Spiritual
Demons: Can We Still Believe in Them?
In 1998, four psychologists interviewed twenty hospitalized psychiatric patients from the Hebei province in China.
Chinese physicians diagnosed these patients as hysterical.
The patients, however, believed their bodies were invaded by alien spirits.
In other words, possessed.
Samples of Spirit Possession
One woman spoke of her dead aunt walking through her house as “a white person, but without a head.”
At times she actually believed the spirit occupied her body.
Another women–a 40-year old peasant women with five children and a Buddhist background–complained of chronic possession (some one suggested by a turtle) in which she blacked out and couldn’t remember the episode.
Here’s the million dollar question: Are these patients really possessed? Or severely psychologically disturbed? Let’s explore.
Dismissing the Doctrine of Demons
In today’s world, belief in demons is usually brushed aside as primitive–in company with elves and a flat earth.
In fact, one of the conclusions from the study above was that individuals who lacked education were more susceptible to folk beliefs.
They also raised the question of “whether the possession experience is a socially sanctioned mechanism that allows individuals in an oppressed social role to act out intolerable socio-psychological conflict.”
Both interesting points. Then this shouldn’t come as a surprise: While possession is a common experience in many cultures, in Western industrialized cultures such experiences are not the norm.
As Christians, then, what are we to do when skepticism about angels and demons is contrary to biblical testimony? Let’s see.
Biblical Testimony to Demons
Satan appears in the first book of the Bible and his activity doesn’t let up until Revelation.
And while demonic activity is somewhat subdued in the Old, the frequency of demonic appearances increases during Jesus’ ministry.
We even have a demonic proclamation of Jesus as the Messiah.
But outside the biblical assumption of demons, we have other reasons to affirm their existence.
Science ultimately can’t answer this question.
Science seeks to observe and describe natural phenomena. Like it’s inadequacy in answering questions of morality, science isn’t fit to answer the spiritual.
Purely natural explanations of evil in this world are not adequate.
The horrors of the Lord’s Resistance Army or a mother roasting her child in an oven imply a powerful force at work–not a mere chemical imbalance.
Learn from the broader sweep of history and culture.
When you explore the cultures in Asia, Africa, Haiti and the Pacific Islands, you see a belief in evil spirits is a deep part of their culture. We need to respect that native soft knowledge. They may be on to something our science can’t reach.
In the end, this topic deserves a LOT of sensitivity. We certainly don’t want it to lead to uncritical views on demons. Nor do we want to open the door to bizarre practices of extreme individuals or groups.
Instead, we need to carefully craft a complete view of reality–one that balances both the natural and spiritual.
C. S. Lewis warned in the Screwtape Letters that we can give the topic too little attention–and too much attention. Both are mistakes.
The goal is to seek balance. Let me know what you think.
By the way, got a question you’d like me to answer in a post? Email me.
Why Creative People Frighten Me
It all started with an image of Carlos Whittaker posing in an ad on Michael Hyatt’s blog.
It wasn’t so much that he was posing–but that look he had on his face…
And his body posture.
At first blush, innocuous. Bland. Marginally detached.
Nothing to cause alarm or concern. It’s just a photograph promoting Whittaker’s EP.
But the thing got under my skin. In a low-grade BAD way. For days even.
The thing is, I couldn’t really put my finger on why it bothered me so much. It just made me go–ick.
And it wasn’t a dislike for Whittaker or his music. I knew that much. No, it went to the core of something else.
Something deeper. In my own being. Or our culture’s soul. Or both. I just didn’t know until the mystery started to unfold.
Disturbing Photographs of Disturbed Poets
I have a book on my shelf called Eight American Poets.
It’s a slim anthology on Theodore Roethke, Elizabeth Bishop, Robert Lowell, John Berryman, Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Allen Ginsberg and James Merrill–poets who characterize the 20th century’s “second brilliant generation.”
[...the first generation being Whitman, Dickinson, Frost, Hughes,Stevens, and Williams...]
On the cover–as you might suspect–are photographs of each poet…all of them, except Ginsberg, staring at you.
It’s disturbing on many levels.
First, human eyes staring at you are strange things indeed. Photographs of human eyes staring at you even more odd. Photographs of eyes staring at you that belong to dead people–haunting.
But photographs of human eyes staring at you that belonged to dead people who, when alive, led very creative, but disturbed lives takes the cake.
These are such photographs. And it doesn’t help that I’ve got history with these poets. Let me explain.
The Powerful Impact of Disturbed Poets
Long ago as a moody, half-cocked young poet I fell for Sylvia Plath. Adored Anne Sexton. Admired James Merrill. Cherished Theodore Roethke. Envied Robert Lowell. And idolized John Berryman.
