I Thought I Was Demon Posessed

Early November 1986, I was driving in the town where I had been pastoring for three years.

Over thirty years later, I don’t remember where I was going, but I remember the moment during that drive that sent my life in a downward spiral for the next two years.

There was nothing in particular on my mind causing me to be worried or concerned, but as I drove down the road that afternoon, a strange and unsettling thought darted into my mind. It seemed like it came out of nowhere. My mind was not wandering. I was not daydreaming. Yet suddenly and without warning, a vicious and hideous thought pierced my mind like a sharp dagger: You must be demon possessed!

I still remember the sting of the accusation that accompanied the thought.

Immediately, I thought to myself, That is the craziest thing I have ever heard. I shook my head, chuckled, and kept driving down the road.

A couple of days later, that same thought invaded again: You must be demon possessed. Again, that horrible rogue thought stung me like a wasp or spider. This time, it lingered in my mind longer than just a moment. In fact, I found myself answering the thought, “I am not demon possessed! Christians are not demon possessed! I am a pastor! This is crazy!” Within a few moments, I became distracted again, and my thoughts drifted to another subject.

In the days that followed, every time I would begin to pray, anxious and tormenting thoughts became more prevalent: There’s no need to pray. You are demon possessed. You know you are. Demon-possessed people think bad things about pastors and churches. God doesn’t love you, or your church would be doing better. God can’t bless a church with a pastor who is demon possessed. That’s the reason your church isn’t growing. How can you think such awful things?

Lustful thoughts invaded my mind as well and were followed by thoughts of persecution and condemnation: See there, you are demon possessed or you wouldn’t think those ugly things. Christians don’t think things like that. Pastors especially don’t think things like that. You’re no good. God cannot possibly love you.

Little by little, the tormenting thoughts became more consuming. Instead of an occasional stinging thought out of nowhere, the harassing thoughts started filling my mind at random times during the day and grew with intensity.

At first, I laughed off the thoughts, kicked out the thoughts, or focused my mind on something else. But over time, as the tormenting thoughts continued, I found myself feeling more and more convinced that these thoughts must be true or I wouldn’t be thinking them. As time passed, the thoughts were getting more difficult to erase and remove from my mind. They lingered longer, and my excuses for them being in my mind started fading.

Over the years, I have been asked dozens of times, “Why would you think something that ridiculous? Didn’t you know better?”

Let me answer that question with a question: Why do you think some of the ridiculous things you think? Why do any of us think the ridiculous things we think? Didn’t I know better? The answer is yes and no. Yes, I knew deep in my heart that I wasn’t demon possessed, but the continual harassing thoughts were chipping away at my confidence. And no, there were things I did not know about taking control of my thoughts and prohibiting Satan’s accusatory darts from invading my mind. I soon discovered the truthfulness of Hosea 4:6, which says, “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.”

I also soon confided in my wife. At first, Amanda, my wife, just laughed and said, “Eddie, that’s silly! Don’t think that way!” But soon, she realized those persistent, tormenting thoughts were starting to adversely affect me. She watched as I would sit and stare as in a trance, never answering her questions because I was paralyzed by tormenting thoughts.

Amanda reassured me that none of those accusatory things I was thinking were true. She reminded me constantly that I was a godly and sincere man, our church was growing, people’s lives were being changed, new families were coming, and so many prayers had been answered. She would grab my hands and pray with me, and I would sense a temporary relief. But over time, even her affirming words were drowned by the continual onslaught of harassing, tormenting thoughts: You are demon possessed. You have never been saved. You are a fake. Christians do not think the thoughts you think.

After a few months of the continual onslaught of these accusations, I finally came to the place where I couldn’t sleep. Friends and family members lovingly said to me, “Just think about something else! Don’t think about it! Get your mind on another subject. Get busy doing something.” Oh, how I wish it would have been that easy and simple. I was losing control of my mind, and I was unable to think about the things I wanted to think about or should think about.

