When Prayer Fights Back: Experiencing Jesus' Miracles in Our Home

In the darkest moment, prayer became our weapon. This image captures the night Jesus fought for us and won—a powerful reminder that spiritual battles are real, but so is our Deliverer. Not today, Satan. (Luke 9:50)

“Master,” said John, “we saw someone driving out demons in your name and we tried to stop him, because he is not one of us.” “Do not stop him,” Jesus said, “for whoever is not against you is for you.” — Luke 9:49–50 (NIV)

This week, I witnessed something I can hardly explain—but I’ll never forget it.

Kevin, my husband, had been feeling off for days. It started with sinus pressure, a red, glossy eye, and an all-over ache. He never calls in sick—but this time, he did. That told me all I needed to know: he was hurting. Even then, he wouldn’t go to urgent care. The symptoms lingered and shifted. Weird welts began to spread on his head. By Wednesday and Thursday, he was back at work, but definitely not fully himself.

Thursday evening, it all came to a head.

After taking our son to his scout pack check, he came home completely drained. His eye couldn’t handle any light, his headache was back, and his neck pain had worsened. But it wasn’t until I saw him asleep that I realized something far deeper was going on. Kevin wasn’t just tossing in his sleep—he was talking, crying, and pleading with someone. “Not without my babies,” he repeated, over and over. His voice shook. He seemed to be arguing with something I couldn’t see. And I don’t say this lightly—it felt like Satan himself was trying to take him. I tried to wake him, speak to him, ground him—but the tears didn’t stop. “Not without my babies,” he said again and again.

So I did the only thing I knew to do: I called on the name of Jesus.

I prayed aloud. Boldly. I praised God for His presence, for His promises. I demanded that anything not of Jesus leave Kevin and leave our home. I claimed the blood of Christ over our family. I proclaimed the truth: Jesus is Lord here.

As I prayed, Kevin suddenly sat up and said, “I was told to embrace you.” And he held me.

So I kept praying. Kept commanding. I even declared what the Word says—unclean spirits can go into the pigs if they must, but they cannot stay here. As I prayed, Kevin's head became hot—burning hot. He said it felt like the spirits were leaving. Within 20 seconds, everything changed. He looked at me—confused, but calm. He asked me why I looked so sad. He had no memory of what just happened. And just like that… the pain was gone. The crying stopped. The heaviness broke.

That night, Jesus fought for us—and won.

Later, as Kevin pieced together what he could remember, he said he’d been arguing with voices. He told me it felt like worms in his head. But they were gone now. The peace in our room was almost tangible. It was like the aftermath of a storm, and Jesus had calmed the sea.

I continued to praise God with tears pouring down my face. Jesus had delivered him and saved him. Kevin even told me later that Jesus said my prayers will always carry that power when they align with God’s will.

There’s no question in my heart or mind—Jesus fought a spiritual war that night, and He won.

This wasn’t just a bad dream or a strange illness. This wasn’t a coincidence. Kevin didn’t just “wake up.” The demon—or spirit—that was fighting for his soul lost. Kevin was returned to us.

Even days later, Kevin still doesn’t fully recall what happened that night. He read part of what I wrote here and was broken over it—because it felt foreign to him. But I know what I saw. I know what I heard. I witnessed one of Jesus's miracles that night.

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