I want to state that this is what I have experienced in my life, and if you feel like blaming me for lying, please do so in an orderly fasion. Anyway, this pretty much sums me up: I posted this on the other forum I've been on for the last few weeks. This is my testimony, and I thank all those that draw inspiration from it. It has indeed changed my life, as well as many of my friends'. This is my true experience, and only doubts of my sincerity should be raised if you feel compelled to doubt these words. God Bless!
The dutch reformed church is basically protestant. I guess the dutch meaning the people involved (South African settlers) and the reformed meaning protestantism. I still go to that church though, since I found the pastors don't force a denomination sect on you but rather follow every word of the Bible. I have been truly blessed to have such good men help me walk the path of God. One of those pastors suggested the exorcism (which I doubted at first, but decided to give a try). It was at a camp that we have after the last year of sundayschool (second week of 12th grade). It was the loveliest sensation I've ever had. The exorcism, or rather, the "driving away of demons" was the scariest thing I've ever been through. All I know is that now I see the Bible as COMPLETELY literal (except where it states otherwise or is obviously meant as symbolism). That is why my poor earth conscience is still tryig to digest the wonders of the supernatural world. Maybe that is why I WAS sceptical. All I know is that there is a plane of existence above normal senses. I did not notice it until that night.
Afterwards I wonder whether I'm very creative to have thought up some of the stuff that happened, but no one possesses an imagination that big. The pastors usually have a ceremony on the last night of the camp, where we write down something that has been holding us back on a paper. Then on that night, we go to the beach, sit around a fire, and burn the paper - symbolizing the release from your particular sin. Well, I don't even remember what I wrote on that paper.
Don't get me wrong though, I wasn't the antichrist before then, I was actually regarded as one of the most spiritual kids of our group. The thing is, I knew inside of me, something was holding me back. I never spoke out on my beliefs, and wasn't really afraid of hell, nor was I aware of the ecstasy that God can give you. I had a strange obsession with vampires (go figure.
I don't even think its that blasphemous as most of the other stuff you get these days. I think the darkness and mystery was alluring) and listened to not satanic, but angry music, like linkin park, system of a down and seether. I also got involved in anarchy and that particular night I wore a shirt with a huge anarchy sign on it. My beliefs weren't against religion, but authority (like anarchristianity).
Anyway, then the pastor said that everyone who were ready to give everything to God should get up with him and stand around the fire, while he prayed with him. Obviuosly he expected everyone to stand up, but me, one of my best friends, and two others kept sitting on the sloped sand dune. I suddenly realised that I wasn't about to give up everything for something that didn't seem to exist, not with all the evidence like evolution, other religions etc. I left everything I held on to right there and decided that I don't believe in God. Believe me, I didn't feel good and relieved, I felt lost and confused.
After that, everyone, including us, were ask to stand around the fire and sing. I went, but didn't sing. I didn't feel like praising non-existence. What would it help. Afterwards, I spoke to my friend, and we agreed to talk to the pastor. At one point, I asked God to release me from my burden, then the strangest thing heppened. I felt like something was pressing my chest from the inside, PHYSICALLY! But that was while the pastor stood there with the other kids, and we sat down.
So my friend told the pastor that we needed to talk to him, and we told him everything about how we felt and what we had to offer to reject this "futile" belief. The pastor listened intently, and later on, my other best friend joined us, and we talked for about 40 minutes. After that, we sensed that the pastor couldn't reply to us, because were just to sure of our beliefs and he could think of no way to change our minds, but one thing. He said that he would try to exorcise us. We trusted him with that decision since, it wouldn't have been the first time that he did it. He and many brothers and sisters from our church went to a country up in Africa and told stories of how they spoke in tongue and drove out spirits, but no-one seemed to have taken it seriously, including us.
I then reasoned that it could do not harm, so he said he'll try it on all three of us. He told us to keep looking at him, and not to turn away. I felt everytime it seemed like he was about to begin, like running away. My right leg kept shaking like I was afraid, not cold. Something told me to reject this proposal, but something else told me to listen, and do it. So all three of us, stared at him with wide eyes, and waiting for some strange demon to jump out. As he said,"in the name of Jesus, the Lord of Heaven, I command you to come out," I kept feeling my leg shake. Then the strange pressure in my chest. Still, I prosumed that it was some mental reaction. He noticed that I kept looking away and rolling up into a little ball. Then he suggested to only try it with me (but I know now that he had no intention of trying, but was filled with the surity of the Spirit).
