Deuteronomy 18:10-13 (KJV):

10 There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch.

11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.

12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord: and because of these abominations the Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee.

13 Thou shalt be perfect with the Lord thy God.

Growing up, I was always a very devout fantasy reader. I cherished diving into the mystical world where witches, wizards, werewolves, vampires, mermaids, shapeshifters, fairies, elves, and greek or egyptian mythological beings roamed free. My step-father and grandfather always detested the fact that my mind remained consumed by the lives of fantastical characters partaking in ungodly mannerisms. However, with my childhood being surrounded by the teachings of Disney movies, I believed all these aberrations to be harmless, magnificent even! Through movies such as Harry Potter, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Aladdin, Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, etc. I was taught not to detest the use of sorcery or witchcraft, but to glorify it. In unison to these beliefs, I sought books as a ladder to greater satisfaction when I came to the understanding that the written word offers an experience of living the journeys, while movies only portray the adventures. Therefore, I quickly discovered the Harry Potter phenomenon, craving to be a witch or wizard myself. From there, my downfall immediately began.

On April 8, 2011 my grandfather passed away. Our relationship was nothing short of everything that my world was built upon. In my eyes, he was just as equally my parent as my mother. Thus, his death consumed me, annihilating my purpose to live. During this loss of faith, I turned to books, or more specifically books centered around adventure and escape. I found myself drawn to the comfort of nature as a whole, holding conversations with the trees and reading fantasy tales underneath their canopies. This fact is exactly how the spirit of witchcraft entered my life so strongly during that time. However, this mirad of mundanity quickly fades to reality one afternoon in the depths of some unknown wood.

I was seated on the very back of a four-wheeler with my sister driving steadily in the front. A feeling of eeriness came over me as I stared off between the rows and rows of bleak, mystifying trees. Almost as if in a trance, I opened my mouth, hearing myself relay the words, “I accept you into me.” As soon as the phrase was said aloud I snapped out of my “trance,” as you will, and blinked my eyes, saying, “Why did I just say that? Where’d that come from?” My sister immediately looks back at me, and says, “Sissy, what are you talking about?” It is then that I notice how insane I sound, and quickly respond, “Oh nothing! I was just talking to myself.” In this moment the only emotion that should take over mind is fear, but instead I am faced with two opposing overwhelming feelings: uneasiness and unparalleled excitement. The inner workings of my imagination took hold as I envisioned the start of one of my books manifesting itself into my real life. Therefore, as the presence of a spirit started to gain a foothold into my environment, I welcomed it, anxiously awaiting the start of my own fairytale.

All was well as I interacted with my own personal “Casper” until it began to take on the role of my sister, or Megan. I found myself holding conversations with what I believed to be Meg, only to find that she is never actually in the room. This fact alone raised red flags in my mind; I couldn't understand why my ghostly friend never approached me with its real voice or form. However, I came face to face with my question one night on the cushions of our couch.

I was watching television on the living room couch when I had my first physical encounter with the spirit. It began with a feeling of pressure on my feet. I remember looking down to find the source of the pressure, only to find a black figure crouched on the bottom of my legs. I immediately sought to scream, only to discover that my mouth is immobile. From there, I tried running, only to find my entire flesh to be paralyzed. All I could do was watch the spirit make its way up my body. It wasn’t until one of our dogs started barking that the figure disappeared, allowing me to gain back control of my legs, so I ran. Upon entering my parents’ room with tears rolling down my cheeks, I relayed what had just taken place mere feet from them. They only said what every parent would if placed in the same situation, that I must have been dreaming. I denied the accusation, but slowly grew to accept it. It was grotesque for me to believe that my friendly “casper” could appear so evil and violent.

From then on I dove even deeper into my relationship with the spirit, referring to my books on how to partake in spells and sorcerous meditation. I practiced wicca, which is Pagan witchcraft devoted to natural elements, and isolated myself even farther into the chase of an otherworldly lifestyle as portrayed in my collection of fantasy books. However, as time carried on, the spirit began to grow more and more aggressive, not only towards me, but also toward guests. That is when I decided to take a break from the practice of sorcery.

During this period of time, God called me back to him. Recap:

“As my feet stopped in front of Brother Teddy and the tears continued to pour from my eyes, he only smiled at me and asked me to repeat after him. I did as he said, and uttered sentences on turning from sin, denying the devil, and accepting Jesus Christ into my heart as my Lord and Savior, the whole while questioning myself. However, as I closed my eyes, Brother Teddy anointed his hands with holy oil and pressed his palm to my forehead. All I felt was the fire from the oil before the world was turned inward and ceased its spin. I opened my eyes to find myself sprawled on the carpeted floor of the church with a satin throw covering my body. That was the moment that I began to realize how real and powerful God truly is.”

