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Sponsor |  digits | Jun 7, 2004 11:53am | I was born to lapsing Christians and in the tradition of my Protestant Christian heritage I *came to Jesus* at age 6. I began *prophesying* and *witnessing* to my family, yes, at age 6. The babysitters were told to ignore me if I got to be a bother. Then life started happening and I forgot about my calling, ended up in the pit of my own destruction and others' making while Mom has now remarried again and now to an atheist who had other addictions that left him not-so-pleasant at times. Years later, at night, I continued to pray to a God I felt no connection to, for deliverance.
Into adulthood, struggling with my spirituality that seemed to come and go at will I found comfort in addictions that kept me numbed to my gaping hole. Renouncing religions however I had the disdain in my heart necessary to keep my spirit from obtaining the enlightenment I desperately wanted. I never did seem to fit in. The world was callous -- I mean wasn't it? Wasn't it really as cold and as hopeless as it could be? Weren't my friends really not my friends but sycophants trained to chit chat with anyone pleasantly? Did they have problems sleeping at night too? Why was I in this family? Was it true I was too sensitive? Why did no one understand me...did I separate myself on purpose? Was God really dead or did my atheist dad have a point in that he didn't exist. Praying now was an action, not a system of thought. It's clear God wasn't going to save me.
As the spiral downward was increasing with regularity and velocity, particularly after college, my actions and thoughts were increasingly geared toward hate, self-destruction and in any direction I could hurl it in order to not have to have it all to myself.
One night, and I don't remember what was so different about this night as I lay in bed I "awoke" to find little demons jumping up and down on my bed...I prayed for them to go away and they did. This had never happened to me before so as anyone could imagine I was terrified. Jesus came to the threshold of my room. He held up one finger to his mouth and I know what it meant but it'd make no sense in this context so that's not important for this account. But then I whispered to him, "But I am still scared to go back to sleep!" Then he whispered my name loudly and I *woke up* [spirit went back to the body and I awoke]. Before I could discount this as a dream I had to realize I was in the same position as I was in when I was *talking* with Jesus.
People often ask me if I was on drugs or alcohol when this happened, since I don't make it an account to tell people of this story but I was not. I was in desperate pain, though, at this particular point in my life. This night would mark the beginning of my path. NOT that I got straight right away after that or even gained the spiritual insight I needed. But I got started.
Maybe two weeks after that night I yelled at God to remove the taste for _some addiction_ from me and it was gone that evening. I was free from the pit for a year. But then I got around my family again without being armed - so to speak - and I envisioned that the demons jumped on me again and I relapsed - this time for five years, worse than ever. I yelled at God again in 2002...and you probably know what happened...
Today I actively seek my spiritual condition on a daily basis...as the Bible would say, I keep my house clean or else the "demons" that left will come right back and bring some friends. I relate to a Christian context because I am in a Bible study right now and I'm learning the vernacular but before I may say "lower energies" or "psychic vampires" or "self"...
My spirituality comprises blends of many ancient religions as well as philosophical and experiential viewpoints. I enjoy focusing on the similarities and dispelling the myths that create needless fear, angst and suffering. I believe if we're on our path, then we're on the correct path and I know I am on my path when the universe/God/Spirit/spirit/karma [whatever you're comfortable with] throws coincidences my way affirming my direction - which, recently, I see/feel quite often. |
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|  |  127815 | Jun 7, 2004 1:13pm | | Mom- practicing but afraid Catholic. Dad- (very) non-practicing Baptist. Raised Roman Catholic, good experience, strong supportive community that I was a part of. Absolute charity, generosity in my family; everyone was welcome at my parents, especially poor, sick, and dying. We were "exposed" to people, usually relatives but not always, with drug issues, AIDS, cancer, alcoholism, abuse, and so on. My parents nursed 4 relatives with cancer until they passed away. Let Aunts and Uncles and Cousins live with us when they were down on their luck. Took in 3 "foster" kids. My house was like a community center. I was very, very lucky, I learned to relate to and love people no matter what. In the midst of this, my own family was stable and supportive. My siblings and I were and remain best friends. My parents are good friends of mine, also. That is looking at my glass three-quarters full instead of one quarter empty, which is what I typically do! : ) |
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