That night my obsessive-compulsive behavior was excessive as I was led by the Voice and its commands. My behavior was manic as I constantly had to cleanse my hands of the negative energy they touched. I eventually retired to my room as the Voice had promised that that night was going to be the night I received my golden halo. The golden halo was my reward for striving through my lifetime of suffering and struggles. The Devil’s grooming continued. With the lights turned down, the caressing Voice reviewed my life with me and praised me for overcoming so much adversity in my life. 

The time finally came to receive my halo, and I was excited. The Voice told me to look into the mirror at exactly 3:00am. At that time, I would see the golden halo appear over my head in the mirror. At 3:00 the Voice instructed me to count down from 10. When I reached zero, I would see the halo appear. I listened and began to count down. When I reached zero, I could hear, what sounded like, the crackling of a sparkler to herald in the golden halo. But to my disappointment, the halo did not appear. 

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I questioned the Voice and asked why I did not receive my halo. Suddenly, a dark cloak looking shadow, superimposed over my reflection. All I could see was a cloak of darkness. My reflection was gone. The Voice, that had been so loving and kind, became evil and mocking as it hissed and went in for the kill, “The reason you did not receive your halo is because you are not good enough.” 

By the mercy of God, in that instant, my eyes were blind no more. The grave error of my ways was finally visible for me to see. I immediately knew that I had been dabbling in the Devil’s realm. I turned away from the mirror, lifted my eyes to Heaven, and screamed, “No! No! I love God! I love God!” In that moment my voice sounded demonic in my ears. I thought it was too late. I thought I belonged to the Devil and was going to Hell. 

That night I experienced a fear that I never have before, and I pray that I will never feel it again. The fear I experienced was a fear for my soul. God opened my eyes and gave me a small glimpse of what it will be like on judgment day for those who thought and did things just like me—People who are wicked on the inside but appear to be good on the outside; people who proclaim to be Christians, but participate in occult practices; people who think the two can be intertwined and melded together; people who are blinded to their wickedness and think they are good people, and people who think good works will get them to Heaven even though they have an evil heart and no desire to have a personal relationship with Jesus.

The tables quickly turned, and I became the one being accused by the master accuser—the Devil. My screaming woke up my teenage daughters. At 3:30 in the morning, I had my daughter call my husband, my parents, and my brothers for help. The Voice was repeatedly telling me how bad I was and that I was going to Hell. I was trying to defend my goodness to the accuser, but it was a game I could not win. The Voice did not relent. It was aggressive and all-consuming. I truly thought I was possessed by a demon.

At 4:00 in the morning my family came to my assistance. They all had been witnessing my mental decline over the past few months as I sank deeper into the psychic occult realm, so they were not entirely surprised to receive the phone call for help. They called the sheriff’s department to begin the court mandated baker-acting process. The deputy sheriff came in the house, asked me questions, and observed my behavior. He concluded that I needed mental health assistance, so I was taken to the hospital in the back of his police car–like a criminal. 

Once at the hospital I went through the mental health admitting process. I had to relinquish all my clothes and belongings and was tested for drugs and alcohol. Those tests came up negative, so the mental situation was even more critical, because there were not any drug related causes for my mental state. 

Once admitted, my family requested a CAT scan to rule out a brain tumor as the cause of my mental breakdown. The CAT scan came back clean, but they were not satisfied. They pushed for and MRI to be 100% sure I did not have a brain tumor. Fortunately, the MRI showed no abnormalities or brain tumors. They were relieved, but still did not have a medical cause or answer for my irrational behavior. 

For the first two days I was tormented by the Voice. The Voice was consuming, constant, and unrelenting. In my book I give an in-depth account of my stay in the mental unit of the hospital. I was at the lowest point of my life. My biggest fear had come true. I was alone, locked up away from everyone and everything that was dear to me. Just a few hours earlier I thought I was on top of the world and in control of everything. In the hospital I had absolutely no control over anything, not even over my own medical care. Someone else was making medical decisions on my behalf. 

Seeing I had no one to turn to or help me, I paced the halls, repeatedly prayed The Lord’s Prayer, and begged God to help me. I did not know what else to say to God. I did not know anything about confessing sin or asking for forgiveness. I just knew that I needed God to help me. But, to help me how? Without verbally speaking the actual words, by asking God to help me, I was asking Him to save me from the Devil.

