When I was sixteen, I started feeling like I was straying away from God. 

A Sunday in May 2010

Growing up in poverty and in a small parish, everyone around you belongs to a church. Where I’m from, there’s a church located close enough for you to walk on a hot summer's day without your t-shirt sticking to your back, from uptown. To the heart of the village and all the way to the back of my town, there was a church.

You did not choose your denomination. You were born into your denomination. There were Catholic, Methodist, and Baptist. I was born a Baptist. Baptiste at seven years old, along with my five-year-old sister. My church home was Beautiful Zion. 

At seven, I knew that I wanted to be a born-again believer. I wanted to give my life to Christ. My mama did not make me get baptized. She encouraged me to do it. I somehow believed that the raging nightmares that would awaken me in cold sweats would cease.

I somehow believed that my mama wouldn’t have to slave in the sugarcane fields for another summer. She still did even when I told her not to. That I can go without a new pair of shoes for the school year.

I gave up pleading. 
I still prayed. 
I even wondered what my deceased father would do? How would he feel? Was he as much of a bastard as some older folks in the town labeled him to be? I...wanted... clarity. I deserved clarity.

The clarity never seemed to come even after being baptized.

After my baptism, I did not notice a difference within my physical self, but my spiritual self was stronger. As I grew into a teenager, I started having moments that I gave into my flesh. I was no match for what my eyes desired. I no longer crave a closer relationship with God. I desired a relationship in my flesh. Foolishly. Things in my life were chaotic. 

I believe that the Jezebel Spirit had gotten ahold of me. Somehow. Somewhere. 

I’m no bartender, but the mix of depression with low self-esteem is like mixing brown and white liquor. It was a combination that isn’t good for you for the stomach, but I still took it to the head with no chaser.

Pray for Jesus to be glorified in the situation.
By sixteen, I started being sexually active with a member of my church. He was 10 years older than me. He was charming, cunning, and deceitful. I was an usher. He was a piano player. 

Every Sunday morning would start off the same. A few choir members would already be humming old hymns for the start of the service. Then he would walk into the right door located by the choir to get on the piano. The time would read on my phone at 8:25 a.m. 

My relaxed hair would be pulled out of my face into a half up half down style. My dark brown eyes would be lined with black liner. My lips would be glossed with the beauty supply store's best tube for under $3.00. 

I would smell of the White Lilies fragrance by Body Fantasy. My Sunday clothes as an Usher were uniform styled. Black wide-leg slacks with any short-sleeved button-up dress shirt that I could find any thrift store. My shoes were always black flats. 

It was simple. Simple-minded when it came to dressing. Simple-minded when it came to him. He gave me the attention that the guys in high school did not give me. He carried the Jezebel spirit along with lust behind his bright Colgate smile.

I don’t know why I would leave out of church when the pastor would start preaching to entertain him. We would sneak to the side of the church away from the colored stained windows to just talk. 

Conversation topic: Me Acting Funny With My Goodies

It took me about a month to become his prey. Once I gave him my number. He preyed on my heart, mind, and body. I would sing to the highest of notes for him. I knew God was highly dissatisfied with me and my actions. Everyone’s opinion of what I was becoming was none of my concern. However, I was still curious. 

Everyone in the choir knew what was happening. Everyone who attended church regularly knew OUR routine. He was stringing me along as a bright-eyed teenage girl in the house of the Lord. He had no shame.

We had shared late nights in the backseat of his beaten-down maroon-colored car. Sex with him did not fill any void. The stiffness that would fill the air in his car would be enough to suffocate the regret—the regret of giving into him. 

He knew more about me than I did about him. I confided in him about my family issues. He would ring my house phone as soon as he thought I made it home from school. After months passing, we had no title. 

He started driving from wherever he called home to pick me up from work at 11:30pm. The smell of Popeye’s fried chicken lingered on my batter and flour-stained work uniforms. I did not want to be touched or kissed after work.

Just so I wouldn’t have sex with him, I started giving him gas money. He was an alcoholic who was overwhelmed with life. He hid a lot of truths behind being a sexually frustrated dark-skinned brother. 

Sometimes he would take the ten or twenty dollars I would give him in gas and still want sex. He would undress me with his eyes in my work sweaty work uniform. Gas me up with hope.

Then I would give in. Give in to the lies. Give in to the sugarcoated compliments. I knew that for him and his cravings that I would never be enough. I was not the only one.

The backseat of his car reeked of guilt, loneliness, and another young girl. A young girl who would search for herself in the foggy windows while he would please himself deep in her gold mine with every stroke. 

It was then I started staying away from God. On purpose. The rumors started swirling that he was known for having sex with underage girls. I even confronted him. I wanted to truth. 

The truth he would never speak, not to me, but to God. 

After all of myself, I gave him. He gave me lies to calm me. I knew that I could not believe him. I was underage, and he was having sexual ties with me! I quit asking for the truth. I just have him distance instead. The distance made him crave me more. 

He started putting in the effort of buying me things. He took things that were for his mother or another woman and gift them to me. I could no longer stand going to church. I could not stand seeing or hearing him on the piano. 

When I distanced myself from him, I found peace within me. I found the strength to somehow talk to God. I felt as if I was on bad terms with him. I explained myself to him in prayer with tears streaming down my face at a park in my town. I talk to God in public. He answered my prayers. 

He comforted my troubled spirit. I cast out the spirit of Jezebel from me and regained my relationship with God. Today there’s no doubt that God renewed within me a cleansed my spirit clean. He can do the same for you too. 

What you must do to cast out the spirit of Jezebel: 

  • Thank Jesus for being in charge and for fighting the battle for you–even before you see the victory manifest.
  • Pray for the humility of Jesus to be released in every person involved in the situation (Philippians 2:5-11).
  • Worship Jesus despite and over that situation.
  • Worship Jesus and praise Him for being victorious.
  • Shout or sing the name of Jesus in your worship. Keep repeating the Name of Jesus until you sense a breakthrough in the spirit realm.
  • Magnify and exalt Jesus in every way in your worship.
  • Pray that every person involved would follow the example of Jesus and submit to God and godly authority.
  • Plead the blood of Jesus over every aspect of your in all areas of your life and over the specific situation.

If you want more of my story or more of this story, email or even comment below. Share your thoughts in the comment section below. 

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  1. Thank you for sharing your truth. I battle with being public with my feeling and thoughts and experience. Thinking about being judged and being paralyzed by fear. I know that people will have something to say no matter what. But I appreciate the authenticity with your post. You’re amazing.

    1. In order to have peace you have to speak your truth. This is a very touchy and deep topic for anyone to touch on. It took me years to speak about this publicly and on a safe platform that I created. Whenever you are strong enough to talk about your expereince please do not hesitate. I am always here too. Whether you want to talk over the phone or through video chat, I am here. Thank you so much for being transparent with me too. I appreciate you.