As the sun went down, nighttime became unbearable. I hated the dark of night. I usually stayed up until daybreak waiting for the sun to come up. I began to have panic attacks at night. Many voices would be speaking in my head at the same time, sometimes shouting, calling me names, accusing me, speaking ill of others and telling me to take my life. I heard whispering around me and my name being called. Terrified, I would call certain people at night telling them I could sense an evil all around me. These precious friends would either listen to me or come and pick me up in the middle of the night and take me home with them.

One night after studying, I decided to try and get some sleep because I had to go to work the next day. One of the voices came to me and said, “What would you do if the lights went off in the middle of the night?” It was a taunting voice. Panic rose up in me. It went on, “You know you would be scared. So you better get a flashlight just in case.” I did what the voice said. I ran to my kitchen cupboard and grabbed the flashlight.

Leaving most of the lights on in my small apartment, I went to bed with the flashlight on my nightstand. I drifted off into a fitful sleep. A couple hours later I woke to find all the lights off. I could barely see, it was so dark. With a sense of dread and foreboding, I got out of bed, fumbling around in the dark, feeling for the flashlight. A slight sense of relief washed over me as I found it and turned it on. I looked out the window. All the apartment complex was dark. There had been no storms and I was puzzled as to what could have caused the power failure.

One of the voices came to me and said, “See. I told you, you might need the flashlight. See what kind of power I can give to you?” My fear of the dark went away for that moment. I went back to bed wanting more of this power that could tell me of future events.

There were times when I was compelled to hurt myself. One night at work (I worked at a Pizza Hut) I was in the back washing dishes. Something like a trance came over me and was allowing scalding hot water to run over my hands. Something told me to stick my hands in the water and let them remain there. I felt no pain as I watched my hands get redder and redder. One of my co-workers and a very good friend, Mary, thought there was a fire with the steam being so great. She rushed into the room and saw me. Alarmed, she called my name. I heard her. But could not move. She ran over, grabbed my hands and said, “What on earth is wrong with you!” My movements were slow, almost robotic. I felt nothing. I was in a sense, dead. I don’t remember much more about that event. However, I do thank God, Mary came in when she did.

Before I moved in the apartment, I began trying to communicate with my dead grandmother. “Little Maw” died when I was 11 and for some reason I found myself missing her. I began to have experiences of seeing her. Whether actual dreams or not, I still do not know. The first time I was still at home. She was in my parents’ room and looked so much younger than I remembered her. On my parents’ bed were laid out all kinds of pictures; photos of my past and photos I had not never seen. I asked her, “How did you get here?” She said, “They sent me in a box.” Hunting for the box I looked around the room for it. I saw no box but I did noticed for the first time the room had a bluish-whitish glow. There was a little bunny rabbit with the same glow around it. I laughed at the thought of a bunny rabbit coming from “heaven” with my grandmother. I asked her why she came. She said, “To warn you about driving, drugs and alcohol. I have a friend whose daughter was killed in a car wreck from drinking.” At the time I did not drive a car. And when I did go and try and get my drivers’ license many times over the years, her words haunted me. Causing me a terrible fear of driving. I did not get my license until I was about 36 years old.

I asked her what the pictures meant. She did not answer. She just looked sweetly at me. There was a picture of a beautiful young woman and I asked who it was. She said it was her. For some reason I can not explain I became angry and said, “That is not you! That is not my Little Maw!” She spoke gently and sweetly, “We all change when we get there.”

Another picture caught my eye. It was one of a young woman with long blonde hair, wearing a brown fringe jacket facing what looked like to be a mountain. I questioned her about this but she did not answer. (It would be a few months later as I was walking to my therapist that I would remember that picture. I was walking up the hill leading to the place that was in the midst of a country like setting. It was autumn and I had just gotten a leather brown fringe jacket I was so proud of it. As I was walking, I noticed the hills and then I saw the picture. It was me looking at what appeared to be mountains. The emotion I had at that time was both frightening and exhilarating. I began to believe I was receiving more of the power I coveted.)

I stepped forward to hug her but then I “woke” up. I opened my eyes and was able to see in my parents’ room. The event was so real I was for certain she was still there. But all I saw was a slight breeze blowing through the shear curtains in the bedroom.

After this, I began to question more the mysteries of death. I really believed someone or something was giving me a power. I wanted to believe it was the God with no name. I tried invoking my grandmother many times after that experience. I even began praying to her asking her to take my prayers to the God that had no name. I asked for her help in living. The more I talked to her, the more I wanted to be with her. The more I wanted to be with her the more I wanted to die.

