Friday, October 18, 2019
Read the powerful testimony of an EX Christian Witch!
Please welcome a very special guest today! Beck Doughty is the narrator of many of my audio books. I believe she's done The Redemption, The Reliance, She Walks in Love, and she's currently working on The Restitution! Becky and I met online when I was searching for a narrator. I had NO idea she was a Christian when I asked her to audition for The Redemption. But the Lord is so wonderful, how He brings believers together, especially believers who have similar backgrounds and faith. I recently discovered that Becky used to be a practicing witch, what she calls a Christian witch, so I asked her to share her testimony with us. Many Christians are extremely naive about the forces of evil that surround us, some don't believe in witches or even in Satan. And I believe this is Satan's greatest lie to us--that he doesn't exist.
So I hope you'll read Becky's testimony below and check out her webpage and books. Yes, she's a writer as well!
I have a book in my collection called Elderberry Croft, and in it, a woman with deep wounds moves into a little cottage at the back of a trailer park. She dubs her hideaway Elderberry Croft after the lone courageous elderberry tree growing beside her river rock patio.
It is said that all works of fiction are at least in part autobiographical. Indeed, in a town near my old home, there really IS a cottage with a cobbled river rock patio, and it’s built beside a tiny stream that runs through a trailer park. Although Willow Goodhope never lived there or named the little haven Elderberry Croft, and there is no elderberry tree growing beside the patio, it's where I found sanctuary for almost a year when I had nowhere else to go.
While I was there - running, hiding, drowning in a sea of things that could only bring destruction - the ONE WHO PURSUES caught up with me, and I have not been the same since.
When I moved to the cottage, my marriage had crumbled into a thousand pieces. It had been a slow shattering - hairline cracks that spread and forked and turned into a lacework of brokenness - until we were held together by only secrets and lies and heartache. When the lies were exposed, the pieces came crashing down, and we were left standing in the middle of the rubble around us, certain there was no hope for restoration.
So I left. I stumbled upon the little cottage by the stream, and in my blinded state, I easily convinced myself that I was finally free. Free of the husband who kept me grounded, free from my children who kept me tethered, free from the church that didn't tolerate shades of gray, free from a religion that put Jesus in a box.
You see, if there was ever an oxymoron, I figured Jesus was a prime example. The First shall be Fast? The Servant Leader? The Lamb who is the Lion? So why couldn't I be a Christian Witch, and tap into the powers of the universe and the elements, while calling on the most powerful "element," the Holy Spirit, to "protect me and those I love from any evil that may try to infiltrate this holy circle and do harm." (Yep, those blasphemous words were part of every rite I performed. It's a wonder I'm still alive to tell about it.)
Now, Lord Jesus, have mercy, I see it for what it was - blasphemy of the vilest kind - and my stomach still turns in revulsion. That I believed I could bind the Son of the King of Kings, Jesus Christ, to the prince of darkness for MY purposes, for MY selfish ambitions; that I would use the God of the Universe to do MY bidding....
Just like the cracks in my marriage, the decision to practice witchcraft didn't come abruptly, but subtly, one "successful" encounter at a time. The desire for self-empowerment, especially in light of how powerless I felt in my relationship with Christ, was a slow, but steadily-growing burn, until it began to consume me. I studied and researched and practiced and performed until results became the norm, rather than the occasional surprise. By the time I was ensconced in the cottage, I was a full-fledged Christian Witch (yes, there is such a thing, and what a slippery, murky, chaotic belief system it is), and I could practice openly, without having to put up with the judgment on my husband's face, the fear in my children's eyes, or the terrible discomfort of sitting in church after performing my own enlightening and empowering religious ceremonies. I buried myself in the intrigues of the craft, in the symbols and rituals, in the belief that I was tapping into something born in me that I'd never been free to explore before.
For a time, it was incredible. I was "in control." I could do and be anything; all I had to do was call on the power inside me. The transition from powerful to pitiful happened without me even realizing it, just like those cracks in my marriage that became chasms under my feet. But pitiful, I absolutely became.
At night, if I slept at all, it was in a trance-like state, and I awoke hours later in the exact same position I'd fallen asleep in, my body aching from not moving, headaches, stiff neck, feeling unrested, usually worse than when I'd gone to bed. I stopped writing - the well wasn't just low, it was dustbowl dry, the wind whistling through the hollow places of who I'd become. I sat for hours at a time, staring out the windows of my cottage, my mind racing around in circles, unable to land on one thing and stay there long enough to put a coherent thought into a complete sentence.
