I wanted to write about my father today since I have suffered with Satanic spiritual warfare stemming from my childhood, ever since I can remember. I have to say, I have not been able to rectify how I grew up as an atheist, when my mother had been a Methodist but apparently was stifled from all believing during my growing up years.
My father had been raised as a Roman Catholic but at some point, apparently due to the physical abuse by his alcoholic father who hit my father and my father’s two brothers while they lived at home. My grandfather was French-Canadian and so it is no surprise that he drank a lot. My grandmother was a mild-mannered coffee-shop hostess, from what I can remember when she and my grandfather met. My grandfather came to America, barely speaking English, and became wealthy. He became wealthy by owning a tug boat business and he approached the U.S. government who needed a company to pull the sunken boats and submarines out of the San Francisco bay that had live bombs on them “after the war”. I assume this was the Korean war, but I’m not sure. My dad never explained that.
When the government sought help with this, the company they asked said the job was too dangerous, and they declined. That’s apparently when my grandfather, the drinking French-Canadian, volunteered to take on the job. He apparently made a million dollars from pulling these boats and submarines out of the S.F. Bay. From there he kept becoming more wealthy and I remember we had lavish meals during the holidays at my grandparent’s house with all the relatives enjoying a big dinner together.
My father told us that he somehow broke his neck when he was still at home, and he never revealed the secret about how he broke his neck. Not to anyone, not even his mother. That was one of his selling points that he was tough, and didn’t need God. God was for people who needed a crutch and my dad suffered two more major physical medical problems that he survived; and so he thought he was extra tough. He said he did not believe in God, and whenever someone came to our house to speak to him about God, he had to hold his anger in, and speak to them privately, telling them he was not a believer and would never be. Atheist was his belief of choice, and no one in my family was allowed to believe in God, let alone Jesus Christ, since I don’t believe my father truly ever believed in Christ, or he would probably have returned to Jesus if he had in his life.
This caused me great grief in my family life. As we know, Satan comes to kill, steal and destroy, and my mother also having been raised in a religious family, being a Methodist, might have been a threat to Satan had she shared her faith with us. But she wasn’t allowed to, because my dad would not allow it. She must have given up her belief, or she never had a true belief in the Lord Jesus Christ. I guess I’ll never know that until I get to Heaven.
The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. ~ John 10:10
The reason this is all so important is that I was raised in an atheist family, and sometimes went to church with a friend whose family was Christian. They were not such a friendly family, and I remember her mother and her father, both, seemed extra strict. They seemed full of themselves, and judgmental. I never felt comfortable in their house. I was part of the Brownies that met in their house, and my friend’s mother was the Brownies leader. It wasn’t very fun, and it seemed like it was all work, such as learning measurements from a cup, to a quart, to a gallon, and what that all was. When I came over for dinner a few times I had to wash the dishes by hand while my friend dried and put them away. Fun household. Not really. We didn’t play like normal kids and the home wasn’t like other homes of my friends I played at. Why I went, I’ll never know. Maybe it was one of my older sister’s being friends with the oldest girl in the house that caused me to get to know the family.
But as I grew up I knew something was wrong. I had spiritual experiences as a child. Not only did I have nightmares, but I talked in my sleep, and one night I woke up and had been sleep walking.
Many bad things happened in my family. We did not seem to communicate much, at least with me my family members forgot I was there. I seemed to be a literal wall flower that nobody talked to. I don’t know why that happened. As a child I could not understand, but I knew I felt the pain of being left out and not really a part of the family. I always felt like I was “the third wheel”, and just never fit in. I believe Satan was dividing our family to destroy any family life I could have had.
This was the start I had in life which scarred me terribly; I never felt comfortable talking to people, and I always felt afraid. There was always fear about something that was the unknown. I couldn’t understand what it was but I started out that way. It poured into my growing up years, where as a young adult living alone, there was a time when I felt I had what’s known as agoraphobia, the fear of going outside your house.
I always felt something spiritual going wrong. It felt like there were demons following me around, but I couldn’t know that because I could not read the bible; I wasn’t allowed to. By the time I left home I had no interest in reading the bible, and my mother still had let go of whatever faith she had. I believe now that she must be a “social churchgoer”, and not really a Christian, or she might have shared her faith at some point. My father died over ten years ago and I don’t believe she has shared her faith nor picked up a bible during that time. She apparently has been attending a church, since I found she was on a church board. I believe she is still the social churchgoer and my guess is that she feels safe and comfortable in a church setting. She’s in her 80’s now and probably being alone, feels she belongs in a church.
As an adult I remember many strange things happening to me that were unexplainable. I never wanted to tell anyone for fear that they would say I was mentally ill. But I remember a lady who I went to college with many years ago who informed me that she couldn’t read the bible, because it “made her feel mentally ill”. That is the mark of Satan trying to keep a person away from reading the bible. It seems obvious to me now years later, and I thought about this many times over the past many years since she told me this. I feel I know now what had been happening to me, it was Satan. He was trying to kill, steal and destroy me to keep me from becoming a true believer in Christ.