Sky, Clouds, Jet

Filled – Calling on God to Protect Me

I know that there must be people out there who are going through what I have been through.

I was brought up in your typical middle-class family. My parents weren’t overly religious, but my mother had told me when I was young that there is a God out there and he sent his son to die for us. I thank her for that because that foundation helped me to get saved and it has made me the person I am today.

When I was 5 my family moved from England to Australia. We all really enjoyed it but unfortunately our 2-year visa expired, and we had to go back to England. We lost a lot of money doing that and we ended up in a house with bad heating and my Dad had to work long hours for little pay, but it was still enough to get by with.

Then my Dad’s situation worsened, and he ended up getting depressed. I remember coming home one day after school, my sister went straight to the TV, but I went to see my Dad. He was on the bed crying and when he saw me, he grabbed me and went hysterical and just kept saying,

“What am I going to do, what am I going to do”.

I was still young, and I didn’t really know about depression, so this confused me a lot. Mum found me and quickly took me away from him and told me not to worry and just forget about it. I will never forget.

I used to think back and wonder how things would’ve turned out if my sister had gone to see Dad and I had gone to watch TV. I don’t know, but I have no doubt that things would’ve been different. Seeing something like that changed me and made me realise that I loved my family no matter what.

After 4 years of waiting in England our Australian visa was accepted and because of Dad’s depression we decided to go to Australia. The plan was to get a one-way ticket and just go there to see if we really wanted to live there. My sister never said goodbye to her friends because she was certain she was coming back.

Mum was indecisive about the whole thing, and she said she only wanted to do what was best for the family even though she wanted to stay in England. Dad wanted to stay in Australia. So far, the vote was 1 for Australia, 1 for England and 1 who didn’t mind, so the decision rested on me.

I decided to stay in Australia because I knew Dad would get better here but I never had any idea of what it would do to my sister. I thought a change would be good for us.

Things worked for a while, but anger was building up in my sister and when she hit her teens it was like a massive explosion of malice. I guess that’s what teens are like, but everyone was just fighting so much, non-stop. Mum and Dad were constantly at each other’s necks and my sister was fueling it all. They would always turn to me and try to get me on their side, but I didn’t want to get involved at all.

Through all this I was growing more and more depressed. Sometimes I would just cry and not know why I was crying. Well, I guess the fighting would be one thing to cry about but I was used to it, so I don’t think that was why I was crying.

That’s when God came to me.

He was like a little voice in my head that comforted me and joked around with me. He was my friend and even though talking aloud to something that you can’t me may seem a little crazy, I think it’s what kept me sane.

The fighting got so bad that Mum and Dad’s idea of a resolution would be for my mum and my sister to go back to England and my dad and I to stay here in Australia. I didn’t think it was much of a resolution.

My depression was getting worse and even though God was with me I wasn’t saved, and I didn’t really know what to do so I decided to kill myself. I never actually got to it because my mum found me all hysterical and crying. She asked me why I was like that, and I just told her it was because I missed my friends in England. I’m not sure if she bought it but after that the fighting cooled down, but it didn’t stop. Either way I got a little better. I still get depressed now and again but what can you do, at least I have God to get me through.

A year or two later when I had just hit my teens, I was starting to feel really empty. I became depressed again. All I did was just sit in the same spot for hours and stare into the distance. Time really flies when you’re thinking. I tried to find something to fill the hole, to make me feel special. I turned to Satan and witchcraft.

I hate it whenever I think back to it. I don’t know what happened. The little voice had gone, and I needed something. Anything. I was desperate. I made a promise to Satan that when I was older and had my own place, I would completely devote my life to witchcraft. Pretty stupid huh?

I was in a Christian school, but I never really got into all that Christian stuff. Not until a year later. I started to call myself a Christian although I was still not saved. The promise still hung over my head. I had a lot of sins; a lot of burdens and it grew heavier every day. Then I just decided to forget about it. It worked for a little while.

When I was about 14, I started to hear things. People screaming and there were two people in particular. A boy and a girl. I’m not sure if they were just memories of a car crash, I was involved with because some of the sounds I heard were very similar. I don’t know.

I kept hearing them and soon they started to interact with me. They were hostile and the voices would ask me who I was, and what I was doing there. Where ‘there’ is I don’t know. I decided to tell my parents about it. They got worried and wanted to take me to a head doctor. The idea of being a crazy person wasn’t appealing to me at all. I told them not to worry about it.

The voices grew worse, and I ended up having to shout back at them to go away. Mum and dad got more worried, and I didn’t want to be a crazy person, so I decided I was going to get proof of the ‘voices’ existence. Getting the proof wasn’t that easy. I had to go on the Internet and look up all these ghost websites just to find out what I was actually looking for.

Time for me was running out and the head doctor was getting closer and I was getting more and more desperate. It ended with my first ever prayer. I got down on my knees and prayed aloud, asking God to help me prove I was not crazy.

The next day I got a real big urge to take a photo of my living room, so I did. The photo was full of them. Although being stalked by dead people isn’t something to be celebrating about, I was sooooo happy.

I ran to my parents and showed them the photo. They were terrified but I didn’t care. I was sane! I thanked God so much for that and asked him to save me.

He did.

After that I completely changed. You would not believe the horrid little selfish wretch I was. I used to obsess over stupid things like money and material things. I was a very practised liar. I could tell a lie with such wide-eyed conviction no matter how crazy it seemed, and people would believe me.

I changed and because of God the hole in my life was filled. I was so filled I was bursting at the seams. All of my burdens and sins were lifted, and I just felt so refreshed and clean. Something I hadn’t felt for a long time. Choosing God was the best thing I have ever done, and I am so glad he chose me.

But. That picture I took opened something for me. As well as hearing them I also started to see them. I’m not going to say much about it except for the fact that a great deal of them were hostile and I have been grabbed by them a couple of times.

I used to like them. I thought they made me special, and they do, I guess. It’s definitely different but I realised God would never put me in a dangerous situation like this and my ability to see these people was given to me from a different power.

I remembered back to my promise. Satan knew he was losing me, so he decided to give me what I had asked for years back. I wanted to be special, to be different. This was far too much.

I don’t need to see dead people to feel special because I know that when I die, I will have much greater abilities. I’ll have wings for one. And I have and always will have God to call on to protect me. So that’s what I did.

Every night I found myself having to call on God to shield me from the evil spirits that wanted to get at me. Satan’s plan had backfired. Something he used to try to sway me to his side actually brought me to God. In your face Satan!

I still see them now but not as much. I still call on God every night to protect me and he always delivers. Even though I’ve been through some pretty bad stuff I would not change it for anything. It has made me who I am today and for anyone who is going through a hard time I will tell you the same verse that gets me through hard times.

Romans 5:3-5 “˜But that’s not all! We gladly suffer, because we know that suffering helps us to endure. And endurance builds character, which gives us hope that will never disappoint us.’

At the end of the day, it is God’s love that will get us through anything!

Thank you for reading my testimony.


  1. Gail Seeley 5/28/2007
  2. Jess 5/29/2007
  3. Gail Seeley 5/30/2007
  4. Jess 5/31/2007
  5. Eva 3/10/2024

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