Angels, Demons, and Me

Dan Brown’s novel Angels & Demons was a great read. But that’s not what this is about, at all. It just seemed to be a catchy way to start.

Especially as I try to get back into blogging as a spiritual discipline this Lent.

And since the first devotional reading to which this blog entry is tied is one that makes a connection between the physical and spiritual world, or more specifically, between the physical world and demonic activity. In Matthew 17:14-21, a man comes to Jesus, pleading on behalf of his son. “Lord, have mercy on my son, for he is an epileptic and he suffers terribly” (v. 15). In addition, the man had taken his son to the disciples for healing. (Jesus had, after all, given the disciples the power and authority to “cure the sick…and cast out demons” in Matthew 10:5-15.) Unfortunately, due to their “little faith”–Jesus’ own description–they had been impotent in their attempts to heal the boy. And, of course, with a word, “Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of him, and the boy was cured instantly” (v. 18). The boy’s father describes him as “an epileptic.” But Jesus casts out a demon. 

I understand very little about the actual connection between the demonic and our daily human life and would just as soon keep it that way. It’s not a subject matter in which I want particularly to be an expert. I’m hesitant, to say the least, to draw a line between the events of my life or the circumstances in others’ and say, “That’s demonic.” I’m satisfied to let Jesus draw those battle lines and to cross them. 

However. 

When I first read this story, looking of course for some relevant connection to my 21st century-technologically-oriented-daily life, I bumped into some familiar feelings. The boy’s father describes the seizure-like activity of his son by saying, “He often falls into the fire and often into the water” (v. 15). I know NOTHING of the demonic, per se–I’ve said this already. But I DO  know what it feels like to be burned. And I DO know what it feels like to be under water. Emotionally. Spiritually. A Bible verse that has traveled with me virtually my whole life comes from Isaiah 43:1-3, a verse in which God assures me that God has called me BY NAME and that “by name” means, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. …when you walk through fire you shall not be burned…”. So while I know nothing of the direct connection between the demonic and our physical world, I think I recognize some of “the symptoms.”

 This past week, I got a note passed to me through the offering plate. It read: “Pastor–People aren’t coming to church because you’re sermons feel like religion class. Can’t understand it. Not inspiring. Throw some real life in there once in a while. Stop lecturing. Tried Wednesday is it was a lecture too. Dumb it down?” [sic]. 

It has been a while since I’ve received a nicety like this, and normally I round file anonymous notes like this. Ironically, that morning’s sermon came from the Matthew 16 text about taking up one’s cross to follow Jesus. One of the illustrations came from a real-life conversation that took place between me and another follower of Jesus who found himself OVERJOYED with being able to use his everyday work skills to address some profound needs for a family he previously did not know. The other illustration drew from a story about a marriage in trouble in which both partners were able to discover some deep, deep ways of bearing the cross together in their marriage. I’m not sure how much more “real life” I could throw in there! But at the same time, as a church leader, I do well not to merely blow people off because I don’t like their critiques. 

But for whatever reason, this note hit a bulls eye within me. Maybe it is because it has been a while that I’ve had to field this kind of anonymous cry of pain. Maybe it was energy levels at the end of a jam-packed week of ministry. Whatever it was, there were those familiar burning symptoms of self-doubt, those overwhelming waves of disappointment, those familiar voices from within: “See? You really do suck at this, and you pretty much always have over the last 20 years.” I had been discovered and called out! 

I’m not saying the poor soul who wrote the note is demonic or possessed or anything like that. (I’ve said already that I just don’t know anything about such things.) I can’t even say without a doubt what it was that prevented that person from hearing “real life” that day, or the redeeming presence of the cross in that real life. All I am saying is that I felt burned and drowned. And it hurt me, especially after a month of busting my ass to help be a part of a particularly meaningful, “real life” Stewardship Emphasis.

One of the faith practices I also fail at frequently is that of Devotion & Prayer. But. Thanks be to God, the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the God who raised Jesus from the dead, the God that puts to death all of our human and demonic failings and flailings that we too may be raised to new life, I know the presence of my Lord is always waiting for me in the Word and in the spirit of prayer. And. I know what works for me in terms of a renewal of heart and mind. And what worked for me this past Sunday evening was music.

Now I wish I could say–because I suppose that someone will take issue with my choice of music–that the music to which I turned was some pious music of our faith. But it wasn’t. Neither a Bach motet, nor a Casting Crowns praise song. Instead, I turned to my favorite band Rush, and rocked out. Even if it was a simple distraction, it stemmed the bleeding. I don’t know where he wrote this or said it, but there is a Luther quote floating around cyberspace that goes like this: “Beautiful music is the art of the prophets that can calm the agitations of the soul; it is one of the most magnificent and delightful presents God has given us.” Rush does this for me, even if their words and music aren’t particularly sacred. It is devotional to me, even if it isn’t “the Word of God.” 

What tied it all together, though, was this morning’s text FROM THE SCRIPTURES about Jesus’ mastery over the demonic and its way of throwing us in the fire and holding us beneath the surface of the water. “Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of him, and the boy was cured instantly” (v. 18). In a manner of speaking, that is what this morning’s word did to me and for me, as well. The boy’s father came to Jesus, knelt before him, and said, “Lord, have mercy…”, and Jesus healed the boy. Devotion and prayer has a funny way of doing that. And that’s “real life.”