CHAPTER 10: FLIPPING OFF THE DEVIL

I REMEMBER IT like it was yesterday.

Grandpa sang a beautiful solo during the church service that morning. Pastor Claude Pettit preached his sermon. And Grandma rested her eyes.

In closing, Pastor Pettit said, “If there’s anyone here today who would like to get saved, join the church, or be water baptized, just walk the aisle while the music plays and tell me what you’ve decided. Don’t be ashamed. Come down the aisle today.”

I’d repeatedly confessed every possible sin and countless mental curse words. I’d asked Jesus into my heart a thousand times and recited endless versions of the sinner’s prayer. Why not get water baptized? I thought. Maybe that will help.

So, tugging on my Grandpa’s sleeve, I whispered, “Grandpa, I’d like to be water baptized. Would you go down the aisle with me?”

He smiled and nodded, and together we stood up and made our way out of the pew. As the organist played “Just as I Am,” I walked the center aisle hand in hand with my grandpa.

Pastor Pettit leaned down to me and asked, “Why did you walk the aisle today, son?”

“I want to get water baptized,” I said simply, gazing up at his towering figure.

And then he said the words that changed everything. “Before you get water baptized, you must be a Christian. That means that you believe that Jesus died on the cross in your place for your sins and that you’ve put your faith in Jesus to forgive you for your sins and give you everlasting life. Have you done that?”

In that moment, time stood still, because the message of the gospel made sense to me for the very first time. At last I had clearly heard how my sins could be forgiven. It wasn’t by confessing all my sins, or asking Jesus into my heart, or saying the magic words of some sinner’s prayer. It was by putting my faith in Jesus and what he had done for me on the cross.

It finally all made sense.

“Son,” Pastor Pettit asked again, snapping me out of my epiphany, “have you put your faith in Jesus?”

Right then, in the quietness of my soul I prayed my own, genuine, heartfelt sinner’s prayer. Jesus, I believe you died and rose again. I trust in you to forgive me for all my sins and to give me eternal life!

“Yes!” I declared to Pastor Pettit. “I’ve put my faith in Jesus!”

With that, Pastor Pettit announced to the church my “willingness to submit to believer’s baptism.” The congregation responded with light applause and a smattering of hearty Baptist amens.

Pastor Pettit invited me to stay at the front so that the congregation could congratulate me on my decision to get baptized. As I shook hand after hand, I marveled at what had just happened. These people have no idea that I just now put my faith in Jesus.

I felt like the weight of Mount Everest had been lifted off my shoulders and cast into the deepest sea. It felt like I was floating on air. At last I knew that all my sins were forgiven! I knew that, beyond my crazy family situation, there was something bigger, there was Someone bigger, and that Someone had given his life for me because he loved me! And I knew that even if I died, I’d be safe and secure in heaven with Jesus!

After church we piled into Grandpa’s yellow Ford F-150 truck with the camper shell on back. On the drive home I told Grandma how excited I was that at last I believed!

Grandma lifted my little red Bible from my hands and penned these words in the front: “Greg Stier received Jesus Christ as his Savior on June 23, 1974.” All these years later, I still have that Bible. I cherish it and the memory of that momentous day that changed my life for all eternity.

The next week in Sunday school, I boldly rebuked Mrs. Muirhead for not clearly explaining the gospel to us kids. “All this ‘confess your sins’ and ‘let Jesus into your heart’ stuff doesn’t make sense to us kids,” I scolded. “You need to tell people about what Jesus did on the cross!”

She was speechless because I was only eight years old at the time.

But now, things were starting to click. I knew that I actually did have God in my heart, finally. And, after the dog attack, I had sensed that I had an enemy, too. Now I realized my enemy was the devil.

Across the following months, as I began to learn more about God from the Bible, I also wanted to learn more about my enemy. I asked my grandparents and my Sunday school teachers about the devil and his demons. What were they up to? How did they operate?

I scoured the Scriptures and discovered 1 Peter 5:8: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” The image of a roaring lion reminded me of those two vicious dogs that had attacked me. Just like those dogs, it became clear to me that Satan and his demons wanted to drag me down and kill me.

I read John 10:10, where Jesus says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” Even though Satan wanted to steal my identity, kill my hopes, and destroy my future, Jesus wanted to give me life —true life, full life.

I was keenly aware of both God and the devil. And in my underdeveloped, preadolescent brain, it made perfect sense to me that if I was commanded to love God, then the opposite was also true: I should hate the devil.

So I hated him with a vengeance. I whispered threats under my breath to him as I walked to school. Someday I’m going to do great things for God just to tick you off. I hate you, Satan. All I knew was that I wanted to taunt Satan for the rest of my life by living for God full bore.

In my young mind I imagined that hell and Satan resided somewhere in physical space down beneath the ground. So one day, while I was walking down the hallway of Brown Elementary School, I pointed both of my middle fingers straight down toward the floor. In my mind, I was perfectly justified giving the devil “the bird.” He’d been attacking me and my family for years, so I wanted him to know that I wasn’t happy about it. One of the teachers stopped me and asked, “What are you doing with your middle fingers?”

Irritated that he’d interrupted me, I replied curtly, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m flipping off the devil!”

Stunned, the teacher just stood there speechless as I walked away, still displaying my absolute contempt for the devil and his demon dogs running amok.

In a way, I’ve been flipping him off ever since.