Esther

Bravery. Courage. What do you think of when you hear these terms?

I think our answers vary depending on where and how we’ve been raised. For the majority of Americans, me included, we’ve been groomed and conditioned to have a picture of bravery in our heads that looks remarkably like the Iwo Jima memorial. And I wouldn’t say there’s anything necessarily wrong with that; great courage is shown in great sacrifice, and we should be awestruck and grateful to think of the sacrifice upon which our nation stands.

But that’s a severely limited perspective.

I’m learning a lot about bravery here in Africa. I learned about bravery from a group of mountain-dwelling children in Ethiopia who hiked through countless kilometers and changing altitude to get to and from school every day.  I learned about bravery from the orphans in the children’s village in Malawi – full of kids who have seen more devastation in their lives than many adults could even imagine, and still persevere for a hot meal and a game of net ball.

And Uganda is, by far, a place of more courage and fortitude than I’ve ever experienced.

So I have four stories. Four stories of resilience, blistering courage, and incredible inspiration.

The first story belongs to a young woman of fourteen named Esther.

I met Esther one night at the Kampala Harvest Crusade in June. At that time, my incredible team from Southeastern was still here, and though they impressed me to no end and hardly needed the direction I was prepared to give them, I felt like I was too much in “leader mode” to encounter many first-hand ministry stories of my own.

But that all changed one night at the crusade. Now, I am in no way familiar with the knowledge of my readership of what we would call “spiritual warfare.” I don’t want to make assumptions, so I feel I should explain some things before I launch into it.

I don’t know what you believe personally, or what your relationship with God is like, or what you have and haven’t seen or heard about during your days on earth. But, as extreme and foreign as this might sound at first, I must express that earth is the constant battle ground between forces of darkness and forces of light. Whether you want to call the darkness demons and the light angels, or something different entirely, I don’t mind.  I’m just telling you what I’ve experienced. What I know to be true, though it is still mysterious and unfathomable to me, even as I walk through it.

In my previous entry about Kampala, I mentioned demonic bonds and ancestral worship. These forces cling tightly to many of Uganda’s people. It can be as simple as a desperate mother consulting a witch doctor in order to save her baby – that baby will have a trace of witchcraft, or a demonic spirit, attached to him or her for the rest of their life. Unless something breaks that bond.

Demons attach themselves to people for various untold and mysterious reasons, but the important thing to remember is that they are not friendly and they are not harmless. They are hell-bent on destruction (pun totally intended).

So, the main point I want to stress when it comes to demonic powers is that, no matter how they manifest or what they do or the power they seem to have, it is all for the sake of hurting God’s people. It’s not interesting, it’s not impressive, it’s tragic, and it’s urgent, and, like a perilous flesh wound, it needs to be dealt with as soon as possible.

For many, there may never be a chance for them to be delivered of demonic oppression/possession. For some, it will follow them their whole lives, and attach itself to someone else when they finally die. I’d like to think that unthinkable end doesn’t occur too often, however.

Because some darkness gets dragged into the light.

And here is the second point I want to emphasize in this conversation: the forces of evil are by no stretch of the imagination a match for the power of Jesus Christ.

Though I wouldn’t necessarily call the media’s portrayal of demonic activity accurate, it is overwhelmingly true that “the power of Christ compels them.”

That being said, every bond, no matter how strong, can be broken, utterly shattered, by the name of Jesus Christ, who does not want even one of His children to perish without salvation.

So, now that that’s out of the way, we are ready. Ready to hear about the strongest demonic bond I’ve ever encountered.

Like I said, her name was Esther, and she was fourteen. During every night of every crusade with Africa Harvest Mission, there is a period of prayer and deliverance after those who are willing pray to surrender their lives to Jesus.

During this time, there are usually several demonic manifestations. It’s like an in-breaking of the Spirit of God against the spirits of darkness – like God is knocking on Satan’s door, ready to take back the captives.

These manifestations (usually screaming, convulsing, violent thrashing, etc.) are handled with sensitivity. The people who are showing signs of demonic activity are brought up on stage (usually with necessary applied force) and prayed over (some would say exorcized) by the members of the African Harvest Missions team. 

We cast them out in Jesus’s name, making sure the person is safe from themselves and modestly covered. When the person is delivered and back in their right mind, they are taken to a tent for counseling from a local pastor.

Many of them come back for every remaining night of the crusade, and get plugged into the church community. It’s so powerful to see the transformation of people who have been delivered – their lives go from despair to joy.

So, a few nights into the crusade, I was on stage casting out a particularly stubborn demon. It manifested inside a teenage girl, but it made her brutally strong and gave her an otherworldly voice that certainly wasn’t her own. It also spoke English, and made a point of protesting loudly as we cast it out.

That first night was a long process. Our team had to get back on the bus and return home for dinner, but she was still being prayed over when we left.

I prayed silently as the bus pulled away, hoping that girl would be delivered soon and that I’d get a chance to see her tomorrow, transformed.

Part of my prayer came true. I did indeed see her the next day, but I wouldn’t say she was quite transformed yet.