Upon receiving salvation, I believed my bondage to the spirit was instantly broken. However, soon after giving my life to Christ, I began to have seizures. In the same manner as my initial physical encounter with the spirit, it would seek to work its way back to taking control over my flesh. However, I never was afraid. I knew that my salvation through Christ prevented the spirit from possessing me, no matter how many attempts it made. Then, during one Wednesday service, everything abruptly changed.

I entered the church with a feeling of excitement, almost jumping out of my shoes at the opportunity to worship my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Upon standing, I was welcomed by worship music, or my one true form of pure praise. However, I found myself struggling to feel sensitivity toward God’s presence. As the service carried on, an overwhelming sense of dread encompassed my system. I could not understand why I could not cry, or why I had trouble praying with tender passion. However, all the while I thought ahead to singing practice that was to take place afterwards, knowing that if anything could get me humbled before God, music would. Nonetheless, singing after church only made me feel worse. It was then that I knew that a real issue had manifested itself, so I discreetly walked outside for air.

Seconds after I sat down, a woman from church found me and stood me up to face the depths of her eyes. She explained that I had a spirit of oppression over me, and said that I needed prayer. The minute the words left her mouth, I became equally terrified and furious. Even though, I suffered through the prayer before rushing home in a panic, knowing that the spirit was not rebuked, but yet unable to voice the truth. However, it was not until the following Friday that I came face to face with exactly how strong the spirit's hold on my aura truly was.

That Friday morning I rode to a revival in some foreign church with a friend in the passenger seat. We were asked to lead the worship and consequently sought to practice on the way. Each time the music was played, the radio would instantly cut off. Therefore, in hopes to break the tension, she said, “The Devil really doesn’t want us singing this song.” I laughed along, and responded, “I know, right?” We had absolutely no idea how truly right we were.

As we entered the church, that same feeling of wrongness and iniquity still overpowered my entirety. I prayed and prayed that God would give me strength to overcome this trial on my faith. However, almost instantly a burning fire struck me, and I found myself screaming at some unknown demon to leave from me. I rebuked it continuously, shouting with foreign authority. However, as I yelled with every ounce of my being, “I plead the blood!”my body was yanked from the ground and thrown head first toward the floor of the sanctuary. It was then that I understood what was taking place.

Me and my friend gradually made our way to the pulpit in the front of the church. When there, I graciously took the microphone from the speaker and raised it to my lips, ready to leave all the negative occurrences behind me. However, as I spoke into the mic, it immediately cut off. Apologetically, the woman handed me another. I took it, seeking to speak again, only to have it shut off as well. Now confused, the woman handed me two more microphones as the process continued; but, as expected, each time the same thing happened: the microphones literally stopped working the minute I opened my mouth. Refusing to be brought down, I gathered my face into a smile and simply stated that I would sing acappella.

After the closing of the song, me and my friend found our seats. The rest of the service was filled with an anointing of prophetic claims and bursts of spiritual enlightenment. However, all the while I remained dispirited in my pew. As the evangelist wrapped up his sermon, he, as most workers of God do, asked anyone in need of prayer to come forward. My mother instantly made her way to the front, and I, likewise, made my way to the back. Noticing my plotted escape, Mama commanded me to stand with her, reaching out her hand for me to grab. I shook my head, knowing what fate awaited me, and interlocked my fingers with hers.

Mark 9: 17-21 (KJV):

17 And one of the multitude answered and said, Master, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit;

18 And wheresoever he taketh him, he teareth him: and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth, and pineth away: and I spake to thy disciples that they should cast him out; and they could not.

19 He answereth him, and saith, O faithless generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you? bring him unto me.

20 And they brought him unto him: and when he saw him, straightway the spirit tare him; and he fell on the ground, and wallowed foaming.

21 And he asked his father, How long is it ago since this came unto him? And he said, Of a child.

This next few scenes are not for the tender-hearted.

The evangelist placed his palm to my forehead and my eyes immediately went blind; my sight was entirely lost. Therefore, I reached to squeeze my mother’s hand for reassurance, only to find that the ability to feel had also vanished - only my sense of hearing remained. Therefore, the next horror came in the form of pure ignorance.

As I remained in this blind state of numbness, I was met by the most dark, forbidding scream my ears had ever laid witness to. It was as if my mind then went stagnant as the vibration from the sound of the wail pierced my soul. It was not my voice; it was much deeper. It was a man’s below. Later on, this experience was explained to me in great depth. According to bystanders, the source of the cry was my very own mouth. As the screams continued to shake the walls of the church, all other noise came to an abrupt halt. In this absence of prayer, the evangelist said something that chilled my spine to the very core.

