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Breaking Blood Oaths

Writer's picture: Kelsey DeckerKelsey Decker

WARNING: Graphic Content


A few months ago, on the final day of a three-day water fast, I broke with holy communion. As I drank the wine, representing the blood of Jesus, the Lord spoke to me.


He instructed me to partake of communion first thing every morning for the next thirty days. He specified this daily practice was to break any blood oaths, vows, contracts, or covenants I’d entered into in my life. There were many.


I was only nineteen, the first time I allowed a man to drink my menstrual blood and paint it on his body, ritualistically. And, I was forty the last time I consumed it myself, entering into a blood magic ritual; a blood-sipping, moon worshiping witch.


These kinds of covenants don’t just vanish on their own, or merely fall away with salvation. I made deals with the devil I had to individually repent for and sever, to be set free.


I began my communion journey the next day, and throughout that month, I awoke at 5am to enter into the secret place with my Savior, spending several hours with Him before getting my daughter off to school. That month completely crushed me. I was pressed and poured out, as the Lord made room to fill me with new wine.


The warfare was wicked as memories surfaced, soul ties were severed, and I finally received the relief of inner healing and deliverance. But, something else surfaced during that time. God wanted me fully healed! Not only was communion about the blood, but about my body.


The bread, representing the body of Christ, brought extra significance, as I grieved the horrendous acts of violence against my own body, I’d endured, and even allowed, during more ritual sacrifice. The years of standing naked, tied up and pressed against wooden crosses, as I took the lashings of whips and paddles against my sensitive skin, until I could bear no more, a crying, shivering mess on the floor.


A member of sick, sadistic, secret societies of BDSM, thinking if I allowed the abuse, it would make up for a lifetime of abuse I never asked for, thus becoming empowered.

Holy Spirit took me on a trip down memory lane that month, realizing I’d actually been mimicking Christ on the cross. He’d forgiven me, but I had to forgive myself. I was graced with a deeper revelation of what Jesus endured for me, for all of us, on the cross. And through the resurrection, he bore all of my lashings, to set me free.


When the thirty days came to a close, I fasted again, and the shackles of shame were demolished. The blood covenants were replaced with Royal blood, the only True blood. And I gave the stripes on my back, back to God.


I’ve been doing daily communion since. Sometimes He gives me a purpose, sometimes as a weapon of warfare, and other times, just to soak in His delightful presence.


Our stories are for God’s glory. By the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimonies, we are overcomers. All hail King Jesus! How blessed am I now to be a daughter of the Most High? I am His beloved and He is mine.


Shortly after His renewal of my mind, He sent me out into strip club ministry. The ultimate gift of redemption! There’s always a plan. Because He’s a good, good Father!!! Nobody is too lost, broken or cursed for Jesus! Hallelujah!!

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