By the end of January 1987, I was in real trouble. I didn’t sleep over three hours at a time. I hated the nights. During the day there was someone to talk to, something to do which kept my mind partially occupied, but at night I was alone with those tormenting thoughts.

Tossing and turning, up and down was my nightly routine. Late at night, I would get so tired and drift off to sleep in my recliner, only to be startled awake by a tormenting dream. Once awake, the harassing thoughts ensued again. Though I tried and tried, I couldn’t turn my mind off. I couldn’t stop the harassing, tormenting thoughts. Fearful, negative, impure, heavy, dark oppressive thoughts bombarded my mind continually while I was awake, and those same thoughts were keeping me from resting at night.

With the precision of a military machine gun, accusatory, condemning, and painful thoughts fired into my mind, over and over and over. Relentless, unending, continual accusations invaded my mind like a tsunami sweeping away every fiber of joy and faith I possessed.

Finally, I was so full of fear I wouldn’t leave my house. Fear had bullied me for so long I was convinced if I left my house, people would see the demons on me. People would be fearful of me and run away.

These anxious thoughts did not continue their onslaught on my mind only but began showing up in my body as well. I was experiencing multiple physical symptoms: tightness in my chest, nausea, and what felt like a vise grip locked around my head. Even my eyesight was literally becoming dim. I would turn every light on in the house because the house always seemed dark. I began to lose my memory and couldn’t remember people’s names. I cried so much that I lived with a constant headache. Amanda took me to three different physicians, but they couldn’t find anything physically wrong.

By this time, the few tormenting thoughts had turned into an avalanche of every negative and fearful thought imaginable: You are losing your mind. You are going crazy. Demon-possessed people lose their minds. They are coming to get you at any time to take you away to a mental hospital. You belong in a mental hospital with other demon-possessed people. You will never see your son grow up. Your grandmother was in a mental hospital, and that is where you will end up. Don’t touch anyone because the demon in you will get on them. You are not a pastor; you have been a phony all along. The devil orchestrated you being at this church to destroy it. You might even be the Antichrist. Somewhere along the way, you committed the unpardonable sin. Your wife is going to leave you. You are weak. It’s never going to get better. You are demon possessed. You are an embarrassment to your family. No one will listen to you when you preach. You’re too messed up. Just go ahead and end your life so your wife and son can live in peace.

Over and over, the suggestions and thoughts of ending my life played out in my mind. Hopelessness and darkness shrouded my thoughts and countenance. I didn’t want to live this way for the rest of my life, so what was the use in living at all? It seemed that no one understood what I was going through, and I was causing my wife misery. Eventually, the church people would get weary with a pastor who was struggling rather than one who was healthy spiritually.

The only time I could slow the onslaught of tormenting thoughts was when I was reading that book and my Bible. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t read twenty-four hours a day. So, as soon as I set the book down or ceased praying, the mental torment ensued.

By the middle of February 1987, I only left my house for church on Sunday and Wednesday. I would go to church and preach, and remarkably, people would come and enjoy the services. We even had people’s lives being changed during that time. But as soon as the service was over, I would run to my office and refuse to shake hands with anyone because I didn’t want the demon in me to get on the church family. Amanda would greet all the people each Sunday and kindly make excuses for me. Then once everyone had left, she would retrieve me from my office and drive me home.

To this very day, Amanda recalls exciting moments in our young son’s life—his first steps, first birthday party, and first words—but I don’t remember them. My mind was paralyzed. I was bound and broken.

Why was this happening to me? After all, I was raised in a good home with wonderful parents. We all went to church every Sunday and Wednesday. My grandfather was the pastor of our church, and my grandmother oversaw the women’s ministry. My dad was an usher, and my mother was the church organist.

Since I was ten years old, I aspired to be like my grandfather and pastor a congregation. I was always healthy. I had never been in trouble. I was the first in my family to graduate from college. I married my beautiful high school sweetheart and was excited about being in the ministry, helping people, and raising a family.

