My Brother Jeffrey Dahmer

A belief, or lack thereof, can't be bolstered by big names. Atheism isn't given merit simply because Ricky Gervais and Seth MacFarlane are atheists; but likewise, I can't make a bigger case for Christianity simply by pointing out that Norm MacDonald and Alice Cooper are Christians. A belief must be judged by its own merits, not by the names - prestigious or otherwise - of those who subscribe to it.

I was thinking about this recently, and the names whose fame - or notoriety - makes no difference because those names are written in the Lamb's Book of Life, and not bolstered or burdened with worldly praise or hatred. "And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away" (Revelation 21:4). Two of the well-known names that came to mind were those of two convicted serial killers, David Berkowitz (the only participant in the "Son of Sam" killings to be caught), and a name reviled even more, Jeffrey Dahmer, who raped and murdered at least seventeen men, and indulged in such things as cannibalism and necrophilia with their remains. Before he was killed in prison in 1994, he accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and repented of evil.
Some may argue that convicts often "find religion" to warrant a release or new trial; David Berkowitz, however, refuses to attend any of his parole hearings, and it's quite illogical to argue that Dahmer professed Jesus in order to look better - no amount of religion or good deeds would have ever seen him released from prison, or gained him one ounce of good favor in the eyes of the public. And Dahmer knew that.

I don't pretend for an instant that Dahmer's salvation lessens the pain of his victims' families on Earth, nor do I pretend that it exonerates him for his gruesome crimes. God will forgive you of any terrible thing done on this earth, but the state will still rightfully sentence you to prison.

But as I said, Dahmer's name came up when I was thinking of "famous Christians," and how I can't sway anyone to believe in the divinity of Christ by dropping names. I even began to think some names would further drive some away from the Gospel - some might ask how God could forgive a deviant, a cannibal, a rapist, a murderer.
Jeffrey Dahmer, as long as he was on this earth, and as long as the record of his awful deeds remains, will always be a monster. I was a monster once too. I don't pretend that my deeds were anything like Dahmer's, but he and I were once both in danger of eternal separation from God's love, had we died unrepentant of our respective evils. Jeffrey Dahmer was a monster indeed, but he became my brother in Christ.

This might draw the ire of the more ravenously skeptical; a serial killer repents and asks forgiveness of an Authority higher than any Wisconsin court, and finds peace in the final years of his life, spent in a cold gray prison. I was asked once, "Are you tellin' me there's a God who will send a cold-blooded murderer to heaven if he repents but He'll send a gay man to hell?!"
No, I don't tell you that for a second. God offers grace and forgiveness to all who accept it through faith in His Son Jesus, who died on the cross for our sins and rose from the dead. He sent Jeffrey Dahmer to heaven not by Dahmer's own works, but because of God's grace. He'll send me to heaven not because of my own works, but in spite of my own works, for most of them on this earth have been bitter and bigoted. I don't recall the Bible describing homosexuality as an unpardonable sin. But any gay man or woman who believes in Jesus as the Son of God and abides in Him will not be cast to hell, despite the ignorance of the signs at Westboro Baptist Church in Kansas.

The unpardonable sin, for which Jesus condemned the Pharisees, cannot be committed today, for those Pharisees are long dead. Indeed some remain in the Pharisaical mindset, but that's another matter. Now, the only unpardonable sin is more of an unpardonable state - dying in the state of unbelief, of denying Jesus as Lord. But if you believe in Him, the atoning power of His blood shed on the cross is by no means nullified or rendered void by the sins forgiven you.

I'm grieved that Jeffrey Dahmer chose to spend his time on Earth doing the atrocious things he did. But I'm glad that when he and I and all other saved persons stand in God's kingdom unashamed, I'll know him not as a deviant and a murderer, and he'll know me not as a racist and a liar. Maybe this famous name does help to bolster Christianity's claims...

"I say to you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents." -our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, as recorded in Luke 15:10

Why I Can't Attack Evolution & Islam & Etc

I've learned recently, or may have just forgotten in complacency, that if one has guts enough to believe in something, he or she can't be thin-skinned about it.

