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Saturday, January 14, 2012

Testimony of Claudia King, Part II, Still Plagued by Evil Spirits

A note from Janet: I try to limit my blog posts to a certain word count, so this story, written in her own words, has been continued from the previous post. Claudia is a friend of a good friend. I have never met her, but have spoken with her on the phone and communicated by email. There are several important aspects to this story. First, Claudia brought undeniably dark and damaging forces into her life even though she was young, an innocent who was just experimenting. Second, there are several similarities in her story to those who claim to be alien abductees. Third, Claudia was ultimately delivered from these entities through the power of the name of Jesus.

My parents found those ‘religious materials’ underneath my bed and threw them in the garbage. I was forbidden to be around the Christians. I snuck out of the house on a few occasions to go to bible studies, but when my parents finally caught me they kicked me out of the house. So, at eighteen, I found myself alone in an apartment and working two jobs. I was free now. I could go to church.

Many years passed; I was continually visited by evil presences. I was thrown down a flight of stairs by a force I could not see, I saw things following me into certain rooms of my house, and I heard deep male voices speaking in other rooms when no one else was home. At times when I looked in the mirror, I could see another presence in me. The closer I wanted to get to God, the more intense the fear became. I continued to attend Bible fellowships and was baptized, but the presences didn’t go away. If God was so good, why didn’t he protect me and make them go away? I thought that if I was a Christian, everything was going to be different, but things were the same. I was confused, so I decided to go into intense prayer and ask God to reveal the reason for this.

At thirty-one, I was living in Missouri. The presences had stayed with me the entire seventeen years. No matter where I moved, they followed. It wasn’t the location, it was me. The church never talked about such things. Sure, Paul and Peter had to deal with demons, but what about me? Was I crazy? Who would believe me?

About that time, I took a trip to Florida by Greyhound bus and the bus stopped at about 2:30a.m. in a dimly lit parking area. No one was around but the driver and me and two people who were working inside the Greyhound Terminal. I was sitting alone, outside on a bench, when a man suddenly appeared in front of me. He had a brown skin tone, and bright green eyes. He said, “You look sad.” I didn’t answer him. He said, “The God that brought you this far will bring you the rest of the way.” He told me to read Psalm 27, then he was gone. Just like that. Psalm 27 deals with fear. In verse 10 it says, “Even if your father and mother abandon you, the Lord will hold you close.” My God had heard me.

The night of my freedom and deliverance took place on August 9, 1991. I went to a Bible study, and the woman who led the study told me that something was wrong with me, and she needed to pray for me. When she locked the kitchen door, I started to panic. I pushed her aside and said, “No, I cant stay -- they wont let me.” I was shocked when I heard myself say that. What did it mean? I spoke it before I realized what I had said.

She grabbed my arm and sat me down and started to pray for me. I was frozen in the chair. I could not move; it was as though I was paralyzed -- but I felt unseen hands on my shoulders keeping me in the seat. When she started to pray out loud, I went completely deaf. I tried to read her lips and immediately I went blind. I could not see what she was saying. Then I was sick to my stomach. I was extremely afraid, but I could not leave. After a long time, my sight came back and I began to hear her praying in the “Name of Jesus of Nazareth”. She had prayed for me for six hours, but it seemed like fifteen minutes! From 9 pm until 3am she didn’t stop. At one point I told her, “Stop, I don’t want to listen, you can’t make me leave,” but it was not me saying it. I screamed, I cried, and I begged her to let me go. Another time, she looked at me, and I have never seen anyone so scared in my life. She was looking at my physical body, but she was seeing something else. She continued to pray. The chair moved across the room with me in it. Other things happened that I will not detail here.

Then things came to a sudden stop. It was still. I was lying across the kitchen table completely exhausted. I opened my eyes and saw everything as ‘new’ for the first time in my life. And I cried with JOY. My friend told me that ‘they’ were gone. I got down on my knees and repented of everything I had ever done to hurt the heart of God. I repented for the day as a teenager, when I verbally rejected Jesus and for experimenting with spiritual things I had no right delving into. Then I was baptized in my friend’s bathtub.

Why was the second baptism necessary? When I was baptized at eighteen, I simply believed in who Jesus was. The Bible tells us that even the demons believe that and tremble. I was no more saved then they are. This baptism was different. I repented, I was truly sorry, and I completely submitted my will and life to Him. That made all the difference.

I am a Mary Magdelene story. Jesus cast seven demons out of Mary Magdelene. After spending many hours with my friend in her kitchen that night, I found out that I had been dealing with three demons. Somewhere in my life, I had invited them in -- maybe it was the chants I said in my room that night when I verbally rejected Jesus, maybe it was the constant sin I was living in. All I knew is, I had a new mind, a new heart. I was set free!!

Was that the end of it? Nope! Two years after that, at thirty-three, I was in California with baby Steven (who was two at the time). In the middle of the night three presences (probably the three that were cast out) tried to put fear into me -- only this time was different. They could not physically touch me as they had in the past. They had to stay outside the room that I was in. I spoke the powerful WORD of God to them with authority -- I quoted every scripture verse I could think of that dealt with my being a child of the King and that my sins were forgiven. Just as Jesus in the wilderness, quoted scripture, I did the same, and it worked. After an intense fight, the demons left. God had put a protective barrier between them and me. God had set a boundary for those demons because I was now HIS. 

