Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Seventh-day Adventists and Women's Ordination

This issue is heating the SDA church up.

Even Washington Post has commented on this.

My opinion as a former Adventist about the SDA crisis of Women's Ordination:

Okay, first off, understand my heart is really in this for them. I think this is a pivotal time and I am praying about this. I love my Adventist brother and sisters in Christ. This is not coming from a point of anything but truly wanting them to unify with the entire Body of Christ. I want the best for them.

So, some philosophy for a minute. I have read over and over where Adventists who are pro-Women's Ordination that think people who don't want it are being old and stodgy. And visa versa. They say unity above everything. They mock those who feel so passionately about this one way or the other that they are willing to walk over this. I say walk! Do not compromise on this if you believe it to be a moral issue!
 If you don't, you shouldn't make fun of other people's sincere heartfelt beliefs on this. 

It is the HEIGHT of hypocrisy for Adventists to put unity before truth. Isn't that the entire reason they broke off from other churches? Remember they are Protestants! They base everything on the fact that one doesn't compromise--you break from a "wrong" church. Isn't that why they won't unify with their brothers and sisters in other churches? They are the first to break out in hysteria if anyone else suggests that unity should usurp moral principle or conscience.

If you believe this to be a moral issue. Walk out. Protest. Don't compromise on moral issues. 

Now, having said that, I don't believe for the SDA church this is a moral issue. (And may I stress strongly, I believe it is a moral issue... just not for the SDA church.) Within their framework, within their heterodoxy, they are already so far from the mark of truth, that this doesn't even register compared to their other theological errors. This is like the Amish arguing whether they should allow computers in their businesses or not.

Secondly, and away from the first point, I see this as a possible great awakening for our SDA brothers and sisters. If there is a division... is it possible (and I tends towards romanticism probably) but what if... what if this helps open the eyes of a few Adventists and they join the full Body of Christ? What a miracle that would be?

Am I being overly hopeful? Is it a sin to want disunity for another denomination? I feel awful. It is like hoping someone will take a fall on their first motorcycle ride so they won't get back on and possibly kill themselves one day. I don't know, I am truly praying for the right attitude.

As much as I believe in the unity of believers, Adventism is a sect who refuses to take advantage of the spiritual wisdom of their older brothers and sisters in Christ. They are the petulant teenagers of Christendom. If there is any break in their stubbornness--perhaps they will find their way back home. Even a few....

I ask everyone out there--former Adventists as well as Evangelicals and Catholics, etc.--to please pray for the SDA church at this time. May God's will be done and may their eyes be opened to the wholeness of truth of the gospel. 

Monday, May 25, 2015

May 22, 2015 What We Better Learn from Ireland.

Today, I do not have joy in being Catholic. Today I am heartbroken. 

The Emerald Isle, the beautiful little Catholic country who has been the leader in being so faithful to God for fifteen centuries has slapped God in the face. 

A generation of young Irish people went to the polls last Friday and voted to redefine marriage. The youth decided in their knowledge and wisdom they knew better than God. Sodomy is now protected in their constitution. Because, of course, the Irish youth know best. 

The tragedy is that while young people in the Middle East are being burned, beheaded and tortured for their faith, Ireland is celebrating its divorce from its faith. 

Who is to blame? 

Well, if we look at the context, the biggest reason why Ireland fell to the devil's deception is that the bishops and priests failed to live and teach Christianity. They were cowardly or even ruthlessly unfaithful. Irelands bishops will have to one day stand before all the Irish martyrs and even worse, God Himself and give an account of why they had so little courage to fight for the right. 

Secondly, it was some of the USA billionaires who flooded Ireland with money to the tune of $25 million dollars to bribe the people to vote yes and the bishops and priests to remain silent. Yes, American culture has so little tolerance of other cultures that we have to remake other countries in our image. The secular humanist image of America. 

Finally, the parents. Irish Catholics were lukewarm so their children rebelled. 

The Catholic world needs to see what just happened in Ireland and wake up. This is every bit as momentous a situation as the priest sexual scandal. In fact, this march away from Catholicism is due to the sexual scandal. People no longer believe priests who abuse and bishops who allow it. 

Time for Catholic bishops and priests to awake and smell the martyrdom coming. Brace yourselves, for this generation of priests will be paying the price for yesterday's unfaithful cowards. 

Irish Catholics, turn and look at your brothers and sisters in Christ in the middle east and be ashamed. My heart is broken, for your failures are my failures. We are one Body. We are Christ's Body. 

