God Honoured the Word of His Servants

It was Thursday, August 27th, 1998, around 12 midnight, when I returned home from church. The night was unusually heavy, and as I stepped into the compound, I froze.

A group of masquerades — masked, cloaked, chanting in dark, strange tones — filled our compound. They claimed they had come to visit my uncle. Their presence was unsettling; their movements, ritualistic; their noises, deeply spiritual and disturbing.

By the time I tried to sleep, it was already a little after 1 a.m., yet they were still there — chanting, humming, and making sounds that carried the weight of ancient traditions mixed with something darker.

Sleep refused to come.

Peace was nowhere near.

My spirit grew angry — not at the people, but at the forces behind their noises.

So I got up.

I stood in the middle of my room and began to pray.

The more they chanted, the stronger the fire in my spirit rose. The atmosphere felt like a clash of kingdoms. Finally, with boldness I cannot explain, I declared:

“Leave this compound now! I release the fire of God upon you!”

I had barely finished speaking when something strange happened.

Suddenly, the masquerades became restless.

Their chanting stopped.

Their drumming ceased.

Then I heard them — arguing among themselves in confusion, their voices sharp and panicked.

Within moments, their entire mood shifted.

They gathered their things in haste.

And just like that —

they fled the compound.

Silence fell.

A thick, supernatural peace settled over the night.

It wasn’t my power.

It wasn’t my strength.

It was God — the One who honors the words of His servants and backs them with fire.

Thank You, Lord, for upholding Your word.

Always.