Chapter 21: Curse Breaking
But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life. –John 4:14
After Michelle’s death, I began to see the spirit world a bit differently. It became less of a glitteringly magical place, and more of a battleground. I began to view myself as more of a warrior goddess, a powerful woman who would essentially battle the forces of evil that had killed my friend.
I wanted to be a spiritual white light worker, and I saw myself as a ‘good witch’, a Christian witch who would use white light to heal others. This was all very noble of course, but even at the time I started to notice how burdensome this was all becoming—not to mention that the idea of a Christian witch was a contradiction in terms. I would later learn that all magic was dark, and there were no good witches. All witchcraft is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord.
However, back then I was still stuck in the deception of the self being equal to God. I was taking on the world in my mind, determined to make Michelle’s death right..determined to fight for what I called ‘the light’. I was leaning to my own inner power, peace, and strength, but this very strength was beginning to dwindle more each day. I had unknowingly been relying on the strength of the kingdom of darkness, and it was causing great physical fatigue in my body.
This was the beginning of my weariness towards all the hard work it took to achieve results in the new age practices. It seemed like I was always struggling to find the next high, the next powerful experience that would finally transform me into the woman I wanted to be. I was drained from all the spells, all the positive manifesting, all the protecting myself from curses, all the meditation, and mantras. I was tired of trying so hard with so few results. It had been fun in the beginning, but it was starting to become a heavier weight each day.
What I didn’t know at that time was that Jesus is the the source for all Life, and the only fountain of Living Water. Jesus restores us, while everything else brings only death.
Still believing I had the power to change my life, I decided to take matters into my own hands. No more spells or manifesting, I was going to start building my own life. Grieving from Michelle’s death, I looked up an old boyfriend online who had known her. Scott and I had dated around the time I met Michelle, and we had also met at the health food store. I wanted someone to grieve with me, someone to take a bit of my heavy burden. I reached out to Scott to tell him about Michelle’s death, figuring he wouldn’t have heard the news living so far away on the east coast. I desperately needed some male attention to ease my heart from the grieving, and Scott used to adore me.
Scott was happy to hear from me, and he was grateful to process Michelle’s suicide with someone, as he had only recently found out about it. We chatted online, and then on the phone a bit. What started out as a light-hearted reunion then became longer conversations on the phone. We began flirting again, and Scott told me that he was actually planning to move back to Oklahoma in a few month’s time. I was shocked! What interesting timing. This had to be God’s will, I thought at the time. I was finally getting a break, a relationship with a man I trusted.
Scott had always been a good guy, but back when we dated many years ago he wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, mainly because he wasn’t a ‘bad boy’ or dangerous in any way. However, at this point in my life, I was finally ready for a nice guy… someone who would take care of me for a change. While Scott and never really had a lot of physical chemistry, we got along well together, and I was beginning to realize that was more important than fiery chemistry that got me nowhere in the end. I was tired of men hurting me and letting me down, and I just wanted someone who would stick around for a change and treat me well. Scott was this promise of stability for me.
So, when Scott moved back to town we began an instant relationship. It was a welcome distraction from all the pain of the last year. I told him all about the spells and my involvement in witchcraft, and thankfully he didn’t have an issue with it. He was taken with the mystical world himself, and told me that his family had actually experienced what he called a ‘curse’ or a ‘haunting’–which I now know is a demonic stronghold. He began to describe how what he could only call a ‘ghost’ (demon) had been tormenting his family for decades. The manifestations were mainly sounds or inanimate objects moving in the house, but Scott also told me about the time when his family were suddenly stricken with sores on their faces for a week’s time, for no apparent reason. These sores had occurred one night after the family had tried to tell the ghost to leave the house.
I asked Scott why he thought this was happening, and he began to tell me a little about the history of his family. He told me how his father had once dated a Native American woman who was a witch. Scott’s father spurned the woman when he decided to leave her and marry Scott’s mother. The scorned witch had decided to exact revenge by cursing Scott’s father and thereby the entire family, but then she died shortly afterwards. Ever since, Scott’s family had been experiencing various hauntings and strange events (demonic attacks).
Hearing this story, I immediately felt protective. I wanted to protect Scott from danger, so even though I had wanted to take an hiatus from spells, I decided to research protection from curses. I simply couldn’t abide dark magic that was hurting my boyfriend, so I wanted to find any information I could.
