Testimony Share

What I am about to tell you seems extraordinary. I have kept my testimony a secret for 15 years due to overwhelming guilt and shame. A few months ago Jesus delivered me from these feelings and I have finally felt free to tell people the reality of Satan. But most of all, I want my testimony to show people the overwhelming love of Christ!

Let no one be found among you who sacrifices their son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. Deuteronomy 18:10-11

I remember the night I closed the shades in my room, knelt down on my knees, clasped my hands together and whispered my first prayer to Satan. I had just turned 15 years old and had already read cover to cover, The Satanic Bible. As an ambitious, type A, first born my personality always drove me to dive into my interests with strong enthusiasm. My motto that I quoted people was that I never dabble, I am always serious. I never participate in anything half way. This meant that my interest in Satanism would not be done half-heartedly but with my entire being. In the complete darkness of my room I prayed to my dark lord to send me someone who was affiliated with a group that could teach me more. There were no cell phones or the internet to connect with other Satanists at that time. I relied solely on Satan’s ability to answer my prayer.

To escape the pain of the rejection of my workaholic father I routinely took a bus to a local mall to walk and peruse the stores. My favorite store was Spencer’s Gifts; an eccentric store that catered to the goth crowd. Many weeks after my dark prayer I stood in Spencer’s Gifts admiring the occult necklaces. Dragon’s wrapped around swords, skulls with red eyes and pentagrams were displayed against the wall. As I stood wondering which necklace I might purchase a boy of 17 years old walked up behind me. I was aware of his presence but ignored him thinking he was also scanning the necklace selection. I heard him clear his throat and then he said, “Are you interested in Satanism?” I turned around surprised at his question. I could tell he had directed the question at me. “Yes” I answered. He introduced himself and then told me if I was interested in learning more that he could take me to a group meeting. I told him I did not have a car and could not drive. He offered to pick me up at the mall, drive me to the meeting and back. We exchanged numbers, he told me the date and time and we parted ways. That day my prayer had been answered.

The first meeting was held at the priest’s house by the name of Mark. The men (called warlocks) went with Mark to shoot off his guns in the wooded area behind his house while many of the witches sat around a kitchen table practicing and discussing the nuances of tarot cards, led and taught by a co-priest named Jane. I was welcomed with open arms. This was a sly tactic that slowly introduced and acclimated me to the cult practices. I learned that I had walked into one of the biggest, most organized Satanic cults. My city was just one of many that had a chapter (called a Magic Circle) affiliated with it. As time went on I was invited to more meetings until eventually I was initiated with a dark ceremony that included a blood covenant to Satan through drinking goat’s blood in a silver chalice. From then on, I was invited to most of the rituals and ceremonies. I learned how to do ritualistic curses and spells, became adept at tarot cards, summon and speak to demons and intimidate and manipulate the one group of people they hated the most, Christians. I had become a satanic witch and I was hooked on the power that Satan had given me.

From then on I served Satan faithfully. I was given power, control and anything I wanted. But it came with a price. Satan was slowly destroying my life before my eyes but without me realizing it. I smoked regularly and went on drinking binges with friends. My body was given away to men much older than me sometimes two at the same time. Vile lust rituals did not faze me. I participated in destruction rituals that cursed people usually with them ending up hurt and sometimes killed. I had become so numb to the supernatural darkness that surrounded me that I had little reaction to anything out of the ordinary. A horrific murder on the news did not even make me blink. One less person in this world is how I thought.

My normal life at home was falling apart. Hatred consumed my heart for Christians and my family who were Christian were not exempt. My sister became afraid of me while my parent’s were called every vile name I could think of. I once told my mother, who was getting ready to fly, that I hoped her plane crashed. I saw the tears in her eyes well up but I had no reaction because I meant it. As my parent’s raided my room looking for occult items in hopes of helping me, I hired a warlock to throw a curse on them. I dreamt of the day when I graduated high school, could leave the house and worship Satan freely. Then I could truly be uninhibited and maybe one day become so powerful that I would lead my city’s group and move up the ranks.

Unbeknownst to me my parent’s had friends and most of the churches in my suburb praying for me. God does answer prayers and many times He had His hand on me when I never knew it. I was turning 17 and was gaining in satanic power. The only thing inhibiting me was my parent’s efforts to stop my involvement. I was trying new and different tactics to thwart their efforts but one of them ended up backfiring on me!

