It was after 10 p.m. I was in a dead sleep. That’s when the banging started. “Mike!!” was the cry at the back door. “Mike!!!!!” I was startled, disoriented. My heart was racing. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do.
I got my baseball bat.
I went to the door. I peeked out the window. There he was. “Mike!!!!” he said it again. “You need to come with me. My wife is demon-possessed!” No, I thought. You’re demon-possessed. His eyes glared. He was panicked. He was serious. “You need to come with me. My wife is demon-possessed.” He said it again. I said, “No. You need to go. I’m not coming with you.”
And there’s a way to go about seeking help and then there’s a way to NOT go about seeking help. (moral of the story)
I went back to bed, but with my bat this time. (And for the next few nights.)
Oh, and the man / guy / husband of the demon-possessed wife at the door? He was a former attendee of my church. It comes with the territory.
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