Before God entered in and intervened, I thought I lived my life normally—like many other people. I lived my life the way that I wanted to live it. I decided what was right or wrong based on my own belief system—my own moral code. I did not answer to anyone, except myself. No one was going to tell me how live or think. That was my decision. I was the head of my marriage, my life, and family. I was the disciplinarian, decision maker, family planner, and took care of the finances. I was in charge—just the way I wanted it and thought it should be.
I judged everyone and everything. I judged the way people looked, dressed, talked, and acted. I judged the way people handled certain situations. If they did not handle their marriage, children, or life in the manner I decided was right, then they were wrong and making mistakes. I was the one handing out advice and telling others what they needed to do to fix their marriages, families, and lives, all the while being blinded to the mess of my own life—the mess of myself.
I did not know or understand that I needed saving, because in my eyes I was doing everything right! I was the one who saved other people. I thought I was a good person because I did good things, and I followed the law of our local government. I was not a criminal. So what if I cheated or lied sometimes, manipulated people to get my way, or only truly did some things to gain something for myself. According to my moral code, those things were okay. As long as I did good things on the outside for people to see, in my eyes, I was a good person. The thoughts or true motivations that people could not see did not matter. Those negative, hate filled, selfish thoughts and motivations were private. No one knew they existed except me, so according to my moral code, those did not count. If you keep it to yourself and do not actually express those negative, hate filled, selfish thoughts to other people, you are doing good and are a good person, because you kept it to yourself, right? That was normal. Everyone is like that, aren’t they?
Under my direction my children and husband attended church and Sunday school. I even enrolled our children in a Christian school. I volunteered extensively at the school and the church. I donated money, clothes, and even food for the food pantry. I was a good person—a good Christian doing Christianity the right way. In my opinion, people who talked about that Jesus stuff and read the Bible were just going overboard with their faith. According to my moral code, a Christian’s life and behavior was not supposed to change just because they believed in the existence of Jesus.
So, if I believed in the existence of Jesus, was doing everything right in my eyes, and lived my life as a good Christian, why did I need saving? Not only that, but, on the other hand, why was I so miserable? Why did I feel so alone and unloved by everyone? Why did I have this gnawing feeling in my heart like something was always missing? Why couldn’t I be satisfied? Why did I feel like I could not control enough things in and around me? Why did my reach for control continue to extend out farther and farther, not only in my own life, but in other people’s lives? How could I live and feel this way and not see what was missing? How could I be blinded to my real need? Most of all, how could I, who thought I was doing everything right according to my moral code, lose all sense of rationality and end up baker acted into a mental unit?
My first mistake was allowing my compass to be my desires—my wants and my feelings—instead of the Bible. If it felt good, looked good, smelled good, and tasted good, then it had to be good—no matter what anyone said. So, during my search for the “real” answers to life, death, and the universe, not only did I turn to the Bible and church, but I also turned to spiritual communicators in the psychic realm. I tried going to the Bible, but it did not give me what I was looking for. I found the Gospels to be boring and repetitive. I just did not “get it” or even understand all the fuss over the Bible. It did nothing for me. It did not make me feel good, or anything at all for that matter, except confusion and boredom.
On the other hand, the books I read written by psychics, gave me exactly what I was looking for. They gave me the answers to all my questions about life, Heaven, and the afterlife, including reincarnation. These spiritual communicators knew all the answers because they received them directly from the spirit world, so they had to be correct! The spirits would not lie, would they? Aren’t they a valid dependable source for truth? They would not disguise themselves to be something or someone they weren’t, would they? These spiritual communicators gained insight and knowledge from the spirits they communicated with, so whatever they said, in my eyes, had to be correct.
