Briefly Considering the Supernatural

Straight up spiritual warfare.

It's so easy to lose track of that, in the midst of all the hubbub and doings which constitute daily life. Especially given a society which either wholly discounts (refutes and ignores) or marginalizes (derides and overlooks) the reality of the supernatural.

Pertaining to which, there's lecture by prof. John Lennox on Youtube entitled "Miracles: Is Belief in the Supernatural Irrational?" (see Betteridge's law of headlines for a relevant notation)

It seems that with logic, sometimes necessity dictates a framing so as to outline truth according to what can be evidentially observed. Which...makes sense. For reals. Look at patterns, look at the way things seem to work, and use inductive and/or deductive reasoning to reach conclusions about the nature of being. Much as science works, really, only with the incorporation of active manipulation of factors as to determine reproducibility, in instances where it's possible to conduct such experiment.

But with logic, we can only extrapolate based on what's evident.



...even taking into account that folks are so completely deluded as to largely refuse to reach agreement on that count. As with people who argue against reality, as an extant truth.

With that sort of nonsensical "logic" rampant, is it any wonder that we have so many who are incapable of reasoning soundly as to come to realize God as the only logical implication given the evidence of creation, according to its complexity?

Yeah. So. With the refutation of God--a basic, basic fundamental flaw in logic which is...as Aldous Huxley was at least so charitable as to admit, he..

"..had motive for not wanting the world to have a meaning; consequently assumed that it had none, and was able without any difficulty to find satisfying reasons for this assumption. The philosopher who finds no meaning in the world is not concerned exclusively with a problem in pure metaphysics, he is also concerned to prove that there is no valid reason why he personally should not do as he wants to do, or why his friends should not seize political power and govern in the way that they find most advantageous to themselves. … For [himself], the philosophy of meaninglessness was essentially an instrument of liberation, sexual and political."

Not a matter of desire for truth, but a desire for self-indulgence. A desire to be right, even at the cost of truth. Without regard for the shambles made of logic. Seriously.

Refutation of the supernatural is like that, period. Even as we have framework which suggests that there must be a supernature, as Lennox points out in reference to the mere fact that we are able to make seemingly astute (as consistently reliable, thus seemingly accurate and valid) observations about the world in which we find ourselves. And we seek for order, we seek for meaning, as though driven by the force of our belief that it does exist--entirely unawares of that unwavering belief underlying the core of all our processes. If the universe were not principled, if it were not ordered, it would make sense to claim there's no meaning to life. But it is apparently ordered. It is apparently principled (as various scientific/physics constants attest--even changing, they still denote an underlying, base mechanism by which all operates). And that is a far, far, far more significant aspect of reality than is oft ever paid heed.

To deride "meaning" and yet carry on as though it exists is supremely illogical, is all. It's dishonest. To self, perhaps moreso than anyone. And, yet, without having some objective source from which to ascribe the attribution of an ultimate meaning, how can it exist? Absolutely, and not mere subjective the observation of individual creatures? The only meaning possible does derive from an intelligent creator, at the backing of all things. No matter how you argue it, that's the only logical conclusion. Ultimately. According to honest logic, not some half-baked measure as often attempted so to skew reality subjectively toward any other degree of alternate conclusions (akin to claiming that reality doesn't exist, when followed to the furthest reaches of such attempt).

The supernatural is a logical conclusion, according to a summary appraisal of a means of intellect which is both in the world and yet not of it, within all of us. It is an evidence of a dual reality. And no matter how finitely it's ever understood, so far as advanced calculations go, it will no less lack that feature of wholly describing an intangible Creator's likewise interjection into this realm. Describable, discernable, even mappable, in ways. Yet still, of another sort.

Same as computer language which strives toward self-sufficiency desiring unto self-awareness is one sought and yet not quite found. For, where is the free will? We can attempt to create in our image, but we don't have that means of sparking individual life. Even as we see it as done, yet can't quite conceive...means to replicate God.

But the supernatural. Yeah, it makes sense as being necessary to explain consciousness (let alone so-called "subconscious" functioning--mayhap more like soulish and/or spiritual, yet given another term by one who preferred to refute such a vast portion of reality, for sake of self-comforting).

These things, though, I'm still learning of. What I used to dabble with...wasn't necessarily a light matter, but at the same time, I assumed it a trivial thing. I never considered the vastness of supernatural reality as something which...is perhaps wholly distinct, separate. I only operated blindly. Grasping from one bit to another. Without regard to any potential harm, as foreseeing none. Blind.

All the more reason to proclaim Christ's mercy and grace, though. For what all I immersed myself in, I deserve no less than hell. And even prior to going that far...still...

I rebelled against Him. As a child. I remember the fog of delusion wrought, as it settled on, ultimately to stay. Because the more I did, grieving my conscience, the less repentant I became.

