up under the covers, I prayed as hard and as best as I knew how. I tried for so long, but it was no use. I had already allowed the devil to bore a hole through my defences, so the entire time I prayed I wasn’t really even concentrating on God or trusting that He could help me. Only demonic threats and taunts reverberated in my head.

  GOD CAN’T HELP YOU

  HE’LL NEVER SAVE YOU

  YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!

  YOU ARE GOING TO HELL!

  I believed what the devil told me. It was as if I had gon
e all the way back to the night I was first exposed to evil personified, convinced of his power to condemn me to hell.

  WHERE IS YOUR JESUS?

  WHERE IS YOUR GOD TO HELP YOU?

  Forgetting every promise of security in the Bible and losing sight of every blissful moment of my new relationship with Jesus, I once again imagined that satan was about to murder me – and that nothing could prevent him doing it. I pictured my body, torn to shreds by howling demonic creatures that dragged my pathetic frame to the underworld. I anticipated every drawn breath to be my last. My eyes were filling with tears. In desperation—and without faith—I cried out to the Lord again.

  “Please, God, where are you? I need You!” From the start of my Bible studies I had learned that God was always with me. He had given repeated assurance in the scriptures that He would never abandon those who were His. I was crying out for God to show up, instead of trusting that He was already there with me; present, both willing and able to save me.

  My brain was on fire. The devil pounded me with vicious, hate-filled lies. I failed to notice that, unlike the last time, I had full control of my body and, though my hands trembled through fear, they were under my power and not instruments of satan as before.

  Again, the Holy Spirit:

  Call Debbie

  I had my mobile in my hand faster than lightning. It seemed as if Debbie’s phone rang forever; in such a panic I didn’t consider that I was dragging my friend out of bed in the early hours of the morning. But after allowing fear to take hold of me I felt I had no other option. The devil rained swearing and blasphemy into my ears while I waited for Debbie to answer. At last I heard my friend’s sleepy voice over the line: “Hello?”