Catholics around the world, we need to repent. We need to mourn our lukewarmness and our sins against you. We need to pray for courage to stand and speak the truth. 

Thursday, April 23, 2015



Imagine for a moment, AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas filled with newborn babies. 

Each seat, all 80,000 of them, holding crying little innocent newborns. 

And then imagine ISIS coming into that stadium with a scalpel and slaughtering them all one by one. 

And then, imagine that same stadium filling with 80,000 babies a second time. 

But this time you realize it is not ISIS at all... but an American, a nice, sweet looking older gentleman with a little cadre of nurse assistants smiling and laughing as they begin murdering another set of newborns. 

Yes, I know this is too horrible to continue, but please, it is almost over...

Once more, imagine that same stadium being filled to capacity a third time. 

But this time, to your horror, you realize that the sweet-looking grandpa is an Adventist doctor who graduated from La Sierra University and Loma Linda Medical School and he systematically massacres all the babies in the stadium. 

Three times. Three times--the entire stadium.

And the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists knew about it and did not corporately raise a word against it. 

Then when the man is interviewed by the media, he brags about what he has done. 

But that is not all. After retiring from his decades of butchery, his alma mater, La Sierra University, dedicates a building to this doctor in honor of his entrepreneurial accomplishments. 

Hardly a peep of protest is heard from the hierarchy of the church.  

No, Seventh-day Adventists, this is not the bitter raving hatred of a former Adventist trying to slander the church or Adventists. This is a fellow Christian crying out from the depths of her heart, 

While he may not be the dreaded antichrist pope,  the man in our nightmare scenario is real. If you have not yet heard, let me introduce you to the baby butcher, Dr. Edward C. Allred.

This man has boasted how he has revolutionized the industry to make abortions more efficient. He bragged to a newspaper in 1980 that he has personally slaughtered almost a quarter of a million unborn babies. Who knows what the number was when he retired. And he sold his abortion clinics to another SDA, Bud Feldkamp.

Irving "Bud" Feldkamp 

I beg you Adventists, let the following paragraph reported by Advindicate, a Seventh-day Adventist website, sink in:
In 1980, Allred claimed to have personally aborted a quarter of a million fetuses in the preceding 12 years. It may seem difficult to believe that one man could perform so many abortions, but Allred tried to spend no more than five minutes with each pregnant woman. “We've been pioneers in so many ways,” he once told a reporter. “We streamlined, we made efficiencies, we employed the suction technique better than anyone, and we eliminated needless patient-physician contact. We usually see the patient for the first time on the operating table and then not again.” Spending only five minutes per patient would have allowed Allred to perform as many as 100 abortions in a 10-12 hour working day, and 200 working days per year (50 four-day work weeks) would, over 12 years, add up to 240,000 aborted fetuses. So Allred's estimate of the number of abortions he performed during that time is credible.

Pro-life Adventists have been crying out about this for years and have received either silence or even harsh treatment from the General Conference. Many Adventists consider themselves the victims of a smear campaign for harboring, protecting and even honoring these people. This family is known to be a nice family and active members of the Seventh-day Adventist Church.  

Our response is:
Then wouldn't you want them to repent and live? Wouldn't it be awful if these "nice" people went to hell? And how nice could any man be who would take advantage of women in crisis pregnancies? What would have been nice is for him to have helped them save their children rather than kill them. God may have blessed him beyond his wildest financial dreams if he had taken his money and helped these women and their children rather than grow rich off their corpses.

And I bet a lot of those little innocent souls he murdered would have been kind and loving people too. I wonder how many of them were Seventh-day Adventist children. They might have grown up to be SDA doctors or nurses or teachers or pastors.

Dear Seventh-day Adventists,

No one is asking you to leave your church. No one is calling your church the Whore of Babylon, no one is sending flyers out and organizing yearly Revelation seminars to slander your church. NO! we are asking you to raise your voice for the unborn.
The blood soaking US soil is crying out for justice. And it is Adventists who have the blood on their hands. You don't think you will be responsible for what one rogue SDA did?

Deliver them that are carried away unto death, and those that are ready to be slain see that thou hold back.  If thou sayest, Behold, we knew not this: doth not he that weigheth the hearts consider it? and he that keepeth thy soul, doth not he know it? and shall not he render to every man according to his work? Prov. 24: 11, 12

Adventists don't like to hear this! Of course not. None of us like to hear about the sins of our country, our church, our families or ourselves. 