Now this is when I started to get concerned. He kept saying the same painful words over and over, and I kept going in to spasms. Please note that I was conscious the whole time. Then, his son was sitting a few meters away, and heard what was happening. He got up, and sat next to me, then started to say some stuff that I didn't understand. It sounded like gibberish. It sounded like he was actually making some stuff up as a sick joke, but as we was talking, I suddenly viciously turned to him and screamed, and I mean SCREAMED at him at the top of my lungs some other weird tongue. Mine sounded like an evil one though, it was throaty and coarse. His was elegant, but sharp. It's hard to explain the tongues, but anyway, they kept at it, to my utmost discomfort, but I couldn't find the control to tell them to stop. It was like it wasn't me who was suffering but I was used as a mediator.
At one point, they pulled me into stance, and kept praying and casting it out, and I burst into tears. Not out of sadness, but I guess out of relief. I fell to the ground, exhausted. The pastor asked me to say, "Jesus is my Saviour and Lord," and I did accordingly. They stood up satisfied and prayed and blessed me, but I knew that it wasn't over, though I didn't want to tell them that something was bothering me. Now, even I felt saved, but the ****** demon still covered up his existence. He even gave his name when the pastor demanded it at one point, but I'm not going to mention it. The demon couldn't help but obey the power of God.
So now, they start on my friend (the other who kept sitting with me). I sat and watched from a few metres, and seeing the same reaction on him, although his was different. Not as vocal as mine, but stubborn and mysterious. They kept repeating for the demon to "Go out in the name of Jesus" and my friend kept breathing heavily. Then, all of a sudden, God's wonderful spell hits the demon in me again, and I feel my leg starting to shake again. I fell on my side, shouting at the pastor probably to stop or something in that strange language. My other friend and a blessed girl layed their hands on me, and started to cast the demon, I then went into the spasm and evil retorts as before. The pastor moved away from my friend, and cast out the one in me again.
We sat there in the night, having a dual exorcism, the pastor on me, and the pastor's son on my friend. One remarkable thing that happened was at one point, I turned to my friend, whose back was turned to me by the way, and shouted some blasphemous thing or whatever. I was more than shocked to hear him reply with a laugh. At another time I even told the pastor in Afrikaans (my mother-language) that he "is tired. He should give up."
The thing is, I felt to powerful in the beginning, and my soul felt so helpless because of the demon who controlled part of him. Luckily, Jesus had a foundation in me that I had forgotten about. We later realised that the demon, whose name I will not mention, shared himself between me and my friend. I assumed we got it from some shared spiritual experience. If there are such denominations, I believe that he was a powerful captain, or something, that had control over a bunch of little demons, and they found refuge in us. I believe that I had 41 demons in me. 41! I don't even know how I know, but I do.
So anyway, they moved us away from eachother, about 200 feet I should guess, so we couldn't hear eachother. That didn't help anyway, because the pastor (trying the whole time to have me look at him, and me, turning away everytime) told me afterwards that I kept looking at the direction my friend was. That is really creepy, huh? The thing is, I felt it everytime the demons went out of me, that they run into my friend again, and they enter me as they leave him. Luckily the pastor kept praying that they don't affect any other brothers or sisters present. The hour it two in the morning, and still we were being exorcised, maybe not as quick as Jesus did because of lack of enough faith. The other pastor and the camp-chef (hehe) eventually joined the ritual and finally it seemed to leave me, but it was still there. After about twenty minutes, a very, very blessed woman who was at the camp came and spoke with me. She has prophecised, spoken in tongues and sang in tongues, I kid you not. She said something still worried her about me, and my chest, for some reason. She even identified the spirit at one point, presumably the spirit of lies. When asked who if "I" was the spirit of lies, I couldn't answer. At one point, the other pastor told me to stop speaking in that tongue, and only in Afrikaans. I COULDN'T SPEAK ONE WORD!