She was back on stage, and the demon inside of her was as violent as ever. I made a point that night to pray for her the whole time – I wasn’t moving onto someone else, I would see this deliverance through to the end.

 

When you’re casting out a demon, it’s important to listen. Not to the monster that is trying to intimidate you, but the Holy Spirit. He is ultimately the One who is going to defeat that thing, and you must be obedient and on His side.

So as I was praying over this girl that second night, I kept feeling nudged to use a Bible. For what purpose, I wasn’t sure. To read it over her? To smack the demon with it? To give to her when she was delivered?

I didn’t know, but I started to look around. I knew chances were slim that I would find one; the stage was kept clear of personal belongings, and there would be nothing there but people praying or being delivered. But as I turned my head on stage that night, desperately searching for a way to help this girl, I saw a thick, weather-beaten Bible on the ground directly behind me.

The demon was riled up – she was convulsing and there were words coming out of this girl that were not her own. It seemed like the episode would last all night before it would be cast out. But I had this Bible in my hands. I wish I could say that there was a mystical moment of revelation where Gandalf came to me and told me exactly how I was to use this Bible, this Sword of Truth, to cast out this demon, but that definitely didn’t happen.

So I just put it on her head. That’s right, I took this Bible, and pressed it against the forehead of this girl, and started to pray.

And almost immediately, the demon was quieted and she was in her right mind.

I was incredulous, happy, and exhausted. It was the night I officially made the acquaintance of Esther, the girl I had been praying for for the past few nights.

I was with my assistant team leader from Southeastern, Jordan, and we were kind of in awe of the situation that had just unfolded before our eyes – we had never seen a demon that strong, and we were beyond excited about what transpired with the Bible.

We looked at the girl in front of us. Disheveled is an understatement. Her clothes were torn and falling off, her shoes were missing, she had been ripping out chunks of her own hair, and tears were streaming down her weary, frightened face.

I felt conviction in that moment. Convicted of the fact that I had placed so much of my attention on the demon that I had all but overlooked the fragile young girl it was tormenting.

Unlike the demon, she spoke no English, and so we asked a Ugandan man who was praying with us to translate as he spoke to her.

I was shocked by what I heard.

She was fourteen years old. To be honest, I had thought she was much older, but it was just the trauma she had gone through so many times that aged her.

At birth, she was dedicated to a well-known demonic shrine. The exact name of the demon, or “god” escapes me, but it doesn’t matter. Her family dedicated her life to this demon – who was leader over a legion of them in this area. Like a pastor, but for demons. This demon was powerful, ancient, terrifying, and no match for a young woman.

The translator explained that on the first night she came to the crusade, this girl had surrendered her life to Jesus Christ. The demon didn’t like that, and retaliated. The result was what we saw night after night on stage. She was like a prisoner trying to escape her terrorizing jailer.

When she made the decision to follow Christ, she went home and told her family – those who had dedicated her to the temple like Hannah dedicated Samuel. They were not happy. They kicked her out of their home into the street. She was currently living with a family that helped out at the crusade. They were from a local church and were keeping her safe.

But it was an excruciating uphill battle for her. This demon was losing its greatest servant, greatest vessel. It was as if a powerful king was losing his only heir.

But this girl was fighting back.

I asked her what her name was. She said Esther.

I couldn’t help but smile. Jordan explained to her that her name was prophetic and had great meaning. Esther was one of the bravest characters in the Bible. She was, against her will, involved in a plot to destroy the Jewish nation, but she rose up and fought for her people, fought for her life, and won the favor of the king and salvation for her people.

Two Esthers, two fighters.

That was the night I met Esther. For the remainder of June, I was on stage with her, holding her as she convulsed and screamed and manifested and fought against the dark powers that were trying to take her life.

And every night, after she had been delivered yet again, I held her as she cried, utterly exhausted. I told her she was the bravest girl I knew, that she had to keep fighting no matter what, and that Jesus was with her.

I grew to love her for her joy, her smile, and the way that she ran to me from across the crusade grounds every night when I arrived.

As the nights wore on, I noticed a change, not just in her countenance, but her physical appearance as well. She started dressing better, and her mangled and ripped out hair was now neatly braided.

Some nights were better than others. I stood with her in the crowd, watching and holding her as she worshiped and wondering if tonight she would be safe or be pulled into the battle ground once again. 

Sometimes she was, sometimes she wasn’t.

But Esther is victorious. The Spirit of God within her has broken the powers of darkness that bonded her so tightly. She has begun a new dynasty for her family – not one bound by demons and fear, but by the blood of Jesus Christ.

I saw Esther baptized in Lake Victoria. She had an ecstatic smile on her face as she climbed out of the water and ran to me for a wet, joyful hug. The nightmare was over for her. I had no idea the kind of pain and terror that she went through in getting closer to Jesus, but she sacrificed everything for Him. And He did not disappoint.

Esther is spiritual royalty. I’ll always remember her bravery, always remember her smile, and always remember the way she danced across the crusade ground in her purple dress, awash in the joy of her hard-earned freedom.