I became like the walking dead, my days blurring from one to the next; getting up in the morning, going to work, coming home, hours passing without my awareness, until darkness prompted me to crawl in bed and close my eyes. Then I'd start over again. I was not depressed, at least not in the medical sense of the word, but under terrible oppression. I had invited the devil in as my guest, and he had made himself comfortable, planning to take up permanent residence.
But here's the beauty of grace, the unfathomable gift of mercy, the unconditional love of Jesus Christ who buys us off the slave block with His own blood. Even though I'd moved my lover, Satan, into the house, I was still the bride of Christ, and He wasn't going to let me go without a fight.
In spite of the shroud around my heart, I could hear Him whispering to me, calling to me. Somewhere behind the velvet lies of the deceiver, I knew that Jesus was faithful even though I wasn’t, and waiting, and longing for me to return to His embrace.
Late on a still, July night, in my pitiful, desperate state, I cried out to Him. "Show me, God. I need to know You're real, that You're here." And God showed up. A rushing wind swirled across my patio, stirring the wind-chimes that had hung silent and sullen for weeks. The leaves overhead trembled, and the giant eucalyptus tree creaked and moaned outside my window. The crickets and night-birds went silent as we all held our collective breath. Then it was over. The wind swept up the swell of the hill behind the trailer park, leaving a shaken, but soul-awakened woman behind.
I was not alone. He'd come for me.
I gave up that night. I stopped running. I asked Him to take me back, to free me from the prison in which I'd locked myself. And I asked Him to help me find my way home to my family, if Kevin and the kids would even have me, that He would soften their hearts toward me.
Oh, what a painful journey back we had to travel...and a whole different story in and of itself. It's a story of hope, of restoration; my husband and I just celebrated thirty years of marriage this last June!
Signs and wonders. Do you believe in them? I can tell you this: I saw signs and wonders performed at the tips of my fingers, at the utterance of my blasphemous words. But since when does Satan have the corner on the market? Why wouldn't God choose to reach me in a way that would speak directly to my hardened, stony heart?
Perhaps that rogue wind came about because of some natural phenomenon, because of a slight shift in weather patterns, because of a sudden California desert storm that sent a gust of hot air belching my way. Perhaps. But even if it could easily be explained away, what I know that I know that I know is that I called on God, and He answered me in a way that left NO DOUBT in my heart that He wanted me back.
2 Samuel 22:17-20 (The Message Bible) "But me he caught—reached all the way from sky to sea; he pulled me out of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos, the void in which I was drowning. They hit me when I was down, but God stuck by me. He stood me up on a wide-open field; I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!"
Find out More about Becky
I encourage you to check out Becky's book Elderberry Croft
On a crisp January breeze, a new girl sweeps into the neighborhood, breathing life – and perhaps a little magic – into the cottage she christens Elderberry Croft.
The folks at The Coach House Trailer Park can’t help but fall under Willow Goodhope's spell as she charms them with her vibrant nature, her elderberry gifts, and her outrageous laughter. But there’s something about her, a secret that hovers at the corners of her irrepressible smile, and it has everyone talking.
What brings the mysterious young woman to this dead end place? From what—or whom—is she hiding? Doc catches her burning letters in her stone fire pit, and Myra swears Willow drinks alone out in the moonlight. Joe glimpses the whispering shadows clinging to the girl’s coat tails, and Patti is certain the young beauty is after her husband. Eddie and Donny compete to see who can make her smile first…even though both figure she’d prefer her men with good jobs, good homes, and good teeth. Kathy is doing everyone a favor by keeping a close eye on the wild child next door. Through her binoculars. And what she sees doesn’t sit well with any of them.
Elderberry Croft is the tale of one woman’s journey toward hope, and the people whose lives she transforms along the way. If you like Garden Spells, The School of Essential Ingredients, or In the Light of the Garden, you'll love Elderberry Croft.
Thank you so much for sharing what is a very personal testimony with us, Becky. I hope and pray it helps others out there to see the dangers of dabbling with witchcraft and more important the LOVE of our Savior who pursues us and won't let go!