“The Devil has fallen on hard times. . . More and more Christians, to say nothing about our increasingly secular society, just don’t believe in the Devil, at least not in any personal or literal sense.” (Richard Beck, professor and author)

I want to be a better exorcist.

Over the last three-and-a-half decades of ministry, I have worked hard at improving my preaching and teaching skills, leadership competencies, compassion quotient, and understanding of addiction and recovery. I have sought to grow in my writing, negotiating, and conflict resolution abilities. I have endeavored to become more adept at visioneering, administrative execution, and pastoral counseling. I still have a long way to go in each of these areas, but I think I have made some progress. I definitely believe that my faith, hope, and love (fingers crossed!) are moving in the right direction, but when it comes to exorcism, I am lagging way behind.

Some might find this a bit surprising considering my church roots. I was raised in a Pentecostal, tongue-speaking, hand-clapping, Jericho-marching congregation of believers. I witnessed people getting “slain” in the Spirit and earnest times of “tarrying” in prayer around the altar. There could  be sudden exclamations of joy in the assembly and prophetic utterances given or perhaps a testimony of a divine encounter. While we never got to snake-handling or poison-drinking, healing services where legs were grown, back pains alleviated, and cancers cured were not uncommon. As a boy, I found these services inspiring and fascinating. I wanted more.

So, after high school, I enrolled in a Pentecostal Bible college where I could deepen my knowledge of the Scriptures so that I could be a better equipped, Spirit-empowered minister to God’s people. As with any expression of Christian spirituality, there were some excesses and shortcomings in my experiences as a young man, but I was firmly committed to a faith which took seriously the role of signs and wonders and supernatural phenomena. The Pentecostal meter went to a whole new level in those days when I attended a mega church which put the supernatural on front and center stage. Much to-do was made of the realm of the Satanic. It seemed like demons were under every tree, bush, and rock. They even had demon barf-bags at their Tuesday night deliverance services. I got the jitters and bolted.

At the same time, another set of factors converged which gave me a sour taste for things Pentecostal related—the Jim Baker and Jimmy Swaggert scandals of the mid 1980’s. I became embarrassed over my ecclesiastical heritage and began attending an Episcopalian church while in seminary in Southern California. There I found refuge in the order, structure, and sacredness of the Sunday services. The rich liturgy, celebration of the holy eucharist, expository preaching, and theologically robust hymnody became my salvation. And surprise of all surprises, this high church was charismatic. They believed in the things of the Spirit. They anointed people with oil and prayed for miracles. And they took the Devil seriously.

I wish I could say that I was off and running as a Pentecostal in all things, but that was not the case. The spiritual warfare stuff never quite got off the ground with me. I am sure there are many reasons for this starting with the fact that culture as a whole has become increasingly secular and disenchanted. Ghosts and goblins are the residual of outdated cosmology, a thing of the prescientific age. We can explain all that weird stuff now. Furthermore, the Pentecostalism of the tribe to which I am a card-carrying member has, at least in practice, significantly tamed down. Few are the churches (at least in my hemisphere) whose doctrine of devils matches on-the-ground-fight-the-Enemy reality. I am not throwing stones. As a leader, I am no more innocent than any other pastor-peer. Another reason has to do with my own personality and temperament. I am more traditionally inclined, analytical by nature, and someone given more to the ordinary than the sensational. I readily admit that there is a limiting side to this way of being. Conservatives like me can be too cautious and collected and subsequently miss out on all that God desires to do. And of course, I can never dismiss pride as a reason for my own reluctance to engage in the more extra-terrestrial things. I want to be known as a respectable practitioner of the gospel and not some flake given to superstition who chases demons.

There is nothing like need and desperation, however, to get one to consider something new, push conventional boundaries, and take additional risks. Having personally witnessed the devastation addiction has brought upon individuals and families—the lives lost, marriages wrecked, children abandoned, bodies broken, dreams unfulfilled—I am earnestly asking, “What are we missing? What more can be done?” And based on my journey of late, I think one of those answers has to do with spiritual warfare. I just have not given enough attention to this arena. That is why I am eager to grow in my exorcising powers.

This world is a battlefield of good and evil, powers of light verses powers of darkness. We can minimize or deny this and chalk such talk up to primitive thinking, or we can at least be open to the idea that maybe some of our problems are much larger than simply “flesh and blood.” This does not mean we point fingers at the Devil for all our woes or restrict our thinking to primarily demonic beings possessing or oppressing individuals. Yes, I believe Satan and his fiends can and do inhabit persons (take Judas Iscariot; see John 13:27). But we need to widen our view when we think of the demonic. These beings are not simply disembodied spirits floating around in the air. The “rulers,” “authorities,” and “powers of this dark world” that Paul talks about in Ephesians 6 can also be construed as structural, institutional powers—violent, lustful, divisive, dehumanizing forces working within the media, educational systems, government, business, the arts, etc. In the German language, they are the zeitgeist, “the spirit of the age,” that has a controlling influence over human beings, making things happen and shaping personal agency just as much as circumstances. While it is next to impossible to disentangle the human or natural elements from the spiritual and supernatural (it is a mysterious mix), these powers are very real, taking on a life of their own, saturating the atmosphere, and ever pressing upon people—tempting, taunting, beguiling, and molding persons into their dark image.

