As mentioned in previous postings, I grew up in a rather strict religious household. Or did for the latter half of my upbringing anyway. The point of speaking on this topic is not to whine or complain, but rather to speak out on what I have seen and experienced first-hand of the ‘Spiritual Warfare’ techniques being utilized by the tribes of Evangelicals and other demiurgic ilk in our current day, and to do so for the benefit of fellow occult practitioners.
Spiritual Warfare essentially teaches that there is a strict black and white divide in the spiritual realm. And spirits are everywhere, in people, in objects, in places. Everywhere. All spirits of any sort are aligned with either God or Satan. Who are supposedly at war. (Which all seems very Zoroastrian in essence to me, but they’ll never admit it.) And once aligned they work to further one agenda or the other, knowingly or not. That’s very important to remember as this goes for both spirits and people. According to them, your ignorance doesn’t matter. The spirits can influence you and thus influence events through you, even without your knowledge or consent. They subsequently view the afflicted as both a victim of and an agent of the spirits working through them, making it necessary to treat them accordingly.
The church we were to attend was Pentecostal. The name of the denomination is taken from the event of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit was said have descended upon the disciples of Christ. This act supposedly provided them abilities, like speaking in tongues, prophecy, and the casting out of spirits. Due to this descending of the spirit onto human disciples Pentecostals believe that there is no need for a priesthood to act as an intermediary between humans and god. They believe every person has the ability to have their own personal relationship with god and to invoke god directly.
For those who may be unfamiliar, Pentecostals are the types who like to dance and run in circles around the congregation. They’ll stand up in prophecy then promptly collapse in a fit that from the outside looks a lot like a seizure. When they act like this it is because they say the “spirit” is coming upon them. They believe that the essence/spirit of ‘God’ is descending on them as it supposedly had descended upon the disciples. This sudden perspective shift also grants them the ability to speak in tongues, speak prophecy and revelations of their own, and gives them an air of great confidence when they claim to have the gift of spiritual discernment then subsequently “cast out” or exorcise entities at their will. (Something of note: this has also been directed in a macro-cosmic fashion to cast out spirits supposedly residing in political parties, government officials, and elected members of office. As well as to support prayer-events where entire congregations pool their energy together to pray and work themselves up for certain political or foreign policies they find in line with their specific reading of scripture.)
They would typically cast out spirits of addiction, of depression, of cancer, and even spirits of issues like poverty. Sometimes they would cast out things like atheism and doubt. Other times they would simply cast out Satan, or the ‘Devil and his Legions’. They would cast out all Spirits under His power, and all influence they held over anyone within the walls of the church or the sphere they were praying for. As someone who already inwardly and privately identified herself as a Satanist, I was pretty sure they were full of shit. But as 15 year old kid I had to wonder, could it work?
All of this Pentecostal/Spiritual Warfare stuff had become an obsession to my mother by 2002-2003. She prayed late into the night. She’d walk up and down the hallway speaking in tongues or come bursting into my room in the middle of night spewing some “prophecy” and gibberish. Other times she burst through the door in a violent rage, bee-lining to a drawer or corner of my closet, stating ‘God’ had shown her where I was hiding books, or ritual paraphernalia, or tarot, or for fucks sake even tea leaves. Generally she was looking in the wrong place and in my anger at being woken up like that I found myself stifling smug giggles at her stupidity.
Occasionally in her paranoid fits she did find things though. CD’s, my book on making demonic pacts, the beginnings of a notebook of autonomic writing and attempts at spiritual correspondence (mostly encoded thankfully)…
I’m not sure which of these was the final straw, but one night she started in before I even went to bed. And it looked like it might be a long one. She wasn’t accepting silence. She wasn’t accepting my attempts at uninterested teenage shrugs. She wasn’t accepting my normal avenues of shutting the conversation down. She was convinced, utterly convinced, that I was bringing evil spirits into the house. This suspicion had been ongoing which is why she would look through my things in the first place. She claimed she felt evil spirits in them.
Up until this point I’d had her pretty convinced that I was simply disinterested in any religious practices at all. She could at least logically understand a teenager entertaining atheist thoughts, even if they weren’t accepted, much easier than she could understand someone dabbling with magic and spirits. But not that night, that night she turned on me. I was no longer her daughter but the enemy. She determined that whether it had occurred by my intent or due to my stupid curiosity, it didn’t matter. I was a danger to the household and thus needed to be exorcised.