Among the words of Jesus I remember and cherish the most are those recorded in Matthew 10:16 - "Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves."

I've long touted the claim that I hope to keep my mind as narrow as "the narrow way" preached by our Lord. If I leave it open to any doctrine, teaching, theory, philosophy or creed, I become a random mess of miscellany. My mind and heart must test what is spoken to me before I believe it. And if I believe the words of the Son, the Father and the Holy Spirit to be the absolute truth, then to those words I have a duty, to preach, to encourage, to defend. But I've recently come to realize that the verse on which the practice of 'Christian apologetics,' i.e. the defense of our belief, should be based is Matthew 5:39, when Jesus said, "whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also."
Actions speak louder than words. If I'm criticized for my faith, I do no good, I win no souls for Christ, I warm no hearts, by retaliating with endless strife and arguing. Sure, I may have once owned Richard Dawkins in a debate at Oxford Lecture Hall, and made him hold my jacket while doing so - but who did I feed? Who did I bless, to whom did I minister?
Nobody.
God's words through the apostle Paul are "Knowledge puffs up, but love edifies," and "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal."

I would have done far more good to have kept silent, left the lecture hall, and went to whom the Lord led me to bless, rather than keying "LOSER" on Mr. Dawkins' car and going to the Manchester United after-game party at a local pub.
Jesus' silence during His interrogation was among His greatest works - He knew the men questioning and striking Him would have accepted no answer He could have given; the Pharisees were only determined to see Him crucified, Herod Antipas wanted only a miracle for his own amusement, and Pontius Pilate only wanted desperately to be rid of the whole matter. Jesus' actions spoke louder than any response He could have given - He gave Himself on the cross as a ransom for the souls of you and me, and rose again from the dead.
As Isaiah prophesied six hundred or so years before Jesus' birth, "He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth; He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so He opened not His mouth" (Isaiah 53:7).

I convince no one of the truth of the Gospel by arguing about it; I have a much better chance abiding by it.

So, what does this have to do with my defense of the Gospel and of my Lord, and my newfound refusal to directly attack any other doctrine?

I don't know if the Koran teaches or endorses violence against non-Muslims; as far as religion goes, it's really irrelevant to me, because what I do know is that Islam does not profess Jesus Christ as "the way, the truth and the life," as the only Lord and Savior. Rather, Islam teaches that Jesus was only a prophet or "helper" of God, and further denies His death on the cross and Resurrection from the dead. This is all I need to know about Islam, or any religion, creed, or doctrine of spiritual substance, before I give it any attention. It doesn't matter if Scientology truly teaches men to eat placentas or not - it does matter that Scientology denies Jesus as the Christ. It doesn't matter if Mormonism teaches its members to wear special underwear or not - it does matter that Mormonism was founded when false gospels were added to the truth of Jesus, which the Word of God strictly forbids.
Do I desire for Muslims or Scientologists to come to know Jesus Christ as their Savior? Do I desire for Mormons to abandon the false teachings they follow? Absolutely. But I cannot lead them to Him with venom in my words.

As for the evolutionary and Big Bang theories, at least in the way they've been so widely accepted, there are many Christians who subscribe to them. I've found that science and the Bible are in harmony - but when a theory or claim, scientific or not, denies what was authored by God through prophets and parchment, I can't accept it. For the the Big Bang or human evolution to work, the Biblical account of Creation must be denied. This comes from the Scripture I believe to be holy and sovereign, from God's mouth to man's hand, a Book He would not let become faulty or flawed. I don't have to attack the ins and outs of evolution or other theories to defend what I believe.

I'm too stupid for lots of things - mathematics, algebra, women, and science among them. The most profound scientific thing in my argumentative canon, and even this is probably theoretically flawed somehow, is that if Louis Pasteur disproved the myth of spontaneous generation, why is the Big Bang Theory still being taught? Again, I'm sure someone from the scientific field would correct me or explain this, but remember: I know little to nothing about those things. So if you're a scientist, you probably would find it frivolous to correct an idiot like me, admittedly unlearned, on my claim.

