By Nicole Marie Hilton, November 17, 2019
If the veil were lifted, and we could see the machinations of the dark forces arrayed against our freedom and happiness, we would likely be both terrified and more determined to reject their snares.
I was in the throes of an addiction which had plagued me since I was 8 or 9.
I knew it was wrong. I had always known it was wrong, to tell you the truth. The way to tell if something is wrong is to ask the question: “Does this edify my soul in some way, or does it bring me down?”
But—like with food—it gave me a release. Something to dull the pain and confusion of what seemed like endless years of suffering. I didn’t know why I was suffering—and no one else seemed to, either. I just knew I was.
Nevertheless, I have this addiction to thank for serving a purpose for some time—it probably saved my life numerous times by numbing my suicidal feelings.
But, even though it was the lesser of two evils, all my doubts pertaining to this question of whether it was right or wrong for me were settled once and for all the night I saw him.
I was in the basement of my parent’s house, laying in my bed, indulging in this addiction. The room was almost completely dark, save the starlight coming in through the window.
All of a sudden, the room seemed to get darker. Then, to my left, I felt a presence of pure, unadulterated, evil come into the room. I turned my head and saw a man standing beside my bed. I sensed he was grinning—I can’t tell you how I knew this, because he was of a substance that was darker than dark. He was so dark, and so evil, you could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife.
He started pacing back and forth, along the line of my body, like a panther watching its prey. He was relatively short—perhaps 5’5”, and his gaze was fixed directly on me as he walked 1, 2, 3 steps down to my feet, and then 1, 2, 3 steps back up towards my head. Besides the tangible evil, I could also sense pure delight emanating from him. He was so happy—in a very twisted way—that I was indulging in that addiction. It delighted him to no end.
In the split second I saw him and took all these details in, something else came through: this dark being—this demonic evil spirit—was assigned to me, to keep me addicted and under the influence of Satan, to bind me as his for the rest of my life. And he knew he was doing a good job of it.
Although I couldn’t hear him with my ears, the message he was sending me was absolutely clear. He was saying, “You are MINE.”
A jolt of fear struck my heart. I leapt up and ran past him—missing him by inches—towards the light switch. After light flooded the room, I looked at where he was. I couldn’t see him—but I knew he was still there.
I cast out in the name of Christ. I was so scared, I tried to convince myself he was little more than a friendly spirit who came into my room to say “hi”. I even grabbed a piece of paper and drew the entire scene as if he were a dark Gumby playing an innocent prank on me. This untruthful retelling of the facts allowed me to fall asleep in my room, where the dark visitor had been only minutes before.
But in the morning, I knew the truth: I would never indulge in that addiction again.
I wish that was the end of the story, but as addictions go, I only kept the promise for about two years until I fell back into it again, saying to myself, it’s harmless. It’s even a good thing in so many ways.
It wasn’t until I later broke the addiction for good, that I noticed the measure of light I’d been missing once more rush into my life. I then renewed my vow to never give that evil man another chance to exercise power over me again.
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