Enemy at the Door
Thank you, Lord, for setting a guard around our home,” I murmured.
Against the coal-black sky, a cooling breeze ruffled the fronds of the coconut palms in our yard in St. Marc, Haiti. They swayed like eerie, dancing figures keeping watch over us.
As my husband, Ron, and I tucked our children into bed, we prayed for their safety and a peaceful night’s sleep. Three-year-old Leah hugged her bear and went to sleep quickly. Eleven-month-old Aaron was restless. Jo, a friend who was visiting from the States, picked him up.
“I need to rock this sweet boy,” she said. Aaron nestled into her arms.
“Jo, I’ll take my shower while you hold Aaron.”
The cold water refreshed me, and over the gentle blasts of water, I enjoyed hearing the soothing sounds of Jo’s singing interspersed with prayers for our son.
I finished bathing and checked on my contented, sleeping boy.
“You have the touch, Grandma Jo.”
She chuckled. “He’s a precious baby.”
While Ron was taking his turn in the shower, Jo and I went outside to look at the stars in the clear night sky. The full moon was rising like a huge balloon over the mountains.
Suddenly, the peace was rent by a cacophony of noise. Shouting. Shrieking! Rhythmic drums! Blaring horns!
It was another Rah Rah season.
Jo looked down the road at the mass of people coming our way. “Isn’t Rah Rah what these folks celebrate in place of Lent?”
“Yes.” I had explained to her that this twisted practice originated in the early days of Papa Doc Duvalier’s rule over Haiti. He had dedicated the island of Haiti to Satan and declared voodoo the official religion.
Jo shook her head. “What an ungodly legacy this country has.”
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go inside.”
We climbed the steps to the second floor, watching out the middle bedroom window.
“Look at those poor people,” Jo said. “What a monstrous commotion.”
This was her first time to witness Haiti’s demonic display. Some people carried lanterns. Swinging them, they followed their witch doctor chanting discordant songs.
Red and black paint covered the witch doctor’s face and arms. His bare upper torso had an oily sheen, and he wore a horned headdress.
Jo trembled. “That gives me chills.”
Just then lantern light lit his face.
“Jane, his eyes are wild!”
“Our Haitian friends told us he uses several kinds of drugs to lead this praise fest for Satan.”
We both jumped when the witch doctor cracked his bullwhip. Moving grotesquely down his line of followers, he snapped the leather rope violently over their heads.
Ron stepped into the room.
“You ladies don’t have to watch what the devil’s doing,” he said.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I think they’re going on into town, thank the Lord.”
Ron and I checked our sleeping children and we all went downstairs.
As we sat sipping fresh orange juice, Jo asked, “Are you and Ron used to this devil worship?”
“I can’t ignore its reality,” I said. “It can still be unsettling.”
“We’ve experienced encounters beyond our imagination,” Ron added. “It’s hard to see people in such bondage.”
“The first time a witch doctor brought his Rah Rah group to our front gate a couple of years ago, Ron was preaching at a church in another town,” I recalled. “They came with all that horrible clanging and banging. I started praying. The Lord told me to play ‘The Hallelujah Chorus’ on our cassette player. So I turned up the volume and said, ‘Satan, here’s some real praise music for you!’”
“What did they do?” asked Jo.
“They quickly took their party elsewhere,” I answered.
The three of us sat silently while insects buzzed the room’s single light bulb.
“Tell Jo about the time Jesus protected Leah at the market,” Ron said.
Jo leaned forward. “What happened?”
I took a deep breath. “We had been here for about three weeks when Carol, another missionary, invited me to go to the open market in the heart of town. I took Leah with me and met Carol halfway. She greeted me with, ‘Why did you bring Leah?’
“I asked what she meant. ‘Someone may try to take her from you,’ she told me. ‘You’d better hold her in your arms when we get to the market area.’
“I was stunned; then I thought of Psalm 34:7 and said, ‘Carol, the angel of the Lord is camped about us. We’re not going to be afraid.’
“When we finished shopping in the open area, Leah wanted to get down. Since Carol asked to visit one more shop, I continued to hold Leah. It was a tiny space, and inside the air smelled like something spoiled. When I caught a glimpse of a woman pushing through a crowd of people directly toward us, I tightened my arms around my daughter. The woman came at me, reaching for Leah.
“She started chanting, ‘You give me your baby! You give me your baby!’
“I shook my head and turned away. She pulled at my arms.
“‘In the Name of Jesus, take your hands off my baby!’ I shouted.
“Her eyes widened and she ran away. This whole time, Leah never even stiffened in my arms, but kept her head pressed to my chest. I know the Lord kept her little heart at ease.”
