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Letter A - Regarding demonism, satanism

Seek and you shall find, knock and you shall enter, ask and you shall receive, for here you shall find Me in the Sanctus Spiritos
A Psalmist

I was a member of an Air Scout group and as such a time came to spend a few days camping in the woods. I had the misfortune of being allocated sleeping space in a large ceiling ten man pole-tent with some older boys, some of them Adventure Scouts, whom I knew mostly not even by name. Somehow, they had found out that I could (or used to) see spirits. A little from midnight, as I was alone on campsite moving through the shadows toward the tent to seek some rest, they ambushed me. I was placed in a summoning circle, staked down, and they surrounded me. They told me they had studied a Satanic rite that would summon a powerful demonic they referred to as the Devil to cease and take my very soul.
They read from the content of an aged looking Satanic book, pronouncing in an Arcane tongue words that were to me of a sound and form altogether somehow repulsive, unwholesome.

The reading and the rest of the rite was quite lengthy, so that it was clear to me that they had all spent some considerable amount of time in preparation for this evil act. Then, at the completion of the rite, I felt suddenly as if an evil presence had physically risen into the summoning area.
It was in a position where I could not physically see it with my own eyes, yet I felt its unwholesome and horrid and fearsome presence as “solidly” as one might see and feel a thing. The faces of the summoners became ones of insurmountable terror. Their eyes so wide that their eye lids could not be seen, their skin so pale that it was markedly so even in the low light level of the tent. They all fled- scrambling over each other’s bodies as each tried desperately to be the first to escape out of the tent.

For a moment, I coolly considered with a complete lack of understanding (that I have to this day) why they fled, for I could never leave another living being to such a fate as they believed they had left me. Even if it met my utter doom, even if I had to fight through the Fires’ of Hell against all of its evil for all time, I could not abandon another to the doom of his or her very soul!! Then, alone with that presence, feeling it malevolently and intently regarding me, I was suddenly fearfully aware of my predicament.
In a moment I was up on my feet (of my binds I have no recall, but somehow I was free the moment my body surged into action) and fled for the exit from the tent. I was barely a stride from passing out of the summoning area and leaping through the tent entrance, when suddenly I felt the large, taloned hand of that thing upon my back. Only an instant passed, but in that instant I sew my surroundings as from every possible angle, as from every position taken by every atom in the surrounding air: I sew that thing, a red skinned, cloven foot, horned fire demon (such as I had never seen, read or heard of before), and from positions looking back at it from the back of my skull I viewed and realised the evil of its face. There, a look of complete malevolence, confidently mocking my “futile” attempt at escape, quietly revelling in the power it had over me. I heard the will of its voice, dooming me, that no matter where I went in the world, I would be found and it would come for me, for my soul. The instant passed. I fled the confines of the tent.

Drawn to the light of the central camp fire, out of a need to be near light and heat, out of the shadow, I found the boys that had conducted the rite. So shaken was I, I could not even speak. I watched as the boys who had cursed me were ridiculed by others scouts for the story they had told them. Each of them looked half out of his wits with fear, but for a few ring leaders. The ring leaders kept largely silent and cast silent, fearful stares about the camp fire at the shadows moving from the light of the flickering camp fire. I thought they would come to apologise to me, to plead for forgiveness. Yet they did no such thing. When I approached, they shoved me away from the fire toward the shadows and told me to stay there. They said it was for me- the shadows. They had only mean words. In the end, however, so much ridicule did they face from the other scouts, that by early morning these would-be summoners gathered into a huddle, and amongst themselves decided to refute their original story. The ring leaders even tried to convince some of the younger boys that had taken part in the summoning that they had hallucinated the whole thing. Then they deflected the ridicule of the other scouts toward me. I told them the truth, and showed them my back, where was burned the mark of its hand into my now blistered flesh. They said I must have fallen into the fire, onto a piece of wood carved to be shaped as a hand. Yet I was drug free, sober, and no such device had been in the fire.

I escaped, and waited, shivering with cold, till first light. Some elder men at the camp offered consolidatory words when I honestly responded to their questions regarding my well being. They felt that obvioulsy I had somehow hallucinated the whole thing, and that my wounds were as the others had said-I'd fallen on something in the fire shaped like a hand- no one had witnessed me fall, but what other explanation could there be? Walking amid the trees, desperate, a low mist in the woods, I felt only partial comfort from the day light. I had always felt to some degree or other protected somehow by day light from spirits. However, this time, I felt hopeless. At the last, I sat on the body of a fallen tree, and, head bowed, I dug deep. I dug deeper than I had ever dug into my self before or since. I went searching within myself for a glimmer of something I had almost forgotten, left behind in the recesses of my heart. There, in the core of my heart, I tapped into my faith. The key to it was this: that I knew, in my utter desperation, that only one thing could save me- . Something that deep in the interior of my soul, the key to every aspect of my conscience that my soul dictated to me, I knew. Not from being taught. Just from feeling the very core of my soul and that which was there written. The Word of God. That nothing else could save me. Therein was my faith- that I had no choice, none whatsoever, to survive than to believe wholly again in the Almighty our Saviour. The One and Only God, whom had saved me then so seemingly long past (see "Saved" below).

