Still Kicking

My friend Travis is still alive. I call that a victory, and I thank God and everyone who prayed.

Yesterday, his brother said he and his mother were rushing to the hospital because Travis was on life support. I say “said” because I can’t assume his mother actually went without confirmation. I know a little bit about her, and I’m not willing to place a bet.

Based on various bits of information, my guess is that Travis was no worse off than the day before, but because his family was not paying attention to his case, they were shocked to learn he was connected to machines. His friends already knew.

His brother has a big social media following, and yesterday he posted a request for help. Travis was shot a month ago, so you may be wondering why the post went up yesterday. I’m right there with you.

Now a large number of people SAY (I am consistent) they’re praying for him, and there is a GoFundMe page which is currently at about $5100.

I’m not donating. Why? A wise woman pointed out that the money may be misused by those who gain control over it. I hope that doesn’t happen, and I hope the money does some good, but I’m not taking a chance on my money going to a casino or some other rathole.

You don’t actually need GoFundMe to give your friends, or their landlords, money. You just need it to put your name on the web so people can see that you donated.

I’m already wondering whether he will become a fundraising tool for a couple of churches. Travis and I met at Trinity Church, a horrible money-centered church in Miami Gardens. The pastors are drawn to publicity like flies to a substance familiar to farmers. After Trayvon Martin was killed while beating an innocent man’s head on a sidewalk, Trinity’s pastor Rich Wilkerson made a cringey video with Martin’s mother, asking her for her deep ideas about Christianity.

It’s only a matter of time until Wilkerson finds out Travis is getting social media attention. I’m sure he would have some sincere desire to help, but I think he would also be highly motivated to help himself.

A Trinity underpastor named Terrance started a church. It’s called “The COOL Church,” which ought to tell you everything you need to know. To be “cool” is to be loved by the unsaved world. Jesus said the world would hate his followers. To strive to be cool is to curry favor with Satan, the inventor and arbiter of cool. Christians have a real problem with clergymen who suck up to ignorant children. They promote Christian rap, which is insane. They dress like hipsters. They study the latest slang. In reality, Jesus was the opposite of cool, and we should be, too.

“Cool” is the Beast’s term. It’s his stamp of approval.

Terrance is very proud and very concerned about appearances. He strives to be as cool as possible. He cultivates admiration. Older people can’t tell him anything; he knows it all. For all his carnal good intentions, he’s a toxic pastor. That’s all there is to it. He has been very good to Travis, even allowing him to stay in his house for a long period, and I have no doubt that he cares, but he’s not strong in the Holy Spirit, and he’s a leftist and a Social Justice Warrior, which shows he has not been getting God’s memos.

The problem I see here is that people who go to these churches–hypocrites–may send a lot of money and make a big fuss on the Internet, and they may be used to seduce Travis and make him think Miami and these churches aren’t so bad after all. I’m sure some true Christians are actually praying, and that’s great, but overall, it doesn’t smell good.

You don’t really need 10,000 Christians to pray for you. You need one solid Christian.

There are a lot of healings and miracles in the Bible. Try to find one that required more than one person’s effort.

Last night, I saw another spirit in my bedroom. The other spirits I’ve seen since Travis was shot seemed menacing or creepy. One was actually sitting on me, trying to beat me up. The latest spirit looked like a cute little dog. Of course, I cursed it and ran it off.

Why do spirits always show up beside or at the foot of beds? It must be in their handbook.

My impression is that Satan is not getting top results from angry, nasty spirits, so he is sending warm, cuddly ones. Hence the social media campaign. If he can’t kill Travis, at least he may be able to convince him he should stay in Miami and bask in the worthless flattery of hypocrites.

I feel that this ordeal is being used by God to make Travis understand how important it is to cut people off and move. When he comes to, he will see who was with him from the start and who let him down. It will not be pretty. It would be very unfortunate if he went through all this and didn’t get the message. God uses progressive discipline. I would not want to experience whatever comes after being shot and put on life support machines.

