The Setup

Chapter 12

One night I received an unexpected phone call from Robert.

“Hey, John, my wife and I are having a prayer service in our house on Saturday afternoon about one o’clock, and we would like you to come. Please be here.”

“Well, what kind of meeting are you talking about?” I asked. “Just some church members getting together to pray.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.” I knew this was my chance to confront Ray, the man who spilled the beans about me at the banquet. It was my opportunity to get revenge. This meeting would give me a chance to mock and challenge those who claimed they were Christian. I would cling to my espiritismo and evil powers during the time I was at the gathering. How entertaining that would be. I would be in control of it all, and no one would ever know.

That Saturday afternoon, one by one they came: smiles on their faces, God’s praises on their lips. Men shook hands and clapped each other’s shoulders while women hugged and kissed one another on the cheek. These people really loved each other. Later I would discover the reason was because they lived by a different Spirit, for a different cause, under another name, a man named Jesus. They said He walked on water, healed the sick, spoke truth, and died on Good Friday. No one from the religion believed anything like this. The principles of espiritismo just didn’t teach such things.

When everyone settled down, the group of Christians, about fifteen people in all, stood to their feet in a circle, held hands, and began to pray, one person at a time. It was so orderly. I thought it strange they didn’t pray for themselves but for each other. Even people who weren’t there were prayed for—brothers and sisters from their faith who were physically ill, and others in need of God’s intervention. This was crazy. What kind of people went around calling themselves brothers and sisters? Shedding tears for one another?

After a round of applause and cries of hallelujahs, the person next to me shouted about how Jesus changed his life, and everyone sat down to hear his testimony. “I’ll never be the same,” the man said.

I would have challenged him right then and there, but a demon began revealing things to me, personal things about everyone there. Right then, one of the older men—a man they called an “elder”—started to say things to the people. As he went around the room, he told church members about the goodness, love, and plan that Jesus had for their lives. As he drew near to me, I was already half demon-possessed. He pointed a finger at me and told me Jesus loved me and died for me on the cross to give me a new life. Then he said, “Jesus is calling you. What are you waiting for?”

At that moment, I wanted to leap from my seat and choke the life out of him. My blood went ice cold, and I could feel the fire within me. What nerve he had to speak to me that way. If he only knew I had the power the take him out at any given time, he would never have pointed a finger at me.

He was beneath me. The old man’s eyes locked into me as if someone had given him authority. He wasn’t the quiet old man anymore. The spiritual battle between me and the elder came to a halt when he motioned to the pastor to pray.

I couldn’t wait for the meeting to be over because my eyes were on that blabber-mouth, the one who had told Robert and Anna about my life in the religion.

When the gathering ended with a prayer and a few hallelujahs, people started to embrace each other while I was getting ready to attack. As soon as my eyes pierced across the room, I targeted Ray and made my way over. My first words were, “How are you doing, Ray?”

He fidgeted and replied in a nervous voice, “I’m fine.”

I looked him up and down. “The reason I came to this meeting was to see you. To discuss the comments you made about me at the banquet to Rachael’s dad. Did you think for a second I wasn’t going to find out?”

“I was nervous and didn’t know what to do,” he said. “The evening I saw you, fear gripped me and I thought—oh my God, these witches are having their own banquet next door to ours. That’s when I panicked and told someone. And who better than Robert? But I’m so sorry for what happened.”

We shook hands. “Don’t you ever let something like this happen again.” I departed to the kitchen where they were serving brunch.

Later, Rachael and I met up and she asked me, “What did you think of the prayer meeting?”

“It was . . . okay.” I really didn’t want to discuss it. I was accustomed to casting spells, winning battles, and watching gullible people succumb to whatever curses I placed on them. But today, for the first time, I had experienced something different, and all regarding a Spirit that was not only powerful, but gentle as well. They called the Spirit the Holy Ghost. But I was still filled with questions. Things I didn’t want to share with anyone.

A few days later I found myself confronting a Jehovah’s Witness in the neighborhood running her mouth off about how this Jesus died on a tree. How dare she spill such erroneous information! She got her story dead wrong.

“Listen to me, lady,” I said. “What do you know about this Jesus man? You know nothing. He died on a cross.”

“But the cross was a tree,” she said.

I turned around and said, “No, it was a cross. How foolish are you, lady?” My blood started to boil and my temperature began to rise. I wanted to grab her by the throat and shake some sense into her. I couldn’t believe myself as I snapped out of it. What am I doing? I’m a devil worshipper. How can I be defending this guy named Jesus?

“Get your story straight next time,” I spat out as I turned away from the lady and walked down the sidewalk. As I left I was embarrassed with myself, defending someone I did not serve or believe in. How crazy I was!

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 607