It’s Not Where You Start That’s Important; It’s Where You Finish

I love the word testimony because it’s not about me. It’s not a humanity thing. It’s a divine thing. I believe that when a believer says testimony it’s like saying Jesus Christ because Jesus Christ is our testimony of what we go through, and He brings us to the other side. It’s always about Him. It’s never about us.

In 1999, I had my second birth; I was born into Christianity. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was connected to the world of demons, mediums, and the devil himself. They came after me to kill, steal, and destroy. I was rocked like I never would have imagined. I was tortured and tormented spiritually beyond human comprehension. I was dragged off my bed and choked in the middle of the night, my blood running cold and my hair standing up on end. The room was pitch-black and ice-cold. I heard the footsteps of demons out in the hallway, and they came into my room and tormented me all night. I was even fighting to keep my soul in my body because the demons were ripping me apart, trying to remove my soul so I could be pronounced dead in my bed in the Bronx.

Still a baby Christian, I held on with mediocre prayers and fought off those demons and the devil himself every night until it stopped once and for all. But that was just baby stuff compared to what I went through in 2023. It was the hardest year of my Christian walk.

On one hand, I was ministering, seeing people set free and healed, and seeing demons being destroyed by the power of the Holy Spirit. I witnessed curses and witchcraft being uprooted out of people’s lives. I saw signs, miracles, and wonders at practically every altar call. I even received the precious, priceless blessing of doctorate and bachelor’s degrees and ordination papers from Dr. Douglas Wingate and Dr. Susan Wingate at Life Christian University.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the spectrum, the devil and his cronies were launching the most horrific, tormenting demonic spiritual attack. There were days I couldn’t breathe. There were days I didn’t know if I was going to wake up. It was pitch-dark. My precious mom was diagnosed with stomach cancer, which was a death sentence for her. My mom is my hero. She has been both my mom and my dad. Now the doctors were saying they would check her one more time because if the cancer crept up, she wasn’t going to make it.

At the same time, my daughter Amanda was going through challenges with depression and oppression as part of the enemy’s attack. She called me when she was at her breaking point, telling me that her life didn’t mean anything and she was better off dead. I was on the phone with her praying these devils off because I know my daughter has a powerful calling on her life.

Not only that, but the devil attacked my eyesight again. I have one good eye, the right eye. My left eye has a scar on the back that I got from a snowball fight at the age of sixteen. I can only count fingers through that eye. But now my good eye—the one that allows me to see, travel, preach, get on planes, and go to conferences and events—has come under attack.

I lost my vision for six months. I could barely see anything. I remember going to airports and using my iPhone to take pictures, then stretching them to the max so I could see the gate I was leaving from, or asking people for help because I couldn’t read the airport signs. I went to doctors, and they told me, “You need major eye surgery, but we can’t do anything for you right now.”

I dragged on. I held on to the cross, I held on to my faith, and I held on to the good memories—the spiritual ones; memories of all the good things God has done for me. I continued to minister. There were times when I preached what I could see on my iPad and the rest came straight from the heart. I stood through altar calls, bringing people to salvation and casting out devils.

The devil was so angry that my marriage was tested and came under siege as well, to the point that my wife and I lived in two different locations. I couldn’t breathe spiritually. I couldn’t see in the natural. The devil was coming at me four different ways at once with the fiercest attacks over my life I’ve ever experienced.

The devil was having the laugh of the day. I’m not ashamed to say I was under attack. There are ministers out there who wear capes and boots, but I don’t—I’m dressed up in the Holy Spirit.

On September 25, 2023, I had cataract replacement surgery. I left the hospital two days later, on my way to preach again. I was more determined than the enemy of my soul, the devil. On October 25, 2023, I went for my second surgery, a partial corneal transplant. A week or so later I was on my way to preach. I wanted to finish the year and make Jesus Christ proud. I held on to the words of the Lord in my heart. Even though I was being crushed on every side, I knew He wouldn’t give me any more than I could handle.

I couldn’t drive for over six months. I was staying in New York and was able to make my way to the stores and delis to buy my meals. My precious sister Cheri, administrator for John Ramirez Ministries, and her daughter would order food for me through a delivery service when I was in California so I could have my next meal.

Today, my eyesight is healing; my daughter is in a good place spiritually, and she is seeing the hand of the Lord Jesus Christ move in her life; the Lord removed the hindrance of the devil from my marriage; and my mom is cancer-free—all praise reports. Only God could make this happen. I praise And worship Him and signed up to do life in Jesus without parole. I’m on death row. It’s not where you start that’s important; it’s where you finish.

Praise be to God, the One who called me and ordained me before the earth's foundations to run this spiritual race, to fight the good fight of faith. Whenever the devil attacks, I am ready to hit the rewind button and remember the goodness of God.

To learn more about John Ramirez’s latest book, Exposing the Devil’s Playbook, visit MyCharismaShop.com