Chapter 8
MIDNIGHT PRAYERS GIVE YOU VICTORY OVER SATAN
“What time does your service start?”
I turned in the direction of the man making the enquiries and was shocked to see tears streaming down his eyes. I threw caution to the wind and moved two seats across to where he sat. The large auditorium was almost empty, as the service wasn’t starting until 11:00 p.m. I glanced at my wristwatch. It was nine fifteen. I had left the house early to beat the traffic that usually built up around King Cross on Friday nights.
As I sat next to him, he looked at me quizzically. I knew I had to be careful in order not to give him wrong impression about my interest in him. Working in the counseling unit of the church had given me the opportunity to share the concerns of some worshippers, especially singles, who usually complain of being harassed by the opposite sex.
I took care to pull my skirt to cover my knees and gave him the broadest of smiles. “Hi, I’m Careen. The service will commence by 11:00 p.m. I’m a worker in the church and would like to get to know you, if you don’t mind.” To allay his fears, I brought out my identity card from my purse and pinned it on my shirt.
For more than five minutes, the stranger sat with his head bowed and his two hands on his laps. He was obviously in pain. Just as I was thinking of returning to my seat, he said, “I’ve reached the end of the rope. I’m ready to let go if God won’t touch me tonight. I’m tired of fighting the devil alone. Why won’t God step into the ring on my behalf? Is the blood of Jesus selective in its atoning power? I’ve had more hands laid on me than I can remember. I have fasted, prayed, and tried all I could to get heaven’s attention, to no avail.”
By this time, his voice had risen and some people sitting close to us were showing more than a keen interest in his tirade. I pleaded with him to restrain himself and suggested we take a walk outside the auditorium. He reluctantly agreed, after a bout of weeping which attracted more attention from other worshippers.
I took him to my office to pick up some Kleenex before we strolled towards the main entrance of the church complex. Once we were beyond earshot of other people milling around the complex, he said, “My name’s Gale Davidson. I’m Norwegian by birth. I’ve been engaged in the weirdest and most grueling warfare with the devil for more than eighteen years of my life. I’m forty- six years old and still single.
Before my ordeal started, I used to think that only ladies had difficulty finding life partners. In my younger days, I was a ladies’ man. I thought that was a badge to wear, especially among my peers who envied my good looks and my parents’ wealth. My father owns three banks and is the chairman of several companies. He relocated to the United Kingdom in 1963, when he met and married my mum, a Briton. Actually, my mum inherited her parents’ large estate in London, as well as a dairy farm in Devonshire.”
“In spite of my mum’s large inheritance, dad worked himself to the bone to provide for his family. He refused to live on his wife’s money. His perseverance paid off, as he had a major breakthrough in the insurance firm where he worked as a salesman. He eventually established his own insurance company and, thereafter, took a shot at the banking sector where he also excelled.
I enjoyed everything money could buy and attended the best schools in this country and in the United States of America, where my father also had a number of enterprises. I hold a Masters degree in Physics and a Doctorate in Thermodynamics, as well as the patent to a number of inventions, including the latest brand of harvester marketed by my father’s company, Blue Gale, Inc. I also hold an honorary Doctorate degree from the University of Devonshire, my alma mater.
“I’m not in any way beating my own drum. I want you to appreciate the seriousness of the challenge confronting me. I had no idea about the spiritual climate in my family until 1999, when I was planning to propose to one of my girlfriends. This particular lady had exhibited more maturity than others, and I felt I could marry her and still maintain my Casanova lifestyle.
“On the eve of what I thought would be a landmark event, I had a strange visitor. I was in the bathroom preparing to tidy up for the evening when a woman dressed in red walked in and sat on the edge of the bathtub. I opened my mouth to scream but my tongue stuck to my gums. She looked at me with amusement and said, “Open your ears and listen to me. You are mine forever and nothing can separate us. I don’t mind sharing you with girlfriends. Forget about marriage, now and forever.’
