Re: Bobby Jindal

Wowee. That is something else.

That's, like, Eagleton territory, right? I mean, that shit should torpedo his national career, right? Right? Please?

Barrett Brown wrote:

Yeah. Key excerpt:

"With holy water and blessed crucifixes, I have even given her physical protection from the demons that have only once reappeared, and then for a mere moment."

Most of it is faggoty and boring, but there are some choice paragraphs about how they performed an exorcism on his hysterical girlfriend.

On Thu, May 22, 2008 at 1:52 PM, Caleb Alan Pritchard <cpritchard2001@gmail.com <mailto:cpritchard2001@gmail.com>> wrote:

    I don't have time to read the full thing because we're about to
    hit the road. The first few paragraphs are very promising though.
    Jindal, you will no doubt remember, is that goofy hick-punjab
    <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rg5GWI7UKtQ> from Louisiana who is
    on the short-list of McCain's Veep choices.

    /New Oxford Journal /charged me $1.50 for the article and I can
    only view it online for 48 hours, so here's the cut-and-pasted
    version:

    *BEATING A DEMON*
    *Physical Dimensions of Spiritual Warfare*

    *December 1994**By Bobby Jindal*

    /Updated bio (2008): Bobby Jindal converted to Catholicism from
    Hinduism as a teenager. In 1992, he graduated from Brown
    University,where the following events took place. Afterwards, he
    received a master's degree in politics from New College, Oxford as
    a Rhodes Scholar. After serving two terms in the United States
    House of Representatives (R-Louisiana) he is now Governor of
    Louisiana. Some of the names in this article, but none of the
    details, have been altered by the author. /

    Though she had not said anything, I knew something was wrong.
    Susan and I had developed an intimate friendship; indeed, our
    relationship mystified observers, who insisted on finding a
    romantic component where none existed. I called her after the
    University Christian Fellowship (UCF) meeting -- UCF is an
    Inter-Varsity Christian group composed of undergraduate and
    graduate students. Though the interdenominational group's weekly
    program of songs and prayers had produced the usual emotional high
    among most members, Susan had left the meeting in a very sullen
    mood. I asked her to join a group of us who were attending a
    Christian /a cappella/ concert to be held on campus that same
    evening.

    Despite our intimacy, Susan and I had not spent much time together
    this past year. We had succumbed to pressure from our friends and
    decided we should not be so emotionally interdependent without a
    deeper commitment. To be honest, my fears of a relationship and
    the constraints of commitment had kept us apart; our friends'
    objections merely provided a convenient excuse. Still, I felt
    comfortable asking her to come to the concert, and she accepted
    the invitation. Though Susan appeared composed throughout the
    concert, her sudden departure in the middle of a song convinced
    me otherwise and affirmed my earlier suspicions.

    There was no doubt in my mind that I had to leave my friends and
    follow her outside. I was not exactly sure what I would do or say,
    but I knew I had to run after her. I found that she had not gone
    far, but was sobbing uncontrollably outside the auditorium. Since
    we had been very careful to avoid any form of physical contact in
    our friendship, I was not sure how to respond. My inaction and her
    sobs produced a very awkward situation. Fortunately, a female
    friend who followed us out was able to comfort Susan with hugs
    and soothing words of reassurance; her quick action was in stark
    contrast to my paralysis. Once Susan had regained her composure
    and fell silent, I knew I had to intervene. The female friend
    meant well, but did not know Susan well enough to provide the
    advice Susan was sure to seek.

    Not even knowing the cause of this raucous scene, I asked Susan if
    she would like to talk, and volunteered to walk her home. Wanting
    to avoid any additional embarrassing scenes, I thought it best to
    remain in silence while we walked. I dared not cause another
    emotional outpouring until we were safely behind closed doors.
    When we finally reached her dorm room, I promptly sat Susan on a
    bed and placed myself in a chair located several feet across the
    room. This physical arrangement was hardly conducive to the love
    and support I was supposed to be providing, but I was too scared
    and unsure of myself to get any closer.

