Getting in and out of Tenth Avenue Church was a challenge as
was parking. Most people parked on the street. With three other churches within
one block of the church the streets were crowded on a Sunday morning. There was
a small parking lot in the back of the church that was always full. There were
five primary entrances; the front doors were the most direct into the
sanctuary. They were located on the corner of Tenth Avenue and Ontario. The
church had a long lobby running the width of the church. On the north side was
stairs to the basement and an exit to the parking lot. That door was beside the
kitchen.
One could exit along the south side and behind the platform
and down the stairs. This was also the main entrance to the offices during the
week. Because you could not see the street from the offices one had to buzz the
office to be let into the church.
At the bottom of those stairs one could turn right to the
center of the building, turn left again toward the “new addition” (the gym) which had exits on both sides
of the building; one to the street and one to the parking lot. There was no
primary way to leave and no clear place to greet people as they left the
church. Many times the staff just left like everyone else.
The most unusual contact I made with a family and the one
that led to consuming a great deal of my time and focus while at Tenth Avenue
occurred at the top of the stairs behind the platform. I had been to my office
and was about to go down stairs and meet up with my wife and children when a
middle-aged couple stopped me to talk. Their greeting was direct and to the
point. “Do you believe in demons?”
That caught me off guard. I actually had to think about that
because I had no context to the question. Why were they asking? Was this some
sort of test? What did they want to know?
I had heard several missionaries speak about demon
possession during my years at Canadian Bible College. A professor talked about
it in some class at Canadian Bible College and I had at least taken notes, but
I had only one brief encounter with the issue while in Saskatoon, and I would
consider it rather minor.
My contact was at a mid-week prayer meeting with the youth.
It was an unusual night as only two kids showed up. We talked for a while and
Bonnie Peters mentioned that her friend, the one she had with her at the prayer
meeting, could not pray the name of Jesus. We sat and talked about that for a
while. I had remembered that was one of the signs of demon possession or
oppression. To be honest, I never had those two issues real clear in my mind
until that night. Oppression can happen to believers while possession can only occur
with non-believers. I was hesitant to identify what was happening as having
anything to do with demons, but I ultimately did. Bonnie and I prayed that
night that God would deliver her friend from the oppression blocking his
prayers. Amazingly (at least a surprise
to me), he was freed that night.
So standing in the hall behind the platform I tentatively
said yes. I was then worried about where that was going to lead. They told me a
story I had only heard told by missionaries.
They had a fifteen-year-old daughter whom they believed was
demon possessed. I swallowed hard. Things moved in her bedroom without being touched.
Stuff fell off of shelves of their own accord, curtains blew with the window
closed, stuffed animals made noises and jumped from their displays. She could
see demons in her room at night. They went on in great detail. It was not
happening every night, but they were all frightened. They wanted help and they
wanted it from me because I said that I believed in demons. What was God saying
to me? What was He doing to me? I felt like Moses, “I cannot speak.” I
genuinely had no idea what I could do. The entire issue was beyond me.
I agreed to meet with her and talk. Meanwhile I was going to
call for help.
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