God answered my calls for help, and he answered in a big way. God gave me the opportunity to go against the Voice and seek help from the nurse in the unit. Early on in my stay, one of the nurses told me to tell her if I began hearing the voice in my head again because she could give me something to help me. After several days of torment from the Voice, while in my room one night, God allowed me to remember what the nurse had said to me. 

I stood at my closed door that led out to the nurse’s station fighting with the Voice. The Voice threatened me and said that if I opened that door I would die. I mentally yelled back at the Voice, “No! No! She promised she could help me!” For the first time, I disobeyed the Voice, opened the door, and walked across the hall to the nurse’s station. You know what? I DID NOT DIE! The Voice lied to me, and for the first time I could truly see that the Voice had been lying. That realization seemed to take away the Voice’s power. I was no longer under the hypnosis of the Devil. 

By the grace of God, on the third day of my hospital stay my head began to clear. Yes, that indeed was a gracious gift from God. I had been diagnosed with a psychotic break due to trauma overload, so no one knew if my mind would regain its rational thinking. The Voice seemed to be fading away from my mind. It was no longer all-consuming, so I was able to begin focusing on my surroundings instead of only on the Voice.

I met with a social worker and a psychiatrist each day. By the third day the hospital staff was able to get a clear picture of what brought me to that critical state of mind just a few days earlier. On that day when I met with the psychiatrist, he had an offer for me. He spoke to me quietly and cautiously, like a parent softly speaking to a child. He said, “Today is your third day in here. Technically you can walk out of here and leave on your own. You have been cooperative, and I can see that you truly want to get better. However, I would like to suggest something that I think will help you. I think it would be very beneficial to you if you would willingly agree to stay here for two more days. You will continue to meet with me and your social worker. We will put a plan together to help you when you leave. What do you think?” It did not take me long to respond. I agreed to stay the additional two days. 

Those last two days were uneventful as my mind became clearer with each passing moment. On my last day in the hospital a family meeting was set up, so we could all discuss what going home would look like for all of us. My husband had come back home to stay with the children, and he said he would stay to help me get better. He picked me up from the hospital and brought me home—A home I was scared to walk back into; A house that no longer felt like home; A house filled with memories of an evil presence; A house containing the mirror that filled me with terror. How could things ever go back to normal? In fact, what was normal? I did not know what normal looked like anymore. Little did I know that God had already begun to change the direction of my life and direct me on a path that was full of joy combined with a suffering I had never experienced before. 

By God’s mercy and grace, I came home a different person from when I left it five days earlier. My heart had changed. I could no longer ignore God and push Him out of my life. In fact, I wanted God in my life. I had no idea what that looked like, but I had a genuine desire to know who Jesus was and what he did for me. That was clearly a work of God.

Somehow, I knew that I had been doing Christianity wrong and wanted to now do it the right way. But what did the right way look like? I needed guidance. I needed someone that could show me what believing in Jesus truly looked like. Within a few days of coming home from the hospital I contacted my Christian friend, CB. We were neighbors before the housing crash, and she was the only person who came to mind when I contemplated who to contact. 

CB had privately messaged me and shared her concern when she realized that I was practicing in the psychic occult world. In my prideful rebellion, I politely blew her off and told her that I knew what I was doing. What a humbling knee scraping moment it was for me to message her and ask for her help.

She, of course, was overjoyed with my change of heart and could hardly wait to meet with me. Along with also meeting weekly with a licensed clinical social worker, I met with CB at her church. CB took me in and taught me the foundations of Jesus. She helped me to get to know Jesus by teaching me who he is and what he did for me. She suggested the type of study Bible to purchase and encouraged me to attend church with her.

The Bible sat in my nightstand drawer for several weeks. I didn’t know where to start reading. Memories of my past attempts to read it lingered in my mind. It was like a book of foreign language to me, and I was scared of it. I was afraid to read about my sin.

I put off attending church for about a month. I was hesitant to ask my husband to go with me because of our past experience with church. I did not think he would want to go and I did not want to force him like I did last time.  After thoughtful prayer, one day in our car, I shared with him how CB had been encouraging me to attend church. I told him that I was going to go but he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to. To my surprise, he said that he would go with me because he wanted to support me. 

Church always brought this sense of peace to me, but when I attended church this time I was physically trembling. I wanted to be there, but I was also scared. I didn’t understand God’s forgiveness, so I was afraid that he would not forgive me for what I had done. I had truly been awakened to my sin.

The next week I was again, trembling, still unsure of God’s forgiveness. All of a sudden, in the middle of the sermon, the pastor loudly bellowed, “Do you really think that your sin is too big for God to forgive?” What?! Are you talking to me? How did you know? Suddenly, tears flowed, the trembling stopped, and I was filled with peace. I. Was. Forgiven. 

