When you smoke pot, it’s the end of innocence. Marijuana is like the tree of good and evil. It reveals things hidden, but they come with great consequence. It slows things down, gives you time to ponder, and your mind opens up into green fields and pastureland. For most of that night, you can actually perceive peace on earth. That is why it gives anxious people headaches, because idle time scares them.
But even on your first hit, as soon as you draw the smoke into your body, you can feel the claws grip around your soul. The smiley face façade of happiness is so strong you can easily ignore the claws, but they are there. Sharp, boney, little fingers grab a hold; at each hit they tighten their grip. The more smoke you draw into your lungs, the deeper the demon draws into your soul.
There is nothing else to say. I was taken captive. I was so much in love with pain. Weeping and gnashing of teeth? Sometimes I wonder if Jesus will just eventually take away all the real Christians and leave the rest of humanity on earth alone to fend for themselves. That would be hell. It’s not that I can’t imagine a worse place than earth at its worst; I just haven’t dared.
Who am I to tell someone to quit smoking weed? When the Lord invited me into His kingdom, He said I had to quit getting stoned. I said yes. I probably didn’t even mean it or understand what I was committing to, but because I was willing to quit in that moment, because in that moment I discovered Father and wanted to serve Him, He rebuked the demon out of me. I was spared the struggle of addiction. I haven’t had anything more than a simple temptation since. I am free from that bondage.
You say pot opens up your mind? So did the fruit that Adam bit into. We’ve been paying for that one ever since. So in your worldly views, I have no reason to tell you that pot is bad. For me, I just know that Jesus doesn’t like it. I just know that what is best in you begins with your innocence—and with pot you lose it. What kind of paradise leaves you burnt out? Your prophets have all died before their time, and still you set up shrines for them and follow their grave mistakes. What kind of shepherd leads his flock off a cliff? My paradise lasts forever, my Prophet rose from the dead, and He is my shepherd. He tends to my wounds. When I am lost, He seeks to find me, and when He does, He rejoices and throws a banquet in my honor! He is looking for you and He longs to throw just as big a party for you, if you will let yourself be found by Him. You like to party? You ain’t seen nothing yet.
Sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. You can have the later without being corrupted and corroded by the first two. My spirit weeps and mourns when I see you wasting away. My soul is in bitter anguish when I think of all the potential that is stunted inside of you. I still remember your pain and why you try to cover it up. Your life has meaning. Give your burdens to Him. He loves you.