Looking back many years to the night we ‘delivered’ Wilbur, I can see that as new believers we were not anywhere near ready for our dive into demonology. For a start, not one of the dozen or so Christians gathered for fellowship in the suburban home that night had practised exorcism. (Where do do find someone willing to let you practise on them?)
We were, however, armed with a certain amount of knowledge that had come from a long-play record that taught us how to deal with demons. And we had read a few short books on the subject. From these we knew that (a) demons usually talked back at those who tried to cast them out; (b) demons would name themselves if you grilled them aggressively; and (c) you could never believe a thing they said.
“A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.” Dangerous, that is, for any demons that might just come our way. Without being presumptuous, we felt that we were ready for them.
That’s when Wilbur came in.
Well, he didn’t actually come in, at first. He just stood at the front door with an angry expression. Wilbur was the unhappy husband of one of the ladies present. Irritable, morose, and often dejected, Wilbur was often something of an embarrassment to his Spirit-filled wife. After repeating the Sinner’s Prayer some time before, he had just not “gone on”. Instead, his wife claimed, he had given her a bit of a hard time.
We were all a bit worried about Wilbur. Nobody wanted to say it, but…well, he acted pretty strangely at times. Was it possible, we wondered, that he had a few…“passengers”? (An ‘in’ word for demons in those days.)
Wilbur had come for his wife, who wasn’t ready to leave. So he stormed off into the night, muttering dark words. When he left, we prayed, “Lord, bring Wilbur back – and deal with him!”
Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Wilbur was back. We exchanged significant looks. God’s time for Wilbur, it seemed, had arrived.
Rising to the challenge of the moment, we told Wilbur that he needed deliverance. No point in beating around the bush: he needed it, and we were ready and willing to do it!
That’s when Wilbur went off at the deep end. His neck turned bright red as his anger surged to the surface. He shook with emotion.
“You’re crazy!” he shouted.
Moving in on Wilbur, we told ourselves that we must separate the man from the demonic forces that enslaved him. It wasn’t really Wilbur talking: it was the devil. Look at those eyes – the look of a hunted animal. Before Wilbur knew it, we were upon him – forcing him to the floor!
“What are you doing?” he shouted, “Let me go!”
“Be quiet, you devil and come out of him!”, we commanded.
Now Wilbur was strong, and put up a good fight, but he was no match for the combined weight of the Christians who pinned him to the floor. This was no time to think twice – Wilbur’s freedom was at stake!
For more than an hour, the battle raged. But the long-play record and the books had prepared us for what might well be a long deliverance session.
How cunning the demons were!
“Look, just let me up”, Wilbur pleaded, “and we’ll talk about it!”
“Lying spirit”, we replied, “be quiet and come out of him!”
Never had we experienced anything like it: in a short time we had seen the demons of anger, frustration and rage manifest themselves. And the ever-present lying demon that told us that everything would be all right, if only we would quieten down and let Wilbur get up off the floor.
By this time, though, we were feeling pretty tired. Wilbur, too, looked a little washed out. Doubts arose in our minds. How come we weren’t getting anywhere? We had shouted ourselves hoarse, and our arms and legs felt like they were ready to drop off.
And Wilbur had simply stopped struggling.
“I think that we should have a break, and let Wilbur freshen up”, I suggested. Warily, we released our perspiring captive, and watched him struggle to his feet. We needn’t have worried – Wilbur was too tired to try anything.
While he was in the bathroom freshening up, we looked at each other. Nobody said anything, but I could tell that we were all thinking the same thing. Was it all a mistake? The long-play record and books hadn’t covered this kind of situation.
“Make Wilbur a cup of tea, and I’ll go and talk to him”, I volunteered. Nobody said much. They were thinking: Did we go too far, or not far enough?
Expecting anything as a result of our actions, I entered the bathroom with some trepidation. I needn’t have worried, though, for Wilbur was pleasant enough, all things considered.
“I’m sorry, Wilbur”, I said, “I think we’ve made a mistake.”
“That’s all right, Peter”, he replied, “don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it? Inwardly, I shuddered, thinking that he could have had us all up on an assault charge! Yet there he was, willing to forget the whole thing! Wilbur, it seemed, was more of a Christian than we had thought.
I’m thankful for the gracious spirit Wilbur displayed that night, more than 40 years ago. And I’ve never since let myself get caught in a similar situation. Oh, I’ve performed exorcisms from time to time.
But I’ve always made sure that the Lord was in it, before getting involved. And the results have been much different than they were on that wild night with Wilbur.
Lady, if your husband is giving you a hard time and you have wondered if it’s just possible that he has a demon, call your pastor, and ask him to take your other half for a long, friendly walk.
The exorcise…er, exercise will do them both good.