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I had a wonderful grandfather. I would say he was probably one of the best grandfathers a boy could ever have.

When he was only five years old, his mother left him on a New Orleans street wharf. He turned around to look for her, and suddenly he had no mom. He was in trouble, so he walked down to this old Cajun fisherman and said, "Listen, ah, can I go to work on your boat?" He was five years old and he did that! He knew he was in trouble. But that man took him in and raised him.

My grandfather grew up to be a very strong, robust fisherman. He wore a size 15 ring, and his fingers were as thick as carrots. His hands were wide and powerful, you know, from pulling shrimp nets. He was a tough man, and I idolized him. I called him Paw-paw.

Paw-paw loved oranges. When I was growing up, we lived down in Venice, Louisiana, about 90 miles south of New Orleans. Venice had orange trees and since Paw-paw loved oranges, he would say, "Jesse, go up that tree and get me some oranges." I'd go up those orange trees and just rip oranges from the branches, knocking him in the head with them. Afterward, he would just sit there and eat them, one after another. He just loved them.

Now what we were doing was stealing those oranges. My grandpa wasn't saved, and neither was his grandson. You've got to understand - we didn't know we were sinning by doing that.

Once, when both my mother and father had some business to do, they just let us stay with Grandpa for a couple of days. When we got there, he said, "Boys, we gonna eat some chicken. Your grandma's gonna fry some chicken with some gravy."

And I went, "Whoooooo! Yeah, I like that, you know."

He said, "Come on with me, Jesse, I want to show you something."

Now, let me tell you something. We were very, very poor people, and in those days if you wanted a chicken - we call it a fryer - you didn't go to the grocery store to get it. You went to the back yard to the chicken coop. You know what I'm talking about? You ever gone out back to get a chicken? All the people around there raised their own chickens, killed them, plucked the feathers out and cleaned them. You did whatever you needed to do to eat those chickens.

So Paw-paw and I walked back to the chicken coop to get a chicken. Now, those chickens my grandpa had were the meanest chickens you ever saw. Every one of them was demon possessed. I hated those chickens. Every time I got around those chickens, they'd go, Rhhhhh rhhhh, and they'd attack. They were mean as dogs. They'd just come at me, Fwwww fwwwwww and kick me with their feet. They were just plain mean chickens - I'd swear they were demon-possessed chickens. You know, they were raggedy looking demon chickens.

When I went into the chicken coop, I said, "I don't want 'em to bite me, Paw-paw."

"Stay behind me, boy," he said. He weighed 260 pounds and was a huge man. So I got behind him, he said, and he told me, "Now, Jesse, go shoo that chicken into the corner."

"No!" I said. "He's gonna bite me. I don't wanta. I don't wanta shoo that chicken!"

"Come on, son," he said. "Boy, you're part of my life. You've got spitfire in your body. Now get over there and shoo that chicken!"

I crept out from behind my grandpa and quietly started saying, "Shoo, shoo. Shoo, shoo." And by some miracle I got one of those chickens backed into the corner.

"Catch him!" my grandpa said. "Catch him, boy!"

"No!" I said. "I ain't putting my hand on that chicken. That was not in the deal. You just told me to shoo him into the corner. I shooed him in the corner, now you catch him, Paw-paw."

When my grandpa went after that chicken, the chicken knew he was a goner. You could see the terror in that chicken's eyes. It was going, "God, forgive me. Today I'll meet You face to face, with a Cajun chewing on my leg as I go to heaven!"

Paw-paw grabbed that chicken and said, "Go get me the hatchet, Jesse." So, man, I ran to get that thing to give it to my grandpa. I was about to see something I had never seen in my life. Never! Paw yelled, "I'm going to show you something, son."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Watch this," he said. He laid that chicken down on the ground and picked up that little hatchet. Paw-paw was looking at me, and then he got a little smile like he was thinking, "Heh, heh, heh. You're going to see something now, boy."

When he raised the hatchet, I cried, "What're you going to do, Paw-paw?"

"Just watch, Jess," he said. And boom! Down came his arm with that hatchet. But the chicken went thhhhck and sucked his neck in.

He missed the chicken!

I looked at him and said, "Paw-paw, you missed him!"

"Isn't that something?" he said.

"I'd pull my head in too," I said. He looked at me, smiling, but I was still nervous. Those other chickens were nervous too. They were all screaming, Brrrrrrrrk, brrrrrk. Murder was in the camp, and they knew it. But I didn't.

So he picked up the hatchet again, laid that bird down and said, "Watch, Jesse."

Now, I was a little fellow, about knee-high, but I was watching really closely. Paw-paw raised the hatchet over his head and brought it down again. Thhhhck went the chicken's neck, and wham! went the hatchet into the ground.

"Paw-paw, you missed him again."

"I'm going to get him this time," he said, and with his big foot, he stepped right on that chicken's head.

Rohhhhhhhhk!

That's the last thing that chicken ever said. I know what it meant: "Father, forgive me - I've sinned."

Paw-paw came down with the hatchet, and this time he didn't miss. Whack! The head came off, and man, the blood spurted everywhere. I went, "Ahhhhhhhh!" and took a few steps back. Paw-paw looked over and threw the dead chicken at me. I got up and ran so fast, crying, "Ohhhhh!" And everywhere I ran, that chicken ran after me. I mean, I ran to this spot, and here came that chicken. Blood was spurting out of his neck. Everywhere I ran, that dead chicken ran after me. How many people have seen that before?

I was going, "Ahhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh!" Finally I got up against the fence. My grandpa was laughing the whole time. "Jesse, that chicken's dead," he said.

"He don't know he's dead!" I yelled. "He don't know he's dead. Look at him!"

That dead chicken ran me all over the coop. He got right up to me in the corner and then just fell over, lifeless. I looked down, raised my foot behind me and punted that chicken. Ram! I was never so glad to see a dead chicken dead!

Now, that chicken was dead, but he was still running. A lot of Christians don't realize that it's the same way with the devil. Let me tell you, the devil's head has been bruised, and he's under your feet, bless God. You can destroy every plan the devil tries to form against you. He is just a little chicken, bluffing us with his wings.

Get your foot on the devil's neck! You'll never crush his head till you put your foot on him. The Bible says Satan's head is bruised (1 Cor. 16:20). That means he's restricted, rejected and defeated. How can you get overwhelmed by circumstances when your enemy is already defeated?

Keep your foot on the devil's neck. You don't have to struggle. Just keep your big foot on his neck. His days are numbered.

Source: Jambalaya For The Soul by Jesse Duplantis.
Excerpt permission granted by Harrison House Publishers

Author Biography

Jesse Duplantis
Web site: Jesse Duplantis Ministries
 
Jesse Duplantis is a dynamic evangelist who has traveled throughout the world since 1978 preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He is the founder of Jesse Duplantis Ministries (JDM), which has its International Headquarters in America and additional offices in the United Kingdom and Australia.
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