    Taking a very businesslike approach, I queried Susan as to the
    cause of her distress. At first the words were slow to come and
    the few that she uttered made little sense. Gradually the words
    formed sentences and the sentences arranged themselves into a
    coherent story. A jumble of events was transformed into a logical
    sequence with a common theme of cause and effect. She had noticed
    a lump on her scalp, had visited the university health clinic, and
    had a biopsy performed. "Biopsy!" One thought replaced all others
    -- "benign or malignant?" The results had indicated skin /cancer./
    Cancer, in any form, is a disease with a very powerful ability to
    capture our attention and unleash great waves of fear within us
    all. The word itself, and the hopelessness it conjures up, causes
    us instinctively to whisper condolences; our minds automatically
    turn to the horrors of chemotherapy. Radiation, hair loss, and
    death all seemed very real. No wonder poor Susan was devastated.

    I quickly collected my thoughts and returned my attention to
    Susan. Not only had the prognosis scared her, but she had found
    little or no comfort among her friends. They considered skin
    cancer a minor affliction, something that affects those whose
    vanity causes them to tan in the sun too long. The only friend who
    expressed concern was worried about the possibility of contagious
    cancerous cells. Her friends, many of them pre-meds aspiring to be
    compassionate and skilled physicians one day, noted that a simple
    operation would remove the tumor, and then simply laughed the
    entire matter away. She had felt foolish about her worries and
    joined their laughter; however, her smile merely masked her inner
    worries and fears. It was these repressed fears that had led to
    her emotional outburst earlier that night.

    As I listened to Susan recount these events, I wondered how we had
    grown so far apart. There were now other guys in her life and many
    friends I had barely met. I had insisted on emotional distance to
    allow us to develop independence, but that was ridiculous. Susan
    was my best friend and I hardly knew what was happening in her
    life. I soon found myself breaking my silence; until this point, I
    had hardly needed to prompt Susan to speak and had not even
    provided soothing remarks. Now, I suddenly started comforting her
    and validating her feelings. Of course I would be there for her.
    Of course I understood her fears and worries. Of course I would
    reach out and touch her?

    The interaction of Susan's revelations and my assurances had
    produced another outpouring of emotion, hysteria, and tears.
    Against my will, I found myself reaching out and holding her hand.
    I promised to stand by her forever, to be the rock against which
    she could lean, to accompany her to the doctor's office and the
    operating room. I never stopped to think of the significance of my
    valiant pledges; I assumed any good friend would react similarly
    in the same situation. How could any decent person turn away a
    desperate woman in such need?

    The tears vanished as suddenly as they appeared several times
    throughout the night. Susan was even stable long enough for me to
    buy her milk to ease the gastric pains caused by her anxiety. She
    was literally worrying herself sick. I realized my words of
    comfort were only temporary measures and were not enough to
    provide her with long-term support. However, I did not go far
    enough. Instead of directing Susan to depend on a source far more
    dependable and stronger than myself -- i.e., our Christian faith,
    her own inner strength, or even a professional care provider -- I
    continued trying to solve her problems myself.

    During Susan's next wave of tears, I found myself putting my arm
    around her to provide both physical and emotional support. We were
    soon sitting on the bed next to each other, and I told her a
    fairy tale. Instead of tackling all of her problems at once, we
    took each individual concern -- e.g., upcoming finals -- and
    magically solved it. Her problems began to seem insignificant and
    our ability to overcome adversity soon assumed heroic
    proportions. We were soon laughing, and despair was definitely
    vanquished, at least for the night. We were both startled to find
    my arm around her shoulder, but she asked that I continue to hold
    her for just a few moments longer. I happily complied and we
    embraced her problems away; along with my soothing words, the
    simple gesture of a hug was enough to bring peace to Susan's heart
    for one night.

    Susan had finally found a friend willing to believe and
    understand her worries; she no longer had to pretend that cancer
    did not frighten her. She was terrified, and I understood. I was
    able to mix the almost contradictory states of empathy and
    aloofness; Susan needed me to share her fears and yet still be
    strong enough to comfort her. I was her partner in misery and yet
    also served as her knight in shining armor.

