Why Many Musicians—and Preachers—Turn to Witchcraft for Success
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An episode of the American Twilight Zone Tv Series (2017) featured a young woman who dreamed of being a star. She played her guitar on the streets, pouring her heart into every note, but the crowds never stopped. People walked past her like she was invisible. Her melodies drifted into the air unnoticed, like a prayer that no one answered. In the same city, there was another woman who was already a star—famous, rich, and adored. Every time she stepped on stage, the audience erupted into applause and rose to their feet in thunderous standing ovations. But behind the scenes, she was hollow and miserable. Money and fame had not brought her peace. Eventually, her despair led her to take her own life.
Just days before her death, this famous singer had been walking through a public park in disguise, hidden behind sunglasses and a scarf, hoping to avoid recognition. As she wandered, she heard the sound of a familiar longing—a guitar, softly strummed, carrying the ache of an unfulfilled dream. She stopped and saw the young, struggling musician playing with passion in a lonely corner of the park. The star approached and asked her a single question: “Do you want to be famous like me?” The girl, startled and starstruck, immediately said yes. Without another word, the star reached into her pocket and handed her a strange old coin, then walked away.
The next day, the struggling musician returned to her usual spot on the street. But something was different. As she began to sing, a crowd formed quickly, eyes wide and ears captivated. Applause erupted, and people began filming her performance. A well-dressed man stepped forward—he was a senior executive from a major music label. That day marked the beginning of her rise to stardom. She was offered a contract, endorsements, and tours. But something was off. No matter how badly she sang, the crowds cheered. No matter how uninspired her performance, she always received a standing ovation. The same applause that once eluded her now followed her like a ghost. Money and fame came pouring in—but so did confusion, emptiness, and depression. Like the woman who had given her the coin, she had received success. But it wasn’t a gift—it was a curse.
That fictional tale echoes a truth too eerie to dismiss. Today, we live in a world where applause can be summoned. Where success can be transferred. Where a coin—or rather, a ritual, a pact, a whispered name—can suddenly shift the course of someone's life. The question is no longer whether success is spiritual. The question is: What spirit gave it?
There is a hidden cost to the spotlight that most people never see. Beneath the flashing lights, the screaming fans, the chart-topping hits, and the packed auditoriums lies a spiritual transaction that is rarely discussed in public but whispered in green rooms, private studios, and exclusive retreats. It is the price of power, the shortcut to influence, the gateway to wealth and fame. And increasingly, musicians and preachers alike are paying that price—not with money, but with their soul. They are turning to witchcraft.
In ancient times, kings consulted sorcerers and prophets for victory in battle. Today, it’s not so different. The Bible gives us a vivid example in 1 Samuel 28, where King Saul, desperate for direction, disguised himself and went to consult the witch of Endor. Though God had already turned away from him because of disobedience, Saul sought answers through forbidden means. The result was disastrous. It was a clear sign that seeking supernatural insight outside of God's will invites judgment, not breakthrough. That same spirit of desperation drives many today to do the same—whether in music, politics, or the pulpit.
Artists trying to break into the music industry are told by insiders that “there’s a spiritual side to making it.” Some are introduced to “mentors” who guide them through strange rituals to “attract energy.” Others are handed books on energy, manifesting, or chaos magic. They are told to burn sage, chant affirmations, and “tap into their higher power.” But behind the candles and crystals is something much darker—a deception dressed in light.
In 2020, a well-known African pop artist publicly confessed that before every performance, she poured blood on her dressing room floor to summon spirits for power and stage confidence. Her fans cheered her authenticity. Nobody asked which spirits. In South Korea, some K-pop stars are rumored to wear protection charms given by shamans. In Brazil, certain funk artists mix beats with macumba rituals to charge their music. In America, it’s no longer rare to see artists openly refer to the devil, wear satanic symbols, or perform at award shows with blatant occult themes. What was once hidden is now flaunted—and yet, few blink.
Witchcraft is not just about black robes and pentagrams. It is any system that bypasses God to gain power, insight, or influence. And that is exactly what lures both struggling musicians and hungry preachers into its trap. The desire to be known, loved, followed, and feared can become so intense that if prayer and fasting don’t work fast enough, people begin looking elsewhere.
In many African nations, pastors have been exposed for visiting witchdoctors at night after preaching fire-filled sermons during the day. A viral exposé in Nigeria revealed several “prophets” who admitted to using charms and invoking spirits to grow church attendance. In South Africa, certain “apostles” are rumored to bury live animals under their pulpits to “activate power.” In the U.S., prosperity preachers are caught in scandals while flashing occult hand gestures in plain sight. They preach Jesus, but the spirit behind their ministry doesn’t resemble Christ. There is shouting, signs, and emotional highs—but no conviction, no repentance, and no transformation. Because the power source has been swapped.
What is even more disturbing is how frequently this spiritual compromise hides behind religious titles. In interviews with traditional witchdoctors across parts of Kenya, Uganda, and Nigeria, several have admitted that during church election seasons—especially when positions like bishop, elder, or general overseer are being contested—most of their clients are not drunkards or criminals but pastors and church elders. They come under the cover of darkness, carrying names written on pieces of paper, requesting spells for favor, confusion for opponents, or supernatural elevation. One confessed, “During elections, I don't sleep. The number of church leaders that visit me doubles. They want power, not prayer.”
This shocking confession echoes what a former occult member revealed in a televised interview—how even within some of the most celebrated music labels in America and Africa, rituals are performed before an album is released. It’s not just symbolic. There are actual conjuring ceremonies where chants are made and sacrifices offered so that demons are assigned to follow every track. “Once the ritual is done,” he said, “the music gains an unnatural attraction. People don’t just like the song—they become addicted to it. They don’t know why, but they keep replaying it. They even cry without knowing the lyrics.” This isn't merely marketing—it's manipulation on a spiritual level.
