on Ghana

“And many that believe came, and confessed, and showed their deeds” (Acts 19:18).


We were witnesses to one of the greatest events in the entire universe! Over 115 people gave their lives to Jesus through baptism, and we stood rejoicing on the beach, singing hymns, praying, and praising God for these young students’ decisions to follow Christ. All heaven rejoiced with us.

The devil, on the other hand, was not rejoicing. Suddenly, unexpectedly, we heard piercing screams. Just twenty feet away from us, one of the students was flailing in the sand—tossing and turning, shouting , screaming, tormented and tormenting. An evil spirit had possessed her.

Shocked and motionless, we stood there, watching her writhe on the sand. The girl got up and started running towards the ocean – towards us! The spirit was trying to drown her in the water and we were in the way. Most of the people got out of the way, but I stood there unable to move. I bowed my head and prayed, “Lord Jesus, heal her of this spirit!”
The girl was now only a few feet away, and I braced myself for impact. Just then the school Chaplain tackled her, knocking her to the ground and holding her there as she fought to free herself. “

This is Africa,” they told me. “These things are commonly seen here.”

If you had told me before I went to Ghana that I was going to encounter demon possession, I might have reconsidered going. But I didn’t know. I was just excited about this opportunity to preach the gospel. For a long time I have wanted to develop my preaching skills, and this trip provided just the opportunity I needed.

After landing safely in Accra, we were exhausted. Once settled into the hotel, I slept all night. I didn’t suffer from jet lag, since I hadn’t slept a wink on the plane. Morning came soon enough. Kimmy, Marcia and I split off from the rest of the group and headed to Sedass Adventist High school in Ogona-Swedro, a little town about 18 kilometers north of Winneba.
Most of the roads we traveled were not bad, but the last few kilometers of the journey we had to drive at speeds that made walking look fast. We arrived at Sadass after dark. The students were already assembled on the second floor of the building. We could hear them singing. It was time to meet “our” group.

Marcia stood first, grabbed the microphone, and said, “Hello everyone!” The entire school erupted with laughter. They had never heard anyone talk so oddly in their entire lives. Kimmy was next, and the same thing happened. They mimicked our accents and giggled conspiratorially with the friends next to them. Even I had to laugh. English may be Ghana’s “official” language, but the students learn it from generations of teachers for whom it is not a “first language.” Not only this, but the textbook English they study originated in old England, and not in America. To their ears, our informal American English really does sounded strange.

I was next. Thankfully I was last. They had gotten most of their surprised laughter out of the way by the time I took the microphone. But as I preached that night, I knew they were not getting the message.

“You will have to slow way down if you want to be understood,” I was told. So I preached more slowly than I had ever preached in my entire life. Things improved as the week went on, but in the beginning I was boring myself, trying to make it so the students could understand. In fact, it wasn’t until Tuesday that the students actually started paying attention and understanding more of what I was saying. Up until then they “heard,” and they did take some notes, but the events of that Tuesday changed the course of the week.

I was preparing in my room that afternoon when I noticed black thunderclouds heading our way. I love a good storm but this was huge. Wind whipped the raindrops against the windows, thunder crashed, and lightning streaked down relentlessly for half an hour. I had a feeling that I knew what the devil was planning.

On past mission trips when I have spoken about the great controversy, the devil has always turned off the power. This happened in the Philippines, Russia, Honduras and even several places in the States. This Tuesday night in Ghana would be no different.

At the school we climbed out of the car. The power was on, but the instant we set foot on the building (it's not finished yet so there is no "in" the building) the power cut off. No lights. No sound. Nothing. I was not surprised. Some traditions must be kept in every country. I made up my mind that the program would continue even without power. Even so, I knew it was not going to be easy speaking to eight hundred people without amplification.

We sang songs. We prayed. We sang again and prayed again. I stepped to the back to see how the volume was. I could just see myself getting home without a voice.

We asked the students to pray individually for the various prayer requests, including the need for power. I expected a moment of silence, but the students took this to mean that they were to pray out loud in groups of two or three. As these earnest prayers were ascending to the throne of grace, the devil couldn't keep the power off. The electricity turned on and each one realized the power of God.

Seeing first hand that prayer has power over the devil was the tipping point of the week. When I made a call for those dealing with “spiritual issues” (code for demon possession), over 100 people came forward asking for God’s power to heal their lives. That night a group of students decided they would pray several times throughout the night, each night, so that God’s power would keep back the spirits.