I mistakenly thought it was in My own power to break a curse, and I didn’t know that Jesus is the only one who has that power.
Through my research, I found information on Native American medicine pouches, and rituals that were designed to protect from generational hexes. I figured since the witch was Native American, I would also use a Native spell to break the curse. Not thinking a thing about the possible spiritual danger of doing something like this, I set off to find all the ingredients the spell required. The spell was relatively easy, and one I could just cast by myself. I didn’t need the goddess group for this one.
Through my research it said I could make him what’s called a ‘medicine pouch’, which was herbs, candle wax drippings, and other things designed to protect him from dark magic. I realized I had all the ingredients except the black candle, which I found one at the local store in the Hispanic foods section. Luckily, there was one near the candle of the Virgin Mary and the Archangel Michael. I thought these candles were very comforting back then, a way to say prayers to the angels and to the Virgin Mary. I didn’t realize this was idolatry, and expressly forbidden in the Bible.
However, the black candle wasn’t anything like the comforting Mother Mary candle. The black candle had an etching of the Angel of Death on the outside. I tried not to be too creeped out about it, figuring that these candles were similar to many Catholic beliefs. Even Catholics had exorcists, so that’s how I viewed this particular hex breaker spell—driving out the curse of an evil spirit with love and light.
Trying to understand the connection between curse breaking, exorcism, and Catholic beliefs was an interesting journey for me then. I would only later realize that the Catholic Church was infiltrated with pagan beliefs from the very beginning, and didn’t represent anything of what the early disciples of Jesus taught. I myself had attended a few years of Catholic school as a teenager, and even though I wasn’t actually a Catholic I had really enjoyed the ritualistic way that they worshipped. I loved the idea of paying homage to the saints and the Virgin Mary. It seemed very similar to honoring the deities of Wicca, and in fact many Wiccans loved wearing necklaces of the Catholic saints in the same way they wore jewelry of the various gods and goddesses. In this regard, the idea of Christo-Paganism made a lot of sense to me.
I had read that in Wicca, the Virgin Mary was seen much like the Mother Goddess, and many Wiccans recognize her as the Queen of Heaven (Mother Goddess). Wiccans generally enjoyed the pagan symbolism in the Roman Catholic worship, and felt right at home there. This was all well and good because the Catholic church had intentionally adopted many pagan symbols and rituals for that very reason, in order to convert the pagans back in the days of the Emperor Constantine. So in this way, Catholicism became a form of Christianity that accepted mysticism, and therefore allowed me to keep my Christian beliefs and blend them with my goddess worship. Some of my Tarot clients even confided in me that their Catholic churches were very accepting of the mystical element, and had no problem with fortune telling and things like that. At the time, it made me think that the Catholic Church was the only safe place for me as a Christian Witch.
Overall, I felt comfortable in my beliefs as a Christian Witch, but I still felt I had to keep my beliefs secret. I knew full well of the history of persecution and the Salem Witch Trials. I knew that most people would not understand or accept me, and that I might even be fired from my job if people found out what I believed. Wiccans call this ‘the broom closet’, and this very idea of the necessity to hide my true beliefs, started a hatred growing in my heart towards any Christian that wasn’t a Catholic. I had also found some solace in the Unitarian Church as well, as they openly accepted pagans and all religions. However, I felt there was no true worship of Jesus in the Unitarian services so I didn’t feel it was spiritual enough for me–more of a community gathering than an actual worship activity. I felt sure that all the other Christians in the world besides Catholics and Unitarians would judge me for my beliefs and call me a devil-worshipper. They just didn’t understand what the Goddess was all about, and what Wicca really was, I thought. I viewed Christians as the oppressor back then, but I thought little about the history of Christian persecution in biblical times.
The truth is that the original disciples of Jesus Christ were heavily persecuted by the pagans, and these early Christians had to flee into the hills for their very lives.
This was mind blowing for me because while in Wicca I focused on the Christians as the ‘evil’ ones, the one who killed the tribal worship and forced the pagans to convert. However, this forced conversion was actually from Constantine to the Roman Catholic Church (a manmade religion), and had nothing to do with the original followers of Christ. Discovering this years later would prove to be a healing balm for my church hurt heart. I would learn that:
Jesus was never part of persecution, as God sent His son to free us from bondage.
Jesus is the only way to heaven, and no ritual or mystical practice can be mixed in or substituted for a personal relationship with the Lord. Discovering this would set me free, but I wasn’t there yet…not yet.