I guess the spirit got lucky at that point, since they told me to go to the house. They may have thought it was out of me. The demon laughed inside me and was very relieved. As we walked back, my other friend suggested that we might have gotten it from a computer game. Then it struck me! We both loved and played The Elder Scrolls 3: Morrowind. And then I realised that there is a place in the game where you hear a ominous chant. It sounded very much like the evil tongue we spoke. That must have been the source, and we shared it. I'm not saying that everyone will get it from that game, but it certainly affected us. But I'm not finished. I waited at the house, and everyone came back, one by one. My friend had urinated the demon out, and that is a worthy exit I should say. We all gathered in the house, and spoke about the event. The funny thing was, I couldn't look anyone in the eye. I felt the demon trying to find some comfort in my friend, but he was free. I was still chained. The one pastor told me afterwards that he sensed something was wrong. The other pastor remarked at one point that I wore the anarchy sign on my shirt. It irretated me, because I knew he though of it as a satanic sign, by I rejected authority on earth, not in heaven (presumably). I angered me to hear his ignorance, and once again I forgot about the demon, who thrived on my hatred for authority to use it against God by building that hate into a spiritual one. We went out afterwards, since it was late, but I told my two friends that something was still in me. Luckily I didn't wait till morning. I didn't want to do it though, but God told me to finish the job, so we secretly sat behind some foliage and continued the ritual: the pastor driving out the demons, and my two close, loving friend, praying to the God of all existence. The same spasms and retorts followed, and it seemed like I was doomed to live with this filth inside me. Then the blessed lady came, and everyone followed. They formed a circle around me, and prayed and happily tormented the demon. I spat continuously, but the blessed lady kept holding her hand over my chest.
Then suddenly, she shouted: "Take off his shirt! Take it off!" She yanked the shirt off me and gave it to another brother attending the camp. I still spasmed, but "hell", we gave that demon a hard time now. He shouted, laughed that evil laugh he continued to do through the whole night, and the brother lit the shirt. When the shirt was completely burned up, the ugly filth was released from me like a burden of ages. God really blessd me that night. I had many physical miracles appear to me, aswell as had the glorious oppertunity to have a flashing vision of heaven, and an angel, standing before me during the last rite.
God is indeed the King of Kings!!!
The dutch reformed church is basically protestant. I guess the dutch meaning the people involved (South African settlers) and the reformed meaning protestantism. I still go to that church though, since I found the pastors don't force a denomination sect on you but rather follow every word of the Bible. I have been truly blessed to have such good men help me walk the path of God. One of those pastors suggested the exorcism (which I doubted at first, but decided to give a try). It was at a camp that we have after the last year of sundayschool (second week of 12th grade). It was the loveliest sensation I've ever had. The exorcism, or rather, the "driving away of demons" was the scariest thing I've ever been through. All I know is that now I see the Bible as COMPLETELY literal (except where it states otherwise or is obviously meant as symbolism). That is why my poor earth conscience is still tryig to digest the wonders of the supernatural world. Maybe that is why I WAS sceptical. All I know is that there is a plane of existence above normal senses. I did not notice it until that night.
Afterwards I wonder whether I'm very creative to have thought up some of the stuff that happened, but no one possesses an imagination that big. The pastors usually have a ceremony on the last night of the camp, where we write down something that has been holding us back on a paper. Then on that night, we go to the beach, sit around a fire, and burn the paper - symbolizing the release from your particular sin. Well, I don't even remember what I wrote on that paper.
Don't get me wrong though, I wasn't the antichrist before then, I was actually regarded as one of the most spiritual kids of our group. The thing is, I knew inside of me, something was holding me back. I never spoke out on my beliefs, and wasn't really afraid of hell, nor was I aware of the ecstasy that God can give you. I had a strange obsession with vampires (go figure.
