My First Exorcism - Harold Ristau

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the hungry wolf with His own fiery flesh. Yet unable to swallow this hallowed unfamiliar meat, the beast chokes on his ultimate prize. He who once lured humankind in one garden by a poisonous fruit, is himself tempted to take and eat of a poisonous fruit, Jesus Christ who hangs on the tree of the cross in the garden of Calvary. After all, to some, the sacramental presence of our Lord’s body brings life; to others, death (1 Cor 11:9). For this very reason, some exorcists carry a pyx containing the consecrated host to strike terror into the ancient dragon.

      The Eastern Orthodox Church criticizes the imaginative similitudes of the economy of salvation, such as those imbibed from St. Anselm. The idea of God paying a ransom to the purging fires of hell or duping a fish all seem to diminish the sovereignty of God through inappropriate analogies of mythological semblance. Yet, although all human comparisons are naturally limited, such didactic metaphors and analogies offer ways of elucidating the unavoidable vicarious sacrifice required by an uncompromising system of justice put in place by God Himself. Both justice and grace are cheapened when theologians appeal to God’s omnipotent ability to surpass the principles that He Himself has established through rhetorical questions such as “Can God create a rock heavier than He could lift?” Our God is not a showman, but rather a gentleman. He has honourably bound Himself to the same system in which He has established us. He is a general who fights alongside the troops on the battlefield and not from the headquarters in a distant country. If, however, the allegorical illustrations do represent the devil as having the upper hand, then that does convey its own incident of confusion.

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      All incidents of confusion are, in a sense, demonic. It shouldn’t have surprised me then that those frightening yet curious words “she’s mine” from Lisa’s lips were followed by a wild and exhausting month of demonic encounters and emotional chaos. My inexperience was betrayed in the creative methods I employed in attempting to free her of her satanic visitors, techniques largely learned from Hollywood movies and popular culture. My failure climaxed with her delirious attempt to throw herself out of a moving vehicle under the influence of the enemy. For the first time, the demon stared me in the eyes with cold spiteful darkened pupils of vexation, an image that I will carry with me to the grave. Amidst the falling ethereal darkness, a single lurid light beam from the passenger-side window coloured her progressively hardening face framing two gleaming empty holes. They were surging knives aspiring to pierce my innermost vulnerabilities. Repelled by this incredulous sneer and glance of scornful defiance, I grabbed her arm with a single-handed savage grip of desperation, while miraculously averting a collision with another vehicle. In the end, I dropped her off at an evangelical center that specialized in exorcisms with the hopes that they were less ill-equipped than I. It helped a bit. But the demons remained.

      After further study of the topic in pursuit of some permanent solution, I eventually inquired into the status of Lisa’s baptism. She told me that she was christened. “If she belonged to God, how could she remain possessed by an intruder?” I wondered. She seemed to honestly desire liberation. I was puzzled. Later I discovered that her pagan mother had baptized her in their upstairs bathtub after her birth because she didn’t like organized religion. Did it count? Was it even Trinitarian? I am still unsure. The words do matter, more than one may believe. Some of us don’t like to talk about a bad day at work, because it is like we are onerously reliving the irksome events—which were bad enough the first time around. The devil too hates hearing the Gospel story. But for him it is not just an astringent reminder. He actually relives his defeat again and again, for the “Word of God is living and active” (Heb 4:12).

      I have often witnessed allegedly experienced pastors muddle up the Baptismal formula, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” causing me to seriously wonder about the presence of devilish hordes hidden from sight during the rite. They appear to direct all their energies to distract or jumble up the Spirit-inspired words, while the godparents are too enchanted by the cuteness of the little baby face and blinded by sentimentality, to notice the difference. After all, one of their primary roles as witnesses is to assure that the words spoken by the participants of the event are accurately delivered. Although easily memorisable, the words of the Trinitarian formula are unusually difficult to recount during the divine mystery of the moment, which is why I insist upon reading them—every single time! So the chance of an untrained lay unbeliever’s attempt at successfully recreating a Christian baptism while sharing a bath with the candidate is pretty slim. In any case, nothing that I did seemed to help Lisa. Like many new believers who may find elements of the Christian faith an attractive means in helping them manage some personal issues, Lisa was only half-heartedly interested in resigning most of her frivolous addictions, including occult dabbling into the “deep secrets of Satan” (Rev 2:24). After all, the world tempts us to take control of our lives, while Jesus asks us to surrender them.

      Lisa was desperate. But I was partly to blame as well. Although I was well-intentioned, I am not sure whether or not I aggravated the situation. Romantic feelings that developed over the course of a rather ephemeral relationship were certainly counterproductive, contributing to the eluding of vigilance and neglect of precaution. Yet it was my first unabashed exposure to anything resembling an exorcism, however unsuccessful.

      What harm can sin and death then do?

      The true God now abides with you.

      Let hell and Satan rage and chafe,

      Christ is your Brother—ye are safe.

      Not one He will or can forsake

      Who Him his confidence doth make.

      Let all his wiles the Tempter try,

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