“In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls on men, while they slumber on their beds, then he opens the ears of men and terrifies them with warnings, that he may turn man aside from his deed and conceal pride from a man; he keeps back his soul from the pit, his life from perishing by the sword.” Job 33:15-18
Many years ago, my mother-in-law gave me an old King James bible. I was reluctant to accept it. I didn’t want to touch it. However, for the sake of staying on my mother-in-law’s good side and not hurting her feelings, I took it. I thought to myself, “I will use it against Christians to make them look like fools”. I had this belief, like so many others of like mind, that the bible was nothing more than a book of lies full of contradictions. Though my mother-in-law gave it to me to cherish, I abused that bible for years. I had put it in the trash, stepped on it, thrown it, cursed at it, and finally placed it at the bottom of a “junk” box to be forgotten. I had so much hate in my heart for that book.
If it never saw the light of day again, I would be pleased. I didn’t know it at the time, but it would play an important part in my story; a part I would have never entertained.
One day I receive a phone call from my step-father. It was an unexpected call. I thought perhaps something was wrong. He normally did not call me out-of-the-blue. He sounded different. He seemed excited about something. You see, my step-father was a man of the world. He was an alcoholic, chain-smoker, foul-mouthed, and perverse. He was the one who told the nasty jokes, regardless of who was present. He was not religious in any way shape or form. He was quite the godless man. I was quite accepting of his ways.
He begins the conversation by telling me that he is saved. I thought, “Saved from what”? He began to tell me about Jesus! To hear him even mention the name of Jesus was like jamming rods of hot iron in my ears. I immediately interrupted him and began to ask him what the heck he was talking about. He again tried to tell me about Jesus and how he was saved. I was floored. I wanted so badly to hang up on him. I told him that I did not care and that if he found something that made him happy then good for him, but leave me alone about it. He tried to tell me that it isn’t about being happy, it’s about being saved. Again, I interrupted him and told him that I had my path. I told him that I was very happy and secure in my “faith”. I told him to not try to convince me otherwise.
He seemed sad at my response and simply said that he “would pray for me”. I said “do what you want to do”. He gave the phone to my mom and I gave her a warning. In a nutshell, I said, “DO NOT come to my house and utter the name of Jesus (I hated to even say it), because if you do you are not welcome in my home. I have my path. I am leading and teaching my children that path. We are happy and secure in our way of life. I will not tolerate any talk of or mention of anything biblical in my household”. I made it quite clear how I felt about it.
He would “pray for me”? What foolishness! What arrogance! I thought, “how in the world could this happen”? I would never accept the prayers given to a Middle Eastern God! My gods were mighty and true! They were my gods; the gods of my ancestors! What power does this foreign God have that my gods do not have? I was offended that my step-father could be so weak and foolish. And even though he did not believe in my gods, how could he fall for the deception of a Hebrew deity? He had betrayed his ancestors and himself. What a fool! No, as I would later find out, he was not a fool and my gods were not as mighty as I believed.
Time would carry on. The phone call had no effect on me. Besides being angry about it and even expressing my frustration of his conversion with friends, I was unchanged by his change of heart. Around the same time something else took place that was disturbing to me. My father-in-law had started going to church and I knew it was only a matter of time before he would invite us or talk about it. I did not want to go visit my in-laws anymore for the “fear” that he would talk to me about it and try to witness to me. Of course, we had to visit with them and though I had seen them as spiritual enemies, I loved them and they deserved to see their grandchildren. However, I knew it was only a matter of time before the invite would come.
The invite did come. Many times, in fact. Then there was that one time when my wife and I felt bad enough about it that we accepted the invite. There was a catch. Food had to be involved or I was not going. It turned out that the invite was a big gathering with lots of food involved. I thought, “well, at least I can get some fried chicken, peas, and cornbread”. I hated the thought of mingling with such lemmings and deceived people. I could not stand the thought of sitting in a place where the lies of the Bible were read. I truly believed that the gods would protect me from such foolishness. Well, hand and hand with my wife, I reluctantly walked into this house of worship. I mumbled under my breath the whole time, asking the gods to shield my mind from the lies. They were silent. I felt very uncomfortable. I felt agitated and irritated, but out of respect for my family, I smiled and shook hands with people. I sat on this hardwood pew closest to the isle, thinking that I would make up a lie and leave during the service. The service was a very uncomfortable thing for me to endure. I felt something stir within me. There was a battle taking place that I was unfamiliar with. I hated what was going on. I kept thinking to myself, “how long am I going to endure this”? Finally, the sermon was over.
