Why Pray Daily? - Bruce Atchison

When I gave my life to Christ in August of 1969, nobody mentored me in the faith. As a result, I drifted aimlessly through my first few years as a believer until a friend invited me to a cultic house church. Though they held many blasphemous doctrines, they also taught me some valuable truths.

From my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, here is an excerpt that relates how I began communing with the heavenly Father daily.

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Though I petitioned and thanked God once in a while, as in the case of Mom finding me my new room, nobody taught me about the importance of having communion with him through prayer every day. That changed soon after I moved to Mr. Forcier's house. "Are you praying every day?" Terry asked me after church one Sunday as we ate lunch in Sister E's kitchen.

"No. Why should I? I don't need anything now."

"You really should do that, you know. Prayer is important because it's part of your relationship with Jesus Christ."

"Oh? I didn't know that."

"Well, it's true. You shouldn't pray just when you need something. The apostle Paul used to pray daily. He even said in his letter to the Ephesians that he prayed for his friends each day."

I considered this new concept as I ate and later as Sister E drove me home. "What if Felix or the Forciers overhear me praying?" I worried. "Jesus did say to go into your closet and pray so nobody else will hear? Will I lose my blessing or get in trouble with God if somebody overhears me?" As I pondered, I recalled that a science teacher once told me about white noise and the way its broad frequency spectrum drowned out speech. The sole source of that type of sound I had on hand was my radio.

Once I was alone in my room, I selected the F.M. band and tuned the dial between stations. Then I spoke in a low voice to Jesus. My first daily prayer only lasted a few minutes. Since nobody knocked at my door and demanded to know to whom I was speaking, as Mrs. R often did, I omitted the white noise from then on.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books are now available for purchase online by clicking here. You may click here to e-mail me directly as well.

The Strange Practice of House Dedication – Bruce Atchison.

During the seventies and eighties, I attended a cultic church. Not only did its self-appointed minister teach many aberrant doctrines but he claimed he received revelations directly from God. One of these was that all Christian homes must be dedicated to the Lord. He never told us the scriptural basis for this but Deuteronomy 20:5 fits it well. He added to this doctrine the superstitious beliefs that blessing homes kept out wicked spirits and that they attached themselves to evil possessions.

I described how this peculiar ritual was performed several times in my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir. In this excerpt from my manuscript, I relate how the cult leader himself dedicated my furnished room.

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Sister R, Brother H, and Sister E participated in the ceremony one evening a few weeks later. As Brother H waddled around my twelve-by-fifteen-foot room, reaching out his hands to detect demons, he pronounced blessings and rebuked foul spirits. Then he dabbed anointing oil on the corridor and balcony doorposts as well as the window frame.

After having gone over the whole room, including the closet, he hesitated. "I feel that there is still an evil presence in this room. Do you have anything here which is wicked, Bruce?"

"Well, I have some war memoirs by Spike Milligan. They do have some vulgar language in them I suppose."

"That's it then. You must get rid of those books. They're attracting demonic spirits."

My heart sank. I loved Spike's hilarious war memoirs. They contained some obscene humour, but that was how secular soldiers coped in battle. I also bought his comic novel, Puckoon, a fictional story of an Irish village divided by the Boundary Commission when the country was partitioned in 1924. As that book also contained some bawdy humour, I sighed as I dropped it and the other brand-new paperbacks in the garbage.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books are now available for purchase online by clicking here. You may click here to e-mail me directly as well.

A Wise Answer For Christian Schoolchildren - Bruce Atchison.

Evolution is now the default belief system in public schools throughout western countries. This places pupils of faith in an awkward position. Should they answer test questions as if they believed the textbook or should they stay true to the Bible and risk receiving a bad mark?

One church friend gave me a clever answer to this quandary in 1974. From my upcoming How I was Razed memoir, here is a valuable reply which satisfies the faith convictions of students as well as the needs of teachers.

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I faced a dilemma when I returned to science class that January. Like millions of public school students, teachers taught me that the theory of evolution was the only reasonable explanation for the origin of the universe. "What can I do about this?" I asked Sister E one Wednesday evening as we sipped coffee in her kitchen after the meeting. "I like science but I hate that Evolution junk."

"I know how you feel," she said as she set her cup on the table. "When I was going to school, I had a lot of difficulty with science. I didn't want to write that this or that was true. Brother H told me I should say 'scientists believe that...' or 'the book says...' when I answer test questions."

"Wow! I'll have to remember that. That's so cool. You mean I could just say, 'According to the theory, this happened,' or something like that?"

"Sure. You wouldn't be lying or betraying Jesus. All you're doing is telling them what you had learned."

"That's brilliant," I smiled. "Thanks for telling me that. I'll do that the next time I write a test."

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), are now available online by clicking here or by clicking here to e-mail me directly.

True Brotherly Love - Bruce Atchison

We certainly live in a self-reliant culture. For example, people would rather drive than take the bus or walk. Many folks frown upon those who live on welfare payments. In my own experience, I've had friends avoid me after I've asked a favour of them for the second or third time.

On the other hand, I've striven to be as self-reliant as possible, even though I'm almost blind. This character attribute is good in moderation but it can cause us to miss out on being blessed by our brothers and sisters in Christ.

In December of 1977, I went on a short term missions trip with Operation Mobilization to the Mexican city of Saltillo. While there, we went door to door with tracts, held street evangelism meetings, and studied methods of spreading the gospel in foreign lands. From my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, here's a vignette of how I nearly missed out on being blessed by a fellow Christian.

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Since the Americans and Mexicans did not celebrate Boxing Day, we resumed our usual routine. I was blessed again, this time by a kind deed done by a soft-spoken Mexican brother named Adin. "May I please wash your coat?," he beamed. "It looks a bit dirty."

"That's all right, I think it's clean enough."

"Please let me do this. It is my way of serving my fellow Christians."

As I was about to demur again, I suddenly realized that letting him help me would honour Christ. Apart from that, bright yellow tends to show the dirt quickly. I removed the contents of my pockets and handed the nylon jacket to him. As I watched, he rinsed it under a tap over a ceramic scrubbing board and poured a little laundry detergent powder on it. Then he laboriously scrubbed every inch of the coat, rinsed it under the tap, wrung it out thoroughly, and handed it to me. I thanked him several times for blessing me with his selfless act of service, feeling chided by memories of occasions when I forgot to express my gratitude.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), are now available online by clicking here or by clicking here to e-mail me directly.