Four Nights With The Devil
Page 18
“He’s back, Deb! The devil’s back and he says that he’s still got me!” Debbie tried to calm me, reminding me of what I already knew: that the enemy was a deceiver. satan, she said, had no power to harm me. I belonged to Jesus, so demons couldn’t invade and control me as before. I heard her, but sheer dismay at having to confront satan again so staggered me, the initial shock so frightened me, the truth of Debbie’s words went unregistered. Once again I found myself pulled down the dark paths of madness and fear.
THERE’S NO HOPE FOR YOU!
FACE IT, GOD DOESN’T LOVE YOU!
YOU BELONG TO ME. I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO!
At this point satan’s voice pierced my mind so clearly it sounded as if he was speaking to me down the phone line. I wailed and repeated this to Debbie, who pleaded with me to remain calm and trust God, however I felt trapped by the demonic forces around me and I was collapsing under the strain of their onslaught. I lost sight of Jesus with every passing second, disoriented by the fog of confusion, dread and despair.
Debbie said she would get her family together and pray for me. Before hanging up, her last words to me were a command: “Pray, Pete! You have to pray! God will protect you; you’re His child!”
My insides churned. I closed my eyes and cried out to God, stumbling and tripping over the words. Before long I realized I didn’t know what else to say to get the devil away from me. Nothing seemed to work and evil spirits mocked me all the more.
YOU’RE NOT A CHRISTIAN!
YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!
YOU’LL BURN IN HELL!
“Jesus!” I cried. My knowledge of scripture was still very limited. I was inexperienced in prayer and while my mouth entreated Christ to save, my mind betrayed me and abandoned all hope of rescue.
Then, something incredible happened, beyond imagination and completely without warning.
One moment I was in torment, ready to break under the intense demonic pressure and then, suddenly, it was as if a bolt of divine electricity shot through me, charging every drop of blood in my veins with potency and strength. At once, I was throwing back the covers and leaping out of bed. Until the second it happened I was afraid, but sudden fearlessness and a new, immediate boldness accelerated me to action. Bed sheets flew back and I was practically lifted up off the mattress and into a kneeling position on the floor, all in one lightning-quick move. I didn’t have time to think, I couldn’t analyse or explain what was happening; it was as though pure adrenaline drove me and some supernatural power I lacked before captured me, fired my confidence and compelled me to move. In a heartbeat, anguish had become purpose and resolve.
Kneeling on the carpet, I flung my arms into the air and cried out to God with such verve it felt like my spirit would break free of my body. Most astonishing of all was that none of my words were in English. That night in my room – on my knees and with my arms raised aloft to heaven – I had instantly become the master of another tongue. Unknown sentences streamed from my mouth with unimaginable speed. My larynx and my tongue were in overdrive, working faster than is humanly possible. The actual words themselves were beyond description. Some of the sounds that emerged from my lips were not of this world. No human language contained anything close to what I heard myself saying that night. I was stunned beyond expression as the fluid, fluent phrases poured forth. It was now near 3am and I was shouting loud enough to wake the whole street, yet, amazingly, no one was disturbed. The whole episode was a miracle of God.
Far back in my mind I heard the voice of my own thoughts, full of euphoria-mixed astonishment. I was conscious that I could stop at any time but I had no desire to. A rushing, mighty river had swept me up and carried me, it seemed, to heaven itself. All fear of the devil was gone, destroyed by the brightness of God’s presence which shone in me like the rays of the sun. satan was driven away. The voices of evil spirits fell silent; only the rapturous glory of the Lord surrounded and penetrated every last inch of me, as I worshipped God with all my heart.
I’ve no idea how long it all lasted – perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes – but however long it was, everything else seemed to fall away until only Jesus remained. The devil could never harm me and, with joy, I knew it. I was safe in the warm, comforting peace that flowed like a gentle stream inside of me. For a while afterward I remained on my knees, stuck somewhere between surprise and awe, laughing with childlike excitement.
The Lord protects the simple-hearted; when I was in great need He saved me. (Psalm 116:6 NIV)
My first lesson in trusting the Lord as my deliverer had ended and sleep came easily when I climbed back into bed. It was a revelation to know that becoming a Christian had not shut the door to evil for good; that satan came to attack those in Christ the same as those without God. Greater, however, was the glorious security of knowing that, with Jesus as shield and protector, no devil in hell could possess me again. But after the lesson comes the test and I didn’t have to wait long for mine.
The following day I met with Debbie and her family at their house, where I thanked them for their prayers and shared the extraordinary events that had transpired in my room. Recognition flashed across their faces, along with joy, and Auntie Margaret’s eyes in particular lit up. She said that my experience had a name: praying in tongues. Auntie explained that the Holy Spirit lived within the heart of every Christian and not only empowered them with all spiritual strength and courage, He also gifted the Believer with the supernatural ability to speak in languages unlearned and unknown to the speaker, providing each new word in rapid, fluid succession. The purpose, Auntie told me, was to enable the Christian to pray the perfect prayer – an appeal to the Father, direct from the spirit, unhindered by frailties of the mind and uncompromised by the weakness of faith caused by fear and mental agitation. Unbelief was removed and the darkness of doubt and panic was transformed into the bright light of conviction and faith. Against such, the devil had to flee. I was astounded by the lady’s answer – it described perfectly what happened to me in my bedroom.
