Demonic Versus Diagnosis

?Let's get this straight: I jetted off to Brazil for what I'm calling 'religious reasons'.

I attended a Brazilian church in Liverpool called the Universal Church. My pastor had suggested that I joined a pilgrimage of sorts of people from the UK hurch who were flying to Brazil at the beginning of May.

But let's be real, it was more about escaping the ludicrous Airbnb prices in Liverpool during the Eurovision frenzy. Three months in Brazil? Compared to that, it sounded like a bargain.

In S?o Paulo, I did my stint at the Temple of Solomon. Think of it as half Southern Baptist half McDonald's efficiency, and half Sinaloa Cartel's... let's call it 'mystique'.

A spiritual triple threat, if you will.

But it wasn't all just to do with my spiritual health - at my age, you get more checkups than a Boeing 747. Everything was ticking along fine until Rio, where a throat issue had me seeing specialists.

Cancer, they murmured. Heavy stuff.

Enter my spiritual mother, Pastor Kirrily from Down Under. Her diagnosis? A demonic attack, targeting my golden voice because it's too loud for the devil's liking.

In the moment she said that, I felt like a tech stock after a positive earnings report: skyrocketing with relief. Classic spiritual warfare stuff. I'd been through the wringer with 12-step programs and discipleship walks, so this was familiar territory. Spiritual warfare? I've got the playbook.

Two days later the results of the biopsy came in. My oncologist said I suggested aggressive treatment of chemotherapy and radiation, because "whether you do it here or you do it anywhere else you should stop now because the tumour is lodged in your throat and can affect your speech and breathing."

So there I was, convinced that this was a battle for the big guy upstairs, not me. My job?

Just keep the faith. ?