Once you have encountered darkness, you never forget it. Once YOstepped into the chasm of violence that lies within the occult, your world is never quite the same. As a former Satanist my world is forever changed. People aren’t the same; places have a presence I wish I didn’t understand. Yet I am thankful for the awareness I have of the other side. God allows everything to occur for a very specific reason. I pushed and fought against God’s love, and He allowed me to delve into a dark realm so that I could see—and so that I could show the world what I saw.
I became a Satanist in the summer of 2004 at the age of fourteen. My background is not wild and horrifying. My parents were both Christians. I grew up in the church. Some of my earliest memories involve lying on the floor under the pews listening to the sermon as I fought the temptation to untie unsuspecting churchgoers’ shoelaces. I experienced no real trauma during my childhood other than the deaths of beloved pets. So how did I, a little girl who grew up in church, turn against God in the most direct way possible?
As a child I struggled with anger and violence. I had a mean temper and was told again and again that I needed to calm down and stop trying to push others around—and this was true. However, over time I began to hear another message mixed in with those words, one that said, “You’re not strong enough.” These were not the words of my parents or those around me. No, these were the words of the enemy.
Being homeschooled and in a family of faithful churchgoers, I learned only the basics of other religions. But I was a thinker. I was always analyzing things and constantly wanting to learn new things. This might seem like a positive trait, but my curiosity often got the better of me. My church and my family were good, but I wanted more—something far more than I had.
As a teenager I was not one of the popular kids, and I knew I probably never would be. It wasn’t that I was unpopular; I just went unnoticed. And that was worse than being uncool. I longed to be noticed, to be powerful and special. I wanted to become indestructible. So I began to seek out power that was not of this world.
I turned to things that as a Christian I knew I should avoid. But I thought, “Who would know?” I wasn’t being watched like a hawk. So if I stole away into my room to read, who would know that I was studying spirits, ghosts, and demons?
The books I read about the occult told me that people actually talked to these invisible beings, that they were everywhere just waiting for communication. There could even be one next to me right now. Could I hear them too? I had to find out, so I kept studying. The more I read, the more I wanted to know. I couldn’t get enough.
Before long the voices I wanted to hear were not only audible, but also they were blaring at me. At first I thought it was my own voice in my head telling me I should just die and that everyone else in my life deserved to die with me. But then one night, to my surprise, I heard a voice that sounded distinctly different from my own. Then I heard another voice and another one louder than all the rest. I had found secret friends.
What could be better for a girl who was all alone? Now it wouldn’t matter that I had no friends. These voices were better because they were not of this world. My friends were far more powerful than any human around me. I could feel the spirits’ fierce anger, and it made me feel strong.
Around this time my family experienced a crisis. But instead of confronting the problem head-on, my parents just began to fight constantly. Now and then one of us kids would try to stop the screaming and door slamming, but usually we would just get pulled into the argument and end up screaming ourselves.
All the while we maintained an image to the outside world that we were a perfect Christian family. That is what made everything so horrible. There seemed to be no way out of the insanity. No one would believe us kids if we were to tell someone how bad things were at home. We felt trapped. So we retreated to our own worlds. It was as though the fear of setting off another argument caused us all to keep a safe distance from one another. None of us kids wanted one parent to think we were choosing the other’s side, so we just stayed to ourselves and kept our anger bottled up inside.
Because I longed for stability, I retreated further into the shadows of my bedroom and my relationship with my invisible friends. Satan conveniently waited on my doorstep the entire time, hoping I would give him a chance. Finally I did.
A CHOICE TO REBEL
I knew talking to Satan was wrong. I had been raised in church—I knew better. But I was so angry at what was going on around me that I chose to rebel. The hand that grasped mine to pull me out of my helplessness seemed so comforting and trustworthy, and it made me feel strong instead of weak and worthless. With all the fighting at home, I began to wonder how rebelling against the God my parents served could be a bad thing.
I found strength in paying attention to the voices in my head, and it felt so good to feel strong. My strength made me feel safe. I fed off the voices’ anger, and I began to think I had a right to be angry. No one wanted to know me? Fine. I had secret, powerful friends now.
I knew all along that what I was getting myself into was wrong, but I ignored what I learned as a child. Instead of resisting the evil and angry thoughts that raced through my mind, I enjoyed them. Then one day I had my first physical encounter with a demon.
