I’m a Sucker for Misdirection

I have to quit digging into the fuss over Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh. Carnal people are fighting a carnal battle, and I’m allowing myself to be dragged into it. Christians are supposed to focus on the supernatural. We’re supposed to fight principalities and powers, meaning spirits, and I’m getting worked up over the bickering of people who are as low and worldly as monkeys. They have no idea who the real enemies are or how to fight them.

If leftists are firing salvos of lies in order to destroy unborn children, we should realize it’s because they let themselves be controlled by demons. They don’t know the Holy Spirit. They don’t hear God’s voice. They wander around lost, spitting poison at those who support God. Often we return the favor.

People who serve demons are like sharks’ teeth. Sharks have teeth that grow in rows that move forward over time. When a front tooth falls out, the tooth in the row behind it moves up. We’re trying to pull teeth when we should be neutralizing the sharks. Defeat one human being who serves the devil, and another one will be found to take his place.

The Bible says we are more than conquerors. A conqueror defeats. A person who is more than a conqueror turns enemies into allies. America is full of leftists who are on their way to hell, and we are no better than they are. The difference between us is that we accepted forgiveness and help. We should be using supernatural tools to defeat leftists, turning the battle over to God, and we should be fighting the spirits that hold them captive.

If enough Americans knew God, leftism wouldn’t be a problem here. Leftists would be few and powerless, as they used to be. We gave God’s human enemies power by turning away from the only one who ever gave us victory.

I should be writing about the things God is doing, instead of complaining about blind, venomous people who rot our nation.

Last Saturday, my dad prayed for salvation, and our whole relationship changed. I should be writing about that every day.

The improvements I started seeing after my dad prayed seem to be permanent. He doesn’t drive me crazy any more. We spend more time together. I think more about helping him and less about avoiding provocation.

Yesterday I waited for him to get up and dress so we could have breakfast together. I took him to Cracker Barrel, and we talked. He still says a lot of the same repetitious things, but he’s not goading me any more. I don’t look at the time on my phone and wonder how much more time I should put in.

After breakfast, I took him to the mall to get some new pants. You have to keep an eye on clothing when you care for a dementia patient. They will wear rags if you let them. For some reason, he needs shorter pants now, and the cuffs of some of his old pants have become worn from dragging and catching things. He has pockets that are developing holes, too.

I made the mistake of parking near Macy’s. When we went in, I saw that they had a lot of upscale stuff but nothing suitable for my dad. He doesn’t need Polo. He needs moderately priced pants of decent quality. Things I buy him may not last long, so there is no point in spending a lot.

We had to walk across the mall to another store. That took a while. I would walk a bit, and then turn and wait. Sometimes he fell 50 feet behind me. I had to remind him to take long steps and avoid looking at the ground. His physical therapist is trying to teach him those things.

At another store, they were selling no-iron pants for two-thirds off. I couldn’t believe that. I had him try some on to figure out his size, and we bought three pairs for under $60. If they work out the first time he wears them, I’ll run back and get three more.

I wondered if these were the last pants he would ever need.

Trying on pants took a long time. I got him slip-on shoes, but they’re not as easy to put on as I had hoped, and sometimes it takes several minutes for him to get his feet into them. I sat on a chair in the changing area and read the news on my phone.

On the way back to the car, I had him stand at an exit, and I told him I’d get the car and come back for him. When I drove back a minute or two later, he had started walking, so I had to stop in the road to get him.

It’s very strange, not being provoked all the time. It reminds me of the story about Jesus releasing a woman who couldn’t stand straight. In the past, I had to reject and defeat anger many times every week. It was as if my dad were firing flaming arrows at me. Every time I put one out, another one came over the wall. That’s not happening any more.

You have to avoid unequal yokings. It’s not something you have a choice about. They will make you suffer. I yoked myself to a man who hated God, and it caused me a lot of problems. When I spend too much time thinking about politics, I’m doing the same thing. I’m yoking myself to people who get off on being angry and malicious.