“With that, she walked through the wall and I was left with my jaw hanging open. I almost wet myself. In fact, I shook like a leaf. It was that day I knew the taste of fear. I hurriedly left the bathroom and put a call through to my mother. We’d always enjoyed each other’s company. When I narrated my ordeal, there was silence on the other end. Frankly, I expected my mum to express shock. Instead, she said, ‘Gale, I guess you and I need to talk. Can you come over?”
“Within twenty minutes, I was at my parents’ palatial home adjacent to the golf course close to Arden Road. I barely exchanged pleasantries with the housekeeper and valet. I reminded myself that I wasn’t on a social call. I went straight to my mum’s room, one floor above my dad’s. She was admiring what I believe were sets of new jewelry on her dressing table. My mum was crazy about precious stones. Her happiest moments were those spent with her friends talking about the cut of diamonds.
“My sister, Emily, once jokingly asked mum what she would do if she found herself in heaven and the only things adorned with precious stones were roads and pillars. With mocked outrage, my mum said, ‘Emily, don’t make light of such things! In any case, who said God doesn’t answer prayers in heaven?
I’ll simply walk to his throne and request a few sets of jewelry. Does the good book not say that those who ask receive?’ I still remember the hilarity in mum’s room that day as everyone contributed to the discussion as to what fashion-conscious women should expect on the other side.
“With a smile on my face, I walked over to the dressing table and planted kisses on both my mother’s cheeks. She looked so radiant in her beige housecoat and matching slippers. I sat on the edge of her king-size bed and waited for her to arrange the jewelleries in their cases and pouches. She was always meticulous about keeping then the right containers.
“When she joined me on the bed, I noticed that her eyes were tired looking. I had never seen my mother without a sparkle in her beautiful eyes. Before I could utter a word, my mum left the bed, and knelt at my feet. In confusion, I did the only thing that made sense. I joined her on the floor and pleaded with her to get up.
She shook her head and said, ‘My darling, I know what I’m about to share with you will rock your very foundation. All I ask is that you show understanding. Whatever your dad and I did before you were born was influenced by ignorance, I can assure you. I ask you, my dear, to forgive your father and me for . . .’
“Out of irritation, I cut in and told her to stop all the melodramatics and tell me exactly what action of theirs paved the way for that evil woman to visit my apartment. She ignored my outburst and continued with her narrative. She said a friend of my dad, a former employee of Dutchland, Inc, a mining company based in Zaire, in the African heartland, heard about her inability to conceive after eight years of marriage.
The man eventually convinced them to visit a witch doctor Kombe village in the northern part of Zaire, who promised to open her womb on condition that they would dedicate their first-born son to the service of the deity worshipped in the community.
With tears streaming down her face, she said they were initially outraged by the offer, given their Christian heritage, but eventually caved in to spare themselves the reproach of childlessness. Apparently sensing my revulsion, she sobbed uncontrollably and reached out to hold my hand. Her touch irritated me. Suddenly it was as if someone yanked a veil off my eyes.
I saw a woman who brought me into the world, but not someone I could relate with as a mother. The bond was broken. Without uttering a word, I opened the door and walked out of their lives. I didn’t even bother to confront my father. I decided to make a clean break and fight for my freedom.
“My parents tried their best to pacify me, but I fended them off. I equally cut all links with my two siblings. It was painful living without the love and affection of my family. Of course, some close friends who didn’t know the genesis of the quarrel took sides with my parents. In the heat of the crisis, I sold everything I owned and relocated to Sweden. Two years later, I got a job with the United Nations, and was deployed to head the technical unit here in London.
Still determined to rid myself of the influence of my parents, I left the U.N. and joined Credit Lyses, the biggest bank in Sweden, as its operation manager. Three years later, I was posted to London, with a mandate to trouble-shoot in other branches of the bank in the United Kingdom. I wasn’t happy to be back in London, but I love my job and the pay is fantastic.