I was heading into my bedroom one night, when the feeling of something cold and dark suddenly stopped me. I was frozen in fear because I knew something dangerous was under my bed. My feelings were so conflicted I thought I must be crazy. How could I be so afraid when this was the very thing I had been wanting?
I went to talk with my mother, but she sent me back to my bed. Feeling like a foolish child afraid of the dark, I jumped into bed and hid under the covers. I couldn’t sleep. The thing was too close. But as the hands on my clock moved slowly through the night into the early hours of the morning, an odd thing happened. The fear melted away.
I found myself laughing. I laughed at the absurdity of my behavior. I laughed at my fear. And I laughed because I knew that what I felt was real.
I started to enjoy the darkness and the cold presence that lived there. I reasoned that since what was good hadn’t worked, I should seek the opposite. If the presence under my bed was too much to handle, then I would befriend it. I would embrace it.
The voices I had been hearing began to speak clearly to me. They said if I allowed them to give me their power, then people would fear me as I feared them. Desperate for strength I accepted their offer. The next morning I woke up a different person.
Was I possessed? I think so, but not in the Hollywood sense of the word. I was no Emily Rose. Although my inner life completely changed, very few people noticed that anything was wrong with me spiritually. Just as it’s not hard to spot someone under the influence of alcohol, it’s not hard to spot someone who is under the influence of Satan. But some people can hold their liquor, so to speak, and I was one of them. I could put on a good face. I held it together in church, at youth group, and at home, all the while feeling superior because no one had a clue what was going on inside me.
In reality I had become a person with two personas that functioned in opposition. I felt as though a new and powerful being had replaced the Amber everyone knew, that the old me had died that fateful night. I began to dress differently, wearing all-black, heavy eyeliner, and boys’ clothes. Some people wondered if I had embraced lesbianism, but that was not the case. The new and powerful person or persona I embraced had the strengths of both male and female. I now saw myself as neither gender, and my clothes reflected that.
Yet that new, powerful Amber still felt like the smallest, weakest creature who ever walked the earth. I was strong in public, but when I was alone, the weaker me would surface. I would feel like I was a pathetic loser, a worthless human being who did not deserve to live. Thoughts of suicide played in my mind.
Emotionally I was being played like a puppet. I would go back and forth between the two personas as the demonic spirits made me feel strong then desperately weak. I hated the weak parts of me, so I wanted to get rid of them in any way I could. I craved power, and I craved control. I felt those two traits would make me a destructive force beyond what anyone could imagine. I wanted to destroy, to punish, and to eliminate anyone who got in my way. That is what the darkness promised me—the ability to destroy— and that is what I wanted. Yet while one part of me was greedy for power, the weaker side of me just screamed out for help but was constantly being silenced by the voices of my “friends.”
Eventually I could no longer distinguish the demonic voices from my own thoughts, and I began to fear the voices. I would go through my day only half realizing what I was doing, as though I was far away from my actions. I can remember having arguments or hitting my siblings in fits of rage. I would scream at them so loud and long that my throat hurt for days afterward.
Then I began to black out. I would black out of my conscious self just long enough to complete the action. I would hit someone or shout in a rage then return to consciousness and realize in terror what I had done. Everything angered me. My tolerance was at zero. The smallest, most insignificant things would throw me into uncontrolled fury. I tried to avoid the voices, but I could not. I had completely surrendered to the demon. It took me whenever it chose.
I wasn’t violent toward my siblings alone; the demon persuaded me to act violently toward myself. Before I was really aware of what had changed, I had stopped eating. I would go for days without food. I enjoyed denying myself the things we humans need to sustain ourselves. I would rebel against my body whenever I could because I hated God for making me mortal. I wanted to be immortal—and my “friends” promised me that I would be.
Sometimes I would black out from hunger only to come to and find myself eating any food in sight. My hands would shake, and my head would spin in splitting pain. In those moments when my friends let me out of the cage long enough to stay alive, I became more afraid of myself than ever before. I crammed food in my mouth while I shook and shivered.
All I could hear were the conflicting voices saying on the one hand, “You pig. You don’t deserve that,” and on the other, “You don’t need food. You’re stronger than that.” Far in the back of my mind I would hear the voice of reason, but its words became harder and harder to make out.
I knew that I was dying, but I wanted to die—desperately. By this time my suicidal thoughts were more graphic, more detailed. So many times I would hold in one hand a bunch of pills—blood pressure medication, Valium, and Vicodin (from my parents)—and in the other a cup of water. But I couldn’t take my life yet. Satan wasn’t through with me. He wanted me right where I was, destroying myself and influencing others.