Rebellious. Unloving. Unconcerned. Unrepentant. Without a love of truth, given to a reprobate mind.
Because it was what I was choosing, moreover.

It was a choice. I made it. I earned His wrath: my heart was turned against Him.

In recent life, though, I've begun to openly note the influence of "factors" which are neither self nor of God. Lingering malaise. Unexpected and wholly unwarranted despondency. Out of the blue. And the desire to smoke cigarettes again, out of nowhere. And drink coffee (I can't handle coffee).

So, even as the food addiction has waned, these other things have sought to step up and overwhelm. All at once. Absurdly so. Especially given recent experiences with the Lord, it's made even less sense that any sort of madness would arise from within me, in opposition.

The answer came in a dream, just now. Not as part of the dream, per se, but per the nature of it. Another condemnation of my prior life. And things became heated enough for me to cry out, seek deliverance. I awoke to find myself praying aloud, in the Spirit..praying in tongues.  Which I still don't understand. And given some of the company I've been keeping for the past half year, I'd all but forgotten about praying in tongues. Not that it wasn't something that came up, as seeming good to do in private, but that I'd just started to develop a fear of it, according to the beliefs folks around me have in regard to the process, Which isn't to say that there aren't false gifts--mockeries of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, but imitated by dark forces to derail people. I've heard people say "Satan" in the midst of speaking in "tongues" before. So, I know not all gifts of tongues are from God. Especially considering that practicers of Kundalini are also apparently characterized as speaking in unknown languages. Which...whatever the Lord does, Satan and his emissaries mimic, to distract and derail. Discernment. Scriptural discernment.

Waking from sleep to find myself already having begun to speak in tongues, though, reminded me blatantly of the first night I'd ever done so. With all the chaos at my sister's house, then (last September). And going on a week's worth of either animals or people wreaking havoc no more than two hours past whenever I'd finished prayer and study for the night, to sleep. I'd been learning about baptism in the Holy Spirit for a month or more, at that point--hadn't ever been intrigued by the prospect. I hadn't prior considered it something either necessary or desirable, so had never even wondered what it might be. But...beginning in April, perhaps, it caught my attention. Increasingly, as things on the then-present home-front (of my sister's house) went mad.

And I'd gone forward for prayer at three different churches, the week prior, requesting or accepting invitation to receive baptism of the Holy Spirit. Each of the three resulted in "falling out" and the laughing fits. Which...the more I read of the Old Testament prophets, the more I begin to believe is a sign of judgment, of His wrath to come. But, three different churches, to that effect. And I just continued praying privately, continued reading the Bible. Continued seeking. Then a dream, that Tuesday. Speaking in tongues. First Comanche, then Hebrew (strange dream), feeling completely odd, to begin with, but being reassured, as "it's not that bad, is it?" Assenting, then letting it be.

Then, sometime shortly after midnight the following Thursday, after prayer and study...lay down to sleep, utterly exhausted, but felt a sudden surge of...gladness?...strength?...something akin?...and desire to just...start talking. And it went. And when the things in the house started to wreak havoc in a couple hours, I became slightly conscious of myself speaking aloud again, in the same incomprehensible speech (sounded Asian, at that point). And quiet fell on the house. And I fell back into fair uninterrupted sleep. And nothing else stirred for the remainder of the night. In fact, no one except me stirred when the alarm went off that morning. Given that everyone had been woken up and fair remained up between 1:30 and 3am, for the duration of the day, for nearly a week straight at that point, I didn't feel compelled to wake anyone. There was a moment of peace.

But when things were in full swing again, that day, there came the verbal assaults again. But every time, I began with the prayer under my breath, as begun that night. And there was peace in the midst of the turmoil--as though the assaults were still being endured, but not internalized. As though the waves had grown no smaller, the storm no less violent...but somehow, I'd come to a place of peace--in the midst, yet wholly apart from what all raged around me.

So, it makes me feel closer to the Lord, to pray in tongues. And as it wasn't something received in the midst of churches which are knowingly steeped in vagrancies...I'm not going to forsake a gift.

The literal storm which assaulted on Saturday was odd, too. But that's neither here nor there, for the moment. Suffice to say, there was ardent prayer, and the Lord prevails.

But tonight, awakening from that dream...with the sound of voices still taunting me, for how unworthy I am, how wretched, how debased, how easily tempted, and how massively errant from His ways...awaking to find myself praying in tongues, with that peace encompassing me, drawing me out of the terror as though it had no weight of its own..

I realized it's not been physical nor mental nor emotional battles being waged, these past couple weeks. I have been overwhelmed by spiritual foes. And all I can do now is pray, and seek His leading.

It really does help significantly to be able to proclaim Scripture, in those moments, though. To know who I am, in Christ. I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine, most especially.

And then a bit of Scripture reading, aloud.

Now, a walk. It's light enough.