And now for something completely different: Bigfoot

Well, after returning from a very long and busy hiatus, I thought I might post another personal experience; this is one I had not long ago.

My family and I live in a rather remote location. It makes for a long commute, but does give us the opportunity to observe nature in a way that most people never can. Since moving here, I've personally seen everything from earthworms as big around as a pencil to foxes to bobcats to eagles to coyotes. The most impressive sighting I've yet had though happened on my way to work the other day when I saw my first black bear.

I was coming around a bed in the road (slowly, thankfully) and first saw only a fleeting shadow moving onto the road. As a came around, the bear was most of the way across. I slowed almost to a stop, while he (or she) skidded to a halt, nearly fell down, and then "gallumped" back across the road into the brush.

To begin with, I must say that anyone who talks about "itty, bitty" black bears has either never seen one or must have grown up around grizzlies and kodiaks. This was not a dainty creature by any stretch of the imagination. He probably weighed more than me, and that's saying something.

More importantly for present purposes, I was struck by two other facts.

First, having only previously seen relatively sedentary bears in various zoos, I suppose I expected him to be of a rolly-polly sort: chubby with shorter legs (easpecially rear legs). In reality, this bear was lean and powerful, and stood far off the ground, even on four legs. That would make sense, given that the average black bear has a territory of over one hundred square miles and roams constantly. At any rate, it wasn't what I somehow expected to see.

Second, its gait wasn't what I expected. To be honest, I'm not really sure what I was looking for, but the long, reaching, loping pace looked odd. It almost looked like a man trying to scramble along on four legs, at least at first.

Which brings me to my point. Aside from another interesting animal tidbit, this little encounter made it easy for me to see how, in certain circumstances, someone could mistake a bear for a bigfoot.

At first glance, the shape can seem more human-like that bear-like (if one is expecting teddy bears instead of long legs on a lean body). The loping gait can almost look ape-like, and of course the matted black fur would fit perfectly. if I hadn't seen his face very clearly, and I was an ardent believer, I might indeed jump to an unjustified conclusion. The picture below is an example. While some people vehemently believe that it must be a "juvenile bigfoot", in the absence of a clear look at the face, I must agree with the fish and game department: it's a black bear with mange. Not terribly exciting, but probably true.

Of course, I'm not implying that bears can account for all bigfoot sightings, that anyone who has a clear line of observation (as I did) could make such a mistake, or that anyone sufficiently woodcrafty could be fooled. But I do think that at least some sightings can be blamed on this source.

I do think it interesting nonetheless.

EVP contamination and the Ghost Hunters

It will probably come as no surprise that my wife and I enjoy watching the hit Sci-Fi show Ghost Hunters when we can manage it. One of the more interesting pieces of evidence they often capture is called an "EVP" (Electronic Voice Phenomenon). They are often able to produce one or more spooky voices saying this or that (or nothing in particular at all) even when they have had no personal experiences or caught anything on video. (I can only imagine how sick Jason, Grant, and Steve are of explaining the idea behind EVPs to the camera in their headquarters from fifteen different angles for each show.)

I came across an interesting point on this subject in one of Phillip Imbrogno's book's: While investigating an interesting EVP, he was able to recreate the phenomenon by using a radio transmitter hidden in the vicinity of his analog recorder. He notes that this method even added a strange and spooky tone to the recording (and probably mucked up TV reception for a whole block).

Now, I understand that this is nothing new, and it seems to affect both analog and digital recorders. The idea of RF contamination of EVPs is something I hadn't encountered before though (grad school tends to keep one away from the most detailed of paranormal reading). Some researchers are now actively countering this concern with experiments and safeguards, such as constructing RF proof containers for their equipment. To the credit of the researchers and the EVP phenomenon, voices and sounds are still being entered into evidence, even in RF free environments.

I find it strange, though, that TAPS has yet to even mention RF contamination as a possible problem, and certainly has taken no obvious steps against it (I've seen every episode through the first half of season four). The only hint of concern I've thus far been able to detect was a very minor one. I noticed recently that in the episode where they first introduce their technical development man (Ron Milione, I believe) that he demonstrates a new EMF meter. If you look on the meter itself, you can see that it also has a setting to detect RF. This was never demonstrated nor discussed, and I noticed that those particular models seemed to disappear from the show in relatively short order.