People lie to Travis constantly. “We appreciate you, bro.” “We got you.” “We need you to help us change Miami Gardens.” They flatter him and lay guilt trips on him. They play the race card. It’s disgusting to watch. Miami and Miami Gardens aren’t going to be changed, except that they will become more rotten as more Christians leave.

From my perspective, this mess has been extremely helpful. Obviously, I suffer because my friend is in the ICU, but I am communicating a lot with people I texted for prayer. They are surprising me. People I thought might not be all that helpful are very serious about praying and helping. They’re serious about improving. One young lady said, “You know I listen to you, right?” I guess I didn’t. It’s always a shock when I find out someone listens to me.

The young woman who is doing most of the lifting for Travis is incredible. She keeps asking me about God, and I tell her everything I can. I hate talking to people who aren’t receptive, and I’m very used to it. There is nothing like talking to someone God has already softened up. It’s a lot like love at first sight, except it’s not romantic.

They’re the only people who get saved. You can’t badger someone into heaven. People are like fruit. They fall when they get ripe.

She’s very smart. She’s very honest. She did not hesitate to bring up a fault which might be contributing to Travis’s reluctance to leave Miami. She thinks for herself. When I tell her things, she checks them out. That’s exactly how it’s supposed to work. I’m not the Oracle of Delphi. People should ask God whether what I say is right.

She was raised in a solid two-parent household, and she talks about how crucial it is to have a real family. She talks about the way black people have been weakened by the one-parent model. I haven’t heard any victimspeak from her.

She’s not a joiner. She has no Facebook account. She has very few Instagram connections. She’s not posting provocative photos every day, trying to land a man. She is smart about people. She knows how low they are.

Travis used to show up at my house in her car. That amazed me. Virtually none of his friends do anything for him. They always say they’ll be there to help, and then they don’t show up. They talk a great game and then run off. It astounded me to see that someone was willing to let him drive their car for days on end.

I suggested she consider going to a Last Reformation meeting and getting baptized with the Holy Spirit. She was on their website before I could follow up. She’s going to check them out thoroughly and think it over. I told her she might also receive the baptism at home, given the fact that travel is a problem now. God is not unreasonable. He baptized me with the Holy Spirit while I was alone.

Travis is extremely blessed to know her. She makes me wish I were 30 years younger.

I’ve had a productive day of serving God, and the clock reads 10:43. That’s not bad at all. I didn’t have to get on a plane and go to Somalia and live in the dirt, battling six different kinds of diarrhea. I didn’t have to go to a seminary and dodge homosexual advances for several years. I didn’t have to carry Kenneth Copeland’s mink-lined briefcase and take care of his dry cleaning for a decade. I certainly didn’t have to be Rich Wilkerson’s degraded, used underpastor and then get him to sponsor my cool new church. God did the work, and that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Is it wrong to feel so good while my friend has a machine breathing for him? I don’t question it. Life contains plenty of suffering. I don’t need to cultivate and water it.

This morning I woke up early and spent a long time praying. When it was over, I wanted to catch up on the sleep I lost, so I stayed in bed and slept. I dreamed Travis was here, in a guest bedroom. He was smiling. His face almost glowed. I told him I had missed him and that I was happy to see him. I started asking him what he wanted to do. Did he want to stay on earth or go? He didn’t acknowledge my questions. He was talking about other things.

It was just a dream, but it felt great anyway.

Several days before my mother died, she was moved to a new hospital room, and my dad and my sister didn’t tell me. I didn’t get to talk to her for a while, and I thought it was okay, because we would be reconnected soon. Then she lost consciousness for good, and I didn’t get to talk with her again. All I had was a saved answering machine tape with a message she had left months before. I feel regret over what happened. Thanks to the dream, I don’t feel that way about being cut off from Travis.

I have been thinking about the way healers do things. I’ve been on a Last Reformation outing, and I’ve watched Tom Loud and others on Youtube. They simply command illness and abnormalities to go, and they command flesh to be repaired. I’m doing this for Travis now. I hope you’ll do it, too.

I also curse the campaign of seduction. It wouldn’t do Travis much good to survive and then become part of the Wilkerson soul-grinding combine.