In that very instant that I prayed in the tiniest desperate voice to God, “save me Lord God”, the blisters became scabs at once which instantly flaked from my back- only healthy skin remained. In the same moment, I no longer felt the pursuing presence of the cursed fire demon. I felt my sense of inner well-being "rise", feeling as much as knowing I was free and clean again. I felt safe, knowing because I felt within me an inner light grow, as embers stirred into life. I sometimes look back at that time and imagine myself, head bowed in prayer, the light of Heaven gently beaming upon me from some far place above in Heaven. I never looked up to see if such a light did fall upon me. None of those nearby commented on one. However, somehow I felt it- and so knew that I was saved. Not only that, but somehow, I knew only one being had Jurisdiction over my soul- our Heavenly Father, whom wished nothing but Heaven for the keep of my life. I never sew those boys again. They kept their distance and quickly disappeared away from me into the world. Of their fate, ill or no, I know not. I only hope that God somehow guided them away from the dark path to righteousness.

Many years later, I realised the truth of desperation. Desperation is oft the shield of God against the evils of the Enemy. For where those evils bring us to desperation, is the saving Grace of the gift of faith, waiting to spring powerfully into our life; to make futile the attempts of the Enemy to make our fate ultimately that of his own.


Realising What Left me Open to Attack
Only in hindsight does my spiritual weakness before that attack avail itself to me.
After years of my belief in God being demeaned by family and peers, of being told that to speak of my meeting God was to put myself in a straight jacket, I had begun to talk as an agnostic. At times, I even housed within my mind the thoughts of a hard agnostic. At first, it had been to defend myself against ridicule, or being placed in an insane asylum, that I did not speak of spiritual matters except to perhaps label them as an unknown. Thank God for the gift of faith! For in my heart I never outright rejected God. Sometimes, in secret, I would pray- often with a voice desperate for attention. I have even come to believe, since, that I received of my Faith through my Eternal Being-for the Heart, by virtue of the Mortality of Man's temporal body induced by the Fall of Man described in the Scripture of Genesis, is divivded into top and bottom (temporal and eternal) by the "earth" that lies between them; from this "earth", in time, rises the Obelix fo FAITH, if if be planted there- and for me, it arose first in the Eternal, and began Outputting the SIgnal of Belief into the Temporal from there, and then arose much later than the events here given, at the Revelation of HIM, by HE SPEAKING from withitn My Eternal Being HIs RHEMA Word, "Light". Praise YOU JESUS, The Light of the Almighty GOD.

Yet I was alone. No one I knew held my conviction for the morals that my Conscience Dictated to me, which included a desire for God, for Jesus. However, whatever faith was left in my heart, by the age of about sixteen I had reached a point where the disguise I wore to hide belief in God became me. Just as our beliefs drive our emotions, which in turn drive our actions, so my actions drove in on my beliefs.
If only I believed I had been before God, and all others refuted my claims as mere hallucinory, was I not in error? Was it possible that where the spirit world had seemed perhaps even more real than this one, I had imagined the whole thing? Afterall, if today one were to read this paragraph and tomorrow the whole world flatly denied you ever had, would you not doubt reading this paragraph? Even though that there is material to deny in the first place might call into question any such doubt? For is it not known for people to hallucinate?
Yet, the antithesis the people of my world would then provide for my religious experiences held one major fault: that it was hinged on the Thesis being true itself. That I know I have been before God and banished demonics in the name of Jesus Christ “balls to bones” is not enough for a Thesis, because a Thesis in itself must substantiate a proof.
The proof is that I never knew of God, of the command of God to submit to Him and Him Only, the Lord Almighty. I knew not before of the Holy Fire. I knew not before of the power of the Creator. I knew nothing of the Eternity of Heaven, of the great Expanse of Time that rested in the spirit realm where God was. A hallucination requires only internal stimulus.
However, a memory which is entirely constructed upon external stimulus is not a “hallucination”. Its an experience. So the refusal explanation of hallucination provided the route to a proof, not to dissproof.

Yet, the voice of reason was within me drowned by the voices of those around me. Ever I feared to voice my beliefs for dread of being ridiculed and rejected and cast into a place of confinement for the insane. If I felt wrongful to lie about the Truth, I felt even more wrongful to verbally deny God. At first, I excused myself, it was necessary. Necessary, so as to survive to reach a day when the Truth could be told without defeat.
If only I had been able to read of the Gospels and have been so inspired by the story of the Apostles, I may have not failed the Almighty by way of denying my faith. My faith was drowned under a torrent of abuse whenever it surfaced, when it should have flown and taken me with it into the eye of the storm to remain till a time of peace.

At the time of my encounter on that camping trip with the demon, I had unwittingly allowed myself to become almost unconcerned with God. My Faith was burried under a heap of atheist input.
Yet even then He saved me, because I called upon Him when it was just to do so. And God, whom is good, just, and merciful, and wants to save us all, does not ignore the cry of the innocent ro the repentant.


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