    The peace and our renewed closeness were not to last long. Susan
    and I had consciously maintained a fairly distant friendship over
    the year and the night's openness was a glaring exception. Scared
    of her own feelings and dependence on me, Susan made it a point to
    avoid me the next few days and answered my queries about her
    well-being succinctly and coldly. Our relationship stayed in this
    détente mode for an entire month. During this time, Susan's
    doctors were preparing her for the operation. The relatively
    simple procedure would not involve many days in the hospital and
    had a very high chance of success.

    Susan and I may have never confronted each other had it not been,
    ironically, for our pride. We continued meeting for meals and
    engaged in superficial conversation, focused on the weather,
    sports, and any other topic except for cancer and our friendship.
    The catalyst for our confrontation was a silly misunderstanding
    over a dinner. Susan did not show up at the cafeteria at our
    agreed upon time and made little effort to warn me of the
    scheduling conflict that caused her absence. This inconvenience,
    minor under normal circumstances, proved to be the starting point
    of an intense struggle of wills. We fought to prove who could be
    the most stubborn and arrogant; the result was a tie, with both of
    us losing.

    Waiting for an apology, I refused to talk with Susan for a week.
    She decided I was being silly and refused to admit any error on
    her part. Somehow, we finally searched deep and found the maturity
    to discuss our differences. The strain of our open hostility
    during the week and quiet indifference during the month had beaten
    down both of our wills. We could hold our breath no longer.

    We quickly settled the matter about the dinner and then turned our
    attention to the real cause of the tension between us. For the
    first time in a month, one of us mentioned the night of the
    concert, the night I first heard of Susan's affliction. This talk
    was very different in character from our last serious discussion;
    whereas before I had provided support and comfort for a helpless
    Susan, this was truly a battle of wills between two strong and
    independent individuals. We discussed issues as varied as our
    true feelings for each other and Susan's upcoming operation.

    Then Susan confessed that she was disturbed by recent nightmares.
    I accepted this as a normal reaction to a very difficult semester.
    One of Susan's closest friends from home, her Bible study leader
    there, had committed suicide shortly before Susan found the lump.
    Adding insult to injury, she learned of his death through a
    newspaper article, since her family and friends were too scared to
    tell her. The operation alone would have been overwhelming for any
    emotionally healthy individual. Given the loss of a dear friend
    from home, the tension with one's best friend at school, and the
    pressures of a very demanding academic schedule, it is a miracle
    that Susan remained sane; nightmares hardly seemed a cause for alarm.

    Then Susan started saying words like "visions" instead of
    nightmares, and I began to get worried and scared. I had always
    known that Susan was a charismatic Christian, but had thought
    little of what such labels meant. She had told me of speaking in
    tongues during certain prayers and even seeing visions in her
    dreams as a child, but I had never pushed her to talk about such
    things. I figured that what I did not know could not hurt me. How
    wrong I was!

    Susan started describing various odors (which others would later
    ascribe to the sulfur that supposedly accompanies the devil),
    sounds, and appearances that both she and her roommate had
    witnessed. They had even called maintenance, which had found the
    odors but not the cause. Her roommate, neither charismatic nor
    Christian, had seen, heard, and smelled the same things, but had
    not known how to interpret the events. I was about to hear Susan's
    understanding of her visions and the accompanying disturbances.

    A senior in UCF and a leader of my Bible study group had once
    asked me if I believed in angels, spirits, and other such
    apparitions. I had recently heard a priest confidently proclaim
    that the Bible's words on such phenomena were never meant to be
    interpreted literally; he had historical evidence that incidents
    involving spirits were merely metaphors for tangible events. Being
    a new Catholic and very eager to avoid the subject, I had accepted
    the priest's views without question. After I related my doubts,
    the senior proceeded to describe recent incidents involving
    mutual acquaintances -- e.g., a woman who claimed demons inflicted
    physical scars on her arms. I remained polite, but incredulous.
    The issue of spirits did not affect me, and I was thus content to
    leave its resolution to others. I had no opinions or feelings on
    the subject.