But in 1987 I found myself messed up, thinking I was losing my mind, going crazy, and demon possessed. By day, I was a prisoner in our little house, and by night, I was paralyzed with tormenting thoughts. I was unable to concentrate, unable to work, unable to eat, and unable to sleep. I couldn’t tell my friends in the church what I was experiencing for fear that they might leave the church. Seriously now, who wants to attend a church where the pastor is demon possessed and going crazy?  I couldn’t tell my ministry peers of the struggle because they might tell the church officials who would dismiss me as pastor.

 I had a grandmother and other family members who had spent time in a mental hospital before they died. In those years, health care for the mentally ill and emotionally challenged was not as helpful as it is today. I had dreams and nightmares of being admitted to such a place against my will, and I would imagine my little boy waving at me through the metal bars just like I waved goodbye to my grandmother many years earlier.

All hope seemed lost, my ministry was over, and I was losing my mind. I was convinced I would soon lose my family and my freedom. Then one Saturday in February 1987, everything changed.

Jesus Appeared to Me

Amanda had been asking daily if I would accompany her and our toddler to eat breakfast and grocery shop on an upcoming Saturday morning. Since I was no longer leaving the house, she understood I needed a lot of encouragement to venture out.

Reluctantly, I agreed to join them and spent the next few days psyching myself up to leave the house. I quoted scriptures on overcoming fear and continually read my Bible and prayed, but the tormenting thoughts seemed to swell even louder and more exaggerated: As soon as people see you in the restaurant, they will know you are crazy. You are an embarrassment to your family. The demon in you will manifest in public. Worse yet, the police will be called. You need to stay in your house where everyone will be safe from you. You are demon possessed and losing your mind!

Saturday morning arrived, and we gathered enough toys to keep our toddler entertained for a few hours before heading to a local restaurant. The restaurant was full of people laughing and talking. We were seated, and our breakfast was ordered. I was doing okay until, without warning, an avalanche unleased. A wave of negative thoughts began pounding my mind: Look around! These people know about you. They know you are demon possessed. You are losing your mind. Get out of here! The demon will get on your waitress. You are going crazy.

Over and over, the thoughts raced into my mind, firing at me so fast I seemed powerless to resist or put up a fight to stop them. I started physically shaking my head and rubbing my forehead to stop the thoughts. But to no avail, the harassment continued.

Within minutes, I felt like the room was closing in on me. Sweating profusely, my head was pounding, and the noise level seemed to intensify. Amanda knew something was wrong and asked if I was okay. I told her I needed to leave.

“Please stay! It will be okay,” she said squeezing my hand.

I tried to fight through, but I couldn’t take it. I had to get out of there. I quickly jumped up and rushed out of the restaurant, running to the car.

Tears poured down my cheeks as I realized the thoughts were true: I am losing my mind. They’re going to put me away. I will never be able to go out in public again. I will die in a mental hospital. I can’t get this demon out of mind. I will end up in hell. I don’t want to go to hell. I am going to lose everything—my family, my house, my church. Everything will be gone because I am crazy.

A few minutes later, Amanda and our toddler came to the car—both of them in tears. I told her to get me home. Neither of us will ever forget that drive home in silence. My mind was racing uncontrollably, and I seemed powerless to do anything but listen to all the negative, accusatory thoughts and images flooding my mind.

As we pulled into our driveway, Amanda told me we needed groceries, and she would take our son on to the store with her.

“Okay,” I said, quietly walking into the house feeling every bit a man defeated. Stumbling into our den, I fell face first into the carpet, weeping uncontrollably.

In anguish I screamed out, “Oh, Lord, I am truly losing my mind. What happened to me? How did I get this way? I am dying. Please, Lord Jesus, come and help me.”

Hopelessness and helplessness overwhelmed my heart and mind. I knew somehow this was the end. I realized I was not going to get well; I did not know how to get well. I could not even explain how this whole mental and emotional ordeal had started or how I had spiraled to such depths of complete defeat and despair.

