A Spirit of Fear Attacks, But Is Forced to Leave. Sometimes When You Think It's Just You, It's Not.

First: How I Ended Up On A Worship Team

When our sweet time at the stately old heritage home ran out, one of my roommates and I decided to get an apartment together. Soon, near the corner of 4th Ave and Balsam Street, about five blocks up the hill from popular Kits Beach, I found a beautiful little 2-bedroom with hardwood floors, a pretty kitchen, and a gorgeous maple tree just outside the living room window. After sundown, a street lamp would cast perfectly defined, gently fluttering shadows of a thousand leaves on the wall--a captivating work of art. It was amazing to me, and I felt incredibly blessed!

Before the move, I had started attending a little church which held services on Friday nights and Sunday mornings in a quaint, old wooden building, which was now only about a

twenty-minute walk away from the new apartment. The warm and friendly regulars included a vibrant, active group of young adults, some of whom would later become my closest friends.

One Friday night, after the service, I sat in a pew listening to the worship team (the band) casually hanging out by the keyboard and practicing a song. I was only slightly acquainted with them at that point, but they looked unintimidating enough, and I love music, so the thought drifted into my mind, 'If they are truly my family as the scriptures say, then I should be able to walk right up there and join them.' So I tried. And they welcomed me! And just for the fun of it, I picked up a pair of maracas and started to play. Then, after a song or two, an older fellow, who also had been lingering in the afterglow of the service and apparently observing the situation, quietly approached me with what appeared to be a carton of colored eggs. He picked up a green one and handed it to me and simply said, "I want to give this to you." He smiled and walked away. It was a percussion instrument! A shaker. The first one I ever owned.

What that man was doing there with a dozen shakers, I can only guess. I never got his name, and I never saw him again. I'd love to thank him once more, and I have plenty of questions for him now that will have to wait. Who was he?? Who indeed... What had influenced him to go that church on that particular night? Did the Holy Spirit tell him to go and watch for a young woman who will walk up and connect with the musicians? Or -- Go, and I will tell you what to do when you get there? It's not a stretch to imagine the Spirit doing this type of thing--it has happened before. Whatever the case, it was life-changing for me, God's perfect timing and, it seems, His orchestration. I was just being myself and wanting to be part of the family, but the events of the evening opened a door for me to eventually join the team, which presented both a continual personal challenge and a wonderful source of joy to me. On a birthday, I was gifted a set of claves, another percussion instrument, from a team member. And since then, I have collected a variety of percussion items, and have, over the years, been thrilled to find my spot on several other worship teams.

That was a very special happening for me, but, as they say, wait!! There's more!! That was only the lead up to a miraculous touch from God.

Second: An Opportunistic Evil Spirit?

One summer night, I was feeling restless and having trouble getting to sleep. I tossed and turned as the time slipped by, when suddenly I was startled by some kind of ruckus going on nearby; men's voices shouted angrily and it was clear that some kind of violence was taking place out there in the dark. I couldn't see where it was coming from, but it seemed to be in the direction of our parking lot just beyond a dumpster, and we lived only one floor up, so it felt very close. In all the yelling, I recognized the words, "I'm gonna break your leg!!" And I heard a man howling like a wounded animal. I was terrified for whoever the victim was and, adrenalin rushing, grabbed the phone to call 911. Moments later, the police must have arrived, because everything quieted down and a calm settled on the neighborhood... but not on my physical and mental state. As you can well imagine, I was now wide awake!

Sleep continued to evade me. Hours passed, and the dim light of dawn was beginning to appear. I suppose it was about 5 o'clock in the morning, when I heard a different sound, strange, like swishing sounds that a person can make with their mouth, and a soft chuckle. I peered out the window to the sidewalk below and saw two men, one crawling on his hands and knees up the sidewalk from the direction of Kits Beach, the other walking slowly beside the crawling man and making the gentle, controlled moves of Tai Chi. He paused only to look down occasionally at his crawling companion and laugh at his condition.

Now--I know--this was probably just a simple case of too much to drink, just a couple of silly guys gradually making their way home after the party. But somehow, as the pair slowly made their way past my window, I was struck with how pathetic the scene was. I deeply felt how sad it was for two human beings to find themselves in such a meaningless situation! Perhaps I was connecting with the many other times in my past when I had seen individuals who had completely lost themselves in drunkenness and drug intoxication; for instance, I still have an mental image of a sad, young man many years ago with mud on his clothes and face after he'd been partying non-stop for a day and a half at an outdoor festival in my home town. More heart rending is knowing that years later he committed suicide. And I remember well a different time when I had driven myself home in the wee hours of the morning, but because of alcohol, couldn't remember the drive the next day, only the empty feeling that was beginning to creep in, despite all the good that was in my life.

So, why all this depressing detail? Well, it's because I'm trying to explain (to myself as well) a deep sorrow that overwhelmed me that disturbing night at my apartment in Kitsilano, and which I couldn't shake off the next morning, which was Sunday; and I was on the "worship team" at church that day! I felt so burdened with grief that I could not muster enough energy to imagine singing praises to God! I wanted only to cry. The tears weren't flowing, but I felt at any moment they might start. When I got to the church, I told the team leader, who was now a good friend of mine, that I didn't think I could do it, that I was just too sad to get up there on stage and sing, and I couldn't understand why. Immediately, she urged our little group to sit down and pray--another faith-filled friend who believed in the power of prayer. After a moment or two, God's Spirit told her to pray against a "spirit of fear", which didn't make any sense to me, because I didn't feel afraid, just sad. But as she earnestly prayed while the rest of the team agreed, I felt something invisible being gently pulled up and off of my body, both internally and externally; a heavy oppression left, and in seconds I felt light as a feather! Then an unfamiliar euphoria overtook me completely; I felt radiant, and the atmosphere seemed to almost sparkle. I am convinced that some creepy, dark demonic presence had taken advantage of the situation during the night to try to make itself a permanent attachment to my soul. I later learned that trauma can open a door to the malevolent powers in the spirit realm; but I have also learned again and again through experience that there is infinitely greater power in the Name of Jesus!

The worship service went ahead as scheduled and the bright, joyful sensation stayed with me the whole day. And like a cherry on top, when I thought it couldn't get any better, afterwards in the yard out front of the church, a young mom trotted over to me and said that her toddler mistook me for an angel holding his friend on my hip, and he was wondering why an angel was doing that. So funny! It may have had something to do with the long, pale pink and white dress my roommate had insisted on lending me that day, but perhaps it was more because he was sensing the wonderful presence of Jesus swirling around us all.