The pastor invited people to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough! I came for the food not the sermon. While eating, this guest evangelist sat across from me. He looked at me intently and asked, “So, where do you go to church”? I answered sharply, “I don’t”. He must have seen something in my eyes, because he sat back in his chair with this look of surprise and didn’t say a word. We stared at each other intently and he broke eye contact and turned away from me. He did not say another word to me and I was pleased by that. I could not get home fast enough. Never again would I sit foot in a church as a Heathen.
I began to wonder what the heck was going on. First my step-father, now my father-in-law? Fools! Then I thought of someone I had not thought of in many years. My friend Bobby was like the rest of us metal head teenagers. We were a bit rough around the edges. Around our senior year, he shocked us all by getting “saved”. He didn’t party with us anymore. He didn’t hang out anymore. He was changed and that change disturbed me. I remember he was sitting off by himself one day and I approached him. I began to ask him questions about the “change”. I basically told him that he is still my friend, but I will not tolerate him speaking to me about his God. I found it strange that this dude I used to trip out with and get drunk with, had suddenly changed. Boom! Just like that? I gave it no more thought…not until my step-father and father-in-law’s conversion.
I attributed the comforts in my life to the blessings bestowed upon me from the gods. I felt that they were pleased with my devotion to them. I honored them during the year through the practice of blot and symbel. I believed in their blessings. Besides my personal issues with Christianity and other Abrahamic religions, I kept to the “Noble Virtues” of Heathenry. Unlike many of the neopagan groups, such as Wiccans, Anglo-Saxon Heathens are quite conservative. I was serious about it and I felt very comfortable with my “faith”. Then something strange began to happen; something that made me very uncomfortable and unhappy. Though I continued to worship and praise the gods, it seemed that they became very silent.
For close to 15 years I consulted them, talked with them, prayed to them, and I felt deep within that they heard me. There were many times when I felt their presence. However, in the months of July and August 2003 a “stirring up” began to happen deep inside that disturbed me. Questions began to pop into my mind that made me feel very uncomfortable. I began to question the very things that I held to be true; the gods, the supernatural, etc. Please understand that these thoughts were not welcome. I tried to fight them tooth and nail. I did not understand what was going on.
I attempted to consult the gods, but they seemed to not “be” anymore. I read through my literature, thinking that perhaps others have experienced this disturbance, but I found nothing that would ease my mind. I could not turn off the thoughts of doubt. I even thought at one moment that nothing was true; that everything was fake and figments of our imagination. I would come against those moments of doubt with frustration and anger. I would literally shake my head as if to release these “crazy” thoughts from my mind and cry out to the gods. “Perhaps this was a game being played at my expense by spirits under the instruction of Loki”, I thought. It was strange. It felt like tug of war was being played with my mind and spirit.
As time went on, the thoughts were getting worse. All kinds of questions were crowding my mind; Are you sure the gods are real, is life what you think it is, have you been deceived, why do Christians believe in what they believe in, what makes believers in the Bible so sure, why do they act the way they act and talk the way they talk, what is truth, is there truth, etc. My mind was scrambled! Curiosity began to knock loudly on my door. Against all that was in me, I scanned through some Christian television stations one night and just didn’t get it. With every word they would say, I would mock them. I would make fun of the things they would say and call them fools. I did not receive anything from it. It sounded like gibberish and foolishness to me. Truth was looking more like a lie to me. I thought, “If the gods have gone silent and are no longer real to me, then nothing is true. Surely the truth does not exist”.
I made an active effort to ignore the thoughts that were causing me to question everything I believed in. I continued to pray to the gods, though they were silent. I still remained active in pursuing a local Kindred to join so that I could fellowship with them. In fact, that’s what I believed would solve the issue of these crazy thoughts and feelings of mine. I believed I had it back under control again. I had made contact with another Anglo-Saxon Heathenry group and was excited about interacting with them. I planned on reading through a book “The Way of the Heathen” for the second time, because I believed that would help me get back on track.
Did I still have a stirring inside of me? Yes, I did, but I fought against those thoughts of doubt with all my might. I waged war against the slightest thoughts that the Bible could have some truth in it. I fought against the curiosity I had developed for believers in the Word of God. And while I was attempting to reconnect with the gods and fellowship with others of like mind, an unexpected image was at the forefront of my mind. That old beat up and abused Bible that my mother-in-law had given to me years ago came to my remembrance. I kept seeing it in my mind’s eye. I could not get it out of my head. The image of it would not go away. How many times had I tried to throw it in the garbage? Many times! Every time I would angrily throw it in the trash, I would return later to rescue it from destruction. I could not shake its hold on my mind.
Next: The Obvious Choice Part 2