And, again, being uneducated on matters of evolution, Big Bangs and et cetera, I've no business attacking them. I do however have every right to dismiss them as they pertain to the Word I believe to be flawless and holy. Much like I would not want someone with little or no knowledge of the Bible to attack it, if I were an evolutionist, I'd have no time for someone like me, whose last scientific studies came from watching Beakman's World, criticizing their claims.

It's enough for a person to defend his or her own beliefs without directly attacking another's; if the defense is done so in love, he or she makes a case, whether he can prove it or not, even if there are others who believe the same thing though they may not behave as they should. In the eyes of the world, my claim of Jesus' divinity may be dismissed as superstition, but I open the door to many more ears if I stick to what I know, and who I love, rather than what I don't know and those whose love I could drive away from accepting the Gospel.

May the grace and peace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

Things To Know Before Cursing President Obama

I'll not deny that Christianity is dogmatic - any world view, be it social, spiritual, or otherwise, is dogmatic, if one holds it to be true. But I do assert that the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ have freed me from the dogmas of American politics - the strict rules of "conservative values" (whatever those are) or "liberal progress" (whatever that is). If I follow Christ and not Reagan or Roosevelt, neither of whom died on a cross for us and rose again, I find my views on various social and political subjects not limited to one side of the fence.
Having said that, I should elaborate my Presidential voting history - in 2004, the year I turned eighteen, I voted for George W. Bush, and would not change that vote if I could. In both 2008 and 2012, I voted for Barack Obama. And though I've grown increasingly dissatisfied with his job in office, I believe it to be un-Christlike to curse him rather than pray for him. It's sort of like John Wayne said when John F. Kennedy was elected - "I didn't vote for him, but he's still my President and I hope he does a good job."

'Merica!

Now, many of my brothers and sisters in Christ, some of whom serve an idol without knowing it - that is, "conservative values," even if they clash with Christ - take much joy in slandering and reviling the President. Well, that's an American tradition, but my Lord teaches me to rebuke slander and lies, such as blatantly fake "foreign student" ID cards from Columbia University, and other Facebook posts and chain e-mails with inaccurate information. So, addressing some of the most common things being said on the web about Obama, here are some things you should know:

1. Concerning the claim that Obama is the Antichrist - this cannot be, according to Scripture. Many prophecies concerning the coming Antichrist, specifically two key passages - 2 Thessalonians 2:3-5 and Daniel 11:36 - describe that the "man of perdition" will exalt himself above any other god that has ever been worshiped. President Obama, however, is a Christian. And yes, many of you may say "How can he call himself a Christian when he..." (insert complaint here). But the point is, he still calls himself a Christian and therefore does not exalt himself above any other god, nor most importantly, the only true God.
The true Antichrist is very serious and will be a very real threat, and the more we as Christians call this politician or that "the Antichrist" because we don't like him, we cause others to ignore the very real danger the real "man of sin" will bring. Further, when we use the Bible to curse and revile, rather than what we are truly instructed to do with God's word, we drive so many away from Christ. (see 2 Timothy 3:13-17)

2. The assertion that Obama is a Muslim is ridiculous because, again, he has identified himself as a Christian and has said "I'm a Christian. I am a devout Christian. I believe in the redemptive death and resurrection of Jesus Christ." (Source: "Christianity Today") Islam, however, denies that Jesus is the Son of God, and denies that He died and rose again.
"Yeah well, maybe he's an undercover Muslim!"
Yeah, that's not how it works. Muslims would consider that blasphemy against their religion. If Barack Obama were a white man named Rick Johnson, this paranoia would simply not exist.
...what? It wouldn't.

3. When you say President Obama's "turban is too tight" when he makes a blunder, let's remember two things: he's not a Muslim, and second, the turban is not a strictly Muslim piece of attire. The Levite priests wore turbans in the days of Moses, and turbans are mentioned many other places in the Old Testament, as they were common pieces of headwear centuries and centuries before Islam was founded.