I would think that they would be concerned, since the opportunity for hoaxing is obviously a real issue. In fact, if I knew that they were going to be in my area, I would be tempted to rig up a device similar to Imbrogno's and have some fun. I would love to see the look on their faces when they heard "Dude! Run!" or "We're from TAPS, we're here to help!" or “Jason Hawes wears women’s underwear!” appear on their recorders.

There are two points in particular that lead me to think TAPS should be more cautious: First, presuming the best and most noble intentions on the part of each individual TAPS member, there are still plenty of people who would definitely gain from successfully hoaxing them. From simply members of the public wanting attention to "haunted" tourist traps (i.e. the Moss Beach Distillery and the Queen Mary) to the show's own producers, many people have every motive to hoax TAPS right out of their pants. Second, since TAPS doesn't have the ability to completely control or even fully examine the environment in which their investigations take place, subtle hoaxing would be quite practical. I believe that it would even be possible to hoax the all-powerful "responsive EVP" using equipment available on eBay and of course at Radio Shack.

(A "responsive EVP" is the Holy Grail of EVP work. It involves a hidden voice on a recorder responding directly to the questions or actions of an investigator. This would obviously, in theory, virtually rule out the possibility of random contamination or misunderstandings.)

So, if I wanted to pull it off, how would I do it?

I would need access to the premises and a map of the location (I'm presuming it would be a house or other modern structure with drywall and hollow walls.). I would hardwire small boom microphones into several "haunted" locations. The fine art of hiding microphones has been well developed, and as for the wires, they would need to be run through the walls and under the attic insulation (a very easy job for anyone with even the slightest electrical experience). I would also use telephone wire, which would be even less noticeable. Since I've yet to see any member of TAPS knock down any drywall, there would be no fear of discovery. Hardwiring the mikes would prevent any chance of TAPS own equipment picking up on their transmissions.

Next, I would need to develop a way to get my phony EVPs onto the TAPs equipment. (Here, I get a little fuzzy, since this is definitely not my area of expertise, but since when has expertise mattered in the blogosphere?) One answer to this would be to wire in one or two of the many small, portable RF transmitters that are available. I would open up an obscure section of drywall, place the transmitter inside (wired near an existing electrical item, like an outlet box, that could obscure or explain away the transmitter's EM signature), and close it up again. If I didn't want to risk that (or if they cut the power), it might also be possible to construct a powerful single direction RF transmitter that could be used to focus on a single room (I'm not sure how this would affect their walkies). I believe it might even be possible to gut an old stereo and modify its circuitry to transmit instead of receive. If wired properly, it could just sit in the room transmitting when told to, and go unnoticed.

All of these wires would be collected at a sensible point and routed through a small trench to either a locked outbuilding (with its own power supply, independent of the main house) or even over to a neighbor's property. As long as you aren't digging up grass or breaking concrete (in which case you would have to leave more time before TAPS arrived), one hard rainstorm would obliterate evidence of your digging.

It’s vague speculation, but I would guess this part of the hoax could be pulled off for as little at $200. That would be money well spent for people who make their living from owning and promoting a “haunted” location.

There would still be a little more prep work for the paranoid at heart: I would watch the various episodes of Ghost Hunters to identify what type of equipment they use, especially the equipment I don’t want to affect (i.e. IR cameras, walkie talkies, phones, etc.), and test my set up on each of them. That would allow me to fiddle with the transmission frequency so that I would be most likely to get hits on their recording media, without interfering with their communications and thereby making someone suspicious.

So, how would it work? It would be a simple matter of waiting for the TAPS EVP sweep to come through, hearing the question posed through the mike, and then responding appropriately. If the transmission was garbled or incomplete, so much the better. In theory, any odd EMF (electromagnetic field) readings would be blamed on bad house wiring, which at worst would cause them to toss out their EMF evidence (the weakest, in my opinion) and best would have Steve and company chasing my transmitter signal around the room only to be amazed when it disappears entirely. With an extra dose of luck, it could become an “EMF spike” and taken as further evidence that the house was haunted.