Auntie Margaret beamed a smile at me. She had one more revelation which left me stunned at the telling of it: “Christians don’t normally begin to use this gift in such a dramatic way as you, Pete. But last night, when you telephoned Debbie and we prayed for you, I specifically asked Jesus to intervene, for the Holy Spirit to come upon you and give you the gift of tongues there and then!” With heart and mouth full of praise to God, I went away wondering if and when, and also how, this spiritual gift of praying in tongues would return.
That night, events played out in déjà vu fashion. It was late and I lay in bed about to sleep, with no thought of demons, when the familiar, wrathful voice rang in my ears:
I’M STILL HERE!
My guts twisted. Black images of devils, monsters and my own grizzly death at their hands seeped into my mind. The whole scene of turning on the light and diving under bed covers played out again. How quickly I forgot all the Lord had tried to teach me. My head spun with sudden anxiety and I found myself sucked into another vortex of terror at the unforgiving assault on my consciousness by malevolent forces. I tried to pray in tongues but didn’t know how to. It wasn’t me who instigated the supernatural counter-offensive against satan the night before, but the Spirit of God. I couldn’t duplicate the occurrence and was left without voice, unable to utter a sound.
YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR GOD
HE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT YOU!
I TOLD YOU RIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING THAT WE WOULD BE TOGETHER FOREVER
YOU STILL BELONG TO ME
The devil was crushing me; a suffocating, oppressive presence in the air surrounded me, while violent threats and lying words wounded me inside like daggers.
I’M HERE. I’M ALL AROUND YOU
YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE ME!
My first clear thought was to call Debbie, just as I had done the last time and, almost instinctively, I reached for my phone. The demons pounced on the idea as soon as I moved.
WHAT’S THE POINT?
SHE CAN’T HELP YOU. NO ONE CAN!
YOU’RE MINE!
The words cut through me like a blade and I made no more attempt to call my friend or even to pray. What’s the use in fighting him? I thought. He only comes back again anyway.
Something new came to me and I heard:
You belong to Christ. Jesus has saved you
Still I did nothing. I remained in a daze, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for death, hellfire, torture, damnation, whatever the devil had in store for me; all the gory pictures I saw in my head becoming a reality.
Why are you giving up on Me?
The Holy Spirit spoke so quietly within me and with such softness to my heart, yet the impact of that last question jarred me and I rose up in the bed. Startled by the revelation, it was as if persistent grey clouds hanging over me were at once broken apart and swept away. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I realised it wasn’t the panic that kept me paralysed; what really held me motionless was surrender. I was giving up and for no good reason. satan had told me lie upon lie, had promised to wreak all manner of uncommon hurt upon me and bombarded me with images of those brutal things he would do to my body and soul – but he had yet to carry out a single threat. Fear left me completely and was replaced by anger and the strong desire to break satan’s mental stronghold on me forever.
YOU’RE MINE! YOU’RE NOT SAVED AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HEAVEN
YOU’RE GOING TO HELL!
I heard it in my ears, loud and hate-filled as ever, though for the first time, I didn’t believe him.
You must stand firm against satan
A storm of fury rose up swiftly against the liar and, even as evil spirits continued their wicked chatter in my brain, each demonic voice was strangled by the anger that welled up and threatened to spill over.
I HAVE YOU. YOU BELONG TO ME
Then from my spirit, I heard:
Enough
“NO!” I snapped. My voice was an explosion and my temper was white-hot. I wanted to strangle the devil for all his tricks and lies. “I belong to GOD! I’m a Christian!”
NO, YOU’RE NOT! YOU’RE MINE!
I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!
Without thinking, I snatched an A4 writing pad and a pen from the drawer beside me, opened up the pad to a fresh page and laid it on the bed. Ripping the lid from the pen, I stabbed the tip down hard onto the paper and held it there. “Make me write then!” I yelled. My gaze swung back and forth across the room, as if searching for some visible trace of my enemy. He had fallen strangely silent all of a sudden and said nothing. I challenged him a second time. “Do it! If I belong to you, do it!”
The tip of the pen rested motionless on the pad. “See!” I cried victoriously. “You can’t make me do it! You’re a liar!”
Then:
You’re mine
I was driven mad by rage, so flushed with indignation I thought I would burst out of my skin. “Prove it! Make me write something like you did before! If you can do it, then I’ll listen to everything you have to say! I’ll forget everything else and follow you!”
The pen remained still.
No response from satan.
Clutching the pen tight in my grip, I scratched a sentence on the top line of the page in large, black capital letters:
MAKE ME WRITE SOMETHING!
