I didn’t grow up in a Christian home. My parents were quite liberal. My family was quite small on my dad’s side. Most of the his family lived in another state. Occasionally we would visit my grandmother on Sundays, as she lived in town. The routine was to her church first and then dinner at her house.
I didn’t like going to church when I was young…the service was way too long. I would always end up staring at the same painted image of Jesus every time. I’d watch the antics of some of the “spirit filled people”, how they would pass out in their seats or jump around and dance. I found it to be too strange, almost funny.
As I grew older, I remember going to an evening church service with the girls in the neighborhood and a neighbor who wanted us to grow up properly. I can’t remember most of the service, but I know I accepted Jesus as my savior before the evening ended. The next day, I remember going to school and telling my friends that I was saved. Well, the response wasn’t positive. They could care less. I think that is when I started to really feel rejected. I thought everyone else around me was a Christian, except me. When I “got saved”, I thought I was part of the in-crowd. That wasn’t the case. I actually became part of the out-crowd.
During this time of confusion, as a blossoming teenager, I became interested in parapsychology and metaphysics because I had experienced instances of extra sensory perception (E.S.P.), clairvoyance and dreams that came true. I didn’t know what to make of it. So I researched my experiences in order to understand myself better. Shortly thereafter, I developed quite a library of books that included the Book of the Dead and other volumes that romanticized evil and death. Well one thing led to another and I was not only reading those books, but also books on magic, witchcraft and eventually Satanism. It was here in Satanism that I felt more comfortable. I thought I learned a lot of things about myself and realized that I had capabilities that weren’t normal. But I was deceived. There were unseen forces working on behalf of Lucifer to make me think that I was causing some things to happen, especially when reciting spells and incantations.
At some point, I became so self absorbed with Satanism that I realized too late that I was very lonely for human contact. I spent so much time with otherworldly beings (demons) that I had practically no friends to speak of. I spent way too much time alone with my “friends” and books that I expelled most normal teenage pursuits from my life – - including boyfriends. My boyfriend was a demonic spirit who was constantly at my side teaching me everything I needed to know. My mother started referring to my bedroom as my dungeon. All of my activity remained relatively quiet. One day I decided that it would be better to die. I tried to kill myself by taking a large dosage of sleeping pills and aspirin (aspirin gives me ulcers to this day) before I went to bed one night. I had a very vivid dream of meeting a man, whose face I never saw, and he told me that I wasn’t staying because I had work to do. I woke up the next day in my bed, as if nothing ever happened. I told no one about what I did and my mom never noticed the missing pills.
Having survived suicide, I delved deeper into the occult. My library grew and I maintained a grimoire. It contained reference material, spells, sketches, and research material. My dad found my grimoire and threw it out with my complete library. I was crushed. There was an altercation that left me literally dazed: all I can remember was my head hitting the wall I was standing next to at the time. I grew to hate him.
It didn’t take me long to restore most of the books in my library, but I could not recreate my notes and this made me very angry. I was so angry that I went deeper than before because I was trying to find new information. It was at this time that I met the same man from my suicide dream in another dream. I was on a scaffold fixing the top of a column, which had come loose from the ceiling, in a gothic cathedral. He had just come down an aisle and looked up at me and asked, “Who is my father?” I looked down at him, as if I was annoyed at being interrupted and replied, “God is…” I started to work again, and at that moment, a wave of something (a presence/air) overcame me in the dream. I felt sick and warm. I woke up from the dream feeling extremely ill. I knew I had just met Jesus in my dream and that he was the one who was in the other dream. I was scared to death. I knew if the “others” found out, I would lose them as my friends.
After this dream, I came upon a name in a book on demonology that stood out from the others. I don’t know why I was drawn to the name, but I decided to make contact. At first, I was told that the name was of a dead person…in this case someone that didn’t exist at all. But being persistent, I continued to make contact and succeeded – - so I thought. This being became my guide. Always being kind, he trained me in many things, but oddly it had nothing to do with Satanism, power or magic. I met angels, demons, and people. I traveled to places I’d never been; ate things, I’ve never eaten, etc. and remembered all of it. [Later, I actually met some of these people in person, and visited most of these places.] This activity, presence, and learning continued for some time. Then one day, after about 12 years of following Satanism, while I was worshiping Lucifer, my guide spoke to me and asked me to save him. I was so devoted to him, I asked how. He told me to read the bible. This was not what I wanted to hear, but I followed his directions.
I went to the library, borrowed a bible and started in the book of Genesis. I didn’t understand most of it. Then it dawned on me, while reading parts of the book that some of the things I had seen in my dreams and visions were in the bible. I was stunned. So naturally, I read more and more. Then one day, I happened to turn on the television just as Pat Robertson was telling a story about a man, who was involved in witchcraft. I started laughing at the little drama they showed because Satanists are more powerful than witches and I thought this man’s plight was pathetic. But, half way through the drama, I saw myself. I realized that I was dying inside. I had witnessed too many horrible visions and dreams – - people being burned alive, Nazi’s killing people, people being murdered for pleasure – - and I knew that I had almost reached the point of no return.
I listened as Pat Robertson talked about the man and his transformation to new life. He asked if anyone wanted a new life and wanted to break free from Lucifer. I said I did and prayed with him to accept my Lord Jesus Christ as my savior. I started crying and questioned my guide about the things I was feeling. He was gone. I never felt his presence again. I cried a lot that day. For the first time, in the 15 years I was a Satanist, my room was absolutely quiet and empty. I heard the voice of the man from my two dreams in my head telling me that he was the only one there with me. I just stared at the TV. I remembered meeting Jesus in my dreams, as it had been 10 years before.
I started to remember other dreams, where there was always a man with me, who I thought was my guide. I questioned this man who was always in my dreams about being around me so much. He responded by saying that he is always around. He even let me touch him to show that he was there. I was always comforted by his presence and always felt safe even in my most horrific dreams, and unlike so many other Satanists, I never felt in anyway that I was in danger from demons or the occasional Satanist I would meet in a bookstore. In the depths of my hate and despair, the one I hated the most protected me on my journey through Hell! I remembered the lady in my neighborhood taking me to church. I remembered telling my friends I was saved. I was stunned to realize that I was a fallen Christian. I walked away from God, but he never gave up on me. Teetering on the edge of falling in love with pure evil and all of the death that goes with it, he reached me before it was too late.
I moved out of my parent’s house to my own place one month later. I felt the need to be on my own. I needed to explore my new life away from the demonic influences that were in the house. The day I moved out, my favorite radio station changed to a Christian format. Huh? Yes, what a blessing! The death metal music I had always listened to on my favorite station was replaced by Christian music by artists such as Steven Curtis Chapman. The only stations I could get on the TV at my new place were the news and Christian channels. My neighbors both upstairs and below were committed Christians. I started attending church where I was baptized after discovering that Jesus was/is God. I had always believed in Jesus and knew he was returning, but this didn’t deter my former activities. I just lived with the knowledge.
I wanted to share my story with you because there is always an alternative to emptiness. There is a whole lot more I could have added, but suffice to say I’ve already written enough. You get the point. You can even substitute drugs, promiscuity, alcohol, and depression for Satanism. Most of what I went through could have been avoided, if only someone had taken the time to tell me what happened to me when I went to that church with my neighbor. Looking back, I am glad I went through what I did because God knew I would tell others. There are some people who don’t share information with others because of pride, or they want to be able to hold something over you, just out of your reach. I believe in sharing information. God is real. Satan is real. He doesn’t rule Hell, he is actually roaming the earth looking for people to murder…very slowly. It gives him pleasure to destroy the very life God created.