The only poet who I spurned was Allen Ginsberg and that was due to his pedophilic tendencies.
But the others I’d canonized. Bizarre since these poets lived and died tragic lives.
Three of the poets killed themselves–Plath, Berryman and Sexton.
Lowell made a career out of writing candid poetry about his multiple mental hospitals admissions.
Bishop lived the life of a recluse with her lover in South America.
Theodore Roethke endured crippling episodes of depression.
And James Merrill, who painted a candid portrait of gay life in the early 1950s, lived modestly despite great personal wealth and eventually died in Arizona from AIDS complications.
You wonder why I–or anyone for that matter–invested so much hope and emotional capital into such people.
But here’s the deal: These troubling writers powerfully shaped my mind. And drug me to dark places I’d rather not go. Which brings us back to Whittaker.
What Does This Have to Do with Carlos Whittaker?
When it comes to romantic poetry and rock n roll both are at their best when they come from emotionally raw places says Craig Schuftan in his book Hey Nietzsche! Leave Them Kids Alone.
Take the former Smashing Pumpkins front man Billy Corgan, for example. He said, ”And the more intense it was, the better, and we would probably have to suffer for that.”
Then there’s the British romantic poet George Gordon Byron who said about Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage–perhaps his best poem–”I was truly mad during its composition.”
[Note: Before Byron the notion that you had to suffer to create great art seemed ridiculous.]
Unfortunately, this notion is leaching into the Christian culture. Whittaker is but a mild example.
So my question to you is this: Is this the least bit healthy–regardless if you are a Christian or not? Furthermore, does it belong in the Christian community?
Or is this just anonther example of our incumbent narcissism rearing it’s ugly head and placing the focus on us rather than Christ?
Understand: I am one of those creative people. And I have a bent for suffering. But I’m not sure the focus should be placed on me or my pain.
I’m also reminded of Keith Green performing beneath his piano so people would focus on God and not him.
My irredeemable love of obscurity likes that. A lot.
So what do you think: Is this a zero-sum game? Or can we strike a balance? I look forward to your thoughts. Brutal and all.
The Trick to Finding Your Spiritual Gift
The moment you become a Christian God gives you a marvelous gift–the Holy Spirit.
In other words, the moment you believe…God comes to live in you.
He becomes your guide, teacher and power supply for everything you will do for the glory of God.
That’s true for every Christian.
And since the spirit of God lives in us, the New Testament teaches us to behave in certain ways towards the Holy Spirit.
For example, we are encouraged to walk, to live, to be filled, to pray, to manifest the fruits of the Spirit and to use and exercise the gifts of the Spirit.
We are also warned not to grieve, resist or quench the Spirit.
The Christian life is a Spirit-dominated existence. A Spirit-directed existence. A Spirit-controlled existence.
And when we allow the spirit of God to dominate, direct and control our lives, marvelous results occur. Here are six:
Holiness. Constant sanctification.
Joy. Constant satisfaction and contentment.
Liberty. Constant sense of freedom from danger or anxiety.
Confidence. Constant sense of reliability and courage.
Security. Constant sense of protection and favor.
Victory. Constant sense of strength.
But there’s one more: ministry–a constant service to the body of Christ.
An Other-Minded Approach
A Spirit-dominated, Spirit-directed and Spirit-controlled life results in personal benefits, yes, but also in corporate benefits as well.
When we are dominated by the spirit, we are naturally able to serve others. It’s an other-minded approach.
See, when you walk in the spirit of God, your gifts are ministered to me. And as I walk in the spirit, my gift are ministered to you.
As we live and move and have our being in the Spirit, the spirit of God operates through us so we serve the body of Christ and radiate his glory so that people will see and believe.
This is subduing the earth. And it’s crucial. Especially when it comes to finding out your spiritual gifts.
How Do You Know Your Spiritual Gifts?
Frankly, that’s not the issue.
It doesn’t really matter if you’ve defined your gifts. What matters is that we walk in the spirit.
The trick to finding out your spiritual gifts is not defining them and then doing them…but simply getting on your knees and begging the Spirit to dominate, direct and control you…
And if you do that, then he will do what he will do and you can eventually look back and say, “Oh, now that’s what I do.”
That, my friend, is the trick to finding out your spiritual gifts. Make sense? And can you think of any other benefits that result from a Spirit-dominated life that I haven’t listed? Let me know.
What Is the “Post-Evangelical Wilderness”?
I asked myself the same question the other day when I read Chaplain Mike’s post My Post-Evangelical Wilderness.
Basically Mike is explaining what life is like as a Christian in an environment he feels is dysfunctional and theologically shallow.
