Or “I’m Awl Ears”

A while back, I wrote about habits and the way they run our lives. I am getting new revelation on the subject, and it’s coming through an unfortunate source.

When I was young, I figured I was safe from dementia. My great-grandfather lived to be 100, with full control of his mind. My grandfather was a little forgetful, but he was able to practice law at 85. He had sisters who grazed or passed the century mark without losing it. I assumed genetics were on my side.

In 2014, my father’s older sister died. She was obese. She was demented. In her case, doctors believed strokes caused the problem, but she was an angry, irritable, bossy person, and she was probably never less than a hundred pounds overweight, so her habits probably caused her downfall. Also, she was a Mormon, so she didn’t have any useful knowledge to help her beat her problems.

When she died, it became obvious that my genes were not as good as I had thought.

Now my dad is having problems, and I have to look after him. I am learning things.

He decided to make a five-figure investment in his real estate. It looked like a good idea to me, but I didn’t push it. I had looked into it, but I was not planning to follow up. He made the decision.

I made the arrangements, and then I told my dad we had to meet with the salesman to firm things up and provide a deposit. Before the salesman arrived, my dad started asking why we wanted to do it. He had forgotten, and I had to go back over the story.

Here’s the interesting thing: he forgot the decision to buy, because that was a factual matter. He remembered that he didn’t like to spend money, because that was a habit. Dementia destroys your ability to recall facts, but habits aren’t facts, so they persist.

I have a young friend who gives hospice care to old people, most of whom are demented. I talk to her and get her advice, and she confirms my observations. She says dementia never changes people’s habits. You can forget a fact, but you can’t forget a character trait.

What does that mean, on a practical level?

The other day, I wrote a blog post, and I said good habits were like slaves that work for nothing. They do what you want done, 24 hours a day, with little input from you. Last night, God showed me the other edge of the sword: bad habits are slave drivers. They goad you all day, every day, even when you resist.

This is obvious when you see it stated concisely, but I didn’t think of it that way before. I didn’t think of the terms “slave” and “slave driver” in close juxtaposition.

For a long time, I’ve been telling people they need to clean up their personalities while they’re young, because when they get old and lose their minds, all the bad things will persist, and they will be socially isolated because people will not be able to stand them. It’s not great advice, because people who are irritating and unpleasant are not the kind of people who take advice. But it’s true. It would be good advice, if the people who needed it were able to act on it.

If you’re arrogant, and you think you’re always right, you will still be that way when you’re wearing diapers and being fed with a spoon. Same thing goes for lust, greed, and whatever other habitual flaws you have.

My mother’s mother became demented at the very end of her life. She had always liked telling people what to do. One day she made the following announcement: “I want to be the boss.” Just like that. It’s funny, but it’s also instructive. When you get old and demented, it’s like your clothes fall off, and all the stuff you used to hide pops out.

Here I am in middle age, with slave drivers I chose to empower. At first I didn’t know the Holy Spirit. After that, I knew him, but I chose to do my own thing. The other spirits…lust, greed, pride, dishonesty, anger, whatever…those, I listened to. The Holy Spirit’s liberating influence was stifled, and the filthy, stupid influence of the others was magnified. It was like an eclipse, where the moon, which is lifeless, comes between you and the sun.

The Old Testament provided for slavery. If you wanted another person to take care of you, you stood by the door of the house, and that person took an awl and shoved it through your ear, into the doorpost. After that, you had to serve him. For slaves who were Hebrews, the length of the service was limited, but I don’t want to get into that.

Doorways symbolize the gates of perception. They symbolize our senses, which are doorways to our hearts and minds. When we let foreign spirits in, we let them penetrate our ears at the doorways to our inner parts. The symbolism is obvious.

Once a spirit gets in, it builds a stronghold of habit, and it’s hard to evict, because your own flesh and mind work to keep it in place.

If I can’t get God’s help and receive deliverance, and I later lose my mind, all the gross parts of my personality will be in control and on display, and I will be totally powerless.

Supposedly, the body of George Custer was mutilated with an awl. A person claiming to be a witness said a squaw shoved an awl deep into both of his ears, into his brain, because he was a man who would not listen. Interesting.

We don’t understand how bad our situation is, or how filthy and how close to hell this world is. We don’t see anything wrong, so we think defeat is victory, and we don’t try to do anything about it. Sooner or later, anyone who doesn’t get free will see the spirits he served while he lived. My feeling is that it’s better to boot them out while I’m still breathing.

Pray in the Spirit to get revelation and faith. Never make an excuse to God. Never try to defend yourself. Always ask what you’re doing wrong, and how you can fix it. If you keep doing these things, the clouds will start to part. If not, try to enjoy being the tail and not the head.