The fight out:

I was homeless for a while in the 90s. I’d been kicked out of the house, and I had nowhere to go. It was just me and my motorbike. I travelled to Centurion, where I lived in a bush next to the river. I found out that the stormwater pipes under the bridge were a good place to sleep.

There were powerful curses placed on me by the Satanic Church, which prevented me from getting a job. If I did get work, it would quickly fall apart and I’d be left jobless again.

During this time, an old friend of mine and his family were compassionate enough to give me a place to stay. However, I couldn’t even stay in one place for long, so I moved back to my bush next to the river, where I slept on newspapers and kept a fire burning through the night.

I had found an old storage room, and one day I went there with the intention to commit suicide, using my old army knife. As I was about to go through with it, the room suddenly lit up, and I could hear God’s mighty angels sing praise to His name. Jesus was with me in that storage room. In that dark place, I heard Jesus tell me that he was there for me and that it wasn’t over. He told me that I would never again have to be homeless. I’ve never lived on the street again.

There was a dark period of depression, where I again tried to commit suicide. My days were usually spent doing drugs, and one day I’d had enough and decided to take a bottle of pills, a six-pack of beer, and some other stuff I won’t name and climbed on my bike. Before I got on the bike, I’d slashed my arms and wrists. I had attempted suicide many times, but this was the most serious.

Jesus stepped in at that point; He didn’t allow me to die.
I woke up in the hospital, my arms stitched up and my stomach pumped. The doctors and nurses had no compassion for people who tried to commit suicide. They laughed at you and didn’t give an inch of mercy.

During this time, I became friends with another addict. He took me to his house, where his mother told me that I looked like the devil himself. She didn’t know that the devil would later marry her daughter.

I met my wife, Surette, in the 90s, and we started dating. She fell pregnant soon afterwards, and we got married. Her family despised me, and my mother-in-law had a contract drawn up that made sure that I wouldn’t be able to touch any of my wife’s belongings or gifts that she received from her family.

In the years after my son’s birth, I stole the milk money for drugs, even emptying out the closets and selling our clothes.

The Satanic side cursed us and made sure that whatever job or business I had failed, over and over again. The more this happened, the more I smoked, and I started stealing even more to support my addiction. Satanic agents would also follow me and drive past our house. Many strange things happened during that time.

A little later on, we met believers who wanted us to go live with them. During this time, a friend of mine invited me to their church. I agreed to go, and it turned out that the pastor knew me from my parents’ church.

The pastor told me that I wasn’t serious about Jesus and that they had given me enough chances. He went on to tell me that I wasn’t welcome at his church.

They phoned the police, the Child Protection Unit, and the narcotic branch of the police.

I didn’t trust the church anymore, but my friend didn’t give up on me. He asked me if I would go visit a guy he knew who worked with high-level Satanists. He told me that this guy would really be able to help me and that his name was Reverend Schabort du Plessis.

My friend told me the choice was mine to make. I told him I’d get back to him, and in the end, I said that I’d check this guy out the following Wednesday. Before I saw the Reverend, I made sure to be completely loaded up on drugs. I got crack and coke and tripped on LSD that weekend.

One Wednesday, my friend picked me up and took me to the Reverend’s house. When we arrived at his gate, and the Reverend met us outside, I thought to myself; “You bloody conservative South African pig. You will not be able to help me.”

He came up to me and told me that Jesus loved me. I told him to go and — Jesus (not going to type out the exact words). He wasn’t at all phased by my attitude. We went inside, where he immediately told me that he could see that the enemy, Satan, had been tormenting since birth. He told me that there were problems even from the time I was still in my mother’s womb. I had met someone who had the Real Jesus. Rev. Schabort always spoke softly to me, never raising his voice.

When I got home, I got some more drugs to get high on as I had some things to think through. I was very moody the day after, as Rev. Schabort had completely turned my apple cart upside down.

I phoned him the next day and told him about the drugs. He said that it was okay and that all he wanted from me was, to be honest with him at all times. I could always be brutally honest with him. I never pretended, and sometimes I would lose it completely, even going so far as to curse in his face. He never lost his temper with me.

He asked me whether I’d like to see him again, and I said I’d like to, but where he lived was too far away from me. That changed when the place where we lived was sold and we moved to another property that was much closer to him. I was able to see him every day.

I remember, one Sunday night, me and a friend of mine got some really potent LSD. It was so strong that we were tripping within minutes. I then decided to visit Rev. Schabort’s church that night. Now, LSD is not the kind of drug you can sit still on. When you’re on LSD, you’re constantly on the move. Now LSD isn’t addictive; however, It’s the kind of drug that opens you to the spirit world.

We arrived at his church and completely disrupted the meeting. He told his congregation to carry on with some worship music. He then walked up to me, asking, in a soft voice, what was wrong. I answered that nothing was wrong, and I was high on LSD. He then asked me whether he could pray for me. I answered back, very cockily, that he could if he wanted to. He proceeded to place his hands on me, and prayed, in the name of Jesus, that the spirit that was giving power to the drug release its hold on me, and he rebuked it.

My trip was over immediately, and I was angry as I had paid good money for that LSD. But a while later, after I cooled down a bit, I confessed that my drug addiction was too powerful, and I couldn’t break free from it.

He told me that I was right; I couldn’t break free from this addiction. He told me that my many attempts to stop were useless. When I went to other people for deliverance, they told me that I had to quote scriptures and pray my way out of my addiction. Rev. Schabort’s answer stunned me – it didn’t make any sense.

I told him this, and he responded by telling me that my foundations had been set wrong: I had to find Jesus, and when I found Him, I could learn to talk to Him. The spiritual battle would then be in His hands.

It was quite a battle for me to learn to talk to Jesus, and it was even harder to hear Him speak to me. It was a relief when I heard His voice.

Rev. Schabort relocated, and my family and I moved into my in-law’s house. My brother-in-law and I did drugs on a daily basis and got into frequent fights. I hit him around and pulled his hair out. I also argued with my parents-in-law.

In December 1999, I got a breakthrough in my drug addiction. It was a fight that I had to overcome when it seemed like all hope was lost. But I got out, and I’m still clean to this day.

I would travel to Rev. Schabort’s house in Heidelberg, and when I arrived, I would experience silence and peace in the spirit there. He taught me how to do spiritual warfare in the highest places. It was a constant effort to bind and chase the demons.

Rev. Schabort was a humble man, and he was willing to correct me in love. He always told me to love those who hurt me. He treated me as though I was one of his sons. He really had a heart for the rejects of society, and he wasn’t interested in working with typical churchy stuff.

Later on, Rev. Schabort moved from Heidelberg to Pretoria, and I could see him on a weekly basis and work through deliverance.

In 2009, Rev. Schabort became sick. In the first week of August, I saw him for the last time. He died in September. His death was one of the most painful experiences in my life, yet I had to go on. It took a long time to accept his death.

The years I was with him changed me, even physically. I cut my long hair, got rid of my jewellery, and got laser treatment to remove my tattoos. Rev Schabort prayed and did deliverance on me for thirteen years, the last three of those thirteen years he trained me in Jesus for deliverance ministry.

I give Jesus Christ All the Glory for His Help in my life.

I will share more on Spiritual Warfare, Deliverance, and the spiritual fight in the months ahead.

Testimony from the book Unchained.