By the time I was out on my own, I could fairly guess the astrological sign of others. I used it to help me decide who I would let in my world or not. I found out I was beginning to read tarot cards and could read palms fairly accurately. I was becoming more of a believer that the occult was where the power and truth was. I was convinced the meaning of life and my purpose was in this and nothing more.

I went to the apartment laundry mat one day and started up a conversation with two women who were new tenants. I began telling them about the occult and I asked if they would like to come over one day for coffee. They took me up on it. They noticed my tarot cards on the coffee table and asked if I could read the cards for them. I said sure and began to do so. I did not know anything about these women yet I began to read to them what the cards said. They either went along with me or either there was something going on there. They seemed surprise. I did too for that matter. A voice spoke to me, “Do not be so surprised. Just believe and respect this power and I will give you more.”

I began to get more proud believing the lie that some great gift of the heavens was being bestowed upon me. As the days grew into dark nights I nurtured the power by studying and seeking even more though all forms of the occult.

The movie “The Exorist” had been out the past few years. I had already seen it once. Tripping on LSD the first showing of it in 1973. I went to see it again taking my little brother who was 13 years old at the time. I could hardly wait to see his fear of the images on the screen. Something in me loved to see terror in others as much as I dreaded it in myself. I became ecstatic seeing his fear. I felt a bizarre grin taking over my face. Something told me it was it was wrong but I could not control it. It was if it were right under my lips wanting to push itself out and distort my whole facial expression. When alone, I would actually run to a mirror to see if my face had yielded to it. Sometimes it did.

At the movie as I watched my little brothers,’ fear, a great sense of power and energy surged in me. It was like a drug. I laughed and laughed at him, mocking him, ridiculing him. It strengthened me in some strange way and caused me to have no compassion or empathy towards a little boy scared out of his mind. All I cared about was this “high” and keeping it.

That night alone in my apartment, I felt as if I were coming down from an acid trip. My morbid desire to see others afraid would vanish as I began to sense a fear that almost crippled me. That night I stayed up and studied the occult until almost daybreak. I was sleeping in my bed when I had a nightmare. Upon waking, I couldn’t remember anything the dream. I just felt a great sense of evil and terror all around me. Getting out of bed, I went and laid down on the couch after turning every light on in the place. I believed that the light would drive the terror away. But it didn’t.

As I lay on the couch, listening to a soothing radio station, my eyes heavy trying my best not to fall back to sleep lest some great terror come upon me, a chant began to take over my head; “Something is going to get you. Something is going to get you. Something is going to get you even with the lights on.” Over and over it went in my head, taunting me, like it was almost singing.

A poster of Buddha hung on the wall. The eyes appeared to be glowing at me. I became paralyzed with fear. I made sure I stayed awake until day light. The next morning when the sun finally came up, I felt foolish for being so afraid of a mere poster. Everything seemed better during the day. But when the sun began to go down, fear would begin to grip me again. Night after night.

The next few nights began to get worse. I dreaded being alone. I asked the young man I was dating at the time to come over and sleep on the couch. I thought his presence would be enough to make the terror flee. But I was wrong. As I lay in bed I began to get horrible images of him coming into my room with a knife. I tried thinking of others who I knew and trusted, tried to see their faces. But their faces had the same images. Images of hate and murder. All of them coming at me with knives in their hands. I wanted to get up out of bed, take all the knives in my apartment, bring them to the bedroom and put them under my mattress. But I couldn’t. I began to have thoughts and images of the knives floating in mid-air by unseen hands, lingering over my bed, teasing me with my own fear until they had their fun and decided to plunge me with the blades.

Terror and a sense of insanity began to take hold of me. My shrink really was not helping me much. The drugs she had given to help me were useless. Friends were beginning to not know how to deal with me. I was being compelled to distant myself from everyone.

I came to the conclusion that I had no other recourse than to make a pact with the one whom I finally understood was giving me power; Satan.

I believe there is a need for prayer within the body of Christ. There are many that need the Lords' provision greatly. I am not talking about just your finances or that brand new sparkly car you want or that big fancy house you may covet. You know, those things the false teachers tell you that all you have to do is "name it and claim it." These false teachers don't give a royal rip about your eternal soul. They want you to feel oh so blessed while giving all your money to them. Telling you lies such as, "Give to me and God will give it back to you 10 fold, 100 fold." LIARS! And THIEVES!