4. For those of you calling for the impeachment of Obama - you keep using that word "impeach"...I do not think it means what you think it means. To impeach does not mean to remove from office. Rather, impeachment is actually a formal accusation or bringing of charges against an elected official. Presidents Andrew Johnson and Bill Clinton were the only two Presidents to be impeached, yet neither were removed from office, and both finished their terms. Also, I'd suspect that you'd be concerned about a trial costing taxpayers money - the Clinton investigation alone cost almost sixty million dollars.

The Bible's definition of a saint is not a flawless person, nor is it a person chosen by Rome; rather, the Bible alludes to saints as anyone who believes in and calls on Jesus Christ. Being in a job where everyone wants to shoot you, I believe President Obama calls on Jesus quite often. I may disagree vehemently with decisions he's made, but he is a brother in Christ, he is a fellow saint, one far above the likes of myself, or of the apostle Paul, who described himself as "less than the least among saints."

To revile a brother in Christ in such a position, rather than pray earnestly for him, is blatant, un-Christlike behavior.

May the grace and peace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

What God Taught Me When I Gave Away My Cat

I'd always known that in addition to being omnipotent and omniscient, Yahweh God is also a loving God. There was no question in my mind of this, no matter what gritty and sorrowful, ugly things came my way. But I'd always struggled with the thought of God weeping. Is it okay to think such a thing? No one living knows what God looks like in His physical form, so that added to the difficulty of picturing Him crying. All I know is He's not an old bald man because aging and decay are human side effects from the Fall of Man in the Garden of Eden - God does not sin, is not mere flesh and bone and therefore does not age.

I knew He had emotions such as anger, joy, even regret - we're told in Genesis He "was sorry" He had made mankind before He gracefully saved Noah and his family from the Great Flood.
But did He shed tears when I hurt? Did He grieve in His heart when I strayed from Him?

I suppose, in my Clint Eastwood wannabe mind, tears and crying reflected weakness, which could never exist in an almighty and all-powerful God. But also, being omnipotent, God does not contradict Himself - He wrote through the apostle Paul in Romans 12:15, "Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep."

This past February, West Texas A&M University purchased the property on which my apartment sat in Canyon, Texas, with plans to turn it into a parking lot. All residents had until April 15th to get out. I couldn't take my cat, Catman Crothers, to Amarillo where I was moving. So, I had to send him back home to my mother with my friend Jake.

But I knew Catman Crothers would not understand, being an animal. He wouldn't understand why I was chasing him to put him in his carrier as he meowed in defiance. For the three hour journey back home to my mother, he would be confined to his pet carrier, in the dark, scared and wanting his human. As I sat him in Jake's backseat, I made a guttural sound and began babbling about the Chicago Bears - man-talk, you know. I walked back up to my apartment, tightened with the feeling I mustn't bust out bawling.

And the Holy Spirit told me, not audibly but you know what I mean, that God feels the same a lot of the time, but to a degree we can't begin to fathom. He allows us to go through certain trials, afflictions, and tests, changes in environment, employment, and emotion, for reasons we may not understand at the time - and may never understand until we get to His bosom in heaven - but they must happen.

Any parent who's ever left a crying child on their first day of kindergarten knows what I'm talking about. Hey, I know what it's like to have kids - I've had two cats.

We must also remember God watched His only Son die an agonizing death.

And through His Son's resurrection we are united with the Father, which must bring Him abundant joy, just as He must grieve when we stray from Him, defy His word, or deny He's even there.

My Sinful Desire For Death

"I think it's a sin not to want to live." - Warren Zevon

There was a time in my life (it may be known to you as "2005-2009") when I didn't like being alive. To put it further, I didn't want to live anymore. For the most part, I wasn't doing anything to hasten my death - save for a suicide attempt on January 8, 2006, which as it turned out did no damage whatsoever to my physical well-being.

My desire to die came from a compound of things, namely a psychiatric illness that still backhands me, an illness I can describe best as being like "an anthology of vulgar words on a vandalized memorial." What made it worse was the devil's exploitation of my illness; it's no sin to be ill by any means, and any doctrine that teaches so is un-Biblical and false. Knowing God has things for me to do, epic and awesome things, the devil decided to try and convince me to not do anything at all but wait for death, knowing he could no longer convince me to commit outright suicide.

