The Friend Who Whispers Back: A Sacred Chronicle of Tony Kaluba and the Spirit That Drove Out Darkness

 

By Isaac Christopher Lubogo

 

There are friendships, and then there are divine intimacies—the kind forged not in shared secrets or childhood mischief, but in sacred whispers, unspoken laughter, and the unmistakable Presence that makes demons tremble. Such was the friendship between Tony Kaluba and the Holy Spirit—a companionship so real, so tangible, so visceral that we who bore witness at Kira College Butiki were left awestruck, shaken, and forever changed.

 

He was not merely Head of House Prefect. He was a spiritual phenomenon. A sacred gatekeeper who walked the halls of Butiki not just as a leader of men—but as a vessel of the Almighty. You’d know he had entered a room not by his voice, but by the shift in atmosphere. You’d feel it: the silence, the stillness, the sudden trembling of your inner man. He would sit, guitar in hand—strings not just tuned to pitch, but seemingly to heaven itself. And as his fingers danced across the frets and his voice floated into worship, something otherworldly happened.

 

The air thickened.

 

The ground beneath us seemed to hum.

 

And the demons… they fled.

 

Yes, I said demons. Ask Arthur Isiko or any of our spiritual contemporaries—they will not merely confirm it, they will testify. On one unforgettable night, as Tony lingered in worship long after others had gone to bed, the room grew heavy—not with fear, but glory. Arthur heard it: foul spirits hissing, retreating, shrieking in frustration as if expelled by an unseen force. Because they were. That room, once ordinary, became holy ground. Not because of candles or crosses—but because Tony’s friend had arrived.

 

You see, Tony did not just believe in the Holy Spirit. He walked with Him. Talked to Him. Laughed with Him. I saw it with my own eyes—Tony whispering into the air, then chuckling to himself. “Oh Holy Spirit,” he’d say with a glimmer in his eye, “stop pulling those jokes on me.” And you knew… you knew he wasn’t mad. He was in communion. The kind Kathryn Kuhlman once wept about on stage when she said:

 

> “I can do nothing until my friend arrives.”

 

 

 

That friend—the Holy Spirit—was already with Tony. Always.

 

Kuhlman, as chronicled in Roberts Liardon’s God’s Generals, spoke of how miracles waited on the Spirit’s cue. But Tony… Tony had already learned to live like that as a teenager. He didn’t need a stage. His stage was a dormitory. His miracles were not the theatrical kind—but the kind that chased oppression, stirred conviction, and brought boys to their knees—not in shame, but in surrender.

 

He reminded us of David—yes, King David—who was summoned to King Saul’s palace not to counsel, but to worship. The Scriptures say:

 

> “And whenever the evil spirit from God came on Saul, David would take up his lyre and play. Then relief would come to Saul; he would feel better, and the evil spirit would leave him.”

(1 Samuel 16:23)

 

 

 

Tony was our David.

 

But more than that—he was our burning bush. The one that blazed with God’s presence but was never consumed. The one that made you stop, take off your shoes—not literally, but spiritually—because you knew you were in the presence of something… no… Someone greater.

 

And yet, he was not distant or pompous. Tony did not thunder down judgment from mountaintops. He lived alongside us—ate with us, laughed with us, cried with us. But when he worshiped—when he lost himself in the song—you saw a man no longer of this world. You saw someone escorted into realms most of us could only dream of. You saw a young man who had learned the language of the Spirit and wasn’t afraid to speak it.

 

That is what made him dangerous to darkness.

 

That is what made him sacred to us.

 

And that is what made the demons run.

 

 

Harnessing the Holy Spirit: The Secret of Surrender

But perhaps you ask: Can I too know this Friend? Can I walk as Tony walked, not in ritual but in relationship? The answer, my friend, is yes. But not through might, not through power—not through degrees, credentials, or titles. The Word is clear:

 

> “Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,” says the LORD Almighty.

(Zechariah 4:6)

 

 

 

The Holy Spirit does not respond to pride but to yielding. He is not activated by eloquence but by emptiness. Those who hunger will be filled (Matthew 5:6). Those who draw near will find Him already waiting (James 4:8). You do not chase Him with noise, you attract Him with surrender.

 

To harness the Holy Spirit, as Tony did, you must be willing to be a dwelling, not just a visitor. That means cultivating quietness, worshiping in truth, waiting without rush, and daring to whisper into the silence, “Holy Spirit, You are welcome here.”

 

As Paul reminds us:

 

> “Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.”

(Ephesians 4:30)

 

 

 

And again,

 

> “Walk in the Spirit, and you will not fulfill the lust of the flesh.”

(Galatians 5:16)

 

 

 

The Spirit is not a guest. He is God. But He longs to be a Friend. All He asks is what Tony gave: surrender. Intimacy. A heart that says, “I will not go unless You go with me.” (Exodus 33:15)

 

 

So, what do you call a friend who whispers back when you pray?

What do you call a laugh that isn’t madness but communion?

What do you call a teenage boy who could shift the spirit realm with a song?

 

We called him Tony Kaluba.

 

He called the Holy Spirit Friend.

 

And heaven… called it worship.

 

 

In memory and honor of those who walk with God as if He were visible. May we all, like Tony, learn to smile at the whisper of the Spirit, and may our lives become songs that drive out darkness.

 

# Suigeneris