As each day went by, I became more and more furious at God. I hated Him. I wanted to punish Him—and I know Satan loved it. He wouldn’t dare allow me to end my life, not while I was playing so perfectly into his hands. For the time being he was pleased with me.
INITIATION INTO CUTTING
Though I feared my invisible friends, I still loved the darkness. I can’t count the number of nights I spent awake, hiding in different dark places around the house at three in the morning. I would look into the darkness and ask it questions. On one night in particular I sat in the living room on the couch staring into the blackness. I sensed a demonic presence off in the corner near the front door. With only the light from outside the living room window between us, I asked it a question out loud.
“What’s your name?” The whispered words hung in the air for only a second. A huge and overwhelming wave of fear, unlike anything I had ever experienced before this, swept over me, thick and suffocating. I shivered beneath the blanket I had next to me until I fell asleep. At the time I wasn’t sure exactly what the creature’s intent was, but now as I look back I know I had made it angry. It growled to silence me and make me feel small. It worked.
By this time my “friends” had already introduced me to the concept of self-injury, not just through starvation but also through cutting. Cutting is a very ugly thing. The moment I drew the blade across my skin, I felt a high that was impossible to ignore. It seemed to heal everything; it made life seem bearable again. But the high wears off after a few seconds, and the despondency that follows makes everything seem worse than before.
The first time I cut myself I used a large needle. Alone in my bedroom, I thought back over my life; I was such a weakling, such a failure. I hated my life. Maybe I should be punished. No, I knew I should be punished. So I grabbed the needle and scraped it across my arm.
This would be a kind of initiation. This would prove that I was strong enough to handle pain. And so I began to cut myself on a regular basis. With every red line I cut into my body, I never once thought of the punishment Christ had endured for me. I wasn’t interested in hearing that I was forgiven and loved despite my flaws. I could only long for that moment of ecstasy, which was always followed by crushing depression.
I wanted more than anything to die. I wanted to end this life spent in torment, though I knew I would go on to an eternity of the same. I had burned every bridge. I ran only in the direction my friend, Satan, took me.
For nearly a year I lived in a push and pull of cutting and then trying to stop, only to cut again. Then one day I woke up and realized that my “friend” and its fellow demons were trying to kill me. The cutting had evolved into several near-suicide attempts. And each time I cut, I seemed to be getting closer and closer to a major artery or vein.
I knew I had made the demons angrier. At this point several things in my life had changed. First, I had started dating someone, and because of him I decided to work on my relationship with God. The other influence came from my parents. Despite their problems, they still adamantly insisted that if we obeyed what the Bible said, God would bless and protect us. So I decided to give that a try.
The demons were furious, and they began to attack me in my dreams, showing up in physical form to threaten and hurt me. They told me they wanted me dead and that I could not escape. I spent the next few years in constant fear. They would appear and disappear for varying lengths of time.
I did not have a dramatic experience with light filling my room, but one day I decided to never cut again. Somehow I just knew that the demons wanted to harm me and not help me, and I no longer wanted to cooperate. Of course, this made them retaliate even more, but it soon became clear that they did not have the same hold on me. I would have dreams in which the demons were desperately trying to attack, and I knew this meant they did not have the upper hand they once enjoyed.
Unlike most, I did not experience a moment in which I was suddenly freed from the grip of darkness. I simply began making different choices. One day I decided to never cut again, and later I began to calm my anger instead of allowing myself to fly off in a fit of rage. It took over two years to fully recover from what I had drowned myself in, but here I am today a new person.
To this day it startles me to think how intimate my relationship with darkness was. Like a person recognizing an old friend after many years, I can still see demonic activity when others typically cannot. Yet that is not something I relish. I have lost a great deal. There is so much I wish I could take back, but I cannot.
God has done so much in my life. He has brought me out of darkness and into a new world where there is light. His light shines in the darkness, and I’m standing right under the spotlight along with my brothers and sisters in Christ. The journey is not over, and there will be many more obstacles to come, but God is faithful and will see me, and others like me, through.
I became a Satanist at the age of fourteen while part of a Christian family. My time spent in Satanism caused a lot of damage and a lot of pain, but I’ve come to realize that Jesus was there with me through it all. He never abandoned me. A good father loves and protects his children. Although He may allow His children to stray, He does this so we can know what love truly is.
A LOOK INTO THE DARKNESS
My story is not unique. You probably see hundreds of people every day who are in the same place I once was. They keep their longing for power secret from the world, so you may never suspect that they fellowship with demonic spirits.
