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Mom and I sat around the bed in eerie darkness. The beeping and blinking of monitoring devices, the sounds of blowing-oxygen, filled the sterile hospital room. It was just after four o’clock in the morning and the nurses had all done their best. At eighty-six, and barely able to breathe now, Dad was terminally afflicted with chronic pneumonia. He was leaving the world. We were relieved and somewhat glad his suffering would finally be over. But our flowing tears paid no attention to the practicality of death or the fact that Dad was ready to go. Grief engulfed us as we each held one of his large, warm hands and watched his face for the flutter of eyelids. Whenever we said his name, they opened briefly yet immediately snapped shut. He knew we were there.
A nurse with a double-tiered, rolling cart entered my side of the room, pulled up to the bed and began selecting syringes, rubber tubing and glass vials.
“What are you doing,” I whispered, wiping tears off my face and nose.
“Bloodwork,” she quipped.
“Look ma’am,” I stood up and faced her. “He’s trying to die. Why on earth do you need bloodwork at a time like this? Who ordered that?”
The young nurse looked confused, took a step back and quietly maneuvered her cart out of the room. I followed her. Minutes with Dad were so precious now, but I wanted to understand the madness of such activity.
“I apologize,” she said. “It’s a routine procedure.”
“We won’t be needing anymore routine procedures, if you don’t mind,” I spoke quietly and smiled, noticing the fear of confrontation in her eyes.
“Yes, of course,” she smiled back. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” I croaked, tearing up again.
Dad stopped breathing forty-seven minutes later. One of the hardest days of my life.
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The Bible’s books of Galatians and Revelation all contain the term “pharmakeia” in the Greek language. It means, “the use of medicine, drugs or spells.”[1] Research in other commentaries and lexicons reveal that the word pharmakeia alludes to poisoning, sorcery and witchcraft (closely linked to idolatry or idol worship.) Here are a few biblical examples:
“Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery (pharmakeia), enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you, just as I have forewarned you, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.”[2]
“The rest of mankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent of the works of their hands, so as not to worship demons, and the idols of gold and of silver and of brass and of stone and of wood, which can neither see nor hear nor walk; and they did not repent of their murders nor of their sorceries (pharmakeia) nor of their immorality nor of their thefts.”[3]
“And the sound of harpists and musicians and flute-players and trumpeters will not be heard in you any longer; and no craftsman of any craft will be found in you any longer; and the sound of a mill will not be heard in you any longer; and the light of a lamp will not shine in you any longer; and the voice of the bridegroom and bride will not be heard in you any longer; for your merchants were the great men of the earth, because all the nations were deceived by your sorcery (pharmakeia).”[4]
As a pastor for over a decade in denominational churches, I’m keenly familiar with the elderly, their ailments and medicinal needs (since most denominations are largely composed of older people.) Medical dependencies, pharmaceutical formulas for sustaining life and even self-healing concoctions of supplements based on health magazines and wives-tales are the mainstays of a sedentary, senior lifestyle. Elder populations revile change more than they fear God, as I’ve observed. I’ve learned these folks adore their doctors, specialists, surgeries and pills. Some will take almost anything prescribed as if God himself wrote the order. Apparently pharmakeia gives people hope.
In addition, we medicate everything that makes us uncomfortable. The child who cannot sit still in class is not applauded as energetic and highly intelligent. No. The parent is told the child has a common disorder of alphabet letters: ADD, ADHD, etc. Medication is prescribed, the child is now calm (if not sedated) and the inconvenienced adults surrounding this gifted juvenile are now pleased. Sugar-based diets which propel the child toward hyperactivity are usually not called in question. Commercially-farmed food supplies which are soaked in toxic chemicals banned elsewhere around the globe are rarely pointed to, either. We medicate quickly yet rarely seek the process of natural healing for the body.
In my early fifties, I was commissioned by God and the circumstances of my life to be the only one of my parents three children to possess two unique circumstances: 1) I had no spouse or offspring and 2) I lived nearby. So I accepted the role of caregiver, for both my mom and dad in their later years. Most experienced caregivers will also add a third quality to the caregiving resumeˊ: female. The fact that I am my parents only daughter apparently lends itself to an automatic assignment. I realize now that it was my privilege. Neither of my brothers had privy to the beautiful moments and memories of our parents last years. I treasure them.
Dad’s sixteen months in the nursing home launched a mobile season of my life. I commuted three days a week, thirty minutes each way, up the highway to his tiny room in a kind, family-owned, retirement facility. Mom, age eighty-four, sold the house and moved in with me three months after Dad was placed there. Soon I was awash with medicines, doctors, powers of attorney, therapies and appointments. Where I once enjoyed the sanctuary of my home, pharmacy-free, I now lived among prescriptions, doctors and waiting rooms.