Presuming I leave nothing obvious lying about (like the box for the transmitter) there are only three practical ways for TAPS to catch me, that I can think of:

• If my signals bleed over into the transmission and reception range of other equipment, TAPS or otherwise. I think that would just be a risk that I would have to accept, though I would do everything I could to minimize it.

• TAPS suddenly becomes much more invasive in their investigations than they have heretofore been. They would need to go digging in the yard, demanding entry into locked buildings, knocking into walls, or ripping out insulation at random places. Given the need to maintain their reputation, this just won’t happen. After all, who would invite a ghost hunting group that would destroy any location they visited?

• Finally, they would need to keep detailed time logs of significant EMF spikes and EVPs. Upon comparison, it might be possible to connect the EMF spike from my transmissions to the recorded EVP. To date, I’ve seen no evidence that they even keep specific logs of either phenomenon, or try to compare them. They might, but maybe that’s a deleted scene.

My guess is that TAPS knows full well the implications of their EVP gathering techniques. Apparently, these contamination issues have been discussed and argued in the field since at least 1975, so I find it hard to believe they’ve just missed it, like I did. But after all, whatever its origins, TAPS is now a dual purpose group: They accumulate paranormal evidence and they provide fodder for a series of TV shows that people will only watch if interesting things happen.
At least some of those things must be paranormal.

At the same time, I hate to think ill of them. After all, there's only so much technical jargon you can bring in and still keep the show interesting. I do hope, however, that they at least mention how they address this somewhat gaping hole in their EVP credibility.

More Mysterious Fireballs Over Texas

It looks like those odd fireballs may not be done with Texas. Here is an account of something strange that was first blamed on falling satellite debris, but later authorities said was of unknown origin. Residents saw multiple fireballs and some even claimed to feel/hear large explosions. Helicopter-based searches revealed nothing.

Joking aside, this doesn't appear to be the same phenomenon I personally observed, and discussed in my December 08 posts to this blog. For one, these were apparently not green, did not follow a parallel flight path to the ground, and took place in the daylight. On the other hand, residents were sure that the debris must have hit the ground, but no evidence of impact was found.

There it is, for what it's worth.

An Interesting Story Regarding the Guardian Black Dog

There are certain kinds of stories and accounts that automatically impress me more than others. For instance, stories that seem to defy the cultural expectations in place around them (i.e. a description of a spirit that doesn’t look or act at all like people in that area and age expect them to act) seem to me to carry more weight than ones that feature entities that appear as if they were sent down from central casting. Conversely, consistence with tradition isn’t always a bad thing. Other impressive accounts can emerge when someone with no apparent knowledge of the history of a particular phenomenon claims to encounter something, and the something they encounter fits historical precedents with uncanny precision.

I stumbled upon one such instance a few years back while visiting a friend, this time regarding the infamous Black Dog.

In my general reading, I had of course come across various accounts of the phenomenon variously known as the Black Dog, Black Shuck, Trash, or Church Grim. Belief in these supernatural creatures is widespread, and they seem to play a whole spectrum of roles. Many times the Grim is a harbinger of death, and will often attach itself to certain family lines. Some say even seeing one of the spectral hounds is enough to kill you. (My own wife experienced a vision of a large black wolf near the time she miscarried our first child—hence my personal interest.) On the other hand, other legends speak of the Dog as a protector, particularly of those entering into unwitting danger.

I once read an account that illustrates this latter tendency well, and provides the context to the interesting correlation I encountered at my friend’s home. According to this story, a man named Johnny was set to travel through a very rough section of forest in England in the 1700 or 1800’s. This area was known for harboring bandits, and, to make matters worse, he would have to travel that road at night, in order to keep his schedule.

As a merchant, he was carrying a decent amount of money, and so knew he would make a good target. As he approached the wood before nightfall, he was surprised to see a gigantic black dog waiting under the eaves of the trees. The dog was so huge and intimidating that he nearly lost his nerve and turned his horse around, but somehow he steeled himself and pushed forward. The dog made no aggressive move, but rather turned and started trotting alongside of him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Johnny rode most of the night, and even after dark, he could still hear the animal padding along beside him, though he could not see it in the gloom. When they reached the far edge of the wood, he could tell that his odd companion left him and wandered back into blackness.

