God’s Promises are True

A friend of mine has a son with severe mental illness. By that I mean his son is a leftist.

My friend got to know God a few years back, and now he calls and tells me how much he loves being with God and praying in tongues. He gets revelation, and his life improves. Unfortunately, all this happened after his son was grown.

His son married a mixed-race lady who has a twin sister. Their mother was impregnated by a black or partly-black man who is nowhere around. Contain your shock. Both parents abandoned the babies, and they were adopted by white families.

Black people do not adopt black children often enough to save them. If you Google this, Google’s AI will butt in without being invited and tell you this is a racist myth, but it’s true. Black children are overrepresented among children who have no families. There are about 1.5 times as many of them as there should be, given the percentage of American kids who are black. It’s not hard to do the math.

In order to avoid typing “his daughter-in-law” over and over, I will call this woman “Myrtle.”

Myrtle was raised in a very white area. Then, for some reason, she chose to go to a black university and accept the low-standards stigma. After she arrived at the school, she complained that black people scared her.

Myrtle is some sort of vegetarian, although my understanding is that she eats some things vegans will not. She says the smell of beef makes her so sick, she can’t be in the house when anyone else cooks it, so her husband can forget about enjoying it when she’s around. So there’s a rule he must obey.

She is way out on the left. She is extremely fragile. My friend is getting to know the Holy Spirit, so of course, he is conservative.

Her husband is an enabler. He once told his dad his wife was terrified his middle-class, law-abiding wife would be pulled over by the police and murdered. In Massachusetts or New Hampshire, those notorious Klan strongholds. The son was angry at his dad for not understanding her neurotic, unfounded fear, which was probably something she made up to get attention. Leftists pretend to be upset in order to control the people around them.

A husband and father is not supposed to be an enabler. He is supposed to be the one who corrects everyone else. Fathers generally do this. This is why prisons are filled with the children of single mothers, but children of single fathers are out there in the world making a living and obeying the law.

This lady is full of demons that tell her white people and conservatives are out to get her, and her husband is full of demons that want him to have a controlling wife, so this is why they’re together. They know nearly nothing about God, so they haven’t received protection from delusion.

Day before yesterday, two days after election day, my friend told me things were very bad in his son’s house. The wife was having some kind of breakdown. Not the kind where they put you in a padded room. But she was not functioning normally. She was extremely angry. She was grieving.

She is still like this, 5 days after the election. God help her children.

My friend talked to me the way I would expect a moderate Iranian to talk to me about a father who was considering an honor killing. “He thinks my sister has to go, so we are all trying not to set him off.” He and his son were altering their behavior to humor Myrtle.

I told him his son was failing as a husband. Straight out.

God is supposed to be my anchor, through the Holy Spirit. I am supposed to be my wife’s anchor. I share that job with God. Women and kids go off on weird tangents all the time, and fathers are supposed to bring everyone back into line. Women’s hormones make them different people every day, and kids are just inexperienced and not that smart. Somebody has to be stable.

Demons are telling this lady she is right to believe lies about the race of the people who saved her, as well as wacky lies about conservatives. The son should be trying to deliver her from her pathological fantasies. Instead, he rewards them for them, and he expects his dad to cooperate.

Demons love controlling families. They get their hooks into one person, and they use that person as a handle to control the others. “Mortgage the house, Dad. If you don’t, my bookie will break my legs.” “Stand good for the checks I forged to buy drugs or they’ll put me in prison.” My sister pulled that last one, successfully.

My friend’s son is a codependent. He is supposed to help his family and make things better, but he’s pulling the wagon that carries them to the abyss.

He has a baby and a toddler. They dressed the toddler up as a lesbian, they have resisted using correct pronouns, and my friend’s domineering ex-wife, who used to claim to be conservative, curried favor by buying the toddler a book called, The Hips on the Drag Queen go Swish, Swish, Swish.

My friend and I had very dysfunctional upbringings. Two of his brothers were junkies, and one died in his house when my friend was about 7. His older brother physically abused him all the time. He chased him with a horsewhip. His dad was a shady lawyer who associated with shady people. He was eventually convicted of a felony and disbarred. Church was not part of their lives, and neither was the Holy Spirit.

I talked to my friend the other day, and I told him his son was dragging him back into the dysfunctional world. I said God wanted him to be free of it.

Lately, I have realized my life is completely free of dysfunction, and it’s very strange to me. How many people can say they are free of dysfunction?

My dad drank, beat my mother, and abused all of us emotionally. My older sister was sick and cruel, and she tormented my mother and me endlessly. My mother kept holding onto my dad even after they were divorced. My parents didn’t introduce us to God or teach us ordinary habits all successful people have.

Now, my life is so perfect, it’s boring. My wife and I joke about it. We get along beautifully. We love being with each other all day. We don’t manipulate each other. There are no guilt trips. There is no verbal abuse. There is no violence. There are no ultimatums. We laugh and joke all the time. We pray together. We agree about politics and religion.

Sometimes when we’re driving home from Walmart or some other wonderful, boring destination, I’ll say something like, “Another challenging day,” and we’ll both laugh and talk about how good God is to us.

This is what I want my friend to have, but he isn’t there yet. He is working too hard to turn his son around. I told him his son and Myrtle would probably never change, and if they did, it would probably be decades in the future. I said he needed to back up and enjoy his own life with God.

This is the worst thing about being a Christian. You have to cut people loose and let them sink. Most of the people you love are going to hell, and you can’t fix them. You pray for them and talk to them for a while, and then you have to retreat and hope God sends you to someone more receptive.

My dad was the last child of Satan I was close to, and I will never be close to another one. God turned him around at the last minute, and that’s wonderful, but he was an instrument of damage almost his entire life.

I have cut all sorts of people off. When you’re away from God, you attach yourself to people who do you harm, and when you repent, you have to scrape off the ones who won’t listen.

Myrtle and the son are in real trouble, as are the kids who are forced to depend on them. I am constantly hearing about how unhappy they are and how many problems they have. The son didn’t know the Holy Spirit when he was looking for a bride, so demons chose her for him. Now he is stuck with her, and she with him. Even if one of them comes around, he or she will be glued to the other by the bonds of matrimony and the needs of the children. They are trapped.

I pity people in bad marriages. I don’t know how they get through every day. I even understand Godless people who fantasize about killing their intolerable spouses, even though it’s wrong. I understand people who get fed up and run off. They look out over the future, and they see nothing but more suffering. And they’re almost always right.

I always say cancer is better than marrying the wrong woman, and I mean it very sincerely. Cancer kills you in a few months or years, and then you’re free. The wrong spouse can make you suffer for half a century.

I had no judgment at all about women. I was drawn to all sorts of women who were, frankly, losers with zero potential. Rebellious. Arrogant. Ignorant. Trashy. Mean. Unstable. Dishonest. Manipulative. Emasculating. If God had not chosen my wife for me, I would be in a place of torment instead of a bubble of love and protection. I would have a parasite instead of a wife.

My wife says the same basic thing about the men she wanted.

For a long time, I’ve prayed for God to give me a house of love. A while back, I realized he had come through. I don’t have a wife telling me what a disappointment I am or stamping her feet to get what she wants. I don’t have kids with clown hair and pierced noses, locking their parents out of their bedrooms and cutting themselves. We treat each other very well. We treat Marv very well. Nobody has to take a deep breath before entering the living room. It’s astonishing.

Things get better every week. I wish everyone could have this.

God truly is good, and his promises are true. I wish I had capitalized on them much sooner.

CORRECTION

I just found out Myrtle is being pleasant today. What a relief.