Christ On The Rise Ministries

My friend quickly told me he was going to head back home to get help and come back, but I was unfamiliar with the area and didn't want him to leave me. He took off, promising to be back.

In that moment, I felt lost. I was a little kid in an unknown area, crying. As I was walking my bike, someone ended up pulling over in an unknown neighborhood. This person got out and asked me to get into his car. At that time, I was taught that if someone approached me, I should start screaming and running—and that’s what I did.

I was so scared I couldn't even catch my breath. All I remember was closing my eyes and screaming and praying for God to help me. At that moment, I felt a total change in my direction, like I was being guided by something else. It all happened so fast; it felt like I was being teleported from one place to another.

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was my friend running towards me, asking me what happened, and right there was his house. I was shocked, asking myself how I had gotten there. It was at that moment I knew that God loved me. That was miracle number one.

Even to this day, I miss her so much. For a long time, I couldn't stop crying because thinking about her being gone brought so much pain.

But, long story short, I prayed and prayed, and the next day she was miraculously healed. The doctors could not explain the situation; they simply said that she was healed, offering no medical explanation. That was Miracle Number Two.

I quickly told my grandmother what I saw. She held me tight and initially dismissed it, saying, 'This is a holy place; the devil cannot be in the church.' But when I insisted on what I had seen, she looked at me differently and told me to stay close and pray.

As the sermon ended, the atmosphere in the church became chaotic. Instead of praying normally, people were screaming, running around, falling down, and acting possessed. A few moments later, the pastor walked up to my grandmother and me and confirmed our fears: he told us that the Devil was in the church that night.

My grandmother looked at me, astonished, asking, 'How did you know that? How were you able to see that?' I told her I didn't know, but it felt as if God was deliberately showing me the full extent of the world's evil.

To this day, I'm not entirely sure why I saw Satan there, but I believe it may have been a stark warning—perhaps an attempt to scare me from following God and helping others.

I was instantly terrorized. I couldn't sleep for weeks; I was harassed by demons at night, and strange things, like lights flickering, happened in my room.

My grandmother told me I needed to pray and ask for forgiveness. My Pastor confirmed I was being tested and needed to repent. This wasn't a simple apology; I dedicated myself completely. I spent hours reading my Bible, praying, and playing hymns on my guitar.

Then, clearly as day, a voice came over me and said, 'You have been forgiven. Go and share your testimony with all.' I broke down crying, overwhelmed with happiness, because the entity was instantly gone. The moment the Blood of Christ covered me, I felt hope. It was a profound realization: God is our protector from evil, and we have free will to choose between His love or opening doors to the enemy.

For weeks, I immediately went out and shared the good news of how Jesus saved me from evil. But, as we know, Satan uses others to influence doubt. While sharing my faith in a Jiu-Jitsu class, one of the kids told me I should focus on life now and worry about Jesus later. For some strange reason, that single comment made me stumble and fall away from my spiritual walk for a period of time.

Then, when I was pretty much an adult and had just bought my first motorcycle, the Holy Spirit visited me again in the shower. He told me my grandma would be getting sick, and this time, it would be serious. Again, I was given the two options. This time, after all the warnings and miracles, I submitted and said, 'Let it be Your will, Lord.'

She became very ill and ended up in the hospital. When I went to see her, she was extremely weak. I walked over, held her hand, looked her in the eyes, and whispered, 'It’s the time. The Lord has come for you, and you and I are going to be okay.'

I was also dealing with conflict with my mother over the motorcycle, and she was upset about my grandmother's condition. My mother asked me not to visit anymore, saying I was causing her stress.

About three to five days later, it was right around Easter weekend, and my family was preparing for a trip to Mexico. I was lying in my room when I felt the Holy Spirit come and visit me and told me, 'Now is the time to see your grandma if you want to see her.'

I ran out to confront my mother, but she told me I couldn't see her because she was on dialysis and I could see her when they got back from their trip. I knew instantly that I wouldn't see her again.

She died that same night. A part of me died with her. The pain was immense, and for a long time, I was so angry and confused. I remember running out and screaming, 'WHY, GOD, WHY? I needed her!' But deep down, beneath the pain, I knew that God had a plan for both her and me, and that sometimes, no matter how much we are hurting, we have to let them go.