In desperation I screamed again, “Lord Jesus, I am dying. Please come help me.”

I don’t know how long I laid with my face buried in the carpet, but eventually I stopped crying and became quiet.

Suddenly, I sensed something unusual. It was at that moment, I realized I was no longer in the room alone.

As I raised my head, I saw a man’s feet, and on the feet were sandals. At first, I thought my neighbor must have seen me come home and came to check on me. So, I quickly raised up on my hands and knees, not wanting him to see me in a such a broken position.

To my utter amazement, standing in front of me was Jesus. He wore a white robe, and His hair was long, touching His shoulders. His facial features resembled the renderings we often see in pictures and paintings.

His presence left me in awe.

Immediately, fear and anxiety which had been my constant companion for months were gone. A calming sense of peace overwhelmed and quieted the tormenting thoughts that plagued me.

 It was as if the entire world stood still.

Different types of thoughts now flooded my mind: Was this real? Had I died and gone to heaven? Was I hallucinating? Was this a dream?

Pausing to look around the room, I realized to my surprise I was still in my den. I didn’t say a word—I couldn’t. Jesus was still standing in front of me. I leaned back on my knees without taking my eyes off Him.

I don’t know how long we looked at each other, but I remember His sweet smile.

“Eddie, what would you have Me do for you?” He asked.

Quickly, I replied, “Lord Jesus, these thoughts are killing me.”

Jesus smiled and said, “I told you thoughts are as vapors, smoke.”

Immediately, my mind went back months earlier to a prayer time right after this tormenting ordeal began. In prayer, I had asked the Lord why I was having these crazy thoughts, and a strong impression of the words vapors, smoke rose up from my spirit inside me. Being young in walking in the Spirit, I didn’t pay it any attention because it didn’t make any sense to me.

Yet on this day, I realized the Spirit of God told me months earlier that the deception of Satan’s attack is nothing more than a smoke screen—without strength and power. His arsenal is empty lies.

In retrospect, those months I lived in anguish, I had God’s Word on the subject. The Lord had faithfully and early on revealed to me the truth about those tormenting thoughts, but I didn’t pick up on it. The answer He gave me was a subtle impression that came in prayer, but I was listening and looking for something more dramatic and spectacular.

Since that day, I have learned to listen for the subtle word from the Lord, the still small voice as mentioned in 1 Kings 19:12.    The visions, dreams, and spectacular events from God are wonderful and dynamic, but they are usually the exception and not the rule. In fact, my spectacular visitations only occurred when I was in real trouble. If I had taken heed to the subtle word of the Lord earlier—when He first spoke to me—I would have saved myself much heartache and torment.

Since I have learned this principle of how the Spirit normally works and guides, I don’t seek visions or spectacular manifestations. I am satisfied when I get my answer from my daily devotions, sense the inward witness of the Holy Spirit (Romans 8:14, Proverbs 20:27), or hear the still small voice (1 Kings 19:11-13).

As soon as Jesus said, “I told you thoughts are as vapors, smoke,” He reached down and touched the right side of my head and began pulling out of my head what appeared to be a banner with writing on it.

The only way I can describe the banner is to say it was similar to a huge banner you would see stretched across the road announcing some special event in a city or town. Once Jesus pulled it out completely, I could see the writing on it which said, “You are demon possessed.”

That was the main tormenting thought which had started the entire nightmare. That was the thought that popped into my mind several months earlier while I was driving down the road. That was the recurring thought that tormented me continually that I could not turn off or find a response to stop it. That was the evil thought that was driving me crazy.

To my amazement, Jesus blew on the banner, and it disappeared like a vapor of smoke.

Over the years, as I have replayed this scene many times, I realize Jesus did not try to logically reason away the thought. Neither did He spend any time answering the accusation. Jesus simply destroyed it.