Despite the proximity of my head office in London to one of my father’s banks, we’ve managed to steer clear of each other. I haven’t spoken to my mum since our last encounter, either, though she sent several emissaries to me.
“In July, 2001, I fell in love for the first time. The girl, the only child of her parents, was introduced to me by my secretary, who felt I was over-ripe for marriage. Well, it wasn’t as if I forgot the warning of the evil woman. I actually thought I had escaped her clutches, since I had broken all links with my family through which she came into my life.
With the encouragement of my secretary and some friends, my girlfriend Annabel fixed a date for our wedding. Two weeks before the D-day, disaster struck. Annabel was leaving her home for work when a drunken driver left the road and crushed her on the pavement.
“Her death could’ve passed as the consequence of someone’s drunken stupor but for the fact that the woman visited me again, a day after Annabel’s burial. I was lying on my back mulling over the turn of events when she walked in and stood at the foot of the bed. She said, ‘You don’t seem to realize the futility of your stubbornness. Let this be the last time you’ll try my patience with your pig-headedness. The next time you dare me, you’ll be sorry for yourself.’
“The pain of losing Annabel gave me the courage to attempt a confrontation. I tried to lift myself from the bed, but my body was like lead. With anger burning in my chest, I lay as one paralyzed and watched her walk away through the wall. When I regained my strength, I put a call through to Chris, a close friend. Initially, he asked me some funny questions that suggested that I was hallucinating.
I was so mad at him that he apologized and offered to drive down to my apartment right away. As I waited for him, my mind was in turmoil. I actually confided in Chris because I felt he could put in a word for me with his father, a powerful man with links to the occult. I needed someone with the spiritual clout to stand as a buffer between me and the evil personality trying to destroy my life.
“Chris arrived at about eight o’clock in the evening, and suggested we take a ride in his car to a popular joint in my neighborhood, the Sunshine Crescent. Over a bottle of Heineken, I narrated my ordeal, leaving nothing out, including the role of my parents. Placing his right hand on my shoulder, he said, ‘Forgive me for my initial reaction, old boy. It isn’t every day one is exposed to a stranger-than-fiction encounter. What exactly do you want to do? How can I be of help?’
“Without any hesitation, I said, ‘Chris, I have a feeling your dad can handle the situation. Would you be willing to speak to him on my behalf? I would be eternally grateful.’ He was about to say something when a waitress arrived with our bill. Once she was out of earshot, Chris said in a whisper, ‘I know the woman must be monitoring your every move. Don’t bother coming to see my dad. I will take care of everything.
“I guess his confidence rubbed off on me because I enjoyed the remaining part of the evening. I was in high spirit as we drove back to my apartment. After I alighted, Chris was about to zoom off, when he stalled the engine and beckoned me to draw closer. He said conspiratorially, ‘Old boy, I’ve a feeling you shouldn’t stay alone until this matter is sorted out. Would you care to keep me company for the night?’
“I don’t know what grated me, the look of pity on Chris’ face, or the fact that I’d been forced to abandon my country for no just cause. Although I enjoyed my friend’s company, I determined to face the challenge before me squarely. With head held high, I thanked Chris for his offer and assured him that I would take care of myself. Reluctantly he drove off, but promised to keep in touch.
“With measured stride buoyed by my resolve to fight for my freedom, I opened the door to my living room, though with a little bit of trepidation. I quickly switched on the light and put a disc by Earl Klugh into the DVD player. Jazz had always been my passion.
As I removed my sneakers to drop them on the balcony, I felt something brush past my leg. Looking down, I saw a form behind the window drape close to the television stand in the living room. Just then, the drape moved and I was face-to-face with a python. I shrieked and dashed for the main door. Luckily, it was ajar. I ran as fast as I could to towards the residence of one of my neighbours.
“As I entered the driveway of the house, the strange woman appeared from nowhere and said, ‘That was just the first course. Dare me and see what stuff I’m made of. I fight dirty and I’ve never lost my possessions to anyone. I repeat. I’ve never lost a battle for what is mine. If you love yourself, go home, and rededicate your life to my service and we’ll forget about your truancy.’ With that, she just melted into the night, leaving me standing with wobbly legs.
