In the Crazy House with Christ(c) 2005

The Holy Spirit has been cited as the cause for much shouting and praise in churches throughout the United States and perhaps the world. Rarely is He given the blame for this same behavior outside the confines of the church walls. I hope that changes after I tell you what happened to me.

Having grown up in the church - saved, baptized and sanctified - I am very familiar with the experience referred to as “catching the holy ghost”. Yet it is not until this very moment that I realized that the series of circumstances I will relate were identical in nature to “getting happy” in church, except it endured beyond the allotted time in the church format for praise and worship. In fact, it endured for the better part of a year – concluding with September 11, 2001.

While, I can’t accurately date when the spirit took over and then released me, I can tell you the reward of meeting Abraham, Jesus and Moses in the flesh was well worth all that my mind, body and reputation endured. We met in Bellevue Hospital in the mental ward. I prefer the term crazy house. It says everything to me. “The crazy house is where they keep the crazy people” is what my Mother would tell me when I was kid. We grew up near Poughkeepsie, NY where there was a large mental institution. So my peers and I would often be threatened with being sent to Poughkeepsie for any behavior that was not considered socially acceptable by an adult.

So the first time, I was taken to a crazy house as an adult, all the fear and guilt of my childhood was ever-present, albeit in the background of the true calling which led me there. The calling was to “free the dumb – make the blind see – the deaf hear”. Every subsequent visit, I’ve lost count, has been in response to the same call.

On this particular call, I was completing my second year of service as an attorney for legal aid in Newark, NJ. Psychiatry described these experiences as bi-polar disorder or schizophrenia. On each occasion I was overcome by an overwhelming desire to preach a sermon in a public place. Then when the sermon was complete, I desired to be in the company of sinners to demonstrate and be the demonstration of God’s love to sinners.

I felt completely filled not with blood, tissues or bones – rather the power of the words of the Creator – the same power that set the planet in motion and that causes an earthquake. Whatever unseen force one believes is capable of providing the most physical power to the planet filled my every pore. A power so great to cause time to go in any direction– to eliminate the need for food, sleep, or any other bodily function.

Yet it was not religiously inspired. I was not attending a church, synagogue, temple or mosque when the power arrived. I did not invite it or notice any perceptible change. It did however happen during the year that Christmas, Ramadan, Hannukah and the Night of Power all coincided. This experience began during the most revered and sacred times of year for the vast majority of god-fearing Americans.
My calling led me places that I did not know existed before I went to do things that I did not know I would do upon arrival. On this December day I went to have a drink with a dear friend in the Herald Square neighborhood of NYC. We exchanged gifts. We were both really into our five series palm pilots that were state of the art at the time. She gave me a new leather case for my palm pilot. I was in love with her – she was involved with someone else. Our platonic love affair was a powerful force and positive energy in the stress of my daily legal battles with landlords, and other agencies that appeared to conspire to keep poor people homeless.

I didn’t know it, but I wanted to preach to the world that perhaps this year instead of giving material things that we can give the gift of our selves. Or we can give the gift of a home and a hot meal to someone who would not get it. Now, I had not preached a sermon in over a decade; in fact, I did not give too many speeches at that time. But after leaving Tina-Gaye and seeing her lovely face filled with the stress of commerciality and fear of economic oppression – I was infused with a new disgust for godlessness anywhere.

I became the self appointed Judge and Jury to reign down damnation via the spoken word on to the world with a promise of success to all those who had nothing of material worth. So as I sped walked west on west 34th street to Penn Station to get on a train going to Albany - to give a new law. I did not know the exact wording of the law yet, but I was a lawyer and Albany was where laws were made the rest would happen when I arrived.

I was not worthy to go to Albany. I was guilty of using this power to verbally assault the conductor for some slight I perceived he heaped upon me. I was asked to get off the train in some town outside of New York City. I gladly complied because every warrior must have opposition and now mine had begun to make moves to defeat the plan to unseat money from the throne of God. Now that I was aware of the opposition, I was free to unleash my power – the power of God’s words coming out of my mouth.

The first large church structure I came to I began to point to all the signs that we were victims of breaking the first of all religious commandments – associating partners with God or having other gods before God. This particular church was named for some revered person and sat on a street likewise named. I began to preach outside the church that the name was unacceptable according to any religious book ever read. In addition, I challenged members that went inside to bring their minister outside so we can settle this right here and now. I was prepared to do everything from debate to break dance to defend my position.

I was unworthy of challenging the minister. I made a promise that I would hold church outside the building at a certain hour – but when that hour came I did not return. I continued north on my sojourn to change the world to my own interpretation of God’s pure word as he was giving it to me. I continued in this fashion through the night – not sleeping; stopping only occasionally to rest.

I began to suspect that by now some state officials must be taking notice of my campaign that was designed to unseat them from their positions of power. My clarion call to the meek to begin this day to inherit the earth and the contents thereof was most assuredly causing them great fear and trepidation. Who was I? I was not myself? I did not know where I was?

On Christmas day, I was blessed to end up in a men’s homeless shelter. Finally, I had landed among God’s people. The people he sent me to alert that God’s kingdom was here – up you mighty people. Yet my mission required that I speak to Jews, gentiles, Christians, Muslims, Budhists - saint and agnostic, even and especially the Satan worshippers. After, a warm meal and fellowship with members of the AME church in New Rochelle, I went back to the men’s shelter to learn some new skill that I needed to get me through the rest of this mission. I was quickly and thoroughly tutored in the art of telepathic communication.

The education that I gained that night, made it clear that I was at the beginning of a new journey. So instead of going to the shelter to sleep, I went back out to preach and counsel the new followers of the true God. I was now more effective, armed with my new communication tool. I was better able to reach potential converts without opening my mouth. More importantly, I began to see who was already on the job. Who had been laying the foundation for my ministry while I was working for legal aid, law firms and studying in college? I had been healed – I could now see them and I could also hear them. I could even speak to them without opening my mouth.

That night, I encountered beings that were hundreds of years old and they smiled at me. They smiled on my soul and encouraged me forward. I heard them whisper into my heart – “don’t stop” – “just ahead”. I had no idea that a personal encounter with Satan, Jesus, Abraham and Moses was just ahead.