One of Satan’s most effective schemes is seducing us into a mental question-and-answer game in our minds. I discovered that every time I mentally came up with a logical answer, Satan would always come back with another question; the game never stopped. I found myself on the defensive and eventually unable to adequately satisfy all the questions that produced doubt and fear. If Satan can keep us in the arena of logical thought, he will defeat us every time.

Then without saying a word, Jesus reached down again and touched the right side of my head and pulled out another banner. As He pulled it out, I could see writing on it that said, “God doesn’t love you.”

 This was the other thought that tormented me over and over, day and night. By that point, I was convinced I was beyond the love of God because of the harassing and evil thoughts flooding my mind. I remember thinking that I must be beyond the love of God or these thoughts would cease. I had never heard anyone in ministry share this type of experience, and I knew God loved ministers. So I concluded that if I was experiencing such torment, then God must not love me. But what had I done to cause Him not to love me? This was the thought process that invaded my mind daily and wrestled with me continually.

Jesus never answered the question of why this was happening to me. Neither did He give me a revelation on how to logically respond to the tormenting thoughts. Jesus simply destroyed the thought.

Once again, without saying a word, Jesus blew on the banner with the writing on it, and it evaporated like a puff of smoke. I sat on my knees in total silence.

It was as if I were somewhere else, but I realized I was kneeling in my den. I remember Jesus was not in a hurry, and He smiled often at me. With each smile came an overwhelming sense of peace and love that I had never before experienced.

A third time, Jesus reached down and pulled out another white banner out of the side of my head. To my amazement this banner had no writing on it but was totally blank. Instead of blowing on it, as He had done the other two banners, He wadded it up into a paper ball.

As I watched this scene unfold, Jesus then said, “Eddie, there’s your problem!” pointing to the corner of the room.

There in the corner of my den, I saw two hairy looking creatures that appeared to be the size of monkeys. I couldn’t really tell how tall they were because they were huddled together in the corner hiding and cowering in fear.

Jesus looked back at me and then looked away toward the monkey creatures again. He did this a couple of times. Each time He looked at them, they would quake in fear. I could see the hair all over their bodies shaking. When Jesus looked at me, peace flooded me, but when He looked at them, they violently trembled in fear.

Without saying anything else, Jesus threw the wadded-up banner toward the two monkey-looking creatures. When He did, they screeched a horrible scream and grabbed each other. I watched them for a few moments. They shook and whimpered with their heads buried in the corner of the room, refusing to look at Jesus.

The whole time this scene played out, I never experienced any fear. Even though I was in the presence of demon spirits, I never felt anxious or nervous. The presence of Jesus completely drove out the fear. Isn’t that what the Word of God says, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear…” (1 John 4:18).

It was apparent the two demon spirits were experiencing a lot of fear. I have purposely remembered that scene many times during the years when fear tries to invade me. I remember it was the devil’s imps which were afraid—not Jesus or myself.

After a few moments, I looked back at Jesus, and once again He smiled at me. Then instantly, He was gone. I didn’t see Him ascend or even slowly disappear. He just was gone. I quickly glanced to the corner where the monkey creatures were, and they also were gone.

I don’t know how long I sat on the floor after this occurred. I remember sitting there simply weeping. I wasn’t weeping as I had for the past several months due to fear and torment but because of the incredible peace and rest I was experiencing in my mind.

Sometime later, Amanda and our toddler returned home. She walked into the den and found me crying. She asked if I was okay. I shook my head yes, but I could not talk. I tried to tell her what had happened, but all I could do was cry. For the next three days, I cried continually, but it was not a cry of anguish. I was completely enveloped in an overwhelming sense of peace, rest, and comfort. I was unable to put sentences together without crying. The next few nights, I slept like a baby and only woke a couple of times during the night. When I did wake up, there was no fear or anxiety, and I was able to drift back off to sleep.