I pressed the biro tip down even harder on the next line and waited. “If you can make me write just one word, I’ll know you’re telling the truth: you’ve still got me. But you can’t do it, can you, satan? Because I’m a Christian! I’m SAVED!”
For five minutes I sat holding the pen on the paper. It never moved on its own. Finally, tired and irritated at being kept awake so late, I closed up the pad and put it away along with the pen. I looked around the room again and hoped that satan’s invisible eyes were looking right into mine. “I’m saved, satan! I’m a child of God. Jesus lives in me, devil, and you can’t change that – you’ve lost! Now in the Name of Jesus Christ - GO AWAY!”
And just like that, satan went.
Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. (James 4:7 KJV)
I thanked the Lord Jesus for giving me His strength. Anger dissipated and gave way to calm. I realized that challenging the devil in the way I had probably wasn’t the most sensible way of dealing with him – it was enough to rebuke him and command him to go in Jesus’ Name – but I had grabbed the pen and paper in the heat of the moment.
I smiled to myself, wondering what I would have done if the pen had moved.
But it didn’t move; it couldn’t.
In my heart, I knew who I belonged to. Jesus was my Lord and Saviour; the devil had no more claim on me. Without any worry at all I got up, switched off the light and climbed back into bed. I closed my eyes and let peaceful sleep fall upon me, hearing a still, small voice speak lovingly with gentle rhythm in my heart.
Don’t give up and never be afraid
I AM with you and I love you
Don’t give up
Chapter Twenty : The Calling
Not long after I surrendered my life to Jesus, Auntie Margaret sat down beside me in her living room and said, “There is a powerful calling on your life, Pete.” The emphasis she placed on each word struck me. I was humbled beneath the lady’s spiritual maturity. Years of living in close fellowship with God had given her keen intuition and sharp insight, and I leaned in close to hear her speak. Her wisdom glowed like embers, warm and soothing. “I have prayed for you, Pete. I have prayed so much for you and I know that the Lord has called you – and it is powerful!” Auntie looked at me with wide eyes that told me to pay the closest attention, which I did. “It is so important that you pray also – and listen to what the Lord is telling your heart.”
I had no words in reply. I sat there in the armchair and nodded my head as Auntie’s words confirmed what I already knew. From the time I became a Christian, as I had revealed to Debbie in the café, I felt in my heart that God’s purpose for my life was to preach the Gospel.
The same day of that coffee shop meeting with Debbie, in the evening, I paid a visit to David and Pierce. I had seen less of the brothers since I stopped nightclubbing four months earlier, but they had been my good friends for more than sixteen years and I felt compelled to share the news of my incredible change with them. They were surprised to see me at the door and intrigued when I told them I had an announcement. Sat together inside, I had their rapt attention, beaming like a Cheshire cat and said, “Guys, I know this is going to shock you…I’m a born again Christian!”
David’s brow wrinkled and Pierce tilted his head slightly.
“Right,” the younger brother said. “Okaaay.” Pierce stretched those syllables as far as they would go. Both looked at me with unblinking eyes and I understood what their silence meant: Explanation, please?
For the next hour, I pummelled those brothers with the whole story, from start to finish, describing every detail; from the dream of hell, to the automatic writing with “God” and the nightmare discovery that my companion was actually the devil, before I was wonderfully saved by Jesus Christ in Auntie Margaret’s living room. I had a ton of zeal – speaking at an excited, frenetic pace – but not half as much tact. Only the startled look drawn on their faces slowed me down. Those poor brothers were shell-shocked. They probably thought I had been abducted my men from Mars. I realised I must have looked as though I had come completely unhinged – rambling about evil spirits, demons possessing and controlling my body, hearing satanic voices all around me and then salvation from it all, worked by the miraculous power of the Son of God. And now I was a Christian; eager to read and learn from the Holy Bible, as well as lowering myself to my knees and saying prayers to God in heaven, to Jesus Christ, Who I now loved and worshipped with all my heart and soul.
David and Pierce w
ere firm atheists, as I had once been, and their increasingly confused and concerned expressions broke the flow of my narrative. In the blur of my enthusiasm I was certain that I need only say “Jesus” to an unbeliever and have them begging to be saved at the sound of His Name, but I quickly learned that things are not so straightforward.
My feet came back to earth and I remembered that, from my friends’ point of view, nothing I described was even remotely possible. In their world there was no God – certainly not any kind of Supernatural, Omnipotent Creator who could be known personally. And since there was no God, then it followed there was no such thing as the devil either. The idea that I had been overwhelmed and inhabited by satan was ludicrous to their sceptical ears. To them, Jesus Christ was only a face on a stained glass window, a fairytale, a myth, a make-believe character, unimportant and belonging to a time in history so far removed, even if He had been real, He surely had no relevance to them.
Burning with zealous fire and desperate for the light that had illuminated my spirit to fall upon my friends, I failed to realise that perhaps they were not asking the questions I had asked: Why am I here and where am I going? Perhaps they thought, as I once did, that life was all about taking each day as it came and making the best of what you had until it was all over, nothing more. In their minds, maybe death was just like falling asleep forever.