I don't even think its that blasphemous as most of the other stuff you get these days. I think the darkness and mystery was alluring) and listened to not satanic, but angry music, like linkin park, system of a down and seether. I also got involved in anarchy and that particular night I wore a shirt with a huge anarchy sign on it. My beliefs weren't against religion, but authority (like anarchristianity).Anyway, then the pastor said that everyone who were ready to give everything to God should get up with him and stand around the fire, while he prayed with him. Obviuosly he expected everyone to stand up, but me, one of my best friends, and two others kept sitting on the sloped sand dune. I suddenly realised that I wasn't about to give up everything for something that didn't seem to exist, not with all the evidence like evolution, other religions etc. I left everything I held on to right there and decided that I don't believe in God. Believe me, I didn't feel good and relieved, I felt lost and confused.
After that, everyone, including us, were ask to stand around the fire and sing. I went, but didn't sing. I didn't feel like praising non-existence. What would it help. Afterwards, I spoke to my friend, and we agreed to talk to the pastor. At one point, I asked God to release me from my burden, then the strangest thing heppened. I felt like something was pressing my chest from the inside, PHYSICALLY! But that was while the pastor stood there with the other kids, and we sat down.
So my friend told the pastor that we needed to talk to him, and we told him everything about how we felt and what we had to offer to reject this "futile" belief. The pastor listened intently, and later on, my other best friend joined us, and we talked for about 40 minutes. After that, we sensed that the pastor couldn't reply to us, because were just to sure of our beliefs and he could think of no way to change our minds, but one thing. He said that he would try to exorcise us. We trusted him with that decision since, it wouldn't have been the first time that he did it. He and many brothers and sisters from our church went to a country up in Africa and told stories of how they spoke in tongue and drove out spirits, but no-one seemed to have taken it seriously, including us.
I then reasoned that it could do not harm, so he said he'll try it on all three of us. He told us to keep looking at him, and not to turn away. I felt everytime it seemed like he was about to begin, like running away. My right leg kept shaking like I was afraid, not cold. Something told me to reject this proposal, but something else told me to listen, and do it. So all three of us, stared at him with wide eyes, and waiting for some strange demon to jump out. As he said,"in the name of Jesus, the Lord of Heaven, I command you to come out," I kept feeling my leg shake. Then the strange pressure in my chest. Still, I prosumed that it was some mental reaction. He noticed that I kept looking away and rolling up into a little ball. Then he suggested to only try it with me (but I know now that he had no intention of trying, but was filled with the surity of the Spirit).
Now this is when I started to get concerned. He kept saying the same painful words over and over, and I kept going in to spasms. Please note that I was conscious the whole time. Then, his son was sitting a few meters away, and heard what was happening. He got up, and sat next to me, then started to say some stuff that I didn't understand. It sounded like gibberish. It sounded like he was actually making some stuff up as a sick joke, but as we was talking, I suddenly viciously turned to him and screamed, and I mean SCREAMED at him at the top of my lungs some other weird tongue. Mine sounded like an evil one though, it was throaty and coarse. His was elegant, but sharp. It's hard to explain the tongues, but anyway, they kept at it, to my utmost discomfort, but I couldn't find the control to tell them to stop. It was like it wasn't me who was suffering but I was used as a mediator.
At one point, they pulled me into stance, and kept praying and casting it out, and I burst into tears. Not out of sadness, but I guess out of relief. I fell to the ground, exhausted. The pastor asked me to say, "Jesus is my Saviour and Lord," and I did accordingly. They stood up satisfied and prayed and blessed me, but I knew that it wasn't over, though I didn't want to tell them that something was bothering me. Now, even I felt saved, but the ****** demon still covered up his existence. He even gave his name when the pastor demanded it at one point, but I'm not going to mention it. The demon couldn't help but obey the power of God.
So now, they start on my friend (the other who kept sitting with me). I sat and watched from a few metres, and seeing the same reaction on him, although his was different. Not as vocal as mine, but stubborn and mysterious. They kept repeating for the demon to "Go out in the name of Jesus" and my friend kept breathing heavily. Then, all of a sudden, God's wonderful spell hits the demon in me again, and I feel my leg starting to shake again. I fell on my side, shouting at the pastor probably to stop or something in that strange language. My other friend and a blessed girl layed their hands on me, and started to cast the demon, I then went into the spasm and evil retorts as before. The pastor moved away from my friend, and cast out the one in me again.
