The AP had a fun, what-ever-happened-there article over the weekend, updating us on the travails of Carolyn Risher and her anti-Satan campaign in Inglis, Fla.
For those of you who don’t recall the fun, on Halloween night 2002, Inglis Mayor Carolyn Risher believed she had stumbled upon the primary cause of her community’s numerous social problems: Satan.
So Risher took the logical step of assuming Satan reads and follows government proclamations and wrote one up for him on local government stationary. It read, in part:
Be it known from this day forward that Satan, ruler of darkness, giver of evil, destroyer of what is good and just, is not now, nor ever again will be, a part of this town of Inglis. Satan is hereby declared powerless, no longer ruling over, nor influencing, our citizens. In the past, Satan has caused division, animosity, hate, confusion, ungodly acts on our youth, and discord among our friends and loved ones. NO LONGER!
The body of Jesus Christ, those citizens cleansed by the Blood of the Lamb, hereby join together to bind the forces of evil in the Holy Name of Jesus. We have taken our town back for the Kingdom of God…. As blood-bought children of God, we exercise our authority over the devil in Jesus’ name. By that authority, and through His Blessed Name, we command all satanic and demonic forces to cease their activities and depart the town of Inglis.
Of course, it isn’t enough to just write the proclamation and hope that Satan would go away. That wouldn’t make any sense. So Risher made copies and stuffed them into hollowed-out wooden posts on which were painted “repent,” “request,” “resist.” She placed one post at each of Inglis’ four entrances. In case Satan came to the community by way of car, he could pull over and read the note left for him and turn around.
For some reason, some people found this a tad bizarre. Reporters from across the country came to cover (read: ridicule) Risher’s unusual efforts.
You might also be wondering why these activities did not spark an obvious church-state lawsuit. I’m glad you asked. Risher did face an imminent legal challenge, but to avoid litigation, the town’s commission voted to declare that the proclamation was a “personal act” of the mayor alone, and that Inglis officials never authorized Risher’s anti-Satan document. The hollowed-out posts were moved to private property and everyone was happy (except, presumably, Satan).
The AP’s Todd Lewan, however, wondered what ever happened to Inglis and prepared an interesting update.
First, in a detail I hadn’t heard before, someone actually stole the posts and proclamations.
All four were replaced, this time sunk into the ground with reinforced concrete. For good measure, metal caps were installed, and a local Pentecostal pastor anointed the posts with oil and a blessing.
What a relief.
The point, if there was a point, to the AP article on this was that Risher’s goal — to drive social problems from her town for which Satan was obviously responsible — never came to fruition.
A year ago, Floyd Craig, a Korean War vet who owns a farm produce market, ran for mayor against Risher, the incumbent by default for 12 years. Nobody had run against her before.
Craig got whipped. The devil, he says, didn’t.
“Our drunks still drink, our hookers still hook, and truckers still ride like the devil up and down the highway,” he said. “People are going to sin, plain and simple. No proclamation is going to stop that.”
He bags some lettuce for a customer. “I got nothing against the mayor. She was trying to do right by the community she loves. But if you start thinking that the devil is outside of you, foreign somehow, you stop taking a good, hard look at the evil inside yourself, in your own deeds.”