Deliver Us From Darkness

by W. Franklin Lattimore

  She looked at Karen, who had simply shrugged and smiled, conceding the point.

  Mr. Lawton continued. “It will tell you how life started and how everything fell apart. It was important for me to learn that life was meant to be more than it is right now. It’ll also tell you where all the different languages and cultures came from. Then you can jump back into the New Testament. Oh! And do you know the account of Noah and the flood? It’s in those first eleven chapters, too!”

  “Keith, let the girl eat!” Mrs. Lawton declared.

  With a light laugh, Tara had then pulled her plate within reach and started forking food into her mouth as she returned to the pages of God’s Word. She heard a couple of soft chuckles and she just smiled without looking up. She read, again, John chapter one, concentrating more deeply on the words.

  1In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2He was with God in the beginning.

  3Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. 4In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. 5The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.

  6There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. 7He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. 8He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. 9The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.

  10He was in the world, and though the world was made through Him, the world did not recognize Him. 11He came to that which was His own, but His own did not receive Him. 12Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God— 13children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

  14The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.1

  “Wait!” Tara blurted out, still staring at the words on the page. When she finally looked up she realized she had just rudely interrupted their conversations. She smiled apologetically and said, “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Tara,” said Brent. “What’s up?”

  “Okay, it starts off saying that there is this ‘Word’ and that the ‘Word’ created everything. Right?”

  Several at the table had nodded.

  “Then it says after that little number 14, that the ‘Word became flesh and dwelt among us.’ Is that talking about Jesus?”

  “Sure is,” said Mr. Lawton.

  “Then… wait… Jesus is the Creator?”

  A couple of slight laughs and several “yeps” and “yeses” were issued.

  “You’re telling me, that Jesus, the one that was crucified here on this planet, is the same one who created the entire universe?”

  More nods and verbal affirmations.

  Terry spoke up then. “And it’s not us who’s telling you, Tara. It’s God’s own Word telling you. You don’t have to take it from us.”

  Tara thought for a moment about this new revelation and tears started to well up in her eyes. Softly, she said, “The Creator of the universe…” she swallowed. “The Creator of the universe died for me?” It was all she could do to finish the question. Tears fell.

  Karen had then put her arm around Tara and the two brought their heads together. “That, my dear friend, is why it’s called ‘Amazing Grace.’”

  1 John 1:1-14 – New International Version

  Marta looked at her watch. Tara’s final class of the day should just now be letting out. She was sitting at a table in the Student Union building waiting to have lunch with Tara.

  Brent was home sick with a bad cold. Probably sitting around in those plaid flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeve T. She smiled. Lord, heal him so he feels better and so we can get together. She needed to talk with him about a recent conversation that she’d had with Karen.

  Karen had told her that even though Tara was now saved, it didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to have some major challenges soon because of her past occult involvement.

  She said, “Tara’s enjoying her honeymoon with the Lord right now, but as much as she’ll want that feeling to remain, I’ve found that one of two things usually happens with new Christians. One: They begin to get used to the Christian lifestyle, and by seeing what so many other Christians are doing in their walks, she could drift into becoming more of a doer of the Bible than a maintainer of her relationship with Jesus. The second thing is that she could start feeling tugs from the Enemy. The Enemy may have lost her to Christ, but that doesn’t mean that the demons won’t try to entice her again with things she used to be able to do in her witchcraft past. In fact, there is also a chance that her ‘spirit guide’—this Shalinar—is still assigned to her, and may, in fact, still be latched onto her, or even inhabiting her.”

  “You mean like… You don’t mean possessed, do you?”

  “No. A true Christian cannot be possessed by a demon, because the Holy Spirit and a demon cannot both occupy the same heart, or core, of a person’s being. However, if Tara was anything like me, one of the things that she did to increase her powers over time was to keep inviting the Enemy to enter her. She may have thought she was just calling on her spirit guide, but she was, in reality, giving an open invitation to any spirit that wanted to come in and play.”

  “So, you’re saying that she could still have some of these spirits residing in her somehow?”

  “That’s right. Understanding that the body is the ‘temple of the Holy Spirit’ doesn’t mean that the Enemy isn’t in the courtyard somewhere—which is still part of the temple.”

  That made sense to Marta. “So, what would need to be done if there are still demons in the courtyard?”

  “Remember what Jesus did when he went to the temple and found the money changers in there doing corrupt things, causing the worshipers to stumble?”

  “He made a whip and drove them out.”

  “Exactly.”

  TARA WALKED INTO the food-court area of the student union and saw Marta. Funny, she thought, this scene used to be tainted with hatred as I walked toward Marta and Brent in the past.

  As she drew close, Marta saw her and lit up, waving at her. God, I love her. Thank you for her friendship.

  “Hi!” said Tara as she sat down.