    But Susan was forcing me to take a stand on the entire issue of
    spirits and charismatic Christians. Having given the subject
    little thought, I was hardly ready to present an informed opinion.
    Susan was my closest friend and I would have tried to believe her
    had she claimed Martians had kidnapped her; friends are supposed
    to believe in each other even when nobody else does. Despite my
    verbal reassurances and lack of condemnations, Susan knew me well
    enough to see that I was having problems accepting her visions
    and spirits. I was doing everything I could to convey my support
    and sympathy; however, I was definitely in unfamiliar territory
    and was overwhelmed by the strength of her convictions. I wavered
    between my loyalty to Susan and the apparent irrationality of her
    claims.

    I left the room we were in for a moment, on some flimsy pretense,
    made the sign of the cross in desperation, and pleaded with God
    for divine assistance. Seconds after I re-entered the room, Susan
    angrily lashed out at me, telling me she never wanted to talk with
    me again since I did not love her, and ran out in tears. I tried
    following her, to no avail. I did not understand what I had done.
    All I could think was, "Gee, thanks God. So much for prayer." I
    realized that Susan had never fully presented her interpretation
    of the recent events in her life, and I had not had the chance to
    accept or reject her claims. The entire conversation remained very
    nebulous in my mind, and many of Susan's reactions made little
    sense. I had a vague sense that her anger and tears involved both
    my inability to care for her and also my inability to understand
    her recent experiences.

    I was stunned, and so was hardly prepared for what was to follow
    the next day. While Susan's older sister flew in to provide
    comfort during this trying time, Susan visited the doctor for one
    last set of tests. UCF had organized a prayer meeting that night
    for Susan's upcoming operation and the intense emotional trials
    she had endured. I called Susan, in an attempt to make peace, but
    was greeted with cold indifference. As she was hanging up, I asked
    if she wanted my presence at the prayer meeting. She declined the
    offer, but suddenly changed her mind just before the line was
    disconnected. I, along with several other students, gathered in a
    classroom, despite the hectic finals schedule, to offer our
    prayers and support for Susan. Since she was a very active member
    and Bible study leader in UCF, many upperclassmen were in
    attendance. These students, the most active and experienced
    Protestant leaders on campus, came from different churches with
    different creeds.

    The meeting started, as did any other UCF gathering, with group
    songs and a few prayers. We sat in a circle on the floor so we
    could face one another. Susan refused to acknowledge my presence
    when I entered. Though I was accustomed to feeling an emotional
    high during these meetings, I felt the initial songs were a bit
    dry. Given the circumstances, the group had lost much of its
    normal enthusiasm. Susan's sister then asked for a period of
    meditative prayer, the entire group would fall silent while
    individuals would pray aloud "as the Spirit led them." This is a
    common practice in both Bible studies and group meetings within
    UCF. My inexperience as a new Christian and my reserved nature
    prevented me from speaking during these times; rather, I prayed
    silently.

    After a period of group prayer, a student made a movement to end
    the meeting. Suddenly, Susan emitted some strange guttural sounds
    and fell to the floor. She started thrashing about, as if in some
    sort of seizure. Susan's sister must have recognized what was
    happening, for she ordered us to gather around and place our hands
    on Susan's prostrate body. I refused to budge from my position
    and froze in horror. I will never forget the first comprehensible
    sound that came from Susan; she screamed my name with such an
    urgency that the chill still travels down my spine whenever I
    recall this moment.

    Confused as to the events occurring before my very eyes, I
    responded to the desperation and cry for help so evident in
    Susan's voice. I wanted to rescue my friend from these horrible
    people who were holding her down and ridiculing her dignity. I
    tentatively approached the group and placed the edge of my
    fingertip on her shoulder, as if afraid of becoming infected with
    the disease that was ravaging her body. I had yet to realize that
    the affliction was ravaging her soul.