Everyone who has ever stepped into darkness has their own story of how Satan pulled them in—some barely saw it coming while others walked into occultism with their eyes wide open. Those who have a background in the church usually have experienced something that turned them away from the faith.
At the age of fourteen I’d had more than my fill of the church, and I rebelled against it and God in my heart. Meanwhile I put on a good face for the congregation and my parents, who would have been ashamed to know I no longer believed. Though I played the part of the obedient church girl, anyone looking for evidence of my double life could have found it.
During my years in the occult I hoped someone would find me and rescue me. I felt weak and thought my only choice was to make friends in high places. The demons promised me strength, and I promised them obedience. They said they’d make everyone pay for everything they did to hurt me, and I swore myself to them.
When I think back on those times when I was in my room at three in the morning, whispering into the darkness to the voices I could hear but didn’t always understand, I sometimes wonder how that could have been me. But I’ve come to realize that anyone is capable of falling into the devil’s trap, because our sin nature sets us up to desire the power Satan claims to offer.
Because people usually do not acknowledge the dark possibilities within themselves, they often surprise themselves when they decide to delve into the dark corners of their mind. But we were all born in sin and are capable of even the most heinous acts. The difference is that those in the occult explore those hidden possibilities in their desperate quest for power.
This is a real battle against unseen forces. Satan is claiming souls all around us, even within the church. To resist this satanic assault, we must understand the occult. We must learn to see.
Giving Satan leeway in your life isn’t as hard as we would like to believe. People act in rebellion toward God on a daily basis. That rebellion comes in many different forms—from telling lies to engaging in sexual sin. Often the individual does not fully realize the torment he has signed himself up for. There is fine print in every agreement, and when someone signs on the dotted line to give Satan control in his life, he ultimately will lose.
Satan wants more than anything to hurt the Father, and what better way than to harm His children? The devil wants to send as many of God’s children as possible into eternal fire and punishment With every step a person takes away from God, he is aiding Satan in his plot to lash out violently against God.
Satan is a master deceiver. He wants us to believe the Father is really the one to blame for all the evil in the world. After all, if God has so much control, then why are bad things happening? Satan wants us to think that God is a liar, an impotent and apathetic entity who sits up in heaven playing with us like toys for His amusement. Satan is very good at coercing people into believing this by making the mess and blaming it on God
Satan knows he is going to spend all of eternity in violent punishment. As my father always used to tell me, “Satan isn’t stupid.” In fact, he is very crafty. As a child I never understood this, but now I do. Why would Satan willingly step right into eternal damnation without putting up a fight? He is constantly working to get mankind to rebel against his Creator so he can take as many people as he can down into the flames with him.
WRITTEN IN BLOOD
When I began my dangerous journey into the occult, I signed my name in blood beneath Satan’s promise to offer me more strength and power. Those were the terms of our “contract.” When I first started cutting, I was just experimenting out of desperation, but it quickly turned into something far more dangerous. Psychiatrists and psychologists have their explanations for why people cut themselves, but there is so much more to this form of self-injury than many of the experts want to see.
The significance of blood goes deep. It represents life, and the Bible declares that without the shedding of blood, there can be no forgiveness of sin (Heb. 9:22). Before Jesus died on the cross to pay the penalty for our sins, God required that the Israelites sacrifice animals to atone for their sins, because blood is the only thing that could purge sin. Blood represents life; sin brings death. We need life to wash away death.
Humanity knows this, and we constantly seek atonement for our faults and shortcomings, and we do this in the strangest ways. Some people understand right away that atonement is found in the literal shedding of blood, but they get confused about whose blood must be shed. I was once one of them. I believed the lie that the only way to atone for everything that was wrong with me was to bleed. I couldn’t have explained my thinking at the time, but I felt I deserved to be cut into a thousand pieces. I felt I deserved pain. I felt I deserved to bleed.
My thought process was distorted by the lies the enemy was feeding me. What once was black and white became a deep and fuzzy gray that colored my whole world. Did I know cutting was wrong? I guess I did, but I didn’t really think much about it. I just felt I had to do it. I needed to pay for everything—everything I did and everything I did not do.
I always felt guilty, which made me want to die and burn in hell. But I also felt an overwhelming fear of being weak, which drove me into survival mode and made me willing to endure almost anything. As you can imagine, these conflicting emotions were ripping me apart from the inside out. Every cut I made on my arms, torso, and legs was a manifestation of that conflict. How could I possibly want to survive? I didn’t deserve the air I breathed. How could I possibly want to die? That meant I was giving up—I was weak.
