They say you should never talk about politics, religion or demons at a dinner party.
Apparently, it ruins the mood and guarantees an empty table by dessert.
But here I am breaking all three rules.
Awkward? Absolutely.
Cuckoo talk? Maybe.
But here’s the thing: nothing clears a room faster than asking,
“So…do you believe in demons?”
Most people treat the subject like a spider in the shower. They pretend it isn’t there and hope it goes away.
“Spiritual stuff is dangerous!” one person warned me once.
So I asked, “Why do you think that?”
Cue the nervous laugh, a bit of stammering…and then silence.
Not everyone’s comfortable with the topic. That’s understandable.
But that silence, that avoidance, is exactly where darkness thrives.
Because the greatest trick evil ever pulled was convincing the world it doesn’t exist.
I’ve always had a fascination with the supernatural. And of things like demons, angels, unseen battles and the tug-of-war between light and darkness.
Call me wacky or weird, but I’d bet some of you are just as curious. You’ve just learned to stay quiet, so people don’t think you’ve gone off the deep end.
But I’m in my 70’s now and I’m past caring about all that now.
If I bring up something uncomfortable, it’s because there’s a good reason for it.
“Oh, you went camping last weekend? Nice. By the way, do you believe in demonic possession?”
That’s usually when the pin drops and someone spills their drink.
Yet once the laughter dies down, the conversation often takes a turn.
People start to share strange experiences like eerie encounters and things they can’t explain.
And if you grew up in the islands, as I did, demons weren’t foreign territory.
We had tevoro stories about Daucina, Dakuwaqa, Degei and a whole cast of terrifying spirits designed to scare kids to do the bidding of the tormentor.
And who could forget the Fijian parent classic:
“Come here, you little tevoro!”
Cute? Maybe. Until you realise it literally means “little demon.”
We’ve been talking about evil spirits all along and we just wrapped them in folklore and laughter.
But here’s the truth:
Demons didn’t vanish the day we got Wi-Fi.
Evil didn’t retire when Netflix arrived.
The world’s oldest book, the Bible, is filled with encounters with the demonic:
Matthew 8:16: Jesus casts out demons with a word.
Mark 1:34: He heals the sick and drives out evil spirits.
Luke 10:17: Even His disciples command demons in His name.
Ephesians 6:12: Warns us that we battle “spiritual forces of evil.”
James 2:19: Says demons tremble at the name of Jesus.
Now, stop and think. Why tremble?
Why not roll their eyes?
Why that reaction, to that name?
Because Jesus wasn’t just a prophet.
He was and is the one who broke evil’s hold over humanity.
On Calvary’s cross, He carried every sin – past, present and future and shattered the legal claim darkness had over mankind.
That’s why the name of Jesus isn’t just symbolic. It’s a weapon.
It’s authority.
It’s light. And darkness knows it.
When you grasp that, your whole worldview shifts and changes.
You stop fearing the dark, because you realise you have power and authority, not because of who you are, but because of whose name you carry.
I learned that the hard way.
One night in the 1990s, long after I’d given my life to Christ, I woke suddenly.
At the foot of our bed stood a dark figure, cloaked in what looked like velvet.
Instantly, I felt a crushing weight on my chest. It was choking, paralysing fear. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t cry out because my mouth seemed to be shut tight like a vice.
But I could think.
And in my mind I said, over and over, “The Blood of Jesus is against you!”
In that instant, it stopped.
The weight lifted.
The figure vanished.
And I lay there, trembling, gasping for air, knowing something powerful had just occurred.
That night taught me a truth no sermon ever could:
Darkness is real. But so is light.
And when the light of Christ speaks, darkness flees instantly.
Ever since that night, I’ve prayed the Blood covering of Jesus over my family.
I’ve learned that this world isn’t just a playground. It’s a battlefield.
We’re not fighting flesh and blood, but spiritual forces that manipulate, deceive and destroy.
If that sounds dramatic, take another look at the world.
Wars. Hatred. Corruption. Moral confusion.
Evil isn’t hiding anymore. It’s trending.
And the Church? God help us, has gone quiet on the subject of spiritual warfare.
It’s time we stop whispering and start training.
The Bible isn’t just a book of comfort. It’s a manual for spiritual warfare and a guide for victory in unseen battles.
If we’re to win, our churches must teach believers how to fight, how to arm themselves with prayer, faith, truth and the power of Jesus’ name.
Because when darkness knocks at your door, you don’t need garlic, holy water, or a priest on speed dial.
You only need one name.
Say it softly or shout it in your heart and watch hell itself tremble.
- COLIN DEOKI is a regular contributor to this newspaper. The views expressed in this article are his and not necessarily of this newspaper.
