shantikami
New member
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2008
- Messages
- 64
It's been a long time since I was a Catholic, but it seems that Satan has been calling me for most of my life...
Little Summoners
We were 12 and 15, then, when we found the black and red paperback. It seemed like great fun, something perfectly Halloween-y, dangerous, fascinating, and, oh yes, defiant against the taboos the catholic church tried to brainwash into us as infants.
One red and black book, title set to mock; The Satanic Bible. Well, how cool! By now, we were sick of the church, the bible, the priests, the droning songs, wafers that stuck to the top of your mouth and the endless sit-stand-kneel and grovel dance.
I’d already seen that creepy-fascinating image of Him as the goat-man mounting a witch, and dreamed, despite myself, of Someone most markedly not a goat but certainly a man…
One little ritual, we decided, to spit in the eye of the church, to prove it to ourselves that He was real, and to meet this great power Who had everyone so terrified that they would live forever on their knees So we read it and we did a calling ritual His name, over and over, inviting Him to come visit us, come visit, come visit.
And…it worked. We both felt Him coming, as from a long distance (we thought from the center of the world); We felt His presence as a heat and energy. And we ran from my bedroom, laughing and spooked.
But I looked back. I looked back, hoping to see Him. And I never dis-invited Him.
Twenty years later, He called for me and I turned and went into His arms. This time, however, the church and that little black and red book had nothing to do with it. Only my love for the God I’d called, The God who knew me better than I did, The God who knew I belonged with Him all this time.
Little Summoners
We were 12 and 15, then, when we found the black and red paperback. It seemed like great fun, something perfectly Halloween-y, dangerous, fascinating, and, oh yes, defiant against the taboos the catholic church tried to brainwash into us as infants.
One red and black book, title set to mock; The Satanic Bible. Well, how cool! By now, we were sick of the church, the bible, the priests, the droning songs, wafers that stuck to the top of your mouth and the endless sit-stand-kneel and grovel dance.
I’d already seen that creepy-fascinating image of Him as the goat-man mounting a witch, and dreamed, despite myself, of Someone most markedly not a goat but certainly a man…
One little ritual, we decided, to spit in the eye of the church, to prove it to ourselves that He was real, and to meet this great power Who had everyone so terrified that they would live forever on their knees So we read it and we did a calling ritual His name, over and over, inviting Him to come visit us, come visit, come visit.
And…it worked. We both felt Him coming, as from a long distance (we thought from the center of the world); We felt His presence as a heat and energy. And we ran from my bedroom, laughing and spooked.
But I looked back. I looked back, hoping to see Him. And I never dis-invited Him.
Twenty years later, He called for me and I turned and went into His arms. This time, however, the church and that little black and red book had nothing to do with it. Only my love for the God I’d called, The God who knew me better than I did, The God who knew I belonged with Him all this time.