During the next few days, I remained in my house, but it was no longer because of fear. Jesus’ presence remained on me. It was as if a blanket of peace, comfort, and rest covered me. I didn’t really understand what it was, but I didn’t want to lose it. My mind was at rest. Tormenting thoughts ceased. The nagging feeling of fear was gone. Chaos was silent. The headaches went away, the constant nausea disappeared, and I didn’t feel the tightening vise grip around my head any longer. I even started noticing little things, like the weather, beautiful smells, and the fun behavior of my toddler.

Although I didn’t talk a lot to Amanda, I was once again “present” with her, not just existing in the same room. I wasn’t lost in my thoughts or staring off into space as I had done for weeks at a time prior to the visitation from Jesus.

Three days later, I left my house, and I felt normal for the first time in weeks. I went to the church and spent several hours in my office. I remember kneeling to pray and, once again, all I could do was cry. On a couple of occasions, I simply sat on the floor in my office and cried for several hours. It was not a dreadful cry! I was overwhelmed with thankfulness that the torment and fear were gone. I simply could not successfully articulate the words thank you, so I cried. I believe God understood my admiration and appreciation for what He had done for me.

Over the next two weeks, it was if I walked on a cloud. My mind was at rest, I was laughing, and some normalcy returned to our home. For the first time in weeks, I started thinking about our future and looking forward to things. I had experienced something remarkable, and it changed my life.

Several months following the visitation, I still thought about those few moments with Jesus every single day. I prayed and ask the Lord never to let me forget it, nor interpret it incorrectly. I also questioned within myself what the third banner represented. It had no writing on it, and Jesus didn’t evaporate it by blowing on it as He did the other two banners. He wadded the third banner up as a paper ball and threw it at the demons.

Several years later, while I was in my office studying and praying for a Sunday message, an unusual presence of the Lord filled the room. Many times, while studying I will get excited about something I learn or some thought the Holy Spirit drops in my heart, but this moment was totally different. The tangible presence of the Lord came into the room. In fact, it was so tangible, I stopped studying and literally expected to see Jesus or an angel. I didn’t, so I sat quietly. It was then I heard Jesus speak. I don’t think I heard them with my physical ears, but they were so real and plain that it almost sounded audible.

He spoke these words:

“I am going to tell you now about the third banner. It represents the lie that Satan has used on people forever. You kept asking, ‘Why is this happening to me?’ Satan heard that question and answered it with this deception: ‘You have done something sinful to bring this on yourself.’ But you never were able to figure out anything you did even after confessing and asking forgiveness for everything you could remember multiple times.”

Then the Lord reminded me of the dozens of people whom I have ministered to, prayed for, and talked with over the years who have all asked the same thing: “Have I committed an unpardonable sin and opened the door to this harassment?”

Do you also have this question? Are you tormented with the thought that you have done something sinful or wrong that has opened the door to harassment in your mind even though you’ve confessed and repented of everything you can think of that’s wrong? Stop! It’s a trick of the devil to keep you in doubt and fear.

Look at what Jesus said:

Nevertheless I tell you the truth. It is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you; but if I depart, I will send Him to you. And when He has come, He will convict the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment (John 16:7-8).

Jesus said that when the Holy Spirit comes, He will convict or bring evidence of sin. Satan, however, accuses without evidence. If Satan can keep you questioning and doubting your righteousness in Christ, he will hinder you from exercising your rightful authority over him. If you think you must have done something you don’t know about to cause the pain in your life, take that thought captive. It’s a lie!

It's been a little over 30 years since my visitation from Jesus. But I can honestly say those two thoughts that harassed me the most and caused me such torment—you are demon possessed and God does not love you—are now so far removed from my thought life it’s as if I never had them. They tried to get back into my mind, but their power was evaporated by the breath of Jesus!

After the visitation from Jesus, the Bible was no longer just a book of great stories to preach about, but it had become a life force to me. Through God’s Word, Jesus taught me how to stay free of mental torment and chaos. He wants to do the same for you!