Exorcism

It was a bright and sunny saturday morning. I dropped a friend off at the airport and I was driving back home with the windows down, sunroof open, and loud music. I enjoy that sort of thing and I love nature. I have always been attracted to the outdoors. Driving was therapeutic also - I felt like I was freeing my soul, baring it to the world, relishing in natures soothingly refreshing breeze - until a trailers horn brought me back to reality, and I realised I was almost home. 

I parked the car and entered the living room to greet my dad, my mum was seated next to him all dressed up like she was about to go out. They asked me to sit down. Dad proceeds with his very long speech but finally arrives at his main point - he did not like the negative energy between my mother and I, he felt we needed therapy, and she had found a therapist who they felt would be excellent and able to help us resolve the issues we were having. I was happy… somewhat.

She and I were living under the same roof, but we barely spoke. It was so uncomfortable to be around her. I felt as if she hated me, like she was disgusted by the very sight of me. Maybe it was all in my head. I would go to bed at night very sad, reminiscing about the days when I would cuddle with her, smell her, feel her warmth, her love… I wished for those days to return, it was all I thought about at night. In the morning, I’d wake up to the harsh reality that we weren't speaking.

You can imagine my joy when I heard we would be seeking help for our relationship. It meant she was just as uncomfortable as I was. I used to wonder if the silence and lack of eye contact bothered her, and this was my confirmation. I quickly agreed, too excited to even ask where this help would come from. I was just happy we both recognised things were getting out of hand, and could not continue as they were. I decided to ride with her, and sat in the passenger seat while she drove us to our “helper”. The ride was very silent, yet so very, very, pregnant. 

We drove for about 20 minutes until we arrived at a winding, untarred road with lots of bushes around. It appeared as though whoever lived/worked in this place, did not give much attention to the aesthetics of their surroundings. I saw a white canopy in the near distance, and I hoped for about one minute that it was not our final destination. But I could not see anything else in the offing. Then I saw the signboard: “Holy Ghost Ministries of The World”. I was still chuckling at such a cheesy name when it suddenly hit me. 

When I heard that we were seeking therapy, I believed we going to a professional, a doctor who knew what they were doing, a person who would not allow their biases to dictate their behaviour, someone who would treat us with respect and allow us to talk through our issues until we arrived at an agreement. I was looking forward to finally having a discussion about real life issues without any reference to the Bible. You can only imagine my disappointment when all roads led to this church situated in the middle of nowhere. Feelings of deception were setting in when mum said, “we’re here”. 

Apostle Paul, as he introduced himself, wore a smile, shook my hand and offered us seats. He was a very interesting-looking fellow - he wore very bright colours, which reminded me of the rainbow. I wondered if this was intentional and if he was aware of the symbolic nature of the rainbow colours. He must have sensed my discomfort because he tried to win my confidence and trust by talking about all the countries he had been to, and the great work he’d done in counselling families.

Without asking whether I even believe in god in the first place, He proceeded to talk about gods plan for my life, and how much god loves me, and wanted to do great things in my life. As he spoke, my mother nodded, breaking into an occasional “amen”. He talked about gods purpose for creating male and female, segueing into the horridness of homosexuality, while ignoring the barrage of scientific evidence that state otherwise. That was when I knew what this was really about. My mother took me there because she believed Apostle Paul could exorcise the demon of homosexuality from me. I felt betrayed, angry, and deceived. I sat there and listened to every damning word that came out of his mouth.

It is damaging to continuously listen to negative rhetoric from someone who claims they are there to help you. I often wonder about  some ardent Christians who are closeted lesbians, gay men, or transgender, often sacrificing a lot for the well being of the church, only to be told they are headed to hell and that they will never amount to anything if they do not change their “lifestyle”. 

When Apostle Paul finished speaking, he revealed the plan for the next few months, reinforcing his readiness and commitment to praying for god to heal me of my abominable “lifestyle”. He gave me books to read, with a gallon of what he called “holy water”, which I was to use three times a day; drink a glass in the morning, sprinkle on my head in the afternoon, and rub on my pillow at night. I was to report to his premises three times a week. After relaying his instructions, He ended our meeting with prayer, my mother thanked him reverently, then we left.

Needless to say, I never used any of the things he gave me and he never saw me again. When we got home, I threw everything into the trash. Apostle Paul is not a therapist. He is just one of those people who take advantage of the vulnerability and desperation of the unsuspecting lot, like my mother, and make a living out of it. 

What started off as a very hopeful and beautiful day, ended up being a false start - a missed opportunity for my mother and I to make progress in our reconciliation journey. Dad and mum probably meant well, but negative words do not have the power to yield positive results. They simply do not.