One night, while I was out in nature praying to God, my eyes were opened to see where my real security was. There was a song that we used to sing when I was at school and that came to my mind: “Through the blood of the cross … (He) gave eternal life to us.” It brought me to understand that God had already guaranteed eternal peace and joy to me by Jesus’ death on the cross. I understood that even if I were not to be delivered in this life, I had a hundred percent sure guarantee of deliverance in heaven because of what Jesus did nearly two thousand years ago. This was not something that either the devil or I could change, provided I wanted to hold on to Jesus. I knew this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, regardless of how difficult it might be. This realisation gave me a foundation of security — without it, I have no idea what might have happened to me.
At the Bible school, I got a teaching at this particular time which helped me to relax somewhat and accept the love of God. It was the teaching about the grace and compassion of God which I heard from two teachers, who temporarily turned to a more classical Christian teaching. This teaching was like a balm for a weary and wounded soldier. I am thankful that this teaching came just at the time when I needed it the most. I believe that it saved my mental health and perhaps also my life during this crisis. I went from fighting against the devil to praising God and for a time things improved for me.
As I began to get better I became more devoted to the Faith movement once again. I felt enthusiastic and was pleased that I was able to be a part in this great revival we talked about so often. Under the surface, however, there was a lurking fear of getting into the same dreadful condition that I had experienced during my first few months at the school. (This fear and panic was an important motivation for my continued involvement in the movement — since I believed that my spiritual, mental, and emotional safety depended on it.)
I felt compelled to work at something the whole time, and it was difficult to sit down and relax. It seemed to me that a saving feature was to remain in the anointing as much as possible and anything whatsoever that might disturb my devotion to the movement was a threat. I adhered to the movement with such enthusiasm that a more sceptical girl in the prayer group later said, when she heard that I had left the movement, “If he can leave it, it is possible for anyone to leave!”
In spite of the fact that I had never experienced anything remotely like this in my life before, I was still not able to see the connection between my tormenting restlessness and the teaching of the movement. I believed, as I was constantly being told, that I was tormented because the movement was of God and, therefore, the devil was desperately trying to hinder me from getting into God’s plan for my life.
I believed that it was the Faith teaching that had saved my sanity. In retrospect, I realise it was the preaching of the two teachers who spoke about the grace of God that had helped me. Quite contrary to the prevailing attitude at the school, they taught us to stop fighting against the devil and rather rest in the grace of God.