Claudia King Story, Part I, Opening the Door

A note from Janet:  Claudia is a friend of a good friend. I have never met her, but have spoken with her on the phone and communicated by email. She is the real deal, and this story is not exaggerated. I try to limit my blog posts to a certain word count, so this story, written in her own words, will be offered in two consecutive posts. It does have an indirect ufo component to it.


Eph. 6:2:  For we are not fighting against people made of flesh and blood, but we fight against the evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against those mighty powers of darkness who rule this world, and against wicked spirits in the heavenly realms.

This passage refers to all Christians, yet you will only meet a handful of Christians that have actually experienced the demonic realm. I am one of those people. I will present my story as honestly and as transparently as I can. I have no agenda in sharing my story with you- other than offering you a vision of the spirit realm from a personal perspective. It is my intention that my story will serve to warn, edify and challenge you in your own walk.

I was raised in an atheist home. It’s different than a non-Christian home because in atheist homes, Christ is spoken against and God is mocked openly, Christians are thought of as ignorant fools, and God’s Word is considered garbage.

My father was a criminal, involved in Mafia Activity in NYC and actually worked with the Gallo Brothers of Italy to import liquor to the U.S. illegally through the NYC docks. It was a life of crime, deception, and murder. Although my father lived this secret life, my brother and I would watch as the cars pulled up in front of the house for meetings in the middle of the night with men coming to our house at all hours. There were many conversations behind closed doors – secret conversations. He was not home much, but when he was, he was not available to me because he was always on the phone.

Because of his dangerous lifestyle, it became necessary for him to send me to a Catholic boarding School for girls for my safety. I lived there for three years. I had no contact with my parents during that time. This school, a converted mansion, had elevators and chandeliers. It was a school that only the rich could afford. It stood on 135 acres of land. During the years I attended, I learned to speak French, play classical violin, and ballroom dance. The horse stables behind the school gave me a reason to explore outside the confining walls of my new home, and horseback riding in the woods became my first love.

Unlike my parents, I was exposed to the ‘concept’ of God every day as I lived with the nuns and priests at the Brentwood School. I strolled across the acres of land with a nun by the name of Sister Mary Helen who became like a mother to me. I asked a lot of questions. She was exhausted by the explanations I begged her to give me about who ‘God’ is.

Then, as suddenly as I was sent away, my parents moved to Hawaii from New York and took me with them. Hawaii is a paradise, but my experience there was a lonely one. At least at the school in New York, I had the companionship of adults who thought my questions about God were interesting. I was not allowed to speak about God at home. My parents were gone a lot, and I found myself engrossed in books that developed my natural curiosity for the spirit realm. While other kids were outside playing, I studied hundreds of books on Christianity, but my mind was also drawn to other spiritual topics such as witchcraft. What I found intriguing was that the witchcraft books offered simple and easy solutions to common human problem’s, including loneliness. The books on Christianity spoke of being ‘emptied’ before God and of self-sacrifice. That appeared too difficult to a fourteen-year-old who just wanted some simple answers to her questions.

There was one book, in particular, to which I was drawn. It described a chant, with a diagram, and two candles -- simple enough. I repeated the words from that book in my room that night and did everything it instructed me to do. I rejected Jesus verbally and called upon spirits I knew nothing about for power. After a short time, it all seemed silly, so I went to bed.

After being asleep for a while, I woke up to an intense growling under my bed -- near my head. I sat up and listened, becoming more frightened. After a few minutes it went away. I laid back down on my side and fell asleep. I remember waking up to adjust my pillow. I could not find it. I opened my eyes to find I had levitated almost to the ceiling and my pillow was on my bed beneath me. I remember one of the books saying that you could ‘will’ things to happen to you – so I ‘willed’ myself to go down to my bed. At this point I turned my bedroom light on and kept it on for a long time.

I went to the kitchen and got a glass of juice. I returned to my room, not believing my own experience and went back to bed. Maybe the growling and the levitating was just some freaky dream! I convinced myself that it was just that I was tired -- and I settled into a comfortable position on my stomach when two very large demonic hands grabbed my ankles and proceeded to pull me off my bed. They didn’t feel like human hands -- but I have no way to describe how I knew that. I grabbed the top of my mattress and the force was so strong that the mattress bent in the direction I was being pulled. I don’t know why I said it, but I whispered, ‘Jesus’ and immediately the hands let go and like a vacuum, the evil presence was sucked from the room. I could hear it leave.

That day began a seventeen-year struggle against demonic forces, which did not stop until I was thirty-one years old. I did not know that I had opened a door to the dark realm through my curiosity. I didn’t know that one moment of rejecting Jesus would have years of painful circumstances.

From fourteen to seventeen years old, I didn’t read anything about Christianity. Since I had previously spent an enormous amount of time studying about Jesus behind my parents back, I felt an obvious emptiness. But after that demonic experience, I was afraid to delve into anything I didn’t completely understand. During those three years, I felt presences from the kingdom of darkness letting me know they were still around.