  “Hi! How was Poli Sci?”

  “Interesting. I have a pretty liberal professor in that class. I had him for a class my freshman year and I held close to his views on things. I find it amusing, now, how a good dose of truth and reality in my life is causing a shift in my,” Tara transitioned into her best male professorial voice, “‘political paradigm.’”

  Marta laughed. “Something similar happened to my parents when we moved to America. We moved here and saw that real freedom allowed for the voicing of different political views and they shifted from a ‘paradigm,’” she said in her best professorial voice, “of having to deal with fear-based militarism to what in America are called conservative views. They were happy that they were allowed to make as much money as they’d like, spend it how they’d like, and even start a private business without the government breathing down their necks.”

  “I can only imagine how hard things were in Guatemala.” Tara paused, considering whether she should say it or not. Yep, I have to. “Especially with all the gor-illas.”

  Marta laughed. “Can you believe that conversation? I about peed my pants when I realized what he thought I was talking about.”

  Tara laughed, too. Then she suddenly became contemplative. “You know, I hated that I was taking pleasure—from time to time—in the laughter and the camaraderie that all of you were enjoying during that trip.”

  Marta’s smile faded. She leaned forward, folded her hands, and put her elbows on the table, her chin resting atop the back of her hands. “How hard was it, really, to live that double life?”

  “Actually, it wasn’t. I had such hate for you
, Brent, and the others that I didn’t consider any true allegiances with any of you. From the moment that I first bumped into the two of you at the student union, I wanted to be trouble for you. The truth is that there are a lot of people that owe me for the stuff I put them through. A lot of them never even knew I was involved in the pain they suffered.”

  Marta considered her words. “In other words, a double-decker bitch ‘n witch.”

  Tara grimaced. “Yeah. Well said.”

  Both of them shook their heads and drew in long breaths, letting them out as loud sighs. Looking into each other’s eyes, they broke out in laughter.

  “Hungry?” Tara inquired.

  “Was going to ask you the same thing.” Marta looked over at the food court. “The lines aren’t too long. Tacos?”

  “Actually, I was thinking more along the line of Italian. Serio’s? My treat?”

  Marta closed her eyes, a soft sound of delight emitted from her throat. She reopened her eyes and said, “You’re speaking my language now.”

  “Isn’t your language Spanish?”

  “Not today, il mio amore.”

  Tara giggled.

  As they were getting up to leave the student union, Marta thought of something. “Can I ask how it is that you’re able to afford the life you live? … and my pasta?”

  Tara decided against a full explanation at that moment. “Well, let’s just say that the way I got my money is another reason that I had hated God. It’s probably a story that you, Karen, and Brent should hear together.”

  Marta was more curious than ever, now. It figures that Brent would pick today to be sick.

  3:47 P.M.

  “I’M NOT SAYING that I felt as if you deceived me. I’m just saying… I thought you would have mentioned it sometime in the past three years that we’ve known each other.” Brent’s voice was hoarse from his sore throat and the coughing he’d been doing. He held the phone in his right hand as he reclined in his dad’s chair in the family room.

  It had been a rough three days being laid up at home. He was going stir crazy, but feeling too weak and lazy to even go sit outside, though temperatures were in the upper 70s. Karen’s call was a welcome distraction from the mundane, daytime TV shows from which he had to choose.

  “In truth, Brent, you are the only one in our close-knit community that I had considered telling. But I felt that if I told you, I would have been deceptive to everyone else.”

  “I can understand that, I guess. But not one of us was going to judge you because you used to be a witch.”

  “Okay. Okay. I get that. Embarrassment? The fear of being looked at weird? That I might be shunned… You name it. These things played on my mind. I mean, how many witches do people encounter in real life?”

  “In my real life? Three! If I can count myself.”

  Brent could hear Karen stifle a laugh on the other end of the line. “Touché.”

  “I’m glad you called,” Brent said. “I needed someone to talk to.”

  “About?”

  “About? Oh … no. Not about anything in particular. Just needed the interaction.”

  “Well, good. I’m glad I could be of service.” Karen paused for a moment before continuing. “Brent, I actually called to ask you something. Based on my experience with witchcraft and then becoming a Christian, I was wondering if both of us shared a similar post-salvation experience.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Okay. And this is another reason I don’t like to talk about this area of my past. Brent, did you have any struggles or temptations with the occult after you got saved?”

  Brent thought for a moment. He’d been pretty much nightmare free since that evening six-and a-half years ago. He couldn’t think of any real temptation to do any of the old things he had done. “No, I don’t think so. At least none that I’m remembering.” He paused. “Why do you ask? Did you?”