    In a voice I had never heard before or since, Susan accused me:
    "Bobby, you cannot even love Susan." Before I even noticed the
    sound of her voice, I thought it funny that Susan would refer to
    herself in the third person. Then the full impact of the words hit
    me. Forgetting the frantic students around me and even poor Susan
    lying on the floor, I thought of our conversation the day before.
    The real argument had been whether I was capable of loving Susan.
    I needed the answer to be yes, more for my sake than ours. I have
    always been a closed and relatively unemotional person and needed
    to know that my best friend felt that I at least could love her,
    due to some very strong remarks made two years before by my former
    girlfriend (hardly an objective source), I was beginning to doubt
    that I had the capacity for feeling.

    Knowing that I was doing Susan no good, I quickly retreated to the
    opposite side of the room. Susan proceeded to denounce every
    individual in the room, often citing very private and confidential
    information she could not possibly have known on her own. It was
    information capable of hurting individuals -- attacking people, as
    she did, by revealing their hidden feelings, fears, and worries.
    The night was just beginning!

    The students, led by Susan's sister and Louise, a member of a
    charismatic church, engaged in loud and desperate prayers while
    holding Susan with one hand. Kneeling on the ground, my friends
    were chanting, "Satan, I command you to leave this woman." Others
    exhorted all "demons to leave in the name of Christ." It is no
    exaggeration to note the tears and sweat among those assembled.
    Susan lashed out at the assembled students with verbal assaults.

    Though I attempted to maintain a stoic attitude and an
    expressionless face, my inner fear must have been apparent to all
    present. I was the only one present who remained silent and apart
    from the group.

    I repeated to myself that such things do not happen to normal
    people. I had attended a charismatic church once, out of
    curiosity, but had merely seen a congregation dance wildly, pray
    enthusiastically, and speak in a language that sounded like
    gibberish. I wondered how the horror unfolding before my eyes
    could make any sense. I desperately wanted it all to end, but
    could not leave.

    Then the fear and doubts began. Though I have experienced the
    normal periods of questioning, I have never come so close to
    abandoning my faith as I did that night. I could not pray to God.
    I tried as hard as I could, but I couldn't. Out of desperation, I
    called upon the saints to articulate my prayers and rescue me from
    this living nightmare. Though I had never prayed with the saints
    before, I began to understand the Church's teaching of the unity
    within the One Body. I pleaded with the saints in Heaven to offer
    God the prayers I was unable to formulate.

    Susan's sister sent someone to call a local minister experienced
    in such matters. Some desperate part of my brain wondered if we
    should also call the campus priest. I wanted the full authority of
    the Church to confront this demon, or whatever was causing this
    horrible scene. I wanted the priest to bring the Eucharist and
    watch the spirits fall before the power of Christ's Real Presence.
    But I was scared. I wondered what would happen if the Eucharist
    did nothing and the priest was helpless. What if the consecrated
    Bread was just bread? What if the Church had no power over the
    cause of Susan's bizarre behavior? I was unable to pray and too
    frightened to test my Church's spiritual strength.

    I, like many other students feeling the effects of the night, was
    swaying from exhaustion. I was mentally, emotionally, physically,
    and spiritually drained of everything I possessed. I was ready to
    give up. I rubbed my hands over my face and through my hair in an
    attempt to stir hidden reserves of energy. Though her eyes had
    been closed the entire time and I was kneeling several feet away,
    Susan must have sensed my actions. Addressing me for the second
    and last time, Susan told me to leave because I was tired.

    Whenever I concentrated long enough to begin prayer, I felt some
    type of physical force distracting me. It was as if something was
    pushing down on my chest, making it very hard for me to breathe.
    Being a biology major at the time, I greeted this feeling with
    skepticism and rational explanations. I checked my pulse for signs
    of nervousness and wondered what could cause such a sensation.
    Shortness of breath is a common symptom that can mean very little
    or may signal the onslaught of a fatal stroke. Though I could find
    no cause for my chest pains, I was very scared of what was
    happening to me and Susan. I began to think that the demon would
    only attack me if I tried to pray or fight back; thus, I resigned
    myself to leaving it alone in an attempt to find peace for myself.

