Texting with Satan

We met Dalton a week after we moved here.

He was walking down the street, dirty and haggard, and I offered him a meal. We were doing a fish fry benefit for a local ministry and plates were $7 each. He said he didn't have any money and I told him that I asked if he was hungry, not if he had money.

From there a friendship was born.

Even though I discovered that he was not homeless, having inherited an aunt's house, he had no money, no furniture, and no groceries. I included him in my homeless ministry.

I picked him up for church every Sunday for six months, until he got his truck running and began driving himself to church.

He would have periods of time when he would start to back away, but I'd always find a job for him in the church and make sure he felt needed.

He liked to text and we had frequent text conversations. It was obvious from the start that his cognitive function was oddly paradoxical. Aware of historical and world events that only Jeopardy champions could recall, in some ways he was brilliant. But he also showed signs of a stunted mental growth and severe social disorder, similar but not quite the same as Asperger's. A diagnosed schizophrenic, he went to a psychiatrist twice a month.

I didn't care about any of that nor did it scare me. We're all a little crazy, I figure, and the root of ALL illness, physical or mental, is spiritual anyway so I knew one day he'd be set free.

We've been friends now for a year and half, and even though he stopped coming to church a few months ago, I've continued to help him and engage in some interesting text conversations.

He grew up with a drug-addicted, prostitute mother who was in and out of jail, grandparents who despised him, and a largely absentee father. I was the first real friend he'd ever had, he told me.

The text talks aren't unusual; I receive several every day. Many guys touch base just to stay accountable, or to know that someone out there truly cares.

But Dalton's texts started getting much darker a few weeks ago.

Attacking Christianity, church, and bizarre things like the moon and kittens, his rants were often left unanswered.

I knew I would be carrying on a conversation with the devil.

Only when he'd reach out and ask for help in clearing his mind would I respond.

But he was like a child, trying to see how far he could go.

He kept on. And on. Attacking the Bible, attacking Christians, trying to provoke an argument.

Last night, he crossed a line. He attacked my husband and the message he preached from the pulpit. (The sermon was about Paul.) I'd heard Dalton argue before that Paul was basically the devil but this time when he attacked Paul, he attacked my husband as well.

What was I supposed to do?

Turn the other cheek? Take a stand?

I wasn't going to get into another text marathon with him. Those never ended well. He always had to have the last word, and as soon as he seemed to receive help, he'd go off in left field somewhere.

I felt like a mom who'd finally reached her wit's end. That's it! I thought. You wanted me to get to this point. I'm there!

My reply was short and succinct. I'm sorry you feel that way about my husband. Goodbye.

I honestly don't know if I did the right thing.

Because it's still bothering me, I'm thinking I didn't.

I can only pray for guidance and clarity in my future steps.