“Somehow, I managed to convince my neighbour, a staff of Leighton Bridge, an accounting firm sharing a complex with one our branches, to allow me to stay the night. I told him I’d misplaced the key to my main door and would get a carpenter to change the locks the next day.
He tried all he could to make me comfortable, but I was too strung-up to allow myself the luxury of sleep. I kept myself busy all through the night reading magazines and newspapers that were strewn on his floor.
“About seven thirty that morning, I thanked my host and took my leave, promising to see him later in the day. I didn’t bother entering my compound to pick up my car. I took a taxi to Chris’ apartment and got in just as he was about to leave for the office. I quickly filled him in on the events of the night and pleaded with him to take up the matter with his dad without further delay.
He immediately put a call through to his father and booked an appointment for both of us for 10:00 a.m. He dropped me off at my office and promised to return by nine forty-five to pick me up and drive me to his dad’s palatial home.
“Waiting for Chris was nerve-wracking. I was apprehensive that the wicked woman would try another stunt. He arrived at 9:45 on the dot and we made the ten-minute drive to his family home without any hitch. On entering the compound, I felt the same oppressive presence that ushered in the python into my apartment and my hair stood on end. I didn’t know what to make of the situation, so I kept my fears to myself.
“We were met by a uniformed valet who ushered us into the living quarters of Chris’ father. Although his son and I shared many interests, I hadn’t met the old man at close quarters until that day. He had a boyish mien that softened his leathery face. I put his age at seventy, though he could’ve been more.
Obviously, he sized me up, too, because he said, “I’m not surprised you’re sought after by the strange entity. You’re quite a handsome young man. Sit down and feel at home. Chris has briefed me on the issue.” He turned to the valet, who hadn’t moved since he ushered us into the room. ‘Bentley, bring them something to drink.’
“I had no desire for drinks of any sort, but I knew the old man wouldn’t take kindly to an outright refusal so I reluctantly asked for a bottle of Sprite. Chris settled for Irish Cream, while his father drank cognac. As we chatted over our drinks, I took stock of my surroundings. The furnishing was superb. Obviously, someone in the family had great taste. The artwork displayed on a large room divider reminded me of my father. He was also a lover of art, especially 18th century impressionism. My siblings and I used to tease him about his taste, which we insisted bordered on the bizarre.
“The small talk over, my friend’s dad ushered us into what he described as his ‘thinking room.’ It was on the first floor of the three-story edifice. The moment he shut the door, he turned to me and said, ‘My son, I understand life’s been pretty rough with you lately. Don’t worry. Everything is under control. Chris has briefed me on the matter. Here’s what you’ll do. Get twenty-four pieces of one shilling, five white rats, a bottle of python oil, and three pink ties. I should have them by tomorrow. My friends and I will take it over from there. Any questions?’
“I couldn’t for the life of me fathom why the devil of a woman would want these things. I didn’t want to sound like an ingrate, so I assured him that I would return to his home the next day with the items.
“With the meeting over, my next concern was where to put my head. I definitely wasn’t keen on returning to my pad and having to contend with the evil woman and her python. As if he read my mind, Chris said, ‘Gale, sometimes stubbornness can be a virtue when you are fighting a good cause. Don’t expose yourself to unnecessary danger by returning to your house alone. You know I have three unused rooms in my house. Please, move in with me until this matter is sorted out.”
“I breathed a sigh of relief, and thanked my friend for the offer. He smiled and gave me a bear hug. He then suggested that we pick up some of my things before we set about procuring the items required by his father. To cut the long story short, Chris and I returned to the father’s house the following day and handed over the items to him. He assured me that I would hear from him within two days, and encouraged me to relax.