God says they speak lies in His name! If it is so true what they tell you, then why don't you ask them to give you, oh, I don't know, a hundred bucks and see if God gives it back to them a hundred fold! But no! Some of the followers of this teaching are so greedy themselves. That the only reason they want anything to do with God is to have all their goodies on this earth! Promised to them by aposates and heretics!

How many, both the teachers and the followers, would dare still follow Him if He never gave anything else to them? He gave us his Son, Jesus. If I could live a million years and still do everything just perfect it would still not pay my debt to Him. The point being; follow and live for Jesus because of what YOU may be able to do for Him. Don't make him some pie-in-the-sky-sugar-daddy!

He is more than that. He is Almighty God. Creator of all things. He alone is worthy of our love, devotion and gratitude. Isn't it time that we started asking what we can do for Him? How we can best glorify Him? How best we can serve Him?

Should you ask me to pray for you, be forewarned, I will not pray like this for you. If all you want from God is the goodies then go to your false teachers and ask them to bless you. For I will not.

But if you are one who wants to come to God on His conditions, if you are one who wants to get rid of the idols you have allowed to be set up in your heart, if you desire truth in the inward parts, if you truly desire Him to cleanse you of all unrighteousness and let Him be your standard, if you desire to know Jesus and pick up your cross and follow him no matter the cost, THEN I will pray.

I know there are true physical needs of healing, needs that broken relationships be mended, needs of having everyday provisions met. I know these things. I am not a cold and heartless woman. But do not ask me to pray for you if you are not willing to let the Lord deal with you in every area of your life. You may make your requests be known here and I will do my best to pray for you.



For this is the will of God, your sanctification.

For the time will come

when men will not put up with sound doctrine.

Instead, to suit their own desires,

they will gather around them a great number of teachers

to say what their itching ears want to hear.

They will turn their ears away from the truth

and turn aside to myths.

-2 Timothy 4:3-4-

Tod Bentley calling , or rather, demanding from God, angels to come down at his beckoning. Nowhere in scripture does it tell us to do such things. Or that we even have the authority. I am afraid what TB may be calling down is nothing more than demons. Whether or not he actually knows this, is between him and God.

Notice the pagan like worship music. Maybe there are those who would prefer this harsh-head-banging-mosh-pit garbage. But I am not one of them. I do not see how it would glorify the Lord in any way. Before anyone calls me religious, I would ask you, do you really think that heaven has such harsh music? Be honest.

Notice the trance-like states the people are in. Some rock back and forth, having estatic faces. They are a people possessed for the moment. As they have completely given over their emotions, minds and heart to the event taking place. There is no soundness. They have given themselves over to a delusion.

"Let the angels come down with fire!" Does he even know what he is saying here? Jesus rebuked James and John for even suggesting calling down fire. (Luke 9:51-56) Fire is associated with Gods' wrath. Fire can be a purifying process also. But, when ungodly men teach ungodly lies, I have no reason to believe they are calling down a holy fire. Rather a fire of wrath. No way would I want to be in the middle of that kind of heathenistic environment!

"Say it with me." TB continues to lead people in the delusion.

"That heaven would open, angels of glory, angels of healing, warring angels...I want you to lift up your voice and call down the angels!" What heresies! What blasphemies! There is but One who heals. His name is Jesus!

TB chants the word "angels" 17 times. Why is this? I did a search and could only come up with the following. Seems like William Branham (who was a heretic himself) also believed the number 17 had some kind of mystical power: He believed and taught the number 17 is associated with the appearance of angels. So TB chants it 17 times. Is he aware of just how many times he spoke the word? I believe so. As this new "mystic" movement in the church is nothing other than the occult wrapped up neatly in a little package full of lies and deceptions. IF anyone who confesses to know Christ, does not know any better, then they do not have any buisness trying to lead others. For they both will fall in the same ditch.

Chanting is of the pagans. We are commanded by Jesus not to do it. "But when you pray, (meaning asking God for anything) do not use vain repetitions as the heathen do. For they think they will be heard for their many words." MATTHEW 6:7 What exactly does chanting do? It creates a mood in the chanter. It brings about a type of self-induced bliss, if you will. You put your brain on hold and let other forces take control.

These heretics never humbly ask anything of God! They just reach up and try to steal it!

Unless you love the Truth, God will give you over to the idols of your heart.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uoT12vvj-k&feature=related