Yesterday, I spent some time with one of my African friends here. She was trafficked to Bangkok several years ago, and she’s lived under threats and fear for much of that time. Especially real to her were the threats of voodoo if she resisted her trafficker’s demands.
African traffickers often take things from their victims – a pair of the victim’s underwear, maxi pads with the victim’s blood, or the victim’s signature. The traffickers then threaten to give those things to a witch who will curse the victims or their children with insanity or death if the woman does not earn enough money for the trafficker. Yesterday, at one point, my friend said, “This voodoo is real. We Africans have seen it, and we believe it. One trafficker killed three women in Malaysia, and other women have gone crazy.”
Later on, my friend casually told me about nightmares she has been having at night. She described the ways she has seen herself die in dreams many times. I was listening a bit passively, I admit. Sometimes lately, when conversations get too intense, I pull back inside to protect myself. But at that point in the conversation, I noticed a quiet thought in the corner of my mind, “The spirit of death.” Holy Spirit was being very attentive to her words in that moment, and I’m thankful He gave me that tip, discerning the spirit at work against her.
When she had finished describing the dreams, I placed my hand on her shoulder and began thanking Jesus for His love for her – thanking Him for His death and resurrection that breaks the curse of sin and death for her. Then, I commanded the spirit of death to be broken, and I canceled its assignment over her – all in the name of Jesus. I asked God to give her good dreams. Then, we continued chatting as if nothing had happened.
This morning, we had a conversation over the phone. She asked me how the night was, so I told her I rested well and returned her question.
“I had a dream again,” she began. I was concerned, wondering if this was going to be a good dream or another bad one. Oh me of little faith.
“I saw a witch come to my home,” She continued. “I know this witch from my home village because she is my neighbor and she does local voodoo. She used to do bad things to young boys. She used to force some voodoo in these boys’ bodies. After I saw her, I went with my friends. We started praising God and prayed. I was happy and dancing. Then, I was pulling weird things from my blood. It was good they were coming out. I woke up peacefully.”
She went on to thank God for that dream, because she had believed someone was sending curses on her, but now she is free from the power of the curses. “I know God love me, and I love Him too.”
So, I’m smiling giddy this morning, thankful to see how God is acting on her behalf – not only freeing her from sexual slavery, but also freeing her from the power of curses and fear. What a privilege it is to walk this stage of her journey with her.