Wednesday, November 23, 2005


If one thing seems to be able to be gained from my robbery experience (aside from a heightened vigilance), it is the guarantee of having even more religion shoved down my throat.

"Thank God!"

"You're truly blessed; the Lord was watching over you."

"It's a miracle you weren't killed!"

I realize that these exclamations are
typically good-intentioned and merely customary, proclaimed without much thought other than simply being courteous, yet it's still annoying. Don't get me wrong: I honestly am appreciative for the individuals who actually care enough about my well being to be thankful that I'm alright, but it's not just simple little polite statements or genuine concern.

With some frequency I'm informed that this is a wake up call of sorts; a call to arms for my faith, as if the incident was punishment for my faithlessness.

To this I offer a sincere "fuck you". If you will excuse yourself from manners or niceties, allow me the same. But instead of taking this as an opportunity for an exercise in consciousness-raising, pointing out the arrogance permeating our society via blatant and rampant Christian privilege, I offer an inquiry:

Couldn't God have gotten through to me without the need of it coming from the barrel of a gun and fisticuffs? It seems to me that a loving God wouldn't choose to use violence as a means of spreading that love. The trauma I suffered isn't even the full extent of it: multiple other victims were involved in what was eventually a two-week spree at eleven different properties. Are we to believe that all of the anguish thrust upon the psyche of numerous individuals who will likely never know of my existence, much less my infidelity, was somehow necessary as a test of my faith?

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