My second mistake was not truly studying the Bible. Almost everything that came from the spirit world twisted biblical truth or conflicted with what the Bible said, but I did not know that at the time because I never truly read or studied the Bible properly. Because of that grave mistake, I was unarmed and ripe for the picking of the Devil and his demons—the occult. If I was not armed with the Truth, how could I know I was being lied to and deceived? It took a merciful sovereign act of God to open my eyes, because I had been blinded, walking in the total darkness of the occult, and unable to see the pit of Hell I was heading towards. God had to save me because I could not save myself.
For several years, while also attending church on a weekly basis, I dabbled in the occult by reading books and attending events where psychics promoted themselves and gave readings to certain members of the audience. My late Grandfather, who was a professed Roman Catholic, used tarot cards and was rumored to have a “power of knowing”. I grew up hearing stories about him and his power. I was fascinated by those stories and often wondered if anyone in the family inherited his power. I had some dreams that caused me to contemplate if, in fact, I had inherited his power.
From about the year 2000 to 2011 my interest in the psychic occult realm was in the background of my life but it was always there. I really did not know I was doing anything terribly wrong because love and light were always the focus when dealing with the spiritual world. Yes, there was evil, but according to the spiritual communicators, we could surround ourselves in white light and call on angels to protect us.
I always had an interest in scary horror movies, but as my interest in the spiritual world increased, my interest in ghosts, movies about demons, witches, and ghosts increased. I was fascinated by movies like Ghost, Angels in the Outfield, Paranormal Activity, Sixth Sense, Amityville Horror, etc. I loved to read fiction books about “good” witches who fought and overcame the “evil” witches. I was drawn to anything that had to do with supernatural power.
Because I did not study the Bible and know the truth, I believed that “ghosts” were people who died and were stranded on earth, or they came from the other side to visit loved ones still alive. I believed that “ghosts” came to deliver messages to us or to tell us they are with us and love us. I also believed that “ghosts” could be evil or good. I remember a moment from a movie that showed a little girl playing with a “ghost” that no one could see, except her. This “ghost” appeared to be her friend and playmate. It played games, house, and had tea parties with her. It turned out that the “ghost” was actually a demon and was tricking her and luring her into the darkness. What a chilling truth was portrayed, but I was too blind to see it at the time.
My third grave mistake—the nail in the coffin—was not having a personal relationship with Jesus. Some might say, “You can’t have a personal relationship with Jesus,” or “How can someone have a personal relationship with Jesus?”, or “I believe in Jesus and that is all I need.” Well, at one time I also thought believing in the existence of Jesus was all I needed to be a Christian. I had no idea I was supposed to have a personal relationship with him, or that a personal relationship was a real thing or even possible. I did not know that there was a difference in believing in His existence and personally knowing him.
Since I did not properly read and study the Bible how could I truly know Jesus? Sure, I knew “of” him because of church and school teachings that I heard over the years but that does not equal to a personal relationship either. How could I have a personal relationship with Jesus when I did not know my need for Him? I did not even know that I had a need for him—that I needed to be saved. Why would I need to be saved? Saved from what? I am the one who saved everyone else.
With those three things in place: my feelings were my guide, no knowledge of the Bible, and no personal relationship with Jesus, I followed the Devil’s lure into the darkness like a child following a candy lined trail. How did I allow that to happen? Was I doing “spirituality” the wrong way? Did I take it too far? Is it possible to take it too far? Is there even a wrong way to dabble in the spiritual world? I did everything the spiritual communicators said to do to protect myself from evil, but according to the Bible, the Devil is crafty, is a liar, and uses trickery and our sin.
Thankfully, God had a plan in motion to save me, not only from myself, but from an eternal sentence to Hell. It was not a plan that I could have ever imagined for myself, but it was one that God deemed necessary to not only save me, but to humble me, show me my sin and the errors of my ways, and show me my need for him.
November 2007 marked the beginning of the infamous housing crash. For the next four years my husband and I seemed to make poor impulsive decisions. We lost most of our material possessions in that housing crash, including our home. We ran away to a different state thinking we needed to get away and take a break from our problems. The thing is that our problems do not stay where we leave them. Problems of the heart jump on board for the ride.
