The Bats in the Rafters

At camp, there was a church service every night. The speaker on this night was the camp leader. He was a very charismatic person with a testimony like that of the prodigal son, he told us about his life before he became a Christian and the monumental transformation after he recognized a need for Jesus.

There is fluttering activity above us. The room’s attention shifts to the bats conspicuously flying around above us in the rafters. A camper cries out. The rafters seem impossibly high up, the room has a certain bigness that we only find in childhood memories.

“Don’t let Satan distract you,” the Pastor implores. “Get behind me, Satan!” he calls out. I shiver and think about how sinister the devil is, I hate him. I hate that he wants me to be separate from God. I know that on my own, I can never truly be safe. He could take over my life, send demons to possess me or trick me. He might tempt me with drugs or sex and my life would begin a dark path that hurts everyone I love and literally ends in hell. I believe because everyone around me believes. I believe because it is in the Bible.

Some of my friends don’t believe. I’m supposed to try and win their souls for Jesus. I try sometimes, I don’t want them going to hell either. But sometimes we talk about what they believe and I’m deeply curious.

In moments like this I strongly regret my curiosity. I desperately search my heart for the sin that keeps Jesus out, for the sin that might let the devil in. It must be some sin that I haven’t yet recognized as a sin, or maybe I hadn’t surrendered myself enough. And now here he is, Satan or possibly one of his demons flying above us like a bat. Or it could just be a bat controlled by Satan. I know Ephesians Chapter 2 by heart, it calls him “the prince and power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience.” I know that I am a child of disobedience because I’m still not saved. I know that I am not saved because I don’t feel saved, they say that you will know it with a certainty you have never experienced before.

We were playing with the bats earlier that week, outside the little stand where a camp leader sold us stuff like candy and deodorant. The sky was a sunset pink and there were lots of mosquitos and birds out, but someone said “those aren’t birds, those are bats.” And at first we were kinda scared but we started throwing little pebbles up in the air to watch the bats chase after them. They’d follow the pebble a little way on its arc, figure out that it wasn’t a snack, and let it fall. I’m amazed at how precisely they track the trajectory of the pebble, and feel a little guilty to be teasing them.

I was very curious about those bats, but these bats are minions of hell. In the back of my mind there was another thought, maybe they were just regular bats doing regular bat things, like the bats outside the candy stand. It was only a glimmer of a doubt. After all, that is just what Satan wants me to think, and he is the father of lies. His greatest lie, they say, is to convince the world that he doesn’t exist.

So I answer the call, like I have done many times before. I kneel at the steps of the alter, under the protection of a big fake plant. I hope it will be different this time, I hope it will finally work. And it was different, but not in the way I was expecting. As I pray my little heart out, I feel a new confusion, like my mind is fighting with itself.