He spoke to the congregation in warning, saying, “Anyone who knows how to pray, you better pray, and anyone that is not entirely confident in their relationship with God, I am going to ask you to please step outside.” I had never been more afraid for my soul. That is when intense prayer burst forth from the hearts and souls of the congregation. I continued to hear the evangelist command someone to pick me back up time and time again. Therefore, I came to the conclusion that I must have somehow fallen. However, after talking to people in the congregation months later, they explained something far more frightening.

Each time the evangelist pleaded the blood of Jesus Christ over my body, I was instantly brought to the floor in episodes of seizures. According to witnesses, between seizures and screams I would randomly stop and lay still. However, I was never picked up from the carpet. Each and every time he commanded the men to lift me from the floor, I simply stood up myself, facing the face of the evangelist. However, no eye contact was ever made; my eyes showed white, for they were rolled back.

As the evangelist attempted to rebuke the demon from my flesh, I remained inward, unable to control my actions or witness my surroundings. It was almost as if I was only there physically, for my mind raced in a constant flow of questions: “What is happening? Is that me screaming? Why was I on the floor? Where is Mama? Am I possessed? How can I be if I am saved? Why can’t I see? Is this a dream? Have I fallen asleep during the service?” The entirety of my faith in the foundation upon which the relationship with my Father was built ultimately crumbled. Thus, the next set of authoritative demands that the evangelist shouted struck a major chord of angst inside my soul.

I could hear the man of God say, “Pick her up for the last time.” I inwardly began to panic, imagining every scenario of the double meaning behind his command. As I waited for his final attempt at rebuking the spirit, I noticed how an eerie silence had fallen over the environment in the absence of my screams. That is when the evangelist uttered words of confirmation on something I had sensed since my first encounter with the demon.

I could hear the vibrato of his voice, almost sense the vibration from his soul, as he shouted, “I rebuke the spirit of oppression! I rebuke the spirit of sorcery! I rebuke the spirit of witchcraft! I bind these demons in the name of Jesus Christ!” That is when a two minute scream erupted from my throat, sending fear throughout the entirety of my mind. I can still hear the roar of the voice, almost as if it belonged to something ancient, unholy, otherwordly. It was not meant to be made in this realm; it was not meant to be heard at all. Suddenly, the wails died. It was then that I opened my eyes.

1 Corinthians 10:13 (KJV):

“There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”

With the idea that an act done with so much ignorance in the past had so much power over my spirituality in the present, my faith was almost irreparably altered. After that night, I questioned my relationship with God, my salvation as a Christian, and my spirituality as a whole. I could not understand why my Father would allow something so evil to attach itself to me. That was when I realized that God willingly let a demon into my journey in order to show me just how worldly and corrupt what I was continuing to fill my body, mind, and soul with truly was. He wanted to open my eyes to the evil that was holding me back from my calling.

Acts 19:19(KJV):
“Many of them also which used curious arts brought their books together, and burned them before all [men]:”

Regardless of the fact that I was no longer partaking in witchcraft or sorcery, I was still filling my vessel with divine iniquities. My room was a library stocked with over a hundred books on unholy, pagan fictional characters. My DVR was a stockpile of movies and tv shows on the same genre of wickedness. Though I did not physically engage in Wicca, I was till mentally and spiritually accepting it into my daily life. Therefore, my Father took care of me.

He led me away from the grasp of corruption when He allowed me to experience the effects of a life centered around paganism first hand. Through this lesson, I was able to remove the books that the demonic spirit was attached to; I was able to delete the films that opened doorways for wickedness to enter into my daily life. Therefore, now I can see the wicked nature underlying society today, not only ethically, but spirituality as well. Satan is playing a very deadly game. Are you ready?

Leviticus 19:31(KJV):
“Regard not them that have familiar spirits, neither seek after wizards, to be defiled by them: I

[am] the LORD your God.”

Leviticus 20:6(KJV):

“And the soul that turneth after such as have familiar spirits, and after wizards, to go a whoring after them, I will even set my face against that soul, and will cut him off from among his people.”

Witchcraft is not an ideal that should be manifested in the minds of children as something magical, or enchanting. Instead, movies or books that highlight the idea of “good witches” should be frowned upon in the eyes of parents everywhere. Due to an impulsive decision that I made at an overwhelmingly young age from influences such as fantasy novels and witchcraft-promoted films, I became linked to a demonic spirit with no knowledge on spiritual warfare. What is to say that your child, younger sibling, niece, nephew, or cousin will not be susceptible to the same malevolent force?