By the next evening, Johnny had finished his business and faced another daunting trip back through the woods. Once again, the dog awaited him at the edge of the trees, and once again it escorted him silently along the path, keeping perfect pace with his horse. At the far edge, the animal once again disappeared, this time for good.

It wasn’t long before the local rumor mill got moving, and Johnny supposedly learned that he had indeed been a target for bandits that night. They had intended to attack him in the forest, take his money, and kill him. Their plan seemed good until they saw Johnny had apparently brought his massive canine with him. They decided that Johnny and the dog together would be too much of a risk, and so they had returned the next night, hoping to catch him on his trip home. When they saw the dog again, they had given it up entirely.

This story from some 200 odd years ago took on a new meaning for me while visiting my aforementioned friend. While there, I picked up a copy of Guideposts magazine from October 2001 to peruse. When I come across these, I always like to read the “His Mysterious Ways” section, since you never know what it might contain. This one happened to give me one of my most interesting correlatory accounts of the paranormal.

It told the story of a young pastor and his family. They were just starting out in the ministry and had taken a charge in a crime riddled area of an inner city. It came about that the husband would have to leave for several days to go to a conference, and his wife and children would not be able to come. They were obviously very worried, since this would mean his family staying alone in the house, and they were seriously concerned that someone might try to break in when it became apparent he wasn’t home. There was no other option, though, so they took what precautions they could, and the husband left.

He had not been gone long, when a very large black dog, described as a Labrador retriever, showed up on their front step and plopped down. Once he had established himself, he refused to leave, even when the wife tried to chase him off. He played with the children gently, and greeted her warmly, but menaced anyone else who came near the house, even the mailman. He was definitely the self-appointed guard of the property and the family. The wife eventually accepted this new member of the family and was trying to figure out how to explain this to her husband when he got back. Most interesting, though, was what happened when her husband did finally arrive. According to the couple’s testimony, as he stepped out of the cab, the dog stood up, made eye contact with him as if to say “Good, You’re home,” and then walked away, never to be seen in the neighborhood again. From my memory, there wasn’t any clear indication that anyone had intended them any particular harm, but they felt that the dog had been sent to prevent it.

The parallels between to two accounts are eerily similar. In both cases, a very large black dog appears more or less out of nowhere to provide protection to people unable to protect themselves. In each the dog seems to display an intelligence level far above average, and seemed to be thinking on a human or perhaps even superhuman level. Both the dogs seem to be treating the situation almost a “mission” to be accomplished, and, once complete, neither dog seemed to think it had any further obligation to the persons protected. One notable difference is that in the latter story, they never discovered that there had been a clear threat. Another is that though the first narrator explained his encounter as something from the world of the fairies, the second presumed that her guardian was angelic.

Of course, I’m making quite a few assumptions here. For instance, I’m presuming that the author of the article was actually who she claimed to be and not someone trying to manufacture a supernatural story for fun and profit. I’m also presuming that this inner city pastor’s wife doesn’t have a good working knowledge of a prominent aspect of European folklore (something that isn’t impossible, even if highly unlikely). This is one of those points that I would like to try to verify, when I’m not buried under work and family obligations. By then, of course, it will most likely be too late.

If we can take these, I think this story has some significant implications: Primarily that we have independent confirmation of the details of a continuing supernatural phenomenon. For a modern housewife to encounter a guardian black dog and then record the story without knowing that this specific sort of thing has been going on for centuries is amazing. It also proves that there is some consistency over time. People like to point out that in the “modern age” we no longer believe in fairies. Stories like this contradict the idea that basis of old beliefs die out as we “advance”. In fact, it would seem that the phenomenon is still there, though is being described in terms with which the current observer is comfortable. This is a trend that discerning researchers (i.e. Keel, Imbrogno, Hynek, Valee, etc.) have already picked up on, and can be observed when one compares the old stories with the details of the crazes for both ghosts and UFOs.