    I gave up all attempts at prayer and admitted conditional defeat.
    The effort succeeded and I felt relief immediately. There were no
    more mysterious forces and I was able to watch the proceedings
    with the security of an outsider, beyond the immediate reality of
    the frenzied action I was witnessing. It may have been I was
    trying too hard to pray and be there for Susan; however, the sense
    of fear and dread felt like more than mere anxiety at the time.

    Maybe she sensed our weariness; whether by plan or coincidence,
    Susan chose the perfect opportunity to attempt an escape. She
    suddenly leapt up and ran for the door, despite the many hands
    holding her down. This burst of action served to revive the tired
    group of students and they soon had her restrained once again,
    this time half kneeling and half standing. Alice, a student leader
    in Campus Crusade for Christ, entered the room for the first time,
    brandishing a crucifix. Running out of options, UCF had turned to
    a rival campus Christian group for spiritual tactics. The preacher
    had denied our request for assistance and recommended that we not
    confront the demon; his suggestion was a little late. I still
    wonder if the good preacher was too settled to be roused from bed,
    or if this supposed expert doubted his own ability to confront
    whatever harassed Susan.

    Alice's presence countered Susan's recent burst of energy, and
    Alice's confidence inspired us all. Surely Crusade's experienced
    leader would be able to rescue us and reaffirm our faith in
    Christ, the Bible, and everything good. Even I felt confident
    enough to approach God once again; Susan's lunge for the door
    awakened and invigorated me. Strangely, I found myself repeating
    the Hail Mary until it became a chant. Being a recent convert to
    Catholicism, I had yet to accept the Catholic doctrines
    concerning Mary and considered any form of Marian devotion to be
    idolatry. Though I had never before prayed a Hail Mary in my life,
    I suddenly found myself incapable of any other form of prayer.
    Somehow, Mary's intercessions allowed me to find peace during that
    long night; I knew that I had survived the worst and that I would
    exit with my faith intact. It terrified me to recall how close I
    came to turning away from Christ out of fear.

    The crucifix had a calming effect on Susan, and her sister was
    soon brave enough to bring a Bible to her face. At first, Susan
    responded to biblical passages with curses and profanities. Mixed
    in with her vile attacks were short and desperate pleas for help.
    In the same breath that she attacked Christ, the Bible's
    authenticity, and everyone assembled in prayer, Susan would
    suddenly urge us to rescue her. It appeared as if we were
    observing a tremendous battle between the Susan we knew and loved
    and some strange evil force. But the momentum had shifted and we
    now sensed that victory was at hand.

    While Alice and Louise held Susan, her sister continued holding
    the Bible to her face. Almost taunting the evil spirit that had
    almost beaten us minutes before, the students dared Susan to read
    biblical passages. She choked on certain passages and could not
    finish the sentence "Jesus is Lord." Over and over, she repeated
    "Jesus is L..L..LL," often ending in profanities. In between her
    futile attempts, Susan pleaded with us to continue trying and
    often smiled between the grimaces that accompanied her readings of
    Scripture. Just as suddenly as she went into the trance, Susan
    suddenly reappeared and claimed "Jesus is Lord."

    With an almost comical smile, Susan then looked up as if awakening
    from a deep sleep and asked, "Has something happened?" She did not
    remember any of the past few hours and was startled to find her
    friends breaking out in cheers and laughter, overwhelmed by
    sudden joy and relief.

    My expression must have betrayed my former fears; Stacy, a
    freshman I hardly knew, asked about my welfare. I was startled
    that anyone would be offering me assistance when Susan should
    have been the focus of attention. I eventually left the room in a
    stupor. As I was leaving in a crowd, Susan's sister, who had met
    me once years before, called my name and asked that I "commit my
    nightlife to prayer." I hardly understood what she meant and was
    startled that others continued to single me out for attention. I
    nodded and looked gently at Susan, who thanked me for coming.

