Do you have spiritual malware?

Time for a divine antivirus.

I'm five years in the faith tomorrow.

I was baptised in May 2018 in St Mary's Church in Walthamstow by a lovely lady Anglican priest who's sadly since gone full commie.

Even sadder, it's not even unusual. The Church of England is institutionally woke and in moral free fall, abandoned by her sister churches overseas for apostasy, and facing a spiritual catastrophe but that's a whole other post.

About three years ago I succumbed to the charms of the Pentecostals in Sydney; they got me going to Bible college, tithing and worrying that soon I'd be playing a tambourine in Birkenstocks.

As I left for the C?te d'Azur, I stayed on the same faith path but ran into a very different crew. I was just was talking to a mate trying to break down the business model of my new church. "These guys," I said, jabbing my thumb in the direction of this holy bohemoth, "are like a cross between the Southern Baptists, McDonald's, and the Sinoloa cartel. No offense to your mob. Your church is spirit-filled, but these guys have franchised the Holy Spirit."?

I'd started attending the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God in Liverpool, then went to a couple of branches in London and found a remarkable consistency in culture, service delivery and worship experience. Hence I decided to head to where it all started, in Sao Paolo and worship awhile at the $300M Temple of Solomon.?

The place is as earnest as a heart attack. No charismatic frills, no do gooder grins, no insincere gushing. It's all business. Personal interaction or sermons, they cut to the chase. 'Good evening, open your Bible.' ?

What's particularly impressive is their deliverance ministry. Especially on Fridays, which are universally reserved for kicking some demon butt.?

When I go there, I don the tourist's avatar. Walk through security, get into the temple, ask for a translation headset. The place is massive and seats 10,000, it really is a larger-than-life scale replica of the ancient temple and has an Old Testament vibe, down to the last aesthetic detail. Even the assistants dress like they've just stepped out of a time machine from the Levite era.?

It starts off with some prayer. then the bishop gets everyone in the mood for some demon-busting. Those who'd been dabbling in the dark arts are called to the front. Then they cover the golden seraphim on the tabernacle with a white veil, the prelude to a spiritual smackdown.?

Then comes the pyrotechnics. They simulate divine fire, and it's a spectacle, especially amidst the grandeur of the temple. But when the screams start, you realize: the flames might be fake, but the terror is all too real.?

Suddenly, some 200 white-robed assistants and junior pastors storm the scene. It's like a divine SWAT team. Anyone twitching a bit too much gets a severe hands on prayer. They pick out the ones particularly tormented and wrestle them up to the bishop.?

It's like an English pantomime, a demonic Broadway. But these guys are pros. They've got a camera crew to immortalize every grimace, every wail, every demonic flail. It's both terrifying and comical at the same time.?

Watching someone being delivered is a crucible for the constant struggle between good and evil in all our lives.?In recovery, we talk about doing battle with our disease, with our stinking thinking, with our addict self. In the church it's about walking in the spirit and not in the flesh.

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." John 8:36

Watching the damned being set free's a weekly front-row ticket to the real-life showdown between good and evil served up with a side of divine Brazilian chaos.

It makes evangelisation super simple. I simply ask people along for the show.

There are 14,000 UCKG churches globally, hop along to your nearest one next Friday and get a demon clean.

You'll thank me when you see what I mean.