I was then ready to begin reading the Bible. At CB’s suggestion, I started with the book of John. I immediately noticed something different when I read the Bible this time. Somehow the words seemed to be alive! Each word touched my heart with emotion that hadn’t existed before! I read several lines of scripture and then read the explanation of scripture. I could not get enough! The more I read the more I wanted to know about Jesus! I read for hours every day, but I read in private and kept my Bible hidden in my nightstand drawer.

Even though my husband was supporting me by attending church, he was not a Christian. When someone is so opposed to God and his Word, even the sight of a Bible is vile to the heart. One day after reading about my sin, how much God loves me, and works all things according to his plan for the purpose of good, I knew what I had to do.

I stood in my room, scared, and prayed. I declared, “God, you promise that you will do good from this, and I believe you. I choose you above all things; above myself, my husband, and my family. You promise and I believe.” I knew that by placing God first in my life I was going to experience repercussions, and that scared me, although I trusted in God and his plan.

It might sound like that my husband was becoming second fiddle to me, but that is not what was about to happen. To submit to God is to submit to his Word. And what does his Word say? It says that wives are to submit to their husbands. For the first time in my life, I was going to take a step back and allow my husband to be the head of our marriage and family–The husband that I had blamed our entire marriage for all our problems. The husband who was an unbeliever.

The first thing I knew I had to do was to take my Bible out of my drawer and put it on my nightstand. I knew in doing so, it was going to be like there was a spotlight on my Bible. That afternoon when my husband came home, he saw the Bible on the opposite side of the room the second he walked into our bedroom. He immediately began making critical hurtful remarks, all the while I stayed silent and prayed for him, “God, please forgive him. He doesn’t know what he is doing. Please soften his heart.”

After about a week he became used to seeing the Bible. That’s all I needed to do, right? No. I knew I had to read the Bible in front of him instead of reading in private. One evening while lying in bed watching tv, I prayed, slowly reached for my Bible, prepared myself for what was about to happen, and began reading.

Instantly, the critical remarks started, and this time it was worse than before. He barked, “Don’t you know how to be a Christian and not have it take over your life?” And “Your faith turns me off!” After each cruel remark I continued to pray for him and for God to forgive him. Every evening I made a point to read my Bible in front of him. The critical remarks slowly faded. 

God kept his promise. He did good and allowed me to see the good of his plan. The more I read the Bible, the more the depth of my sin was revealed to me. Understanding that my greatest sin was that I was sinning against God, literally brought me to my knees as I remorsefully confessed my sin, repented, and truly, from the heart, asked for forgiveness.

I finally could see and understand why I needed forgiveness, why I needed God to save me, why I could never satisfy the restless within me, and why I needed Jesus in my life. Without God, I was a lost sinner heading straight to Hell for eternity. I could not satisfy the penalty for my sin. I needed someone to do it for me, and that someone is Jesus. Jesus obediently came down from his throne, shed his blood, and died in my place so I can spend an eternity with him in Heaven.

God then, raised him from the dead and brought Jesus back to life. That meant that Jesus beat death! The Devil had been defeated. Now, whomever believes and has faith in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, will have eternal life and spend eternity with him in Heaven. 

I wanted my husband to be there with me. I wanted him to experience the joy, peace, and love from knowing Jesus. I wanted God to save him, just as he saved me, so I prayed every day for his salvation. 

We endured many trials and sufferings over the next two years as the Devil fought hard for my husband. But nothing is impossible for God. In the summer of 2016, my husband came to faith in Jesus, and it wasn’t pretty. It was not in the way I had hoped or expected, as it was tied in with another moment of suffering within our marriage. But God used that suffering for the good purpose of his plan and saved him. 

That’s what God does doesn’t he? He does things in ways that we could never think anything good could possibly come of it. Just as the Bible says in Isaiah 55, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.”

Just when I think I have something figured out, God goes and pulls the rug out from under me. When that happens, I don’t respond with anger towards God. I trust in his plan, even when he chose to return my brother to himself when he allowed him to pass away from a brain tumor at 55 years of age. Do you know why? Because his way is always better than ours will ever be. I may not understand or ever see why God does the things he does, but I know in faith, that everything he does works together for the good purpose of his plan of salvation.

If you would like to read the full detailed account of my story and how God saved me out of the occult, my book, Heaven’s. Joy, is available for purchase on my website,