Tuesday, 21 May 2013


Believe it or not, I was once taught at the house church I attended long ago that I could curse weeds and they'd die off. Sister Roberta, not her real name, told me that a former member once cursed a garden for growing cabbages since she hated them. Like the superstitious fool that I was then, I believed her.

The next afternoon, when I returned home from work, I decided to use that weed-killing technique on my own garden. I held my left hand over the garden, the hand supposedly used for curses, and rebuked the dandelions and other weeds in the name of Jesus. I commanded them and their kind never to grow in that garden again.

As the days passed, I noticed new weeds popping up in my garden. It was actually the property of the landlord but his upstairs tenants weren't interested in using it. I felt frustrated. Praying one evening, I asked Jesus why the weeds were still growing. I had worked up my faith, yet nothing happened. I used Jesus' name but nothing changed. I even used the correct hand.

Thirty years later, I realize how abysmally foolish I had been. God is sovereign and Jesus' name isn't some sort of magic wand that will make whatever we want happen. The shame of my deception still persists today. Nobody in their right mind would swagger into the office of a president or prime minister of their land and order them to do things. Neither would any sane person stride into the throne room of a queen or king and treat that ruler like a slave. Yet many sincere Christians are led astray by charismatic TV preachers. Worse yet, they give money that could spread the gospel and feed the poor to those greedy false shepherds.

I wrote extensively about that house church in my newly-published memoir, How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity.  Please check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm.

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