We were financially humbled over those four years. During those years of hardship, we did not once pray for God’s help or ask his forgiveness. What would I need forgiveness for anyway? Forgiveness for what? We did not even know that we needed to confess our sins and ask forgiveness. God had no place in our lives, nor did we know he was supposed to be a part of our everyday lives. After all, I had to fix the mess we were in and save the family. I went into survival mode and stayed there until our finances stabilized.
Once our finances stabilized in late 2010 and there were no more obstacles to overcome, my restless, unhappy, and lonely heart surfaced again. I did not want my children permanently living away from their childhood home, plus I missed my family. I wanted to move back home. I shared with my husband, my plan to get us back home, and he loved the idea.
We moved back to our home state of Florida in the summer of 2011. Even though we were happy to be back home, that excitement wore off over time and I began to search for the next thing to bring excitement and happiness into my life. I was bored, uneasy, and restless. Something was still missing, but I did not know what. For some reason, I just could not be permanently satisfied. I thought the missing piece in my life was having a career of my own and a perfect marriage.
I blamed everyone and everything for the unhappiness in my heart. Nothing was my fault. It was everyone else or circumstances that made me unhappy. I never looked within myself and took accountability. I was an accuser. I avoided and deflected. I was never to blame. The Devil had me right where he wanted me and quickly made his move.
As I began to contemplate what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, thoughts about psychic power began to cross my thoughts. I began researching psychic ability and wondered if there was a way to see if I truly had my grandfather’s gift of supernatural power. I communicated with a few psychics, and they confirmed that I had a power that needed to be bridled. Once the decision was made to seek and harness that supernatural power, I was led with a bait that I could not turn away from. I wanted to have supernatural power. I wanted to be special. I wanted the attention. I wanted the admiration. The Devil was more than happy to give me those things so he could turn me away from God, and I was all in.
I began feeling, what is called, “energy,” in the spiritual world. I could not see spirits, but I could supposedly feel their energy when they were nearby. With the teachings and directions of another psychic I was able to give psychic readings. As I continued to listen and receive everything she was told by the “spirits” as truth, my mission turned from psychic readings to energy healings. As time progressed, I began to receive messages for the recipient as I performed an energy healing session. I was deep in the occult for two years.
I was told that I was connecting to a spiritual world that was filled with love and I thought I was protected from evil. At one point I was told by the “spirits” that I was communicating with Jesus, (God) and the angels. I was healing people and receiving messages for them to help them grow—increase their vibration of energy. I was doing good, so this spiritual world had to be good. When I told my psychic mentor that I was communicating with Jesus, she said, “This has nothing to do with Jesus.” By that time her mentoring had turned more into alien beings and spaceships. Because of her rejection of Jesus, I never spoke to her again.
Soon the Voice that was giving me messages to share with people was always there in my head. I did not have to go through any formal procedure to connect with the “spirit world.” The Voice had always been supportive, loving, and uplifting. It was grooming me, and I was completely unaware. The Voice always wanted me alone and thrived in the dark and at night. It began telling me that my husband was cheating on me and I believed it. The more dependent I became on the Voice the more erratic my behavior became.
I became obsessed with good and bad “energy” and began to exhibit an obsessive-compulsive behavior. Everything had to be in its proper place and properly cleaned to give off good energy. One day my husband came home from work around lunchtime. I sprinted out of our room and began accusing him of his unfaithfulness as he stood in front of me with lunch for both of us in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other. He denied all my accusations—exactly as the Voice said he would. I made him pack a bag and leave the house.
When he left the house, I finally felt free! I was finally free of his oppressive, controlling nature and able to be who I truly wanted to be. I no longer had to answer to anyone. I could finally do whatever I wanted without anyone trying to control me and tell me what to do, right? Well, in truth, I was not free at all. Actually, the Devil had his hook pierced right through my cheek, reeling me in.
