|
‘Be quiet!’ said Jesus sternly. ‘Come out of him!’ The evil spirit shook the man violently and came out of him with a shriek. Mark 1:25,26  That was easy.
But then, it doesn’t take much to make a demon run away screaming if you happen to be Jesus Christ the Messiah. All the foul creatures of hell know him; it’s a shame most of us normal folks don’t.
Six feet to the ceiling I watch a show on Discovery channel called A Haunting. It’s caused me many a sleepless night, and my wife wonders why I watch it at all. I can’t help it, though. There I lie at midnight, watching real stories of real hauntings as I try not to make any sudden, six foot leaps for the ceiling. A scary show is one thing, but there isn’t much on this planet that scares me more than the wrath of Jen when she’s been startled into wakefulness. So many elbows! So there I lay, ensconced in the safety of thirty seven pounds of sheets, blankets, and comforters, watching A Haunting. This show fascinates me, because in 80 percent of the episodes the house is possessed not by lost ghosts or wayward souls but by a demon. Or twelve. It seems there are portals all over the place, and these guys use ‘em like revolving doors, coming into our homes and having a ton of fun at some poor family’s expense. Three seconds Invariably a call goes out and the house is descended upon by clairvoyants and paranormal investigators, all black nail polish and pale skin as they fiddle with knobs and point strange looking devices at walls, doorways and children. Statuettes and enormous books fly around like missiles but these people may as well be inspecting for termites as they listen to doodads and scribble. I’d last eight seconds. My underwear, three. Tops. The investigation ends and the family is debriefed. The recommendation? Call a priest. Get a believer in here, because it’s gonna take the name of Jesus Christ himself to delouse this place. That’s right, a Specialist. I think of those gangster flicks where the specialist comes in to do a cleanup, sporting an Armani suit and hundred-dollar sunglasses as he drops f-bombs and loads his Beretta. Except the demon specialist is sporting a cassock, a Bible, and some very clear, very pure water. And on a good day, an odd hat. The Specialist Our specialist doesn’t swear, and when he holds up his censer he never says “say hello to my little friend” in Latin (“Aysay ellohay otay ymay ittlelay riendfay”). He does speak Latin, though. I don’t understand any of it, but for some reason it gives me the willies; it must scare the crap out of the garden variety demon. As the place is blessed through heavy phrases whose words all end in –um and –us, puddles form under the shoes of everybody else in the house. Our specialist doesn’t notice. Words we recognize are few, but when the phrase “Jesus Christ” comes up, the house will usually shiver or a possessed child’s head commence a clockwise spin. Counter-clockwise in Australia. Unfazed, our specialist continues until, in one final declaration, something along the lines of “in the name of Jesus Christ the Lord, I command thee to Push Off, you Clown Boat,” the house goes silent and things are… different. Lighter. When Jesus did it, there was no drama. The demons of that day knew exactly who they were dealing with. Today the demon stands a chance, and it will fight. It knows that the only defense we have is our faith, our absolute trust in God’s existence through Jesus Christ, and it knows it could drive a class A motorhome through the chinks most of us have in that armor. I have boundless admiration for the specialist; if he doesn’t know Jesus as fact, as the solid, flesh and blood manifestation of God himself, he loses his effectiveness. And when you lose at that job, it’s not so much about cleaning out your desk as it is about scooping up your soul with a ladle. Steel or Teflon? I never thought I’d like A Haunting. So many paranormal shows these days downplay the specialist in favour of New Age diatribe and Ouija board dramatics. A Haunting paints a picture of a world the Bible often portrays, a world which is deathly afraid of a Jesus it knows is real and glorious, a world which draws us into itself through temptation and sin. The show also gives hope, reinforcing my faith and demonstrating the power and reality of Christ. If just his name is enough to make a demon cry out and run away, why would I not believe in it? You know, I don’t have the impenetrable faith (or steely bowels) of the specialist, but I will. Count on it. The faith part, anyway.
 |
The Journal 
Subscribe to this comment's feed