  He could hear Karen sigh. “I kinda thought you’d say that. As for me … yeah. I had some terrible struggles.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like waking up in the middle of the night feeling like I’d had a nightmare, but never remembering anything. Times when anger would flare up in such a way that I’d want to strike out at the person who had made me mad. Periodically wishing I could do some of the things I used to do in the craft. A voice inside telling me, ‘Go ahead. Just this once. It won’t hurt you.’”

  Brent couldn’t think of a single instance in which he’d struggled like that, except maybe with anger, but not with any sort of real vengeance in mind.

  Karen continued. “For the longest time I just thought it had to do with old habits dying hard. You know? But it wasn’t leaving me. I mean, a year and a half into my Christian walk and I still felt this overwhelming urge to jump back into the occult. On top of that were the physical things that were happening.”

  “Physical things? You mean manifestations?”

  “Exactly. I didn’t know what was going on. Most of the time I was just fine. But when I would get around people who were praying intensely—some of them engaging in spiritual warfare on another’s behalf—I would start feeling sick. Sometimes it would feel like a stabbing pain in my chest or stomach. When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I went to see my pastor. I told him everything that I was struggling with and he said that it sounded like I was being demonically oppressed.”

  Brent had heard the phrase before, several times, by his own pastor. When he would teach about spiritual warfare and the reality of demons, he’d talk about different types of attacks the Enemy would use in the lives of both believers and unbelievers to keep them bound and ineffective in their Christian walks or to keep the non-believers from being able to hear the Gospel clearly.

  “Okay,” responded Brent. “I’m following. Your deep practice of witchcraft left some friends tagging along with you after you got saved.”

  “Something like that, yeah. But he told me that with people who have actually called on spirits—demons—to live within them, it’s different than what most people who deal with oppressive spirits contend with. He said that because they were actually invited in, they had a right to remain in residence, if you get my drift.”

  “Yes, it’s kind of like the temple illustration that you gave to Marta.”

  “She told you?”

  “Was she not supposed to?”

  “Oh, no, it’s definitely okay. I just didn’t know. Good. I’m glad that you know about that. Did she also tell you that I’m concerned that Tara may have some challenges coming?”

  “Yes, she did. And, now that you’ve told me some of what you’ve gone through, I’d have to agree. Have you mentioned it to her yet?”

  “No, not yet. I need to. But I wanted to talk with you first, to see if you had any similar experiences that might corroborate my belief that she may be in store for a bit of rough road ahead.”

  “Okay, so tell me… How did your situation get resolved?”

  “Brent, it’s a story that you probably wouldn’t believe. It’s hard for me to believe parts of it myself. Suffice it to say that getting rid of my friends was no fun.”

  Marta and Brent waited for Karen and Tara to arrive. They thought that meeting at the church to talk might be best. It was open and occupied for the first night of play practice so there was no trouble having access. Plus, Pastor Chuck was going to be in the building, too.

  Brent had thought it best that Pastor Chuck know what was going on. So, Wednesday morning, before classes, he called the church to speak with him. He asked for counsel on how to best handle the situation.

  Should they not say anything to Tara about what may never happen? Would telling her cause her to start second guessing any weird feelings she might have, though none of them were even remotely spiritual in nature? Would giving her a head’s up be the wise move, just in case demonic symptoms arose?

  Pastor Chuck said, “Brent, all of those questions are good ones. However, the one you didn’t ask is probably the most importa
nt. What if she starts feeling the draw of the occult again or if she thinks that there is no one that she can talk to that would believe her strange experiences? She might feel like a failure as a Christian. She might be too embarrassed to come to one of you who seemingly have it all together.”

  Brent immediately understood.

  “Definitely bring her to the church if you can arrange it. You can share with her on your own, but I’ll be there as a backup if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Pastor.”

  “Brent, one more thing. My son, Pastor Jonathan, he’s dealt with a few cases recently in his own congregation that are very similar to Tara’s. If it comes down to Tara needing to be ministered to in this area, I’m going to ask him to take the lead on it.”

  “Okay, Pastor. Thanks again.”

  TARA WAS GRATEFUL that Karen had been up front with her, though she still didn’t know completely what the three of them wanted to talk with her about. Karen would only say that they wanted to discuss some precautions with her as they related to her occult past, and they thought that the church would be both a convenient and more appropriate place to get together to talk.

  Okay, it was actually weirding her out a little bit.

  As Karen turned into the church’s parking lot she saw a lot of cars. Surprised by this, she asked, “Why are so many people here?”

  “The church is getting ready to start practices for their annual Christmas production.”

  She looked at Karen. “Like a play?”

  “Actually, a full-scale musical.”

  “No way.”

  “Yep. Obviously, I’ve never seen one of their productions, but Brent and Marta say they’re pretty impressive.”

  “Wonderful! I can hardly wait!”

  After parking, they walked into the atrium. Sitting at a table near the café were both Brent and Marta.