Open Up! Police!

Nine minutes in, and it looked like we’d won.

Anne’s tension washed away.
The pain? Gone.
Her face? Calm.
Even the atmosphere felt lighter.

We sat there breathing happy sighs of relief.
I started recapping the win, narrating like it was a war story.
Anne smiled. It finally felt done.

Then, all at once, she winced hard.

She leaned forward while grabbing her head.

The pain was back.

Stabbing this time.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.
Anne wasn’t some casual Christian.

Over the past year, she’d seen chronic pain healed, injuries reversed, God had even taught her how to lay hands on herself and command healing, in Jesus’ name.

Time after time, it worked.

But out of nowhere, her body started glitching.
Stabbing headaches. Shooting nerve pain.
A blackout that put her in the ER.

The doctors said “micro-seizure,” but couldn’t pin down the cause.
Legally, that meant Anne wasn’t allowed to drive for six months.

She was stuck.
At home.
Alone.

I showed up that afternoon to investigate.

“I think this is a spirit of infirmity,” I told her. 

Anne gave me a worried expression.

“One thing I want you to know: your spirit isn’t possessed. That part of you is sealed in Christ, untouchable. What we’re dealing with is a squatter. Something trying to torment your body to change your beliefs about God’s goodness and who you are. Even more than the pain… that’s why we’ve got to kick it out”

Anne nodded.

“The best way to handle an unclean spirit like this is to move aggressively.”

I continued, “Think of it this way. I could flick someone’s arm a hundred times and eventually leave a bruise, or throw a hard punch. Same outcome, but one takes longer and is far more annoying.”

“We’re going to throw that punch.”

She gave a grin and agreed. “Let’s do it.”

I laid hands on her shoulder and began commanding the spirit to leave in Jesus’ name, firmly and directly.

The pain didn’t leave. It began to move.
From her temple to her neck.
Then her neck to her back.
It bounced around, searching for a new hiding spot.

As I commanded, Anne remained steady, praying quietly.
No fear.
No flinching.

After nine minutes of continual commanding and prayer, it stopped.

It was gone.
Or so we thought…

As I blathered on about our spiritual victory, Holy Spirit spoke to Anne urgently.

“Stop him and say something. It’s not gone yet!”

She interrupted me and I stopped mid-sentence.

I laid hands and began commanding: harder, sharper, more resolute.
Anne prayed with fire from the Holy Spirit.

The unclean spirit fought back much harder this time.
As we pressed in, progress felt slow.
Anne’s pain kept ebbing and flowing, stabbing at her head, neck and shoulder over and over again.