At eighteen, a friend from work invited me to a Bible study group. Though I had been exposed to God at the boarding school in New York, a relationship with God was foreign to me. I went to the study and came home to yelling parents who ridiculed me for being with a bunch of lunatic Christians. My mom threw my Bible at me (the one I had lying on my bed). My parents had parties at the house several times a month. Sometimes they had me bartend for them. On the nights they didn’t need me, I locked myself in the bedroom and read the Christian booklets that I got from some people in the youth group.

Every time I started to read them, an intense fear came upon me and I could feel presences in the room with me. I had to stop reading. Sometimes I would feel sick to my stomach. I had no understanding of what was happening to me, and I had no one to ask. I would cry to God, but there was a wall between us, and He never seemed to answer me.

To be continued…

Sunday, January 8, 2012

"The Babe" and the Doctrine of Inerrancy

Today Ted and I spent his last day of freedom from teaching by driving into the Sierras. Tomorrow, it’s back to long weeks of grading. We took a nice walk by a river. Then we drove up a highway and decided to make a small town in the middle of the piney woods our goal. On the map it was quite simple. Turn off Hwy XX onto a paved road, stop at this tiny little town for a cup of coffee, continue through town on the same road, loop back to Hwy XX, and go on home. I’ll call the town Pittsville, because I have some not so nice things to say about it.

Not only did we have the map to guide us, we had “The Babe,” Ted’s GPS. How could we lose?

It turned out that Pittsville was not a cute little town with barns and antique shops. It was the armpit of the Sierras, full of broken down houses and scary looking people. Two kids playing outside were quite stunned to see us driving by them on their one-lane street, the main street in what you might call a town, except the only business in town was a scary-looking bar.

So we programmed the Babe to get us out of there. She sent us onto a dirt road on the other side of town. It was a rough road. We bounced along until we came to a bridge with a sign recommending that only four wheel drive vehicles proceed further. On the other side of the bridge was a grade so steep, we knew our car would never make it. So, we turned around and bounced back to town, past the two kids and an old dog. Ted tinkered with the Babe, and she started sending us around in circles to get us back to that road. “Recalculating. In .1 miles, turn left.” I began to envision a paranormal horror story where two na├»ve flatlanders wander into a dark portal where the town’s roads all close in on themselves and you can never get out again. I told Ted, “Either the Babe has turned to the dark side and she’s trying to kill us or she’s just stupid.” In my imagination, the flatlanders battle evil for three days and finally bust out, bringing the two kids and the dog with them … just as the earth is opening up and swallowing the town of Pittsville.

Ted tinkered some more. We passed the two kids and the dog a third time. I was praising God at that point that I hadn’t ordered a diet coke for lunch. The Babe led us onto a decent, unpaved Forest Service road that wound and snaked through the trees seemingly forever. As the sun began to fade below the horizon, we broke out onto Hwy XX. Just as my emotions were beginning to register on the crabometer, we were home free.

Driving down the freeway, I couldn’t help but think of how the doctrine of inerrancy is often like The Babe. It’s useful, but it has a dark side, not because it’s stupid but because it’s mechanical. It can’t think, can’t change, can’t breathe or stretch, can’t apply common sense. It’s an old wineskin, rigidly locking the church and synagogue into attitudes, particularly about women, that are millennia old.

I just finished reading an autobiography written by Theresa of Avila. She is one of two women that the Catholic Church has designated as a Doctor of the Church. Toward the end of her life and ministry, many of her own churchmen were questioning her travels and activities. In 1571 she wrote, “It seemed to me, considering what Paul says about women, how they should stay at home—people reminded me lately of this, and, indeed, I had heard it before,--it might be the will of God I should do so too. He [Jesus] said to me: Tell them they are not to follow part of the Scripture by itself, without looking to the other parts also; perhaps, if they would, they would like to tie My hands” [from: The Autobiography of St. Theresa of Avila, Tan Books, 1997, p. 447]. She has brought to light one of the conundrums of inerrancy, that it is usually applied to just this Scripture and not to that one. Not to both blended or held in tension together.

As if to bring home the point, tonight I watched another Independent Lens documentary on another African woman who has transformed her nation (in this case Kenya), another African woman who has won a Nobel Prize for showing decades of innovation and courage in educating her people, showing them a better way of life. She was one female leader standing against another selfish, brutal dictator, pillaging his nation to enrich himself and his cronies. The women who followed her were beaten and their families were thrown in prison, but in the end, the dictator fell and the nation moved to a multi-party democracy.

I believe that to marginalize the potential leadership of women in the church, society, education, and government is truly an abomination in the sight of God. I believe that obedience to the Spirit of God in the issue of promoting women in pastoral and denominational leadership is more precious to our Lord than big churches, high praises, or years of service.

I believe that God is looking for male denominational leaders who are as courageous as the many women of the world who suffered years of persecution, often from men who want to hide behind small portions of Scripture to promote an agenda that really comes from the human flesh. What a victory for the devil. Suppress half the Christian army in the very name of God.