But though it's no sin to be ill, mentally or physically, my sin lay in the things borne of my desire for death. In 2 Corinthians 5:1-8, the apostle Paul wrote of worldly trials and the subsequent desire to leave this earth and be with God in heaven, and the promise that, though we remain temporarily on this earth, we have a heavenly home with the Lord to which we will go someday.
But my desire to die defied God's holy Scripture in that, though my main want was to be with Him and away from pain, I did not delight in doing His will by living before dying; rather, I was merely existing.
Further, each aspect of my wish for death was rooted in selfishness and vanity. When I'd fantasize about my funeral I'd think of what song they would play; maybe some mid-tempo tune that described me so poignantly. I'd think of people getting up to speak, telling stories of me, and the funny things I did; I'd even relish the thought of Marlon Prichard telling of the time I tricked him into joining the Black Panthers, eliciting laughter for me, and of course, tears for me.

Philippians 3:7-14 tells us of leaving our worldly riches, our worldly wisdoms and self-perceived awesomenesses behind for the sake of following Christ. In my case, my riches in this world were very dark and bitter riches, a wealth of death and tears.

These days, I revel not in a desire to die, but I revel in the struggles on earth, the battles of good and evil, the overcoming of painful, lonely trials with faith and love. It oddly gives me strength, to hear someone tell me that my belief is an unevolved superstition, as the whole time my faith is cursed, I live and feel His strength and truth down to my bone marrow - I liken their mockery to the college kids in the 60s who spat on Vietnam War veterans; they were haughty in their own perceived righteousness, and held disdain for those who had been to war, all the while safe with their Dylan records and smoky dorms.
I'm living now, and painful as living can be, I'm alive; God delivered me, and led me away from the cushy, Nerf-soft comfort of hopelessness and death.

Up in the City, Down in the River

Up in the city, they're all safe with their troubles, with art on their minds. Up in the city, they're telling each other how they're beyond redemption, in the comfort of a neon Budweiser sign. Up in the city, they're telling each other how there ain't no hope, in the comfort of a Gotye tune. Up in the city, they're writing sonnets and things of such, telling each other and the others how hard it is to be them.
And down in the river, I'm in trouble; here no man can rescue me.
Up in the city, they're shrieking in delight at the next song - careful not to forget to tell the rest of the world, every ear to hear, how terrible life is.
And down in the river, I'm fighting the tide.
Up in the city, they're warm in coats made in far away places, wearing smiles custom-made from above - careful not to forget to furrow in pain for a picture.
And down in the river, my ship has been dashed to pieces and I'm cussing, I'm asking forgiveness, and cussing some more.
And I wish I had a heathen crew to throw me overboard when they find out I'm the reason we're going down. And I wish for a giant fish to swallow me up. I remember Jonah and I might as well have seen it with my own eyes, I believe it so hard.
Up in the city, they're telling each other why my love could never be. They're telling each other and the others how it begins in ooze and ends in waste, why there ain't nobody who's guilty and why there ain't nobody can be made innocent. Up in the city, they're unaware of my drowning, beneath them somewhere, where no man, no woman, no guitar riff, no wit can rescue me.

And I thought I saw the lights of the city above me go out; but it was just the murky depths taking it away from me. And I thought I saw Leviathan, coming at me with them fiery eyes; but it was just some weird thing that happens to your head when you lose your breath.
But I looked up, and I saw the Lord Jesus' feet. And it was so strange; I was drowning and terrified, but my mind, though short-circuiting with no air, still found time to revel in the thought that up there in the city somewhere, they were reveling in the thought of Him being dead, and how they'd tell me what I saw was just some malfunction, biology's fault.
And I reached my hand up, and before I could touch the strap of His sandal, I found myself on the shore. I prepared myself to cough and hack up the muddy waters that filled my lungs. But I only lay in peace on a thousand rocks, rocks that stayed rocks when Jesus rebuked the devil and refused to turn stone to bread. I could see bits and pieces of my ship, flotsam and jetsam still battered by the wind and waters, angry foam waves fighting with each other to destroy the last piece of my work.
Up in the city, they cried how ugly the storm below them would be; they announced to the world that it's a tragedy that no one can escape, for wind and wave obey no one, and no one will be held accountable if he murders in the wrath of nature; then they climbed inside the jukebox with their chosen romantic cohorts and wrote: 
"it's moments like these that make life worth living..."
The city just ain't no good. 

