“I am going over towards the school to check on Hilin and Rusma,” radioed Kiana long after dark one evening. “One of the older boys just came and told me they saw something, and they are screaming their heads off. Just thought I would tell you so you could be praying. I’ll let you know what I find.”

We wondered what was happening. People’s imaginations tend to run wild here, especially recently. There have been reports of evil-looking strangers slinking through villages and lurking in nighttime shadows. Palawanos whisper that they kidnap people and harvest their organs to sell in Japan. They also say that blood sacrifices are required for bridges and large buildings being built in the lowlands, and Palawano blood is preferred. So, for some time now, Palawanos have been keeping a very close eye on their children and staying in groups at night.

As we finished prayer and arose from our knees, I told the young men at our home, “Even though Kiana hasn’t called yet, you better go up there right away. I have a sense that she will need help.” Kiana’s next radio call sent chills up my spine as I heard the screams in the background. There was no mistaking the cause. We had been through this before.

Praying again for protection and wisdom, we hiked up through the creek and past the school to the small hut where the Palawano girls had been sleeping with the school cook and her family. There we found two of the girls, Rusma and Hilin, screaming and fighting invisible assailants, unaware of their surroundings or of the friends who were trying to comfort and help them.

The others told us that Rusma had gotten up from her bed to get a drink from the water jug near the door. As she approached the door, it was thrown open violently, and some type of being was standing there. At that moment, she and Hilin went crazy, fighting off the people trying to help them, while in their minds they fought demons. Hilin cried out to God to help her and screamed at the enemy to leave her alone, for she belonged to God. Rusma just fought and screamed. We commanded the demons to leave in Jesus’ name and because of the blood He shed for us. Then we continued in prayer and sang praises to God as several people held onto Rusma and Hilin to keep them from hurting themselves or others. Finally the girls fell into an exhausted sleep, and we slept fitfully beside them for the few remaining hours of the night.

The following morning when the girls awoke, they seemed somewhat better. We had prayer with them. Hilin had been sick with malaria, so she stayed in bed.

Before classes began, I went up to the school and found Rusma sitting near the trees, resting as she waited. I sat with her and encouraged her. She is a new Christian, recently baptized, so I asked her if she remembered that Jesus was an ever-present help in trouble, that His blood covered her, and that her enemy was already defeated. She looked at me, “No, I had forgotten that,” she replied. “If that ever happens to me again, I will certainly call on Jesus!”

After school worship that morning, Rusma again came under spiritual attack. Simultaneously, in a completely different village, Hilin also fell prey again. School was put on hold, and the older students and teachers became prayer warriors along with us for these two girls who were valiantly crying out to Jesus to save them while screaming at the devil that he had no right to them. Sometimes one or the other of them would say, “You can do whatever you want to me, devil, but I know you are defeated, and Jesus is Victor! Get out of here!” (Later, they explained that this was in response to the devil telling them that he was stronger than they were and would overcome them.)
The morning stretched into the afternoon, and it soon became clear that it was going to be another long night. Kent was in the lowlands, and I called him to tell him he was needed.

We put Rusma and Hilin in a room at the school where we could take care of them for the night and where people could gather to pray and sing. This was not the sort of thing any of us wanted to face alone.

Although we did not intend for the whole church to come, word got out, and members came pouring in, even bringing their young children. Palawanos are very communal, and little is hidden from the eyes of children, but still I felt uncomfortable. When non-Christian students and other villagers began to arrive, I really became concerned.

Kent had not yet arrived from the lowlands, so it fell to me to lead the worship service. We started out with praise songs and then had a time of private confessional prayer. Dividing into singing groups and praying groups, we continued while others restrained the two girls. As Kent hiked up the path to the school and came into earshot, the sound coming from the building was indescribable—simultaneous singing and praying in a variety of languages, and unearthly screaming.
Soon after Kent arrived, the chaos deepened as, one by one, other Palawano students came under spiritual attack and started screaming and fighting off invisible foes. About this time, we got word that Juni, one of our older students, had run off into the jungle. Our son, Timothy, who was visiting at the time, immediately gathered a group to search for him. They had quite a terrifying time with him and were gone quite awhile. I was thankful when a number of families began to leave, realizing this was no place for children.

Kent and I stepped out of the school to pray together. Upon returning, we saw several guys struggling to restrain a girl. It was our daughter, Jilin! Kent helped them get her into the school and I pinned her down in a bear hug as I commanded the demons to leave her alone.

Some of the young people were visibly struggling. We went around encouraging, praying and singing to keep people focused on God. “Are you afraid?” we would ask them. If they said they were, we knew they needed special attention and prayer. If they could keep their faith focused on Jesus even though they were frightened, they could cling to the promise of God that “perfect love casteth out fear,” and they wouldn’t be overcome by it. The Devil seemed to be using fear to gain entry to people’s minds.

I found myself praying over and over, “Lord, fill me with Your love. Remove this fear. Lord, You have promised not to allow anything more than we can handle with You.” Other times, we cried out, “Lord, where are You?”
One student missionary said, “This would be the perfect time for the Lord to return. I don’t know any other way this is going to be resolved.” But we all fought on side by side.

There was great searching of hearts that night as we wrestled with our own souls for complete cleansing so that we could mediate for our friends. I couldn’t help but think about the time of trouble we know will come upon us someday. It seemed we were having our own time of “Jacob’s trouble” right then and there—a time when our sense told us all was lost and there would be no deliverance. In blind, childlike faith, all we could do was cling to Jesus and His promise that He would never leave us. We knew He was there, even though it didn’t seem that He was or that He was working with the speed we wanted. We were completely dependent upon Him, for it was clearly evident that, “not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord of hosts” (Zech. 4:6). There was nothing we could do but ask for more and still more of His presence and His Spirit in us and through us.

By morning, many had won the battle, though bruised in body and soul. Others fought on and on, night after night for almost a whole week! In all, 13 precious souls experienced overpowering oppression. I call it oppression, for these young people were not possessed; they did not give themselves up to the demons, but fought tooth and nail. It was as if they were doing hand-to-hand combat with an enemy invisible to us. (The enemy was very visible to them, they later explained.) It was heart-wrenching to hear their cries, but gratifying to hear them express their faith in Jesus even in the midst of dreadful trial.

When I asked them what they believed gave entrance to the devil’s oppression, I received some interesting answers:
“I’ve been neglecting my Bible study and prayer.”
One young girl, still learning how to live a Christian life, said, “I’ve been dishonest with my parents, even stealing from them.”
Still others said, “I’ve had an unforgiving spirit towards those who have wronged me.”
“I’ve had an all-consuming grief and anger about the bad things that have happened to me.”
“I’ve been angry about not getting my way.”

This experience really shook everyone up. It vividly showed us the intense, unseen battle that is going on for each of us every day. We must put on the whole armor of God. We cannot slack for one moment. The enemy lurks, looking for chinks in our armor, looking for weak spots through which he can overpower us and defeat us. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Eph. 6:12).

The wonderful news is that Jesus is the Victor! He has already won the war. We are skirmishing with a desperate, defeated enemy. Therefore, do not be afraid! “God is an ever present help in trouble.” And He really, truly will never leave you.

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