“That same day, I was shaving in the bathroom when the evil madam appeared. In fact, it was her laughter that heralded her presence. I stood transfixed as she walked close to me. She stared at me for a while and said, ‘What do you think I am? Do you think I’m a coin collector? I’ve told you that nothing can separate us, not in this life or the next. Stop wasting your time.’
“This time, I broke down and wept like a baby. I thought of taking my own life, but something held me back. I know it wasn’t cowardice, because I was too fed up with everything to care about my life. When I pulled myself together, I called Chris on the intercom and briefed him on the situation. He sympathized with me and assured me that his father would find a way around the evil woman.
“I was anxiously waiting for Chris’ father to call two days after we handed over the items to him, but he was incommunicado. Even his son was worried. Out of anxiety, we drove down to Chris’ family house. I was afraid the old man would refuse to see us, but he welcomed us warmly. It was after we were seated in his thinking room that he dropped the bombshell.
He’d been warned by some ‘powerful friends’ to go hands-off with my case. Stupefied, I sat with my head in my cupped hands while tears ran freely down my cheeks. After about ten minutes of listening to his apologies, Chris and I left for Chris’ home. My mind was in turmoil. Certainly, no man could go through the kind of life planned for me by the wicked woman without going insane. I resolved to seek help elsewhere at any cost.
“The next day, without discussing with Chris, I visited the home of a female colleague, Stephanie Wilson. She had once invited me to the church owned by her husband. She shrieked with delight when she saw me. Without much ado, I told her about my predicament and pleaded with her to help me in any way she could. In response, she excused herself and returned with her husband in tow. They prayed with me and led me to Christ.
“I was almost at the door when her husband beckoned me to wait for him. As he walked me to the bus-stop, he said, ‘I always advise people oppressed by the enemy to engage in midnight warfare. It is an effective weapon against the kingdom of darkness, because you are taking the battle to your enemies. It is an offensive weapon. I suggest you come over to our house every weekend so we can join you in the warfare.
“With cautious optimism, I returned to Chris’ home and started my regime of midnight prayers. This continued for about three months. When I hadn’t any visit from the evil lady, I was elated. During one of the Sunday services, I was called up by the pastor to testify to God’s mercy in delivering me from the grip of Satan and his demons.
As if to mock my new found faith, I had another visit from the woman two days after I testified. She didn’t say a word, though her glare terrified me. This prompted me to embark on another round of midnight prayer which continued for a year and eight months.
“I contemplated leaving the church, but didn’t know where else to go. Stephanie, for her part, encouraged me to hold on to the Lord. She said Satan’s head was bruised by Jesus at the cross, and that whatever activity we notice in his camp is mere noise intended to deceive those who have not made Christ their Lord.
In fact, it was Stephanie that suggested that I attend the night vigil in your church. She has the highest regards for your General Overseer. So, I took her advice and here I am. From all you’ve heard, is there any hope for me?”
I didn’t want to raise his hopes too high, not knowing how far he was willing to go to free from the shackles of the devil. I thought of asking him to give me time to seek the Lord on the best way to handle the situation, but I found myself saying, “The reason you haven’t found help is because you are looking for it in the wrong places. I believe the Lord brought us together because you can learn from my own experiences.
I, too, had a long drawn-out battle with the enemy. In fact, I fought Satan for close to fourteen years. I’d given up hope of living a bondage-free life when God intervened and showed me that I was more interested in my healing than in knowing him as my Father. Jesus said in John 17:3, ‘This is eternal life, that they may know you and Jesus whom you sent.’
“The day the Holy Spirit expounded that scripture to me, I was ashamed of myself. Truly, most Christians treat God like their servant. We are self-centred and full of religion. In fact, I remember one of the churches I attended while on a search for my healing. A brother who led us in the deliverance session literally commanded God to answer our prayer within seven days!
Even though I was still a baby Christian then, I wasn’t comfortable with that, although some people argued that God himself said in Isaiah 45:11, ‘Thus saith the LORD, the Holy One of Israel, and his Maker, Ask me of things to come concerning my sons, and concerning the work of my hands command ye me.’ Anyway, my thought was, ‘If God failed to answer our prayer within the specified period, which of the brethren in that church would dare sanction Him?”