Big Spring State Hospital, I Hate Every Inch of You: The Problem With America's Mental Hospitals

Although my first admission to a psychiatric facility came as an adolescent, I would eventually carry thirteen stays in such hospitals under my belt, from 2001 at age fourteen, through 2008 at age twenty-two. I identified many of the same problems with these places in both adolescent and adult wards, which further suggests the apathy given to the treatment of the truly mentally ill. We've come a long way since the days of shock treatment, lobotomies, insulin shock therapy, and ice baths, but the general malaise in which patients find themselves in these places is just as counterproductive and damaging.

The reason I've not entered another mental hospital in four and a half years is not because I don't need treatment, but because after over a dozen stays in these facilities, I was finally smart enough to realize nothing they offered was any help to my condition.

The biggest problem I noticed was that all patients are treated as if they have the same psychiatric problem; I'm sure in the ten minutes during which they see the resident doctor, they're given slightly more specific attention, but otherwise all patients are treated as if:
a.)  they are threats to themselves or others;
b.) they've done something wrong by coming to the hospital, that their mental or emotional issue is a character flaw that needs working on, rather than a chemical imbalance in the brain for instance;
c.) self-esteem is the cure for any of their ailments.

Not to take anything away from the knowledge and expertise of the lady who hands out the ping-pong equipment, but during my last visit to such a facility, the Pavilion in Amarillo, Texas, the group of patients in which I found myself was scolded by the lady who ran the rec room - not for playing White Rabbit on the stereo system, but because we were in the hospital. She spoke to us of "responsibility," and asked us what we need to "evaluate" in our "personal lives" to keep us from coming back.
I don't pride myself on being a great guy, because I'm not. I also have very little sympathy for myself. But, I am quite sure that the malformation on my brain and other chemical imbalances that cause my psychiatric dysfunction are not caused by tardiness to work or social functions, leaving the toilet seat up, or wearing the same shirt two or three days in a row.

All patients are treated the same - socially dangerous, personally irresponsible, and in need of a game of Nerf basketball to perk them up. If we were in a hospital for physical problems, the patient with the fractured ankle would be treated differently than the patient with bronchitis; the woman in childbirth is given different and more immediate attention than the man who accidentally put a Swingline staple in his finger.
This should be no different at psychiatric hospitals. Patients should be treated and segregated according to the severity and nature of their illness - someone suffering from an especially bad time with panic attacks should not be made to share a room with the patient who suffers from violent episodes and smashes hospital property. Likewise patients without suicidal urges or thoughts should not be treated or restricted for something from which they don't suffer. A doctor in an emergency room would not put a cast on the leg of a patient with appendicitis.

Some may say "How do we know? We don't want to take the risk of someone lying about suicidal thoughts." One reason doctors and staff can't tell who's suicidal and who is not, is because so many leeches on the system will dig at themselves with a spoon, make a superficial cut across their wrist, or make empty threats of suicide, all to spite a loved or hated one at home - they're then sent to these psychiatric facilities, consuming the time, energy, and resources of the available staff, not to mention the funding of the hospitals. One would think this is predominant in adolescent wards, but unfortunately I've seen it quite often as an adult. This also may be why so many patients with genuine illnesses are chided by recreational therapists for perceived character flaws.

One final suggestion, pertaining to one specific hospital - Big Spring State Hospital in Big Spring, Texas. That particular facility can be helped by the following measures: sending all of its patients elsewhere, preferably to places that have stepped out of the 1950s in terms of treating the mentally ill, the buildings themselves burned to the ground, paved over, and a Panda Express built in its place.
The staff meanwhile could benefit from evaluation, and possible treatments, for mental illnesses themselves.