We are in a war. There is a vicious, cataclysmic conflict taking place in the heavenlies right now between angelic and demonic forces (check out Daniel chapter 10). This war includes political, educational, economic, and entertainment-industry related forces that are entwined collectively in a “spirit of anti-Christ” seeking to infiltrate, animate, and hold men and women hostage to evils such as racism, consumerism, militarism, radical expressive individualism, relativism, classism, etc. We must wake up. Ole Slewfoot is on the loose, prowling around like a roaring lion, looking for people to devour (1 Peter 5:8). The four Gospels record no less than twenty-three separate references or episodes associating evil and the devil or his minions with Jesus. The Apostle John makes it clear in his first epistle, “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work” (3:8). To overlook this realm along with its destructive potentiality is to our peril.

The great Protestant Reformer Martin Luther in his hymn, “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” reminds us that this world is “devils filled.” This does not mean we go on a wild demon hunt looking for spooky creatures around every corner. Spiritual warfare is not principally about rebuking the devil, binding spirits, or casting out demons. It is about radical love for others—enemies included. Barking orders at the Enemy is easy. Loving is hard, but this is where the real battlefront lies. True love is not some soft, courteous, Mr. Rogers-like-affection, but the Lion-like-Lamb love described in Revelation 12:11, “They overcame him (the great Dragon) by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.” The only power capable of disarming the accuser of the brethren is cruciform, Christ-shaped love. The Apostle Paul wrote, “The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world” (2 Corinthians 10:4). The arsenal to which he refers is love expressed in generosity, humility, gentleness, and deference. This is how strongholds, arguments, and every pretension that sets itself up against God are demolished (vv. 4-5; see the immediate context, chapters 8-10). What may be folly and weakness to some is wisdom and strength with God.

We the church triumph over the evil powers by the cross, through loving, Christ-like sacrifice and suffering. We do this by absorbing violence, welcoming the stranger, walking in humility, and giving until it hurts. This is the great power that takes down the high places (see Colossians 2:15). As Christ-followers, then, we must immerse ourselves in the gospel, taking up the hope of salvation for our helmet, fitting ourselves with the breastplate of justice-making, wearing the gospel boots of peace-making, donning the belt of truth-telling, trusting always in God as we hold the shield of faith, wielding God’s life-affirming Word as our sword, and always keeping in prayer. This is how we stand in days of evil.  

Addiction is more than a bio-psycho-social-spiritual problem. It is also “demonic.” Men and women are being acted upon by evil powers which command a superhuman energy. Understanding the nature of the crisis at hand expands the conversation when it comes to treatment, opening the doors to new possibilities of care (and not simply for those with drug and alcohol problems but for each one of us fighting our own particular demons). We all need therapy, counseling, community, spiritual formation and discipleship, . . . and “exorcism.” If any of us are to make any real and lasting headway against our addictions, we must reckon with the Devil. To carry on as if he does not exist is insanity. Marva Dawn and Eugene Peterson remind us, “We can’t conquer the drug problem without seeing its spiritual roots; . . . We are simply silly if we think we can win against evils by ourselves.”

There is a war going on, one in which we may not be able to see yet one in which we are deeply caught. This raises the stakes and calls for a vigilance that we would not otherwise have. Powers and principalities are actively at work, bedeviling and beguiling. The devil is more than some slick, sneaky gremlin-like cat with horns and a pitchfork. He is the embodiment of networks of evil powers which shape values, morals, worldviews, and cultural norms. Therefore, as Paul charges the Ephesians, we must be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power, otherwise we will surely fall. May God help us live holy, separated lives—loving hard, long, and well as we push against these corrupting, selfish powers in Jesus’s name. In the process, we just might exorcise a demon or two.

And may we not loose heart in these evil times. No matter how rampant and destructive the powers of evil, they are doomed. The message of Christus Victor is that God in Christ has disarmed the powers and is reconciling all things to himself (Colossians 1:19; Ephesians 1:10). Professor and author Robert Webber writes, “Evil is not the final word in human existence. The final word is Jesus Christ. The vision of new heavens and a new earth is not fantasy. It is the reality, the truth. Therefore, it is the hope that lies behind everything we do as Christians.” God is building his church, and the gates of hell will not prevail.

Oh, I want to be a better exorcist, and being a better exorcist is essentially about being a better lover! But being a better exorcist is not about being a better Pentecostal. It is about being a more faithful Christ-follower.

“There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils.
One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe,
and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.
They themselves are equally pleased by both errors
and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight.”
(C.S. Lewis)