Regularly commune with God? I went through the motions for quite a
long time but never got any impression that he was listening of course.
In other words I did pray, out loud, but nothing I ever prayed for ever
came true of course. Ever. And my prayers were most sincere I can tell you.
As far as "feeling the Holy Spirit wash over me" is concerned, it happened only twice that I can remember.
A little background first for the first time.
In high school I was a nerd (or "geek" if you prefer) and not very
popular. I wasn't part of the "in crowd"/"popular clique" so I had few friends. It was my desire to make friends, I suppose, that lead me to
"hook up" with the religious crowd since they seemed to accept me as I
was whereas the "cool crowd" of course rejected me because I wasn't
"cool". Not an uncommon occurrence at that age I'm sure.
I got to be friends with this nice girl who came from a really religious family, a fundy family I guess it was. We would meet each morning in the school cafeteria for Bible reading before starting the day. One day she invited me to accompany her to a revival. It was you standard old-
fashioned "tent revival" except it was held in a barn. IIRC, there a
small stage and soft organ music playing in the background (from a tape recorder hooked up to speakers). The stage was well lit but the rest of
the barn was left dim and the sweet smell of fresh hay was all around.
I was "saved" that night and even spoke in tongues. I admit I felt "something" during the experience, like some sort of "Holy Spirit" had entered me, but looking back now it was really me just getting caught up with the overall highly expectant mood subliminally implanted by the special effects. The preacher really had us worked up with his booming voice and the crowd was shouting "Hallelujah!". That sort of thing. It really was a sight to see.
It was, of course, nothing more than a very moving emotional experience, one almost demanded of you by simply being there. But it did allow me to become even more accepted by small group of religious teenagers like
myself that I hung out with which I suppose, subconsciously was what I really wanted more than anything at that point in my life. (Pretty pathetic, huh?)
The second time was years later in mid-December of 1993. I was sitting in the living room late at night while everyone else was sleeping. There was only a single lamp next to my easy providing just enough light to allow me to read the Bible. I was checking out some verses I think my brother had mentioned to me. I was feeling quite down because it was the first house (and as it turns out, only house) I ever owned and was just a few years
old, having been built brand new. The living room had a vaulted ceiling which I guess added to the mood.
I was unemployed at the time and feeling quite low, having also just received received an eviction notice from my mortgage company a few days before (they of course had finally foreclosed on my montage for being so many months behind). Having all this happen right around Christmas time too, with a 13 year old child expecting xmas presents, didn't help matters either.
I was sitting there reading the Bible in the still of the night, trying
to make sense of what I was reading (Ch'yeah, right; as if that's possible!), when after pondering it all -- as well as pondering my present situation as well -- when I was finally overcome and had, what I now recognize as a sort of miniature nervous breakdown.
For some strange reason which I still cannot fathom, it seemed I was able, for just a moment, to actually make sense of what I was reading (I don't even remember the passage anymore) and I was overwhelmed with a flood of emotions. Joy, happiness, fear, loneliness, peace, anger, contentment, depression ... they washed over me in wave after wave and I broke down and cried, bawling like a baby (softly so as to not wake anyone) in huge,
wracking sobs.
I had reached the end of my rope so to speak, and was willing, out of
shear desperation, to place myself into the hands of the Lord. (This is embarrassing).
Afterwards, for the next few days, the sense of "everything is going to
be all right" remained as my general attitude had been changed that night from one of utter futility to one of positive confidence that I would make it through this tough time in my life.
As the days went by, of course, I gradually "came down" from my self-induced "high" and just did what I had to do as each unique situation presented itself.
That's pretty much it, but so as to not leave you hanging, we managed to finagle our way into an apartment down the street after my wife found a
job and I had a go at being a house-husband for a while.
Less than a year later I began coming to my senses (due in large part, no doubt, to my brush with the law -- don't ask, please) and renounced my xianity to my family. A few years after that, after spending a few months as a lurker in this very news group (feeding on a steady diet of Stix
posts as well as many others whose names I can no longer recall), I took the mental leap (well, actually it was more like just a final step) and became the rather strong atheist I remain to this day.
Looking back on each of these experiences with an open and objective mind, you can see how each time I was under quite a bit of stress. I've since learned from reading a textbook on the psychology of religion that that's usually how it is. Psychological experiments have shown that most mystical
experiences occur when the subject is in a high stress situation. When the mood and setting is right, it's not hard to cause oneself (or others) to have a mystical experience.
Of course, the truly god-soaked don't see it that way. They think they've "touched God" (or he or that Holy Ghost guy did).
If only they would just open their eyes and wake up. Reality is really not that bad once you get used to it. :) ("Fish" (David B. Trout) #623)
Am
Yes, I used to speak to God on a daily basis, get answers back, and have all sorts of religious experiences, didn't even need drugs ;) Heck, there was even a time when I thought I was a genuine prophet. After some time though it dawned on me just how much more likely it is that I'm schizophrenic (Or other mental disorder. Lately I've found out that many people with MPD get similar symptoms without the chemical imbalance, and since I already know I'm MPD...) Both possibilities explain the voices and experiences, but only a mental disorder explains the total lack of any magick powers handed down to me by invisible space pixie friend. IOW
God's only apparent magic power was to talk to me and give me exactly the sort of preachy lovey-dovey answers that never work in real life that a child would expect from god after being indoctrinated in the mormon church (Well, except I guess most kids' gods wouldn't say that their current religion is a load of bullshit and replace it with another slightly better thought out religion, but we've already extablished I ain't normal).
Feelings now... Relief, frankly. (Rian Jensen #317)