“God is so good,” Ron added. “Without His protection, we couldn’t live here—we wouldn’t live here.”
“That’s for sure,” I agreed. “Did I ever tell you about Leah’s vision?”
“This was amazing,” Ron interjected. “We had been here about a month, and Leah was twenty months old . . .”
I picked up the account. “We were sitting in the rocking chair singing ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ Leah sat straight up and pointed across the room.
“‘Look, Mommy!’ she said. ‘There’s a man!’
“‘Where?’ I asked. I thought someone had come into the house.
“‘He’s right over there. Mommy, he’s gro! He’s belle!’
“I didn’t know she knew the Creole words for big and beautiful.”
“The next week,” Ron continued, “she saw him again. She acted like it was nothing unusual.”
“She just looked at the doorway and with a big grin said, ‘That pretty man is back,’” I said.
“She saw an angel or the Lord himself!” said Jo. “That’s also why she wasn’t afraid at the market.”
I finished my orange juice and paused. “I’d like to tell you about another experience. The Lord used it to teach us about standing against the demonic forces here.”
Jo drew her shawl around her shoulders. The night air was chilly, yet it was still—too still. She waited for me to continue.
“I was a couple months pregnant with Aaron. Ron and I had put Leah down for the night; then, although it was early, we went to bed. We were homesick for our families . . .”
Ron chimed in, “We knew God led us to Haiti but didn’t understand why—”
“What was that?” I interrupted him, as I saw something move outside the window. Strangely, it vibrated the screen and was gone.
“It’s probably the wind, Jane.” Ron tilted his head. “Go ahead with what happened that night.”
“As I said, we were in bed and had begun to pray. All of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. Someone or something was choking me. I sat up and realized Ron was struggling too. He was gasping, ‘Jesus!’
“I felt two hands clenched about my throat. We were battling a force not of this world. I’ll never forget hearing myself croak, ‘Jesus! Jesus!’”
“When it was over, we were exhausted,” Ron said.
“But,” I said, “His Name kept us safe.”
Ron stretched and yawned. “Let’s head up to bed on that note.”
We went up the steps, and Jo said, “I’ll check on the children.”
As she passed our bedroom she whispered, “They’re sleeping like little lambs. See you in the morning.” Ron and I got into bed. Soon he was snoring. I started drifting off, but in a split second I was wide awake.
Something wasn’t right.
My body tensed. I heard a door close.
Was that Jo’s door?
As I stared into the hallway, a horrible being glided up the stairs! It was hunched over and floated. Panic crept up my spine. The smell was awful, like a smoldering fire.
Horrified, I watched this dark thing move toward the children’s room. I shook Ron awake.
“Something! Something is . . .” I spoke in rasping tones as I scrambled to Leah and Aaron.
Ron sprang out of bed. “Help us, Jesus!”
Ron pushed the children’s door. It was ajar but wouldn’t move to open any more. My mouth was dry, my lips parched. I swallowed hard.
Ron pushed again. It opened, and we found our two darlings, still sleeping. Ron searched the closet and under Leah’s bed. Then he went to the door leading to the patio off the hallway. It was locked. Opening it, he saw nothing, but that smell hung in the air.
“It must have passed through here,” Ron said. “Praise God, it couldn’t stay!”
We took turns sleeping the rest of the night, thanking the Lord for His protection.
The next morning, Jo came to breakfast and announced, “The devil tried to scare me last night.”
I looked at Ron. “Did you see something, Jo?”
“I saw an ugly creature come up the steps.”
“What did it look like, Jo?” I asked.
“It was a dark beast—all crouched over, moving like curtains fluttering in the wind.” She hesitated. “It brushed my arm as I walked into my bedroom.”
Jo looked at Ron. “Did you see it?”
“No, but I could smell it,” he said. “The odor was terrible, like heavy smoke.”
Jo studied us. “The Lord told me it came for the children.”
“It did,” I said. “Several Haitian friends warned us to be vigilant, especially for Leah and Aaron.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Jo demanded.
“We thought you were sleeping,” I said. “Everything was racing in high gear.”
“And we didn’t want to alarm you,” added Ron.
“It’s odd I didn’t hear you.” She stirred her coffee. “After I saw that demon, I prayed on through the night.”
Just then Leah came downstairs. She wore a big smile as she climbed up on Jo’s lap.
“Aaron’s up too,” she said with a giggle.
I knew God had kept us all safe. The power of trusting Him was stronger than the most threatening face of fear. Looking around the table at my loved ones, I said, “The enemy might muster a strong attack . . . but God’s protection is stronger!”