I grew up in a religion that believes in praying in repetition and reading scripted prayers. A religion that prays to Saints and Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Statues of baby Jesus and Mother Mary are placed together on a throne where prayer happens. The root of the religion goes way back to the Vatican where a man that wears an ornate robe and funny hat are reverenced on a throne.

Having never read the Bible as a Catholic, I was clueless of the truth. I thought God would be moved if I kissed a statue of baby Jesus & maybe it does something, but if you read the Bible, that’s not what God wants from us. As tangible human beings it’s hard to show emotions towards people or things we cannot see so we create statues that we can see and touch, but that is not God’s will.

I remember one time when I stayed in the Philippines for the summer. My family and I stayed in a villa where all family members can lodge. It was a two story, about 10 bedroom house, historic, used as a hospital for dying soldiers during World War 2. My grandfather’s brother was a doctor and still his office remained in the house, skeleton model and all. Soldiers died in that house and paranormal experiences have occurred.

There’s a shrine of Jesus, Mary and angelic statues in the upstairs living room. One day, a bunch of nuns came to the house, knelt down and prayed to statues. When they left the house, my Uncle told me that demons live in the statues to be worshiped. I didn’t believe him. I thought worshiping statues was the normal Catholic thing to do.

Several years later, I was taking a class at church. One do the pastors of the church from the Philippines taught and he brought up the same thing my Uncle told me about in the Philippines. The pastor had a true story behind it. His relative had a throne of statues, crazy stuff was happening in the home. He told her to get rid of the statues. They threw the statues in a pile and set it on fire & they heard screams coming out of it. Creepy.

Then I have my own story, not nearly as intense, but while in college I used to stay with my parents on weekends. They had several statues sitting on top of a shelf. The house they lived in was converted from a convalescent home. I would be working on the computer in the living room, feeling like someone is staring at the back of my head. It would feel like it’s coming from the same place and that place was where the statues were located. Creepy. I got tired of the eerie feeling and eventually put the statues in a box to go out to the Goodwill. After they were boxed up, I stopped having that feeling.