    Though I waited for a friend to avoid being alone during the walk
    home, the rest of the night proceeded without incident. My nightly
    prayers, despite my apprehensions, came to me easily and I no
    longer had any problems approaching God; indeed, I left that night
    with a reaffirmed faith in God's power over any force in or out of
    this world. If the night's events had not seemed so real, I would
    have thought my earlier fears silly.

    Susan stayed in the house of a missionary with experience in
    spiritual warfare in foreign countries. Her sister thought it best
    she stay out of her own room. Susan's roommate, the daughter of a
    Hmong faith healer, had decorated the room with supposedly pagan
    influences. Other theories explaining the night's events soon
    surfaced. Susan's mother had once worshipped and offered a
    sacrifice at a pagan altar in the Far East for her husband's
    health, though he had been healed, she had been warned not to
    repeat such practices, but had returned to that same altar in the
    Far East upon hearing of Susan's illness. The UCF staff member
    dismissed Susan's affliction as a psychological disorder,
    precipitated by the semester's stress, and advised her to seek
    professional help. Susan, who had experienced visions and other
    related phenomena as a child, thought her intense flirting with
    guys and straying away from God had led to this punishment.

    When the operation occurred, the surgeons found no traces of
    cancerous cells. Susan claimed she had felt healed after the group
    prayer and can remember the sensation of being "purified"; she
    saw her physical and spiritual afflictions as being related. The
    physician's improbable explanation that the biopsy may have
    removed all the cancerous tissue is no less far-fetched.

    Susan still struggles with the theological implications of her
    experience. Though she recalls nothing of what happened that
    night, the tidbits she hears from others terrify her. Can a
    Christian be "possessed"? What precipitated her attack and will it
    happen again? Susan has talked with ministers, charismatic
    pastors, and others. It took months before we could reestablish
    our friendship and she was able to trust me. Though I do not have
    the answers she desperately seeks, I have provided comfort and
    support whenever Susan has fears or doubts. With holy water and
    blessed crucifixes, I have even given her physical protection from
    the demons that have only once reappeared, and then for a mere
    moment. We have resolved the tension in our relationship and I am
    developing the ability to selflessly care for others.

    I now realize that Susan's initial outburst during the concert
    was a cry for help. Even more terrifying than the threat of cancer
    and surgery were her nightly visions. However, Susan and I
    retreated behind the barriers we had built between us before she
    had the chance to seek my help. Given my response, it may have
    been just as well that I had not known about the true cause of her
    anxiety. I had attempted to solve her problems alone and had not
    once mentioned the power of prayer or the necessity of relying on
    God. I cannot imagine the disastrous consequences if I had
    attempted to confront Susan's visions with my own strength.

    The members and leadership of UCF have never publicly discussed
    what we witnessed and experienced that night, rationalizing that
    it may deter new Christians. Most of us were too scared to discuss
    it even among ourselves. Ironically, Alice, a lapsed Catholic and
    a practicing Evangelical, had deployed a crucifix blessed by the
    Pope and given to her by a friend. That night marked the beginning
    of her and Louise's investigation into the Church; while serving
    as presidents of UCF and Campus Crusade for Christ, both left
    their leadership roles to be confirmed into the Catholic Church.
    Stacy, the freshman concerned about my welfare, became a close
    friend and another convert to the Church. Perhaps most amazing of
    all, Susan, despite her vicious attacks against the Church while
    in her trance and despite her sister's staunch opposition, has
    also become an active member of the Catholic Church.

    I left that classroom with a powerful belief in Mary's
    intercessions and with many questions about spiritual warfare; I
    also learned a lasting lesson in humility and the limits of human
    understanding. Was the purpose of that night served when so many
    individuals were inducted into the Church? Did I witness
    spiritual warfare? I do not have the answers, but I do believe in
    the reality of spirits, angels, and other related phenomena that
    I can neither touch nor see.