Last year, I found myself with no choice but to adopt an opposition to the death penalty. My newfound position stemmed from my vehemently pro-life/anti-abortion views. One of the standard arguments for the pro-choice side of the abortion debate would be the perceived hypocrisy of so many who are "pro-life," but support the death penalty and oppose food stamp programs. And while I've never opposed food stamps, I was often on the fence about capital punishment. The Law of Moses gave clear instructions for the death penalty, but the New Testament's position on the subject has been a source of debate, even among we who believe (though the apostle Paul writes, "the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death." -Romans 8:2, emphasis added; and, if we're going to base a support of capital punishment on the Old Covenant in the Bible, we'd also have to execute those who commit adultery).
But I soon realized I had no choice. Being pro-life must not end at the womb or at birth. It must carry into the child's well-being, education, and even into old age. Therefore, I decided I wouldn't give the other side of the abortion debate the ammunition - no longer could they pin me down in some generic mold of hypocrisy that they've concocted.
I oppose the death penalty.
I'm not sure how the two thoughts became connected - the thought of where I'd like to be buried when I die, and my opposition to capital punishment - but they did connect somehow, and left me with the wish to be buried in a prison cemetery, any one that will have me.
In January, I made a call to the Texas Prison Museum, to gather information on the Captain Joe Byrd Cemetery in Huntsville, Texas, a cemetery for prisoners in my state who die with no one to claim their remains. When I asked the admittedly odd question about a non-inmate being buried there, the answer was that, if for no other reason, I might be prohibited only because they're quickly running out of room.
Many prison inmates, whether sentenced to life or not, die while incarcerated each day, and many have no relatives to claim their bodies (and many have relatives who simply refuse to claim their bodies based on the deeds they've done). I'd assume that Texas would have to open a new state prison cemetery at some point. But when I pass away, I hope that any prison cemetery that will have me will allow my remains to be buried there.
My reasons are simple. When the Lord Jesus returns to gather all who are saved, both dead and alive, He will no doubt gather even those who died on the gallows, in the electric chair, the gas chamber, or the lethal injection stretcher, who confessed their sins and repented before their executions. And if I'm so pro-life, so opposed to the killing of a human being in the womb or outside of it, I can only empathize with those who were executed for their crimes by the state, though they were cleansed of them by a much Higher Authority. I've never done anything deserving of death according to the state, but had I lived during the time of the Old Testament, I could have been stoned to death for taking the Lord's name in vain, for adultery, or any number of sins for which I've been forgiven, under the New Covenant of the blood of Jesus Christ.
Therefore, it would be an honor to be raised at Jesus' Second Coming with men who, like me, are forgiven scoundrels, criminals purged with hyssop. It's my desire to meet the Lord in the air, but it's my dream to meet Him with men who had no one in their lifetime to claim their mortal bodies. In death, they were in the company of only strangers, guards and shackles. In life, they'll be in the company of their fellow saints.
I suppose I could find just as many forgiven wretches and deviants in any cemetery, and many graves with the careless word "Unknown" etched where a name should be. But most of those people weren't killed by their state, their deaths condoned by many governors and politicians who rally against death by lethal injection in the womb, but support death by lethal injection outside it.
I don't want a special tombstone to designate that I wasn't a prisoner. I'd just need a simple marker with a number for the sake of records, the same as those who died as inmates. Jesus Christ will know where to find me when He returns.
I suppose there was no way to write this blog without looking both morbid and fanatical. I can admit to the fanatical part - I know that if I'm a fanatical supporter of life, I won't kill anyone to make my point. But I don't find eternal life and the promise of God to be morbid. He is a God of life, not of death. My job in this world is to proclaim the good news of eternal life offered to us by the Lord Jesus, paid for by His own blood; and I hope to someday be risen next to men who died alone and forsaken, but forgiven and blessed with eternal life by Him whose authority exceeds any court or lynch mob.
"There ain't no grave gonna hold my body down
When I hear the trumpet sound
I'm gonna get up outta the ground
There ain't no grave gonna hold my body down."
-traditional American folk song