It all recalls a line from Hamlet: “There are more things, in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Christianity and the Paranormal, Part III

The Spiritual Materialist: In the world and of it

Our final category (for now) involves what I think is probably the most ironic type of mindset we’ve considered thus far. It is also probably the most common. It involves Christians scoffing at all paranormal claims reflexively because “everybody” knows things like that don’t exist.

I say this is ironic, because if ever there were a people who had reason to take paranormal claims seriously, it would be Christians. In theory, our entire life is based on the existence of a world beyond the natural realm, from which incredibly powerful non-human entities regularly enter in order to influence our reality. Of course, the ultimate example of this is the Creator of the Universe passing into our space-time to sacrifice Himself and pay for the sins of our world, but there are plenty of other instances. We also say we believe in angels, demons, cherubim, seraphim, prayer and miracles. The list could go on for some time.

And yet, if someone comes up and claims to have seen anything out of the "ordinary," what is the average western Christian's most common reaction? Denial. Sometimes mockery. In short, they react very much like your average atheist or secular humanist We see this beautifully illustrated in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, when Lucy first returns from Narnia and tries to convince her siblings of where she’s been. Edmund immediately declares her to be “Batty!...Quite batty,” while Peter and Susan come to believe that she’s mentally ill.

The end result is that those who are best equipped to look at the world beyond the normal—the paranormal—through the lens of spiritual understanding are in fact blinded by a bias that has nothing to do with what they really believe.

I think the reasons for this sad state of affairs varies from person-to-person. Many people have absorbed so much of the pseudo-scientific nonsense spouted by the secular world that they have accepted the false idea that in order to be “intelligent” one must reject the supernatural entirely and think wholly as a materialist. At the same time, they hold to Christian beliefs that positively require the presence of the supernatural to make any sense. Both of these mutually exclusive propositions somehow co-exist inside their heads until such time as one or the other wins on a practical level. From my experience, very rarely are either thought through.

All this reminds me of definition from Donald T. Williams' excellent foray into the mind of Hell, The Devil's Dictionary of the Christian Faith: "Liberal 1 (n): One who believes that Jesus never said most of the words or did any of the deeds attributed to him, but that, for some reason which remains unclear, we should follow him anyway" (52). It is one of the best ploys of Screwtape's "Father Below"; the "faithful" do not have to actually believe in much of anything in any practical way beyond mere hypothetical assent. They never expect to really meet any of these entities, and when they do, the refuse to accept them. That means they are prevented by default from developing any tangible relationship with a Christ in whom they have no real belief, and are not on their guard against interference from devils who they do not think exist. From Hell's perspective, it is a perfect arrangement.

Clearly, I’m not suggesting that Christians are somehow bound by honor or logic to accept every half-baked claim of a supernatural occurrence that somehow floats our way. Far from it. We are told, in fact, to “test the spirits.” Demons are not hiding behind even a large minority of bushes. Still, we should at least be consistent enough with our own presuppositions to keep a truly open mind and not preclude any possibilities for no other reason than vague preference or mindless prejudice.

Besides, I think a Christian who, in practice, does not allow for the existence of spirits or the supernatural in some real way has some serious self reflection to do on what, and in whom, they actually believe.

Christianity and the Paranormal, Part II

The Hyper-Literalist

For centuries, Christians have maintained the infallibility of the Bible. It is God’s Holy Word, a guide to salvation, and useful for all kinds of preaching and teaching. I myself believe in the verbal-plenary theory of Biblical inspiration. (Any fans of Richard Dawkins in the audience will take note that my head has yet to explode, and that I have yet to beat anyone with a Bible the size of a compact car.) The Hyper-Literalist is a point of view that takes these good, right, and True ideas, and then runs completely out of the park with them.

The Hyper-Literalist believes “if it ain’t on the page, it ain’t on the stage,” to adapt a phrase from some southern thespians of old acquaintance. Their idea of a Biblical approach to the paranormal is to insist that the realm of the supernatural is expressly limited to that which is spelled out in Scripture. Anything else is, by definition, excluded from consideration.

