In this sample of our weekly Patreon bonus episode, Julian travels back in time to the 80s. He finds that when it comes to the fear of diabolical evil, the appeal of conspiracy patterns, and the missionary zeal of cults, everything old is new again. *Content Warning: Briefly contains one disturbing account of ritual abuse and one reference to suicide.
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Hello, Matthew here from the Conspirituality Podcast Team.
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I don't remember what he said, but he had us in the palm of his hand, hanging on his every word about how to be godly, how to live in the spirit of Jesus Christ, how to keep the devil at bay in our daily lives.
About halfway through, he had us all stand up again and shake hands or hug the people closest to us to tell one another, you are loved and redeemed in Christ.
I was overwhelmed.
Emotional.
I didn't know these people, but they seemed to really care about something really important and they were welcoming me into a feeling of belonging and understanding that was palpable, if a little weird and squirmy.
Next, more joyful songs now with lyrics on the big screen, more preaching, and then the collection plate was passed around as the pastor talked about the virtues of tithing and how whatever you gave to the church would come back to you tenfold through the grace of God.
Amen, people shouted from the congregation, if you had faith and gave freely with an open heart.
Then came the unexpectedly quiet climax.
Really, I guess, the recruitment finale.
The multicolored lights were dimmed.
The band played soft and steady.
A hypnotic swell of sound under the practiced stage whispers from the microphone, asking, is it anyone's first time?
If anyone here is new to the congregation today and you're feeling the Spirit, if you're ready from this moment forward to accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior and walk in the love of God from this day forward, come on down.
Do you feel Jesus talking to you right now like a warm, soft light in your heart inviting you home?
If you're ready to stop trying to win the battle against the ungodly world all by yourself and turn your life over to the Almighty Living God, come on down.
Like all the other newbies in the room, I had supportive eyes and encouraging expressions all around me, urging me to heed the call and join the gradually gathering group walking down the aisles to the front of the auditorium.
Tears welled up and spilled over my acne-riddled cheeks as I sobbed softly with Kevin's mother's hand on my shoulder, his father looking on kindly, And a huge smile on Kevin's face.
I wasn't ready to go up.
And they were okay with that.
Afterward, the exit was, perhaps predictably, through the gift shop.
As the bustling throng bathed in the afterglow, Kevin's mother was especially popular, and every conversation was sort of the same.
She would ask about some difficulty she knew the person had been having, and the lady—it was usually a lady—she was talking to would share some painful detail—the lost job, the dying parent, the sick child.
And then immediately proclaim how much faith they had, that God was taking care of it for them, and how happy they were to have found Christ.
I'd never seen or heard people interacting this way.
It was very extroverted, emotional, vulnerable, but also felt a bit, in a way I couldn't have described back then, unhinged.
A thin veneer of faith covering over manic desperation, a longing to connect, grasping at performative platitudes and collaborative pretense.
I can enunciate that now, but back then it was just a complicated and uneasy feeling in my gut.
Later that day, Kevin's dad had kindly offered to drive me back home, and we all took the ride together.
With about 15 minutes left to go, he asked how I was doing.
I had been quiet and was still recovering from a very new and somewhat disorienting experience.
You seem tense, he said.
Are you worried about something?
No.
Do your parents go to church?
I mumbled something about not being sure my parents would understand what had happened that morning.
Kevin turned to me with a kind but somber face right there in the back seat of his father's car and said, It's because the devil lives in your house, Julian.
And he knows that you're filled with the Holy Spirit now.
I never went back to Raymer Church or spent the night at Kevin's, but in the weeks that followed, I was obsessed with a cassette tape he slipped to me as I got out of the car that night.
Ironically, that tape was probably what saved me, especially once I started earnestly trying to clue my parents in to what it revealed.