Yesterday, I realized something. My mother married an atheist. That’s what ruined our family. I had never seen it that way before, but now I see that it’s obvious. There was an unequal yoking, and it paid dividends of failure and stress. If I had had two Christian parents with good prayer lives, my life and my sister’s life would have been completely different. We would have been raised in love and peace instead of fear and violence.

Don’t date an atheist. Don’t date a Jew, apart from Messianics. Don’t date a pagan, a Mormon, or a Jehovah’s Witness. Don’t date anyone who worships Mary or “saints.” If you do, you’re poisoning your future. When you go home at night, you have to be among people who don’t play for the other team. You have to be with people who are on your side. You can’t expect things to go well when you bunk with your enemies.

Christianity can’t be reconciled with any other faith. It’s wrong to try. Jesus had no tolerance whatsoever for other religions, and you can’t change the rules.

Paul warned us, and my mother didn’t listen. It caused decades of needless pain. It wrecked her legacy.

Sure, my dad finally came around. At 86. After his wife killed herself with a nicotine addiction. After his daughter destroyed herself. After I did my best to ruin my own life. God wanted to prevent those things.

I’m glad my dad made it, but think how things might have been had my mother married a Christian. My dad’s belated salvation doesn’t make my mother’s choice acceptable or right.

I was in a sexual relationship with an atheist. I can’t believe I was that stupid. It ended up causing me a lot of misery. Thank God it was cut short. I have often thought about the suffering marriage would have caused, and it’s scary.

I’m still reading Pat Conroy’s The Death of Santini. It’s a history of his family, beginning after he became famous. It’s a disturbing read. It’s a book about a destroyed family. The Conroys are just as tormented and crippled today as they were in 1960.

One would expect the son of a wife-beater and child abuser to be soft-hearted and repentant, but that’s not Pat Conroy. He depicts himself as obnoxious and violent. In his book, he threatens to beat his siblings. He threatens to beat a building manager who has to evict his grandmother. He did these things long after he became wealthy and famous.

His brothers and sisters are not success stories, either. He writes about his schizophrenic brother, Tom, who hated him for trying to help. Tom jumped off a building. He writes about his sister Carol Ann, who also had mental issues and who raged at her family all the time.

His dad didn’t change. He denied the things Conroy wrote about him, and he behaved better in order to prove Conroy was wrong. He continued to bluster and deflect.

The Conroys come off as a family with very little class, if you want the truth. The father beats everyone. The mother beats Carol Ann with a broom. The grandmother sleeps around and drinks herself unconscious. The sons are angry and bitter. If there is a moment of redemption in the book, I haven’t seen it yet. Instead of coming together, the Conroys merely squelch their hatred and force themselves to get along in spite of it. That’s not what God wants for us. He wants to take hatred out of us.

The Conroys were Christians, but they were not Spirit-filled. They were Catholics. Conroy’s uncle was a priest who beat him when he was a child. Catholicism doesn’t teach people how to know God personally or how to tap into his power and become like him in their hearts. It’s very sad. They made an effort to please God, but they weren’t shown how to make it work. The church helped destroy them.

They were worldly people, and worldly people don’t heal.

I wouldn’t have wanted to know Pat Conroy. He was apparently quite a jerk, for lack of a kinder term. I want to be less of a jerk, and I don’t want jerks in my life.

My own experience tells me there is something better. God changes relationships on a very deep level. I’m thankful for that. Hosea said God’s people perished for lack of knowledge, and I am very grateful for whatever knowledge I have that the Conroys didn’t.

My dad is changing, and that’s wonderful, but he has taught me never to go near anyone else like him. Never, never, never, NEVER. I don’t care what you claim you can offer me. If you’re on the other side, you will keep your distance. I can do good things for you. I can treat you with courtesy and respect. I can pray for you sincerely. That’s all you get. You can’t be in the inner circle. It’s not worth it. I’m too old for it.

If you’re a young Christian, think about the company you keep. You are making choices that could have evil results that last for centuries. If you choose to go against God, he may not listen to your cries for help when you get what you deserve. He let the Jews walk in the desert for 40 years because they wouldn’t listen.

It’s amazing how ignorant we are. It’s a wonder our problems aren’t much worse. We don’t understand the basic principles that bring us success and protection.