Sometime in the future, I intend to address this issue in more depth, so I don’t want to steal all my own thunder here, but in a nutshell, I don’t believe that is an appropriate assumption to make concerning Scripture. Let me be clear: I believe that everything that the Bible says about the spiritual world or the paranormal is True. The Bible contains the complete and total Knowledge sufficient for the salvation of humankind. But it doesn’t follow that the Bible tells us everything there is to know about the larger spiritual world any more than it tells us everything there is to know about mathematics, biology, or astronomy. Everything the Bible says about those subjects is true, but the Bible makes no claims to being the full and final repository of Creation’s knowledge on them. Any claims that it is have been made by insecure, immature believers, not the Book Itself.

The next step in the Hyper-literalist argument is to state that since the Bible has already told us everything there is to know about the subject, we are somehow committing sin by continuing to ask questions. The assumption is that there must be something spiritually wrong with you if you do. Though the images I've used here poke fun at the KJV-only crowd, it can affect anyone who uses any translation.

So, it should be obvious what problems I have with this position: It is unnecessarily limiting. It arbitrarily prevents us from appreciating the full spectrum of God’s Creation, and all of the events, creatures, and entities inherent to it. It inhibits legitimate study.

It also has the unfortunate tendency to reinforce the stereotype of Christians as small minded bigots. That is because this view is most vocally expressed by those whose faith has not yet matured to the point where they can realistically weather criticism. In these cases, the individual often identifies the details of his own personal belief system (which may or may not all be in accord with Scripture) with Divine Truth. Such a person often feels obligated to defend the whole rickety theological edifice, since to be proven wrong on a small point may imply that he could be wrong about something more important. To a mind like this, the “fact” that there were three magi at the stable in Bethlehem becomes as important as the Incarnation and Resurrection. (BTW, there were no magi at the stable. They visited later. Get over it.) In the end, the denunciations and ad hominem attacks come fast and furious, much to the detriment of the Church’s collective witness.

At the same time, believers interested in the paranormal would do well to heed the Hyper-Literalist’s warnings. I do believe that there is a very fine line between legitimate student and manic fascination in matters of the paranormal. What to one person is a healthy curiosity to another is an obsession that will open doors that should stay closed. In the worst case, the believer will take one spiritual baby-step after another away from the narrow path until the hope of return is almost purely academic. (It’s a danger I myself am acutely aware of; I just hope I’m aware enough.)

Up Next: The Spiritual Materialist

Christianity and the Paranormal, Part I

While I admit that I haven’t had much time to look more recently, I’ve thus far found that many Christian responses to paranormal phenomena are lacking. In my own experience, the stereotypical Christian reactions fall into at least three broad categories, each of which falls short of the mark, I think. (I could probably come up with more, but this is more than enough to get on with, I think.) For purposes of classification, we’ll call them a. the Pagan-Wannabe, b. the Hyper-Literalist, and c. the Spiritual Materialist.

With apologies in advance. I don’t intend to offend, but I’m sure I’ll manage it somehow. I also want to reemphasize that I don’t think this classification is exhaustive. There are surely as many shades of belief as there are believers.

The Pagan-Wannabe: The Worst of Both Worlds

This position is for all of us who really don’t like taking stands or who are terrified of being called “right wing” or “fundamentalist” (Angels and ministers of grace defend us!). Essentially, it argues that one can, at the same time, swallow the random tripe currently associated with paranormal studies and yet still remain a dedicated, thinking Christian.

The problem here is that, as Christ said, no “one can serve two masters” (Matt. 6:24, Luke 16:13). One cannot be a Christian without being fully dedicated to the person of Christ, constantly striving (though not necessarily perfectly succeeding) to bring ourselves into closer alignment with Himself and His Will. The simple fact is that much of what passes today for paranormal “research” will pull you in precisely the opposite direction. The Bible has laid down some pretty clear guidelines about what you are and are not supposed to participate in, and we ignore them at our own peril. Any observer of popular paranormal culture need not think long before coming up with multiple examples of what I am talking about here: witchcraft/Wicca, spirit channeling, various forms of non-Wiccan magic, summoning of spirits, even willfully opening yourself up to invasion by various entities. Like it or not, there is an inherent spiritual contradiction here.