Sadly, since the baby-booming era of the 1950’s; when Church culture experienced its heyday of family pews, crowded services and a prosperous, American patriotism; a mass exodus of young people has taken place. Secular colleges and universities were inflated with anti-Christ professors, instructors, counselors and their doctrines. A re-education of our youth blossomed silently under our noses. The God that our young people were raised to honor and respect was now a questionable authority. Judeo-Christian values became boring, misinformed and irrelevant. Lies and propaganda taught at America’s higher-ed citadels had erected an iron scaffold of political narratives that now glut the minds of our privileged youth. Suddenly our young people resolutely believe they are entitled to everything their Marxist mentors coerced them to demand. The result? These generations have abandoned their family churches and their God.
Now, unless you’re discussing the rise of exciting, non-denominational branches of Christian faith (which I love), the historic spires and clapboard meeting houses of mainline Christianity sit half-empty with elderly congregants too afraid to break the habit of their life-long church-attendance. It may be all they have left of an era that felt remotely familiar. A pastor’s work today is mostly focused on the aged because they are the dusty remnants of the Church.
Clergy labor in their duties, nonetheless; continue to shine their lamps into the darkness and search for a fresh spark. Thankfully many found it while the youth were being lured away by their academic, Pied-Pipers: Preachers, priests and rabbis were forced to return to their drawing boards of sacred texts and statutes in order to preserve vocational longevity and survival of the Church.
Clergy began to preach the fundamentals again: Our God is supernatural. He’s been healing people via supernatural means for thousands of years. The shed blood of Christ not only saved the world, it healed the world[5] from the moment his skin was broken.
Now, we must return to the tent revivalists and tap into the sacred tree (again) through prayer, the laying on of hands, applying holy oils, preaching the Bible’s ancient truths and anticipating miracles from a God who still heals and wants to stir the Bethesda Pool[6]. Medicine is a miraculous assistant and we are grateful for it, yet only Jesus can demolish infirmity. The Devil made sure we turned to pharmakeia instead of calling on our God.
As a curated medical culture, we’ve put our resolute trust in pharmakeia and not the Lord. Pharmaceutical companies now make up the bulk of advertising in all forms of our American media. Their relentless programming, free trials and incentivized blister-packs have us neck-deep in medicine as big-pharma farms their consumers who then demand their product.
The naturally-occurring aches and pains of an elderly body are rarely ministered to, spiritually, these days. No, even in the Christian Church…the healing-recipient of the cross of Christ… the first-call is not to the intercessors of prayer…we call the doctor. Pharmakeia, the medical sorcery of counterfeit healing, has eclipsed the fundamentals of natural health.
Then, in March 202, Covid became pharmakeia’s blessed gift. An entire globe full of people clamored for whatever big-pharma decided to dispense. Vaccines, therapies, combo-formulas of drugs and inane social-distancing rules were crowned with the beloved medical mask. (The latter two, distance and mask, were quickly debunked as not helpful toward prevention.)
Church folk divided amongst themselves depending on age and pre-condition of medical needs. The fearful grasped any edict the television news casts declared while the fundamentalist believers blithely stated, “I’m pleading the blood.” And they were vilified for it. Everyone, it seemed, got Covid. Some, including myself, experienced multiple rounds as the man-made virus morphed into something more potent or evasive whenever a new medical solution was launched to evade it. In fact, nothing really worked. You either survived Covid or you didn’t.
By December of 2021, ninety-five percent of the American population had received at least one Covid shot.[7] Many of those people were forced into vaccination if they wanted to travel or remain employed.
Having zero plans to get the shot, Mom and I were actively hunting for a nursing home for Dad during those first Covid years. His care required physical strength and skilled nursing, which neither of us possessed, so we waded through the Covid malaise as long as possible then launched our visits in the surrounding facilities. We encountered rabid gate-keepers and barricades of entry—unless and until all trespassers had proof of their Covid vaccine. By the third attempt at locating Dad’s new home, I acquiesced, regrettably, and found myself in line at the local health department. I now troll the internet in search of remedies to wipe out the vaccination’s footprint in my body. And I pray, not infrequently, for God to remove every essence of the Covid vaccine within me. I was never a believer in the first place.
The Lord gave us medical doctors. (Our Gospel writer Luke was one[8]; a curious, detail-oriented and thorough patriot of Christ’s ministry.) Make no mistake, this chapter on pharmakeia is not an attempt to disregard, diminish or malign our medical community—those who are truly used by God to help us. We experience longer lifespans than our predecessors, thanks to our medical professionals and the discoveries of medical cures that healed generations (like penicillin.)
No, the intention of this writing is to expose the demon spirit of the sorcerer-alchemist that has invaded the Church and eclipsed the truth of Christ’s supernatural ability and desire to heal us. Pharmakeia is simply the application of a formula designed to manipulate (or supplant) God in his healing business. Let us refresh our knowledge of the cross and what is truly available to every person who chooses to believe in its work. The shed blood of Christ healed the world. Now this supernatural healing is readily available to the one who believes and reaches for it.
[2] Galatians 5:19-21, NASB95
[3] Revelation 9:20, 21, NASB95
[4] Revelation 18:22, 23, NASB95
[5] Isaiah 53:5, KJV
[6] John 5:1-17
[8] Colossians 4:14
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