Satan loves to bring confusion and trap people in their most fragile state. If he can make them doubt everything they know to be true, even questioning what is real and what is not, he has them right where he wants them. Satan will use events and circumstances to hurt and confuse his target and then cause them to doubt the truth of God’s love and forgiveness. He does this by whispering lies in their ears. After all, he is the master liar (John 8:44).
A very weak follower of Satan named Adolf Hitler once said, “Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it.”1 Where do you think Hitler got this line of thinking? That’s easy—from the very angel that rebelled against the Creator at the beginning of time. Hitler couldn’t have deceived millions of people without Satan, and Satan couldn’t have destroyed millions of lives without Hitler. The devil needs us to do his dirty work more than he would ever want to admit.
Satan will make a person feel special, desired, and needed just to get his attention. We all want to feel special and wanted. The reality is that we are special; we are necessary. Satan’s goal is to make the target believe he is special only to him and the darkness in which Satan thrives. In so doing, he turns that person away from Christ, making him believe God is the enemy and that only Satan’s promises are true.
I was convinced that a feeling of release would wash over me like a calming rain the moment I picked up a blade and drew it across my sin. The bright red line would sting but not nearly as much as I wished it would. What I didn’t know—what none of the demons wanted me to realize—is that just seconds after the high wore off, an overwhelming feeling of guilt and shame would drown out the momentary relief. The supposed atonement didn’t atone for much, so I cut again and again and again and again. I doubted I would ever see the end of that torment. I thought nothing could possibly fix me—nothing.
I had signed a contract with the devil, promising him my allegiance in exchange for power. My debt to him only seemed to increase with each cut. I had written my name in blood all over my frail and fragile body. I had written my name in blood, agreeing to give Satan exactly what he wanted: me.
DESPERATE FOR ATONEMENT
Occultists are desperate for atonement. Through the occult they seek, and presumably find, validation and the power to rise above everyone and everything that has caused them hurt or pain. The power occultists gain from fellowshipping with forces of darkness makes them feel superior, and these feelings of superiority create the illusion of atonement. However, the “power” these demonic forces give comes with serious consequences that can destroy the lives of not only the occultist but also those around him.
Fellowshipping with darkness creates a kind of port within a person. It allows the darkness to work through him and gives others a glimpse of what the darkness is like in human form. These people often look powerful and strong, yet they’re constantly fighting against the demons inside them. And because of their false appearance of strength, people follow these “spiritual” leaders in one way or another—whether they’re just looking up to them or actually seeking after their “gifts.”
Because Satan wants to hurt God, he will kill God’s children with God’s children. He sends his occult followers out like little grenades to destroy lives. Little by little Satan fills the hearts and souls of so many with violent thoughts and intentions. That violence remains bottled up within and kept secret. What happens when thoughts and feelings that would ordinarily terrify you just fester day after day? This is where the self-punishment begins. And when the occultist realizes that the self-punishment is not offering the atonement he so desperately desires, and when he has exhausted all methods of punishment from Satan’s very long list, he will turn outward and punish others while he continues to punish himself.
The occultist caught in this trap sees himself as many pieces put together to form something that resembles a whole, and he develops a divided persona. In punishing himself and others, he plays two roles. One is that of victim, the side of the occultist that disagrees with the punishment he is inflicting. The other is the punisher, the side of the person that is constantly looking for a fight either within himself or with those around him. The complex nature of this conflict is due to the occultist’s inability (or rather, unwillingness) to decide which side is in the right.
Because of the incessant demonic attacks he faces, the occultist is in a continual state of confusion and therefore cannot determine which of the many voices is telling the truth. Because he ignored God’s voice, the occultist now hears a thousand other voices screaming out all kinds of conflicting messages.
The punisher gains strength from having a victim, even if that victim is himself. He has someone to push around so he doesn’t feel so weak. That is the goal of the punisher side of the individual— to conquer, control, and make everyone pay for mistakes that were made and the pain that was inflicted. The enemy makes the occultist think this strange system creates order in his world, but it actually does just the opposite. It is creating complete disorder. Yet, because the enemy does a good job of hiding the truth, the punisher within the occultist will continue its constant and vengeful mission to defeat everyone and everything that makes it feel threatened. Ultimately, the “punisher” is seeking one thing: power.