Not knowing exactly what to do, I took Gale’s right hand and said, “I can only point you to one person. Jesus. My experiences were similar to yours. The Bible says that God is no respecter of persons. If he did it for me, I’m confident that he would intervene on your behalf. I perceive that you desire to meet with my General Overseer. That may not help you in the long run. Yes, he’s a man of God.
What you need is an encounter with Jesus, and not any man, no matter his level of anointing. Let me tell you the advantage of letting Jesus take over the battle. He says in John 8:36, ‘If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.’ Jesus is the only answer to the antics of the demon terrorizing you. However, if you insist on seeing the Senior Pastor, I would gladly assist you.”
I was expecting Gale to take the latter option, knowing how terrified he was of his strange visitor. To my surprise, he said, “I agree to seek God’s face over the matter on condition that you stand with me in prayer.” I was so elated that I stood on my toes and gave him a peck. Although I felt a kind of kindred spirit with him, I resolved within me to keep the relationship free of any emotional entanglements.
Just then, the long blast of the church’s trumpet heralded the commencement of the service, and we hurried in to join other worshippers. After the service, we agreed to meet at the church to enable him collect some books I felt would build up his faith for the battle ahead. He thanked me profusely and promised to give me a shout later in the day.
The ride back to my apartment was uneventful. As I stepped into my apartment, I perceived a presence I couldn’t readily place. I had anointed the place the previous day, and didn’t expect any kind of intrusion by demons. With boldness borne out of years of battling the devil, I addressed whatever it was that had invaded my sanctuary.
“Look here, Satan, or whatever name you choose to call yourself, this is my apartment. I decide who enters this space and I haven’t sent you any invitation. In the name of Jesus the righteous one, I command you to leave and never to set your feet in this house again.”
I was about to enter my bedroom when I heard a guttural voice I knew instinctively was from another world. I didn’t see any form, but I heard, “You are right about my intruding into your space. That, of course, is because you intruded into mine first. Gale is mine. Don’t get entangled in a fight that’s not yours. I will not release him at any price. I’m warning you. Keep off Gale. The next time I visit this place I won’t be so civil. A word, they say, is enough for the wise.”
Oh, I thank God for the Holy Spirit. I just found myself laughing at her. I said, “You like to deceive yourself that you’re powerful. Even your master, Satan, is weak and beggarly. Have you not heard, has it not been told you that my Lord made a public show of you guys when He marched into hell and defeated satan in his turf? Let’s see who will have the soul of Gale, you or my Master, Jesus. Go ahead and do your worst, madam.” Without waiting to see what she did with herself, I dropped my stuff on the couch and walked into the bedroom. I slept off from the moment my head hit the pillow.
About 11:54 a.m., Gale called to inform me that his evil visitor had appeared as he was going to bed and warned him to cut off all links with me. I almost shared my own experience with him, but the Lord restrained me. Rather, I encouraged him to dispense with the fear of the woman, since it was obvious she’d lost the battle already. I told him that the mere fact that she reacted in that manner to our relationship was ample proof that God was about to dethrone her in his life.
And that was exactly how it happened. Within three weeks, the demon stopped appearing physically to Gale, but started harassing him in his dreams. Just like my own case, his deliverance was gradual, within which period he came to experience God in a living way. Five months after we met, Gale was appointed General Manager of Credit Lyses for the entire United Kingdom. Our relationship continued to grow, albeit in an entirely different direction. A year later, Chris and I became husband and wife in a lavish ceremony witnessed by his parents and siblings.
If I’m asked to summarize the events that led to this happy union, I would say, as Joseph did, that what the enemy intended for evil, God turned it around for the good of his children. I use this opportunity to encourage Christians and unbelievers who are oppressed of the devil to seek God diligently and wait on him to manifest his power on their behalf.