[The words in bold express the promptings and revelations of the Holy Spirit in this story.]
I placed my hands gently on Phyllis. One hand on her right shoulder facing me and one hand on her right hip.
To the touch, my mind and spirit are assaulted with feelings of hate. Hate towards me. The sensation is nearly physical, in that I can sense it throughout my mind and in my hands.
Those words float into my mind along with the sensation that I felt in that moment.
I begin to pray in the name of Jesus.
At the mention of His name, Phyllis is physically distressed as I observe her face change from grimace to angry scowl.
As I pray, she keeps growling.
At this precise moment, Jillian walks up.
“Jillian, this is Phyllis. I was praying for her leg. Lay hands on her and tell me what you discern.”
Jillian takes Phyllis’ right calf and foot in her hands gently and begins to pray.
I continue to keep an eye on Phyllis and pray out loud and strong in the name of Jesus.
Now Phyllis begins to curl up her arms in a weird twisty manner. She balls up fists.
Her eyes are shut tight. She clenches her teeth and growls.
Then she begins to speak in a way I do not understand.
She turns her neck sharply and turns to me. We are face to face and I see her eyes now open and dead looking. Hatred.
She stares me straight down, fists balled up, mouth in a visible angry frown. Teeth clenched and snarled lips.
She is staring me down. Something is staring me down inside of Phyllis.
I WILL PUT BLOOD ON YOUR FACE.
I look back at her intently and suddenly speak out, “You have no authority over me. You do not belong here. In the name of Jesus, you release Phyllis now!”
I do not feel afraid.
Phyllis begins to breathe really fast, her chest heaving and her eyes still full of hate. She removes her foot from Jillian’s grasp and steadily walks over to a barbed wire fence with her palms wide open. She is reaching out to the barbed wire.
“Jillian, do not let her get her hands on that barbed wire!” I warn Jillian as she follows close behind Phyllis. In this situation, we just don’t want Phyllis to get hurt.
We come up alongside her, and take hold of her elbows. She turns her body away and twists, and then buckles down to her knees. She softly collapses to the ground and looks confused.
I let Phyllis just sit there and I back away. I stand back and assess the situation. I pray in my head. I just pray.
…this story continues in a short series outlining the events that transpired over the course of the 3 weeks, that eventually lead us out to the village, into Phyllis' home and into an area where demons awaited our arrival.