And that is why this particular position ends up failing: it is neither here nor there. It is impossible to dedicate one’s life to true Christian spirituality and at the same time embrace philosophies that undermine it. The effect is somewhat like asking someone to somehow train for both the sumo ring and the long jump at the same time. Anyone so engaged will do neither well.

I tend to think that’s what happens to most Pagan-Wannabes. They sell out the things that they claim matter most to them, but in return they can achieve only mediocrity.

Sending the message that there is nothing that sets Christianity apart from the rest of the world not only compromises one of our missions as Christians (namely, to draw others closer into a saving knowledge of Jesus), but it also serves as a disservice to the paranormal community. How? By failing to provide it with anything more than bland Christianese translations of existing theories and jargon. Fields of study are most often moved forward by bold (preferably polite and honorable) original thought that critiques the status quo. The best the average Pagan-wannabe can offer all too often resembles the stereotype of contemporary Christian music: Whatever the world did five years ago modified with Christian lingo. Worse, it also involves serious danger to the participant’s immortal soul.

So why do I say that this is the position for anyone afraid of taking a stand? Because (and I could easily be wrong here) I tend to think the ultimate origins of this position are emotional. Intellectually, we have a number of mutually exclusive propositions (mentioned above). The result is that one cannot arrive at the Pagan-wannabe position by logic and coherent thinking. It means, essentially, that in order to believe it, we must turn off our brains at key points of conflict. That only happens through the emotions. The feeling most likely to produce these results is the desire to be liked by both Christians and non-Christians, to be able to move with both sets and never have to face any uncomfortable questions or discrimination.

I have two thoughts in reaction to this, and then we will be done with the Pagan-wannabe:

For us to expect that we can avoid persecution in general is clearly unrealistic. Christ Himself said that the Gospel is offensive and that we will face tribulations. Period. To compromise on our message just to obtain and then maintain some warm fuzzies is a first rate betrayal of Christ and the Great Commission. If you find yourself constantly shirking your identity as a Christian to avoid nasty looks, taunts, or even ostracism (which is all I hope we would face in the field of paranormal studies), you need to re-examine your commitment to Christ and try to ascertain precisely how serious you are about it.

So, do I think we need to take the paranormal world by storm, beating random people over the heads with pulpit Bibles? Of course not, and that has to do with my second point.

Paul himself said that he tried to be “all things to all men” (1 Cor. 9:22) I take that to mean that Paul tried to reach out to people where they were, not self-righteously wait for them to come to him. I think we can take a similar tack in our studies of the paranormal. I have no problem befriending a Wicca practitioner, a medium, or even a Satanist. That is what we are called to do by the Great Commission. Once the door was open, I would not see any point in demanding that they suddenly abandon their beliefs on the simply because I had entered the room. A jack-ass is still a jack-ass, even if he/she justifies it with Christian rhetoric.

But it doesn’t follow that I would simply drop my own beliefs for fear of offending someone. The courtesies I would extend to them, I would expect in return. If I were forced into a corner (i.e. compromise your witness in order to be a part of the group) I would recognize my priorities and be willing to politely walk away. At least that is the way I hope it would work.

In all, it calls for quite a bit of tact, but I think it also has the best chances for seeing results. The hardcore paranormal believers I have seen have studied more than enough religion to know the basic facts about Christianity. They don’t need a sermon; they need to meet Christ personally, living in you. That introduction will bear more fruit than all the denunciations in history.

In the end, it may be that the study of the paranormal (in general, but definitely as part of a mixed group) is best left to mature believers, secure in their faith. Many of the pitfalls I’ve discussed here are elementary mistakes made by people who, for one reason or another, have not yet “put away childish things.” We’ve all been through that stage (I’m not confident I myself am out of it), and there is nothing wrong or shameful about it. One might as well scold a baby for liking milk. The problem comes when we arrogantly bite off more than we are prepared to chew.

Whatever happened to discipleship, eh?

Up next: The Hyper-Literalist.