We sat there in the night, having a dual exorcism, the pastor on me, and the pastor's son on my friend. One remarkable thing that happened was at one point, I turned to my friend, whose back was turned to me by the way, and shouted some blasphemous thing or whatever. I was more than shocked to hear him reply with a laugh. At another time I even told the pastor in Afrikaans (my mother-language) that he "is tired. He should give up."
The thing is, I felt to powerful in the beginning, and my soul felt so helpless because of the demon who controlled part of him. Luckily, Jesus had a foundation in me that I had forgotten about. We later realised that the demon, whose name I will not mention, shared himself between me and my friend. I assumed we got it from some shared spiritual experience. If there are such denominations, I believe that he was a powerful captain, or something, that had control over a bunch of little demons, and they found refuge in us. I believe that I had 41 demons in me. 41! I don't even know how I know, but I do.
So anyway, they moved us away from eachother, about 200 feet I should guess, so we couldn't hear eachother. That didn't help anyway, because the pastor (trying the whole time to have me look at him, and me, turning away everytime) told me afterwards that I kept looking at the direction my friend was. That is really creepy, huh? The thing is, I felt it everytime the demons went out of me, that they run into my friend again, and they enter me as they leave him. Luckily the pastor kept praying that they don't affect any other brothers or sisters present. The hour it two in the morning, and still we were being exorcised, maybe not as quick as Jesus did because of lack of enough faith. The other pastor and the camp-chef (hehe) eventually joined the ritual and finally it seemed to leave me, but it was still there. After about twenty minutes, a very, very blessed woman who was at the camp came and spoke with me. She has prophecised, spoken in tongues and sang in tongues, I kid you not. She said something still worried her about me, and my chest, for some reason. She even identified the spirit at one point, presumably the spirit of lies. When asked who if "I" was the spirit of lies, I couldn't answer. At one point, the other pastor told me to stop speaking in that tongue, and only in Afrikaans. I COULDN'T SPEAK ONE WORD!
I guess the spirit got lucky at that point, since they told me to go to the house. They may have thought it was out of me. The demon laughed inside me and was very relieved. As we walked back, my other friend suggested that we might have gotten it from a computer game. Then it struck me! We both loved and played The Elder Scrolls 3: Morrowind. And then I realised that there is a place in the game where you hear a ominous chant. It sounded very much like the evil tongue we spoke. That must have been the source, and we shared it. I'm not saying that everyone will get it from that game, but it certainly affected us. But I'm not finished. I waited at the house, and everyone came back, one by one. My friend had urinated the demon out, and that is a worthy exit I should say. We all gathered in the house, and spoke about the event. The funny thing was, I couldn't look anyone in the eye. I felt the demon trying to find some comfort in my friend, but he was free. I was still chained. The one pastor told me afterwards that he sensed something was wrong. The other pastor remarked at one point that I wore the anarchy sign on my shirt. It irretated me, because I knew he though of it as a satanic sign, by I rejected authority on earth, not in heaven (presumably). I angered me to hear his ignorance, and once again I forgot about the demon, who thrived on my hatred for authority to use it against God by building that hate into a spiritual one. We went out afterwards, since it was late, but I told my two friends that something was still in me. Luckily I didn't wait till morning. I didn't want to do it though, but God told me to finish the job, so we secretly sat behind some foliage and continued the ritual: the pastor driving out the demons, and my two close, loving friend, praying to the God of all existence. The same spasms and retorts followed, and it seemed like I was doomed to live with this filth inside me. Then the blessed lady came, and everyone followed. They formed a circle around me, and prayed and happily tormented the demon. I spat continuously, but the blessed lady kept holding her hand over my chest.
Then suddenly, she shouted: "Take off his shirt! Take it off!" She yanked the shirt off me and gave it to another brother attending the camp. I still spasmed, but "hell", we gave that demon a hard time now. He shouted, laughed that evil laugh he continued to do through the whole night, and the brother lit the shirt. When the shirt was completely burned up, the ugly filth was released from me like a burden of ages. God really blessd me that night. I had many physical miracles appear to me, aswell as had the glorious oppertunity to have a flashing vision of heaven, and an angel, standing before me during the last rite.
God is indeed the King of Kings!!!
