Demoniac: Chapter 1 The Beginning of a Long Road to God.

At once, a man from the tombs who had an unclean spirit met him. The man had been dwelling among the tombs, and no one could restrain him any longer, even with a chain. In fact, he had frequently been bound with shackles and chains, but the chains had been pulled apart by him and the shackles smashed, and no one was strong enough to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the hillsides he was always crying out and bruising himself with stones. (Mark 5: 2-5)

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Nobody ever reads this part of the Gospel and says, “That guy! I want to be like that guy!”

Yet there I was. Stark naked on a stranger’s front lawn in the middle the night. Pounding my head into the ground to wake up Mother Earth, just like the voices told me. Thankfully, a quieter voice told me to do it on the grass instead of in the middle of the street so I wouldn’t hurt my forehead.

After I finished sucking the evil magic off my fiancé’s diamond engagement ring, I planted it in the ground, believing that an enormous bush covered with beautiful engagement rings would sprout from the spot. The quiet voice suggested that I put my clothes back on before I returned to my apartment.

Does this sound crazy? My fiancé thought so, too. When I woke her up to tell her that I had planted her ring as a seed of our love and she could find it if she followed the yellow brick road, she was not amused. She broke up with me via a restraining order.

I ended up in the hospital, and the doctors put me on sedatives that knocked me out for three days. They hoped to undo some of the damage that nine days without sleep had done to my mind, but despaired of my recovery. They thought my mind would never recover from a psychotic break so severe. Minds that broken don’t, and they were experts.

They were also wrong. Medical science couldn’t cure me because I had a problem that it doesn’t admit exists. I was not simply a madman. I was a demoniac.

Continued below.