A Satanic Ritual Abuse Survivor’s Story
By Nancy Dunn
Not What You See
On my thirty-third birthday memories from my childhood opened up like a floodgate. My eight-year-old son had just told me that my father had sexually abused him. All at once, long-hidden, painful memories began to unravel in my mind: There I was, lying on a stone altar. Seven men wearing black hooded robes were standing around me, taking turns sexually assaulting and torturing me.
But how could this be? I had grown up in central California near the ocean in an average home in an average neighborhood. My mother worked for a local doctor and my father had a government job with top security clearance. I had a younger brother and a dog named Missy. I later became a flight attendant for a major airline.
My family was living a secret life—my father was a Satan worshiper. As high priest, he ruled over a large satanic group in California. My father had followed in the footsteps of 25 generations of Satan worshipers in his family. By God’s grace, this power of evil was not passed on to me, and I never worshiped Satan. But I became a victim of satanic ritual abuse.
A Trophy of Hope
My deliverance actually began at age eight, when I had the opportunity to learn about Jesus and accepted Him as my personal Savior. A Christian family lived two doors down from our family, and I played in the neighborhood with their son and daughter. One day their mom, Pearl Farrington, loaded up the car with all the kids on the block and took us to her Baptist church for the “Awana Olympics.” It was an exciting day for me because I won a trophy! But far greater than winning a trophy at the event was hearing Mrs. Whitestone tell me about Jesus Christ. As she shared that Jesus was God’s son who had died for my sin and could give me eternal life, a sense of hope came over me. For the first time in my life I knew there was a way of salvation for me. I know I wouldn’t be here today if it were not for Jesus Christ and the obedience of Pearl Farrington and Mrs. Whitestone who made that day possible.
When the horrible memories from my childhood surfaced, a therapist helped me connect with a group of other survivors of satanic ritual abuse. I learned that in order to survive the extreme trauma caused by the abuse, the mind would actually split and compartmentalize the hurtful experiences. When this happens different personalities hold different memories, and one personality can watch the other from a distance. The resulting condition is called Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder. I was able to recognize hundreds of different personalities inside of me. They were all different ages, with different memories, trauma, and appearance.
Often in the darkness of night my father would take me on the back of his motorcycle on a journey into the caves overlooking the ocean where the satanic rituals took place. Satanists are an organized group; they even have a satanic calendar dictating what type of ritual should happen when. For example, Halloween requires the blood sacrifice of an infant; other dates require the sexual sacrifice of a teenage virgin. They attempt to control and destroy lives through a systematic dehumanization of the soul.
That first memory—of seven hooded men standing round me—was of my seventh birthday. Because I was born on Easter Sunday, this made me somehow “special.” They would make a mockery of Christ’s Resurrection as they abused me on each of my birthdays.
A Course to Freedom
While recalling these memories truly overwhelmed me, I felt a sense of relief that facing them would finally set me on the course to freedom that I had been praying for. For many years there had been a deep grieving in my soul. I came to identify this grieving as the longing of a mother who was unable to hold her child. I discovered that I was used as a baby breeder. I was impregnated by my father or someone else in the group several times so that I would have a baby that they could use as a human blood sacrifice to Satan. One day in a prayer meeting, the Lord gave me a glimpse into heaven, and He showed me many babies. Some had died, been aborted, or murdered and were being cared for by women we read about in the Bible—Mary Magdalene, Sarah, Elizabeth, and others. It gave me great comfort to know that my babies had mothers in heaven to love and care for them.
The experts say that it takes eight years of therapy for people diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder to become integrated. But, within a year and a half after I began therapy, God supernaturally delivered me out of my captivity. One day at church, as I took communion and observed the elements that symbolize the body and blood of Jesus, the memory of the many times I was forced to drink human blood came rushing back into my mind. In that moment I sensed the Lord’s presence strong around me, and I heard Him say, “Trust me, and I will heal you of every foul thing that has ever touched your lips.” For about two weeks afterwards, I could see within me hundreds of personalities lined up around a room, coming together and integrating. Then all was quiet within me. My many personalities had become one, and I was whole!
Released from Captivity
Today, as a free person, I celebrate my life everyday but especially on Resurrection Day because The Lord has truly raised me from the dead! I have learned that the keys to freedom start with loving the Lord your God with all your heart. When I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savoir at age eight, the abuse did not stop—in fact, it got worse. But in the midst of the darkest moments, I was comforted in knowing that I had a heavenly Father who loved me.
Many people who have lived through difficult circumstances like mine blame God. But the devil is the evil one that comes to kill, steal, and destroy. Jesus Christ comes to give us life and life more abundantly. God doesn’t tell us to forget, but for our sake He instructs us to forgive. So I pictured it like this: I could forgive my father and give him to God, who would hold on to the forgiveness until my father repented. Then God would forgive him and forget his sin. I believe releasing my father to God was the biggest key to my healing...and I was even able to pray for his salvation.
Just before my father’s death, he did repent, and he asked for forgiveness for his sins against me. The last words I heard my father say was the sinner’s prayer and his confession of faith in Jesus Christ. I can say that whatever your captivity, our God is able to deliver you too. Jesus Christ defeated death, hell, and the grave at Calvary. He will unlock the doors and help you walk out of your captivity just as He did for me. His blood paid the price for our freedom.