I was walking through my parent’s room when I noticed a black book sitting on a table. The title was, In the Name of Satan, written by Bob Larson. The title caught my attention as anything with the word Satan immediately caught my eye. I picked it up and read the back cover. My mouth dropped and I remember saying out loud, “Oh no!” The back cover discussed how to stop the devil’s plans and I just knew they had bought this book to find tactics on how to stop my cult involvement! I opened the middle of the book and read a few pages. I remember thinking, this is a book full of lies and this Christian author is an idiot! Yet why else would my parent’s buy this book unless it was meant to give them ideas on ending my involvement in Satanism? So I decided I was going to be a step ahead of them. I would read this book from cover to cover, figure out the strategies and be prepared when they implemented them.

For the next several weeks when I had the chance I read the book. The more I read it the more I realized it had nothing to do with how to stop your child on being involved in a cult. Yet I continued to read it in hopes that I might find out a few strategies that my parent’s planned on using; just in case. One day while lying on my mother’s bed, reading the book, I began to cry. The tears increased and I wept and wept. There was nothing in the book that I was reading that I could point to the reason behind the tears yet I could not stop. I had not cried in years as it was considered a form of weakness to Satanists. Why cry when you can get revenge? I tossed the book away from me, frightened that it had made me cry. I was not weak! I wiped my tears from my face and got up to look at my appearance in my mother’s mirror. I had to make sure I wiped away all the tears and not look splotchy and red when my parent’s came home. They could not know I had been crying. I stared at my reflection, wiped away my tears and then noticed my eyes. They were changing before me from my light blue to an icy, glowing blue shade. I had seen many things in my time as a Satanist including the actual appearances of demons. Yet watching my eyes change colors and seeing the malevolent evil and viciousness of what inhabited me was so frightening that I screamed. I ran out of the room in fear. For the next several days I contemplated and cried over what had happened. I could not go to my priests for they could not know I had become weak. Plus I knew they would rationalize all that happened to me. Surely my parent’s would not help me as I had rejected them. I was alone.

One day I stood in my family’s kitchen fixing my supper. I stirred my meal and immediately my thoughts turned to what had occurred three days ago. I began to cry in despair. I had to figure out what to do. Something was wrong with me and I was so confused. As the tears rolled down my cheeks I heard a male, audible voice behind me speak and say, “Tiffany, write to your mom.” I turned around startled. No one was home. What was going on? Am I hearing voices now? I decided it had to be my imagination and I turned back around to continue preparing my supper. Then I heard it one more time. The audible voice repeated the first instruction, “Tiffany, write to your mom.” The voice seemed to be trying to woo me as if I was the most important person in the world at that moment. Jesus was behind me letting me know that no matter how much I hated Him, no matter how much I had done to confuse and intimidate lukewarm Christians and no matter how many times I had blasphemed His name; I was loved by Him.

In an instance, the last, repeated, instruction made total sense. I quit my supper preparations, ran to my room, got out pencil and paper and spilled my guts. I admitted everything to my mother. I sealed the letter in an envelope, nervously laid it on her pillow and waited till she arrived home from work. Would she reject me like I had her? I lay on my bed and cried over my confusion and despair.

I heard my mother arrive home and I waited anxiously. Eventually she walked into my room, sat on my bed and we discussed my letter. I had come to the realization that my spirit was dying. I was killing my spirit bit by bit. I served a master that cared for me no more than we care about the ant that walks on the sidewalk. I could not do this anymore yet the fear of what Satan would do if I betrayed him hung in my inner most thoughts. A blood covenant meant an automatic death curse should anyone betray and leave Satan. But my mother gave me confidence that Jesus would love and protect me. If I gave my life to Him then this darkness would be over. That night, January 11, 1997, I gave my life to my loving Master, Jesus Christ.

Jesus has taken me from darkness to light. Many times my loving Lord has helped me and blessed me. I graduated from college with a B.S. in Psychology and an MBA in Business. I have a beautiful home, a wonderful church and best of all, a loving Lord that cares for me deeply!

My testimony is not to glorify Satan and his works. It is to tell you that no matter what you have done you can be forgiven. Jesus loves you and desires more than anything for you to be with Him. There is nothing you have done that cannot be forgiven. The Bible says, “But if we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins, and he will purge us from all our evil.” He can purge you from any and all evil that you have committed. His only request is that you come as you are and confess to Him your sins. The day you do is the day you will find the peace and joy you have been seeking. The darkness will be over and His light will fill you!