This is how Mike put it:
“For years, I’d had a growing dissatisfaction with evangelicalism’s lack of tradition, historical perspective, reverence and order in worship. I resisted its programmed approach to spiritual growth, its bourgeois commitments that blatantly disregard the NT emphasis on sacrificial service and inclusion of the poor and disenfranchised, its “temple” mentality that has little sense of serving Christ in daily life and instead revolves around what happens in the institution and its programs.”
Can you relate? I can. But I didn’t at first.
Yes, his commentary splendidly sums up my feelings of the evangelical church. But I don’t really feel like I live in a “post-evangelical wilderness.” Let me explain.
A Problem with Independent, Local Churches
Mike’s angst isn’t rooted solely in his disappointment in the old evangelical order. He’s also a pastoral casualty of an independent church.
He mentions and I think rightly puts his finger on the ecclesiastical problem of independent, local, non-denominational churches: no overarching governing body to lend support when a church goes under or a pastor needs a job.
It’s a rough and lonely world, indeed. You are on your own.
Mike learned this lesson firsthand and found himself without a job–and a church home. No wonder Mike feels like a stranger in a strange land.
And at the end of his post Mike explains this is what living in the “post-evangelical wilderness” means to him. [By the way: He's since found a job he loves but not a church he loves.]
He then goes on to ask “What does it mean to you?” That’s when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
My Harsh and Compassionate Response
Even though I relate to Mike now, at first I couldn’t. I knew he got one thing right: There is a generation parting. Call it “evangelical” if you must and I certainly feel like I live a wilderness…
But I wouldn’t identify it as “post-evangelical wilderness.” There’s just way too much going on to tie up our Christian life in this neat package.
Also, by saying “post-evangelical wilderness” we are implying there once was an “evangelical paradise,” a notion I think will make us all snicker.
Mike’s post was a bold one. He opened up. Became vulnerable. But you know what? I kind of thought Mike was whining.
So I mentally hashed out my response–I isolated his problems and presented the solutions in my patented curt approach.
So very man of me. And unregenerate.
But fortunately my conscience wouldn’t allow me to leave it at that. I knew God was nudging me to go further…to step into Mike’s shoes.
So I did my best at proposing a second, compassionate response. I can’t say I succeeded. You be the judge. Here are my original thoughts:
Couple things come to mind when I hear “post evangelical wilderness.” First, cop out. Second, phase of life.
Cop out: I think we’re all pretty much frustrated with the dysfunction of the human race. Paul’s approach to dealing with dysfunction in the church? Laying down the truth. Believers in persecuted nations would love to have a dysfunctional church to worship in. As you can probably tell, this is my harsher side coming out.
Phase of life: This is my softer side coming out. I can only imagine Paul got very, very disillusioned with the persistent dysfunction of the church, too. Indeed, you can sense that in his second letter to Timothy. And I imagine all of us go through phases in which we feel lost and let down by the “church.” But let’s not forget the invisible church. Elijah was reminded when he experienced his lonely, dark winter of spiritual discontent that God had preserved 7,000 others just like him. Fortunately we live in an age that allows us to connect with vibrant, merciful believers around the world who can encourage us when our own local church isn’t.
Chin up, Mike. God loves you and wants you to fight.
Don’t get me wrong: I love neat phrases like “post-evangelical wilderness.” And as cognitive beings who love solving problems, we have a bent for them.
[See this Dug Down Deep review for another example.]
But anytime we align ourselves with a movement–whether post-evangelical or Emergent or New Calvinism–we are in danger of becoming dogmatic, entrenched and ultimately dysfunctional in the eyes of the next generation…something I’d love to avoid…if possible.
Your Turn
So tell me…am I dead on? Or way off? Also, do you see yourself in a “post-evangelical wilderness”? And what does that mean to you? Also, got any solutions for the independent, local churh? I’m curious. Leave your thoughts–brutal and all–in the comments.
Why I Didn’t Defend a Six-Day Creation
You may think less of me after this post.
Then again, maybe not.
I guess it just depends on where you land on this debate.
Let’s lay the groundwork first.
Groundwork Ahead
Last Friday I got an email from Daniel Wilson of Desire Spiritual Growth blog.
He asked a simple question. But very penetrating.
The kind of question that, in a sense, “calls you out.” That makes you pause and–well, think.
I knew exactly what he was referring to.
And I had a great reason for doing what I did. Indeed, my motives were good…
Just in the dark, ergo, Daniel’s question. What was THIS question? Here’s Daniel’s email:
There’s a question I’ve seen you avoid twice on your blog. I can understand why, but I am still very curious.
Do you believe in a literal, 6-day creation by God of the various kinds of living things?