I thought she was kidding at first. Bluffing maybe. Even if she wasn’t, by the time we got to church and she talked this all through with the Pastor, she’d calm down and feel like an idiot I figured. But she had no intention of involving the Pastor or even any other members of the congregation. This was an embarrassment she told me, and one that she would handle herself. Before I knew it she flew into a rage, pinning me to the chair I was sitting in while she easily had over a hundred pounds on me at the time. For roughly the next hour she held me down, screaming, slapping, and slamming me around in an attempt to cast out whatever she said I was bringing into the house. At some point in the midst of it her wording changed and she began invoking her God by a specific name, the name of ‘Yahweh’. (Which at the time didn’t mean much, but has since revealed itself as potentially meaningful.) And then to my panic, she began asking him for assistance in casting out ‘the Devil and Satan’ specifically.
I’d like to say I kept trying to laugh her off even at this point, and to my credit I did maintain the ability to do so outwardly through the duration of the event. I never did anything but deny it all and call her crazy. But inwardly? Not a chance. Inwardly I was a 15 year old kid suddenly terrified that this insane zealot would find a way to cut off my pact. It seemed to follow that would then cut off any tie I had to the spiritual at all, since they saw it all as so evil.
By this age I had already developed my own methods of “clearing the air” and purifying against the god of her church when need be, but I couldn’t even move my arms with her holding me down. I mentally and emotionally went inward and called out in that way, half in a call for aid and half in a call of warning. I fought tears knowing full well there was nothing I could do to stop this but wondering if I’d be held responsible by the Spirit I’d made a pact with regardless.
As this continued the tension in the air was becoming palpable. The pain in my neck and head was unbearable from her pushing down on me and from being slammed around. A migraine set in and my stomach kept rolling with nausea, the pressure in my head only making it worse by the minute. I felt like I might pass out from it all and continued my inward and seemingly pointless call for help.
Surprisingly, not long after I resigned myself to just trying to survive this event her fit came to an abrupt stop. It had been edging up to a fever pitch when she had a sudden vision and fell back, releasing me in the process. She looked stunned while backing away into the nearby wall.
“What was that? That gate? What the hell was that? What did you do?”
Clearly, I had no way of knowing what she was seeing or imagining in her worked up mind so I just continued to look at her like she was insane, no less stunned than she was at this turn of events. She claimed she saw a gate slam against her but I had no idea what she was referring to.Whatever it was, it spooked her because the tension in the room immediately dissipated. She seemed to realize things had gotten out of hand and started straightening herself up, shaking her head a bit as if to clear it. Then she stated hollowly that this had been for my own good and left to her room for the night. The next day it wasn’t mentioned and the event was never spoken of between the two of us again.
On my end, another few months passed before I had the courage to try contacting the Spirit I’d made a pact with again. This was partially due to just being afraid to “show my face”. After all, had I hidden my things better this might not have occurred. Perhaps that was my mistake and one He wouldn’t tolerate. (How the hell would I know?) I was so shaken from what happened that I didn’t think I could handle knowing if I had been written off for good yet. The rest of the hesitation came from a fear that it might have worked, that my mother had somehow encircled me in the energies of the being she was calling on. If that were true, then I was potentially a danger to everything I wished to work with, wasn’t I? So not knowing what else to do, I kept to myself.
At the time I was just thankful it was over and that the situation had ended when it did, before there had been any permanent physical harm or anything of the like. Back then it didn’t even occur to me to think that maybe something had aided me after all given the abrupt stop when she backed away. I just continued on in silent limbo for a long while. From what I can recall, it was simply the isolation of it all that led me to try making contact again eventually. Much to my relief, once that connection was re-established it was as if not a single beat had been missed and I slipped right back into where I’d left off with my adolescent theories and beginner attempts at ritual.
Rather than dwelling on it or trying to make sense of something that likely had no sense behind it, I chalked the whole terrible experience up to a momentary lapse of sanity in my mother that at the end of the day only took a little over an hour out of my life. By that metric it was meaningless, so I erased it from mind. That is, until the last few years when it started bubbling back up to the surface of my memory in response to spiritual endeavors of my own. Through processing these experiences I have looked back to see that magical techniques were in fact being used (though she and her congregation would never know it, let alone admit it).
It became apparent that perhaps speaking on this experience could be an exorcism of sorts in its own right. (After all, is that not what the first telling of a traumatic experience is, psychologically speaking?). But more importantly this act could also double as an avenue to get information on the Spiritual Warfare techniques being used today into the hands of those who it is being worked against. These practices are not necessarily mainstream, even within Christian/Evangelical circles, so the chances that someone entirely outside of those spheres (like say, an occultist) would be well versed in the attacks being lobbed against them would be incredibly small.
As such it is my hope that the above information finds its way into the hands of any fellow practitioners who might benefit from ‘knowing thy enemy’.