POWER
Power is the force driving the occultist. He needs power to survive and get back what he has lost. No one likes to feel weak and helpless, but to the occultist power is a must.
Mankind’s desperate pursuit of power began in the Garden of Eden. God created two human beings to love Him. These two creatures were told not to eat of the tree of life, yet they managed to give in to the lies Satan told them—that eating the fruit of the tree would give them power and put them on equal footing with God.
Not only did Satan offer them power, but he also fed them the lie that God was withholding the truth about the tree because He wanted the power only for Himself. In one moment lust poured into Adam and Eve’s heart, they tasted sin, and their innocence was lost.
The three players in this tragedy—Adam, Eve, and Satan—all had one goal. They wanted control. Adam and Eve wanted to control their fate and be equal with God. Satan wanted to control the fate of God’s children and hurt the Father by leading His children into eternal damnation.
The desire for control can be seen everywhere, every day. It can be seen in severe forms, among the anorexic or suicidal, who resort to desperate measures to control the pain they feel, and in less severe ways, such as in those who tend to dominate a conversation or constantly take charge. We have all felt powerless at some point in our lives, and we will likely feel that way again. There is so much in this world that we cannot control. Those who enter the world of the occult are typically trying desperately to get out of circumstances that created overwhelming feelings of helplessness. But trying to control the uncontrollable can lead to the most devastating consequences.
The truth is, God has given us power. He has given us power to conquer Satan’s kingdom in His name and for His glory. Why do so few walk in the power that God has promised? Because the truth about the power we have through Christ is drowned out by the endless din of lies and images of weakness the devil constantly streams into our minds.
As I mentioned before, I was a very angry child, and as I got older, I began to wrestle with violent behavior. I was told again and again that I needed to calm down and stop trying to push others around. This was true. But after a while I began to hear the message that I wasn’t strong enough. This was a lie straight from the enemy, but I didn’t recognize that at the time. So I grew up feeling as though there was absolutely nothing I could do well.
I believed that the special moments in my life, when I was applauded for something I had done, were meaningless, and the accolades were just lies. I saw myself as having been placed on earth for others’ benefit. I lost hope that my life mattered, that I had any value at all—and this lie nearly cost me my life and family.
READY, SET, GO . . .
I was seconds away from ending my life on multiple occasions, but I was fortunate. My story has a rare happy ending. Too many believers are being lost to Satan because they have so much pain that they don’t know how to deal with. We all just want to feel strong and significant. God offers to us all of that and more, but some people cannot see this for themselves. They need to be persistently shown how much they are valued.
The human need to feel strong, to feel important and valued, to feel indestructible is something God has woven into the fabric of our whole being. God wants us, His children, to be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might (Eph. 6:10).
In our human imperfection we often mistakenly search for that strength in the world. I spent six years of my life drowning in an empty existence without God. I spent that time lashing out at Him with every bit of energy I had left in me. Though the temptation exists every day, and the constant messages are blaring in my ears to “come back,” I don’t want to imagine what it would be like to return to that emptiness.
As believers we are called to be strong for those who can’t be, to bear one another’s burdens. We must intervene. These children of God who have become slaves to Satan wish more than anything that someone would come alongside them and be strong for them. They know there is more to life than constant threats, fear, and darkness. My life was a sick, violent dance with Satan. I was controlled and used, and I have hurt so many as Satan worked through me.
In 1 Timothy 1:13–14 Paul says to Timothy, “Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.” He goes on to say in verses 15–16: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.”
Paul practiced the work of Satan for decades, literally slaughtering Christians. And here God has transformed him into a disciple, a leader, one who would mentor young Timothy to do even greater works for the Lord. How much greater would this world be if every occultist was shown as much patience and loving pursuit as the Father showed Paul? How many more Pauls would we have running around wreaking havoc on Satan’s master plan? We’ve had some soldiers taken hostage, church. Let’s bring them home.
Written by Amber Rane in "Dancing With the Devil - An Honest Look Into the Occult From Former Followers", Charisma House, USA, 2012, compiled by Jeff Hashbarger, excerpts chapter 2. Digitized, adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.
(Amber Rane is a psychology major at Lubbock Christian University. She has worked for many years in youth ministry, using the performing arts and writing to express her love and conviction to teens and young adults. Drawing from her experience in the occult, Amber proclaims the truth of God’s Word to steer young people away from the darkness and toward Jesus. An author, actor, and director, Amber plans to use her gifts to minister full-time, challenging youth not to compromise the truth).