Tough question. Let’s run through my thought process on how I answered it. I think you’ll benefit.
How Important Is Creation to Me?
To begin, let’s deal with why I avoided this topic twice on my blog.
Really, it’s pretty simple: I’ve never had a firm opinion on this topic. I’ve never made a firm stand.
Why? I actually haven’t put enough gray matter to it.
Sure, I did listen to MacArthur explain his reasons for 6-day creation and agree but walked away with a tad bit of uncertainty.
But why? If the Bible IS the inspired word of God–which I believe–then indeed those days mentioned in Genesis were in fact each 24-hours long as stated.
Hence, I affirm a 6-day creation.
Here’s Where I Started to Sweat
Part of me finds that answer insufficient though. I feel very uncomfortable claiming to be a 6-day creationist.
Why? Science’s domination on this topic. Assert yourself as a 6-day creationist and you’ll get scoffed. Ridiculed. Dismissed.
Scientific opposition 101.
What is that opposition really, though? Evolution and it’s suggestion that macro-evolution [non-observable event] is extrapolated from micro-evolution [observable event] plus time ad infinitum.
Personally, I don’t want to look like a fool because I’m hooked on the approval of man. But do I really have a case?
If I truly believe God to be omnipotent, then I could easily believe he created the world in six days.
Heck, I could believe he created the world in six hours. Standing on one arm. Singing opera. [Note: I don't believe God has a body. Just saying.]
But that’s not the way it’s described. The writer of Genesis stated six days. So I affirm a six-day creation. In opposition to science.
To those who will complain that such a view is credulous and unsophisticated, here’s MacArthur:
“It is certainly superior to the irrational notion that an ordered and incomprehensibly complex universe sprung by accident from nothingness and emerged by chance into the marvel that it is.”
I agree.
Where I Don’t See Eye-to-Eye with MacArthur
There is one point I might disagree with MacArthur: I don’t think defending a six-day creation matters. Let me qualify that statement.
I don’t think it’s worth emotional or intellectual equity defending a six-day creation…especially with a non-believer…when we’ve got bigger fish to fry, namely new birth.
It’d be like me bickering with my wife over the placement of patio furniture on a deck attached to a house that we were losing to foreclosure.
Thus my tendency to avoid the issue and change the topic.
What’s paramount in the creation account is The Fall. The creation narrative is the setting. The Fall and subsequent redemption, the plot.
Don’t get me wrong. We need Genesis 1:1-3 in it’s entirety. Here’s MacArthur again on how important it is:
If Genesis 1-3 doesn’t tell us the truth, why should we believe anything else in the Bible? Without a right understanding of our origin, we have no way to understand anything about our spiritual existence. We cannot know our purpose, and we cannot be certain of our destiny. After all, if God is not the Creator, then maybe He’s not the Redeemer either. If we cannot believe the opening chapters of Scripture, how can we be certain of anything the Bible says?
It’s the WHY in my mind that trumps the HOW.
One Final Thought
Funny thing is, a six-day creation event is small beans when compared to some bigger beliefs we Christians share.
Take the Incarnation, for instance. God invaded his universe as a human. What?
Or what about the new birth–the belief that God raises us from spiritual death? Hell? The Second Coming?
Those, my friend, are tough nuts to swallow.
We are fortunate to live in a region of the world where apologetic materials are abundant. Answers to objections are everywhere.
Not so with those in restricted or persecuted countries. But this shouldn’t bother us. Or them.
While I respect science and what it says, in the end I need to go with God–and so do they–and his purposes revealed in the Scripture.
Listen: This is sometimes very hard for someone who unapologetically embraces the title intellectual snob–but persecution and hardship are the name of the game. Opposition is real.
And sometimes all we have is the Holy Ghost and a Bible. Fortunately, we have more.
Final, Final Thought
Here’s what I learned from Daniel’s email: We worship a creative God who demands singularity in our affections and dismisses all competitors…
And neglecting allegiance to him is simple blasphemy–even if that means rejection from our peers.
Therefore, I’d rather be at odds with the establishment than the God who created and sustains the people in that very establishment.
Christianity is a thinking man’s religion. Jesus said, “You shall love the Lord God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind.”
This means we need to exercise all spheres of our beings–body and soul–if we want to honor God. This means beefing up in areas we are weak in. [For me, that would be the creation account. What about you?]
This also means answering challenging questions–questions that may challenge our very allegiance…questions that come from both outside our camp–and sometimes from inside.
It’s not always easy. But it’s necessary. Especially if we want to develop a mature Christian mind–a mandate no Christian can avoid.
So tell me: You still love me? Give me your thoughts. Brutal and all.
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