The same source, now a born-again Christian, claimed that in their time in the deep occult, they saw prominent preachers—faces known around the world—appear in satanic underwater meetings. In those spiritual gatherings, rituals were conducted to empower these preachers with false miracles and mesmerizing charisma. Several of these meetings, according to multiple ex-occultists, took place in what they described as spiritual marine realms—underwater kingdoms ruled by demonic spirits. There, pastors were seen receiving rings, microphones, guitars, mantles, oils, and handkerchiefs—each infused with dark power. These items, once brought back to the physical world, would grant them influence, financial breakthroughs, church growth, and supernatural signs designed to deceive. One ex-witch described watching as a popular evangelist was given a red handkerchief soaked in a blood ritual, after which his healing crusades exploded in popularity. Another spoke of a preacher who received a spiritual ring said to open “doors of favor,” but at the cost of pledging allegiance to the spirit behind the ring. The goal was always the same: counterfeit anointing to draw the multitudes—without preaching repentance or truth.
There is a chilling testimony from a woman who once worked as a backup singer for a global superstar. She said the artist had a secret room in her mansion where she performed rituals before tours. The room was full of statues, mirrors, and black candles. “We didn’t ask questions,” she said, “but the atmosphere in that room was so heavy you couldn’t breathe.” And yet, on stage, the artist smiled and sang about love and empowerment. The world cheered.
Even in gospel music, the infiltration is real. A Kenyan choir director confessed in a hidden camera recording that he was told to “spiritually cleanse” his voice before a major competition. He was instructed to sleep at a gravesite with a chicken sacrifice. “It felt wrong,” he said, “but I won.” He now regrets it, but at the time, winning was all that mattered.
Preachers, too, are seduced by the shortcut. They begin with pure motives but soon grow impatient. Their church is small, their prayers seem unanswered, and their calling feels heavy. Then someone offers them “help”—just a small oil, a “special anointing,” a name to call in the night. They are told it’s still Christian, just “another dimension.” But it’s not. It’s a trap. And once the door is opened, it rarely shuts without bloodshed.
What makes this so dangerous is how easily it blends in. Witchcraft doesn’t always scream with horns and candles. Sometimes it wears suits and sings hymns. Sometimes it quotes Scripture and stands behind pulpits. The deception is subtle, because Satan knows that open evil repels, but fake light attracts. And once you’re inside, the light goes out.
Leonard Ravenhill once warned, “Entertainment is the devil’s substitute for joy.” That quote now applies to the church. Many churches today have traded the fire of the Holy Spirit for fog machines and emotional manipulation. They measure success by followers, not faithfulness. And behind the scenes, some leaders are involved in spiritual contracts they dare not mention. They appear powerful on stage but are tormented in private. Their dreams are filled with shadows. Their families are breaking. And their hearts are empty. Because the source is polluted.
Why do they do it? Why risk eternity for temporary fame?
Because witchcraft promises what the flesh wants. It feeds pride, inflates ego, and offers power without submission. It gives influence without obedience. It offers shortcuts. And in an age where everything is instant—likes, views, money—waiting on God feels outdated.
But the cost is eternal. The Bible is clear: “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?” (Mark 8:36). In Acts 8, Simon the Sorcerer tried to buy spiritual power and was rebuked. Today, that same spirit is alive. It’s in label meetings, worship auditions, church planting seminars, and recording studios. It whispers, “Why wait? There’s a faster way.”
There are whistleblowers from every corner of the industry—some brave enough to speak, others too scared. A former rapper turned evangelist said in a podcast, “I had to do things I’m ashamed of just to get a record deal. They call it ‘paying dues,’ but it’s really soul-selling.” A mega-church drummer confessed on YouTube that he had been using voodoo beads for stage confidence. “It worked,” he said, “but I lost my peace.”
The most terrifying thing about this deception is how normal it now seems. Open darkness is mainstream. Pastors quote new-age teachers. Artists wear inverted crosses and call it fashion. Gospel singers post horoscopes. And few speak up—because doing so risks cancellation.
But someone must speak. The line is being drawn. The world is heading into deeper deception, and if the church stays silent, the next generation will walk right into spiritual slavery thinking it’s revival.
God is still holy. His Spirit is still enough. His power cannot be mixed with witchcraft. Elijah once stood on Mount Carmel and called out the prophets of Baal. He asked the people, “How long will you waver between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow Him!” That question still echoes. How long will preachers and musicians try to serve two masters?
Success at the cost of your soul is not success—it’s suicide.
The truth is, many of the most anointed voices on earth are still hidden. They are singing in forgotten villages. They are preaching in small tents. They don’t have brands or platforms, but they have clean hands and burning hearts. And in the days to come, God will raise them up. Because He is not looking for talent—He is looking for vessels.
Let this be a call to repentance. A call to return. To renounce every form of spiritual compromise. To break every unholy contract. To fall on our knees and cry out for mercy.
There is still time. The blood of Jesus is stronger than every spell. His cross breaks every chain. But the choice must be made: light or darkness, truth or deception, surrender or sorcery.
The applause of men fades. The fame of this world burns. But the approval of God lasts forever.
About the author
Rev Martin Muasa is a pastor with the African Inland Church (AIC) in Machakos, Kenya and a lecturer at Scott Christian University. He is deeply passionate about biblical truth, Christian discipleship and end-times prophecy. With a calling to teach and shepherd, Rev Muasa writes to equip believers with theological insights and to challenge the church to remain faithful in a rapidly changing world. His blog explores scripture, culture, and the church's role in today's spiritual landscape.
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