The meeting ended and the students were dismissed. No sooner had they gotten to their dormitories than the devil started working. He was angry. The spirits visited the dormitories that night and possessed several of the girls. The devil was fighting a losing battle, but he was not going to give up without a fight.

The next day my faith was tested beyond what it had ever been before. Kimmy and I were sitting in Pastor Richard’s office when he handed me a notebook and told me to look in it. It was full of demonic pictures and the text was written backwards, like you would expect it to be if you saw it in a mirror. Reading it was creepy. In her right mind, the writer had no idea about this notebook, but now the girl walked in, possessed by this evil spirit, and demanded to have the book back. She snatched the book out of Kimmy’s hands and hugged it to her body. The pastor began to pray.

As Pastor Richard prayed, the student became violent and struggled to get away. The pastor and another chaplain held her down. The girl’s Pentecostal parents had been invited to meet with us, and they began chanting. That was just as scary as what we were witnessing in the girl. They kept chanting while the pastor was praying. Kimmy and I were rooted to our chairs, afraid to keep our eyes open and scared to keep them closed. You could feel the evil in the room, hovering around. The spirit did not leave immediately. The girl was not set free until a later prayer session which took place after we had left the room.

That evil feeling stayed with me all day. I didn’t know why I couldn’t shake it. I knew I loved Jesus. I knew that my sins were forgiven. But the more I prayed that day, the more frightened I became. I didn’t sleep all that night. I sat in the chair and jumped at every click of the air conditioner. I felt awe and amazement that I was witnessing the Great Controversy in action.

Thursday morning I still had “that feeling”, and I was very tired. After the morning meeting I talked with Pastor Richard about what I had experienced. His words were just what I needed to hear. “The spirits have no power over the one who is in Christ” he said. “They can scare us and let us know they are around, but they can’t touch us.” This gave me the peace of mind I needed.
We headed back to the hotel. I grabbed a book from my room, locked the door and went to see Kimmy and Marcia. There, I actually fell asleep in my chair—the first real sleep I’d had since the terrors of the day before. By the time I woke up, it was time to get ready to leave, so I headed back to my room, unlocked the door, and started changing my clothes. Turning around, I looked at my bed. There written on my white sheets in ink from my blue pen were words I didn’t understand. It was enough to put me on my knees.

“Jesus, the devil is trying to scare me and it’s working,” I prayed. “But I won’t change my message, because you are more powerful than the devil. He can scare me but he can’t control me.” I actually became so angry with Satan that I thought I would get him back as soon as I entered the pulpit. But not before I had my sheets changed.

I headed to the meeting that night with renewed peace in Jesus. When I made the appeal for baptism, people started coming forward. I made several calls and by the end we had a total of 73 giving their lives to Jesus. I stood there amazed at the power of the Spirit to change the hearts of these kids, many of whom were fighting very hard against the power and possession of Satan.

Sabbath after church we piled into the vehicles and made our way to the beach. There we met our friends who had conducted a similar series of meetings in Winneba. People lined up along the sandy beach. The hot sun tanned their already black skin while burning mine. I hardly noticed. One by one the students walked into the water and committed their lives to Jesus through baptism. Heaven was rejoicing. The devil was angry.

Suddenly, a spirit took over a young girl just as she had entered the water. She took off for dry land, screaming and yelling. People moved aside to let her pass. Just a few moments, and her screams became mute. After the baptisms were over, the pastors went to her and brought her down to the water. Because she had made the decision for Jesus at the school when she was in her right mind, they were going to baptize her. She struggled the entire way and it took four of them to get the job done. But when she came up out of the water, the spirit had left her and she laid on the sand, unconscious.

That’s when another spirit took control of her. She flailed in the sand. When she got up and charged towards the water I knew we couldn’t let her get there, but I was thankful that the chaplain tackled her before she got to me.

We gathered around the struggling girl and sang hymns. We prayed one by one that she would be freed. When the pastor reached out to grab her hand, new life flowed through her veins and she stood up from her previously unaware state. We sang again and praised the Lord for His mercy and grace in delivering her from the power of Satan.

The power of God is much greater than any other power. I now know that with His help I can meet any circumstance the devil throws my way. If He can save others in Africa, He can save us here in the US. If He can show His power to them, He can show it to us too. I’ve determined to be faithful no matter what happens.


“So mightily grew the word of God and prevailed” (Acts 19:20).