It was easy to see that the building had once housed a storage business. It was square and utilitarian and it said “Horizon Storage” on one of the walls. The only thing that let you know that it now served as a house of worship was a big wooden sign over the lettering of the previous owner. “Vision of the Awakened Triumph Church” it proclaimed. “The Rev. A. Thompson, PhD, Pastor”.

We walked into a large room where a congregation wearing their Sunday best had their attention fixated on several men, surrounding another man, who was wearing a burgundy suit. They were in a circle around him, each with an arm touching him, and they appeared to be praying. When the congregation saw us their serious faces of concern turned into smiling faces of relief. “Hallelujah, and welcome!” they greeted us. I was instantly smitten by their friendliness and hospitality.

We went over to the man they were praying over and the other men moved away. The man dressed in burgundy instructed the others to continue with the service. “It’s important,” he told them.

Although we were in the back of the room, it was difficult to hear the patient and we suggested going out to the ambulance. But the man insisted that he didn’t want to go to the hospital. He did not even want to be checked out in it. He said it was important that he stay. So we did the best we could to evaluate him where we were.

Brother Henry was a little disheveled. He had some dust on a sleeve and a few bruises on his hands. While he was telling us about a few more injuries, a nearby woman yelled at him to “Tell them how you went out! They don’t care about a couple of bruises. Tell them how you ended up on the floor unconscious!” She told us that was why we were called. “We wouldn’t have called if it were just a few bruises,” she told us, as if no one would call for such a frivolous reason. How I wished…

Brother Henry looked a little embarrassed but he shook his head and said with his voice rising, “I may have fallen down but I was never knocked out!”

We asked him if he was dizzy now or before the incident and he said no. Another woman said he had “problems with sugar” but Brother Henry assured us that he did not have diabetes. All of this, coupled with our initial difficulty hearing, steered us towards a medical path for the origins of what happened. We hooked him up to our monitor and evaluated his vital signs several times while continuing to ask questions. At one point the entire congregation broke out into song and it was modified to be about us, being the instruments of the Lord. They also prayed for us several times. It was incredibly nice and wonderful.

We could find nothing of concern with our exam but we still recommended Brother Henry seek additional evaluation at the hospital because he may have passed out. Brother Henry interrupted, “Passed out? I never passed out.” We explained that we didn’t know what had caused the incident and he shook his head and said very emphatically “Sure I do! I told you when you got here. I was fighting a demon.”

This took us both aback somewhat as we tried to figure out what metaphorical context he was referring to. Was he an addict? What other ‘demons’ are there? It turned out, however, that he meant a literal demon, the kind that involved being a mythical beast intent on evil. And everyone in the congregation agreed.

Brother Henry explained that he had given a particularly powerful invocation which had conjured up an entity that he described as half man, half beast. Everyone in the room nodded in solemn agreement. A small puff of smoke had appeared, through which the demon had entered, laughing. He said his head was large and somewhat resembled a buffalo. “With wide horns!” said one lady. “That’s how he was gored!”

Brother Henry lifted up his shirt to reveal a red circular bruise. There were fresh scratch marks on the floor, which, we were told, were made by the cloven hooves of their common enemy. Henry showed us his damaged pant leg where underneath was a long red scratch and more bruising. He said the demon had kicked him. His description had the demon towering over all of them at around 7 feet. Others volunteered that he had long fingernails painted red and glowing yellow teeth. Not one of the 30-40 people in the room disputed this description or version of events.

“Where is the demon now?” we asked.

The demon had disappeared, they said, when it saw that he was no match for a powerful man of God. Brother Henry was a strong elder, they explained, and he was backed up by people of unshakeable faith. Vision of the Awakened Triumph: 1, Demon: 0.

My partner and I just looked at each other for a minute. The paperwork was going to be tricky.

I quickly opened my call report paper and flipped it to the side where the RMA (refusal of medical attention) section was and Brother Henry readily signed in the appropriate areas. The Rev. A Thompson, PhD, witnessed it himself. It was either have him sign the RMA or haul all 40 of them to the psych ward for evaluation.

As we left, the friendly people of the church all wished us well and said they would pray for us. We could use it.

“What just happened in there?” my partner asked. I shook my head. I thought about the bruises and the rips in his clothing, the seriousness of everyone in the congregation. What could have caused all those injuries? What had they all witnessed? Some sort of mass delusion? Maybe there was a reasonable explanation that they interpreted as a demon? Who could say? We weren’t there. I just hoped our paperwork wouldn’t be flagged by the reviewers at the Office of Medical Affairs.