A Really Bad Vibe
It is not a unique, unheard-of thing for the Devil to thump about and haunt houses. In our monastery in Wittenberg I heard him distinctly… I also heard him once over my chamber in the monastery. But when I realized that it was Satan, I rolled over and went back to sleep again.
Martin Luther
Sometimes demons came in my sleep.
I heard them first at my upstairs window.
It didn’t have glass and the shutter was cracked open; that’s how they got inside.
They clattered down the stairs, banging and stomping and making all kinds of unnecessary noise.
They rounded the corner into the kitchen, sniffing around for the ancestor altar that used to be above the sink. I had taken it down the day I moved in.
It seemed to unsettle them, like a pair of vultures with no place to roost and nothing dead to circle. They began to roam aimlessly.
I watched it all with open eyes, frozen with sleep paralysis—unable to move or speak or breath.
Jesus. I could only think the words in my head. The paralysis swallowed the words up before I could find my voice. Jesus, if I follow You then why does this still happen? I fought to say His name out loud, but fitful sleep took me instead.
Next I knew, Jesus was standing outside on my porch, grasping the handles of my glass double doors. He flung them open with laughter and confidence. The demons skittered a few steps back, avoiding His gaze. He sighed in annoyance and pointed directly at them.
“You guys are giving off a really bad vibe in here and I need you to get out.”
And just like that, they scampered out the door.
A few days later, I sat across from my local friend at a coffee shop. I asked her something I had wondered for a while.
“Can you tell me about the Mid-Autumn festival?”
She paused for a minute, searching for the right English words.
“Have you ever had some bad things in your house, maybe under the bed or in the corner or inside the kitchen cabinets? We know because something will happen when we’re sleeping. We will have bad dreams, and, when we wake up, we can’t move or speak or breathe. Do you know it?”
“Yes, I know it.” Better than you think, I finished in my head.
“For Mid-Autumn Festival, many people will dress up like a lion. Others will beat drums while the lion dances, and the lion scares the evil things out of our houses.”
I’d been told that every culture holds a story of Jesus if you pay attention long enough. This one seemed too easy. A bit of beginner’s luck.
“May I share with you why I like this story?”
She nodded eagerly, proud of her country’s holiday.
“Sometimes I have the kinds of dreams you talk about. I wake up and feel very scared and I can’t move or breathe or speak. But I’m a Christian, so I pray to Jesus when the bad dreams come. The Bible says Jesus is like a lion. When He comes, every bad thing runs away. I like this story because it reminds me of the way Jesus makes the bad things leave.”
I was hoping my little story would impact her more than it did. Instead, she listened politely and moved on to other conversation topics. I was the one who walked away changed—so very impressed by what her culture had shown me about Jesus.
Sometimes the students I mentored asked if I faced spiritual warfare as a missionary. I told them I faced spiritual warfare as a follower of Jesus, regardless of my profession. Sometimes they asked me what to do when demons came in their sleep, and I told them stories about the Lion who makes every bad thing leave. And with His authority and laughter and unshakable confidence, we all learned how to roll over and go back to sleep.