But pointing the finger at other churches' sins does not remove the stain from yours. It takes supernatural courage and grace to stand up to your emotions that want to strike out against hearing this. I am reminded of St. Paul's letter to the church in Corinth. 

For even if I made you sorry with my letter, I do not regret it... Now I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because your grief led to repentance; for you felt a godly grief, so that you were not harmed in any way by us. For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation and brings no regret...

Dear Seventh-day Adventist, 

I pray that you will stand up and let your voice be heard crying out to the heavens for fear of your church offending God. Do you not see that abortion is a direct arrow into the heart of God? 
It is no different than sacrificing our children to Molech or Ba'al. Yet we are even worse because we sacrifice our children to convenience.

It is our ultimate rejection of Him when we destroy the greatest gift He has given us, and that is the creative power to be like Him. Just as He made us in His own image and likeness, so He passes down to us that gift of creating children in our own likeness. We pro-create little souls that can enter eternity with us.

Dear Seventh-day Adventist, 

Join your sisters and brothers in Christ in other churches who have already been praying for these men. All over the world, in millions of Catholic masses each day, Catholics are praying for abortionists such SDA Dr. Edward Allred and his accomplice Bud Feldcamp. We Catholics are praying for them, will not the SDA church raise its voice with us?

I lift up to you all abortionists and their staff, including: all technicians, nurses, receptionists, counselors, chaplains, and all who are employed or voluntarily assisting with the killing of the unborn in any way. I place each one of them in the innermost recesses of Your Sacred Heart -- Your heart of mercy, compassion and love for all Your children.

I pray that they will accept the supernatural graces that You give them this day to rennounce the: the horrific killing of Your children, the psychological, physical, and spiritual harm that they are doing to women through their actions, and the tremendous spiritual, physical, and psychological harm they are doing to themselves.

Give them an abundance of courage and strength to say "No" to murder and to escape the culture of death and the constant torment and resentment that they experience in their lives.
As they approach You, encourage them to draw nearer, remove the veil that covers their eyes and blinds them to the truth. Pour out Your tender, loving mercy upon them that they will see the truth, the reality, and the consequences of their actions. Draw them into the light of your love and penetrate their souls with the light of truth, the light of Your knowledge, wisdom, and understanding.

I pray this in the Holy name of Jesus. For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on them, and on all the whole world!




Saturday, April 4, 2015


Catholicism 101: For Adventists

This is an amazing, funny wonderful story of a Jewish woman coming into the Catholic Church. I think that Adventists will relate to this woman's story.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Teresa Beem's Confessio

Teresa Beem's "Confession"

When I say that I am like Timothy and have known the holy scriptures since childhood, this is what I mean:

I began reading scripture as soon as I could read. As I have written before, I would take all my earnings from childhood chores and combine them with my birthday and Christmas money then purchase Bibles. Strange thing for a kid to do, right?

I think my attraction to Bibles began when I walked into a Christian book store and realized that there were all sorts of different Bibles. So when I was twelve, I started my collection. 

Originally, I had wanted a pocket Bible so I could take it to school with me in my purse. But after I got this beautiful little, tan-leather Revised Standard Version ($12), I was walking up to the counter and I saw this big Bible for sale—only $5—and it had a pretty cover. I had never heard of that kind of Bible before, but it sounded religious: The Jerusalem Bible. There was also a big black Strong's Bible Concordance that was on sale. So I counted my dollars and sure enough, I could purchase them all. I remember how heavy those items were as I carried the sack to the car. (I was a small twelve-year-old.) Thus began my lifelong dedication to getting as many Bible versions as I could.

That night, all alone in my room sitting on my bed, I began paging through my pocket Bible with such love. From that moment, I began memorizing passages and highlighting verses that had meaning to me. The first one was "Fear not, for I am with thee, be not dismayed for I am thy God." I had tremendous fears growing up and I wanted to memorize this in order to recite it in the night after waking up from nightmares. The next passage:

Rejoice in the Lord always: again I will say, Rejoice....In nothing be anxious; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Phil. 4:4-8
At twelve, I made a commitment to myself that I would read through scripture from beginning to end each year. It is possible that some years I didn't complete the entire Bible, but the next year I would read even more than once, just in case.

Why was the Bible so important to me?

Prayer was my reaching out to God, and since I never heard anything back audibly, the Bible was His Word to me. Scripture was my only link to Christ. The Bible and prayer was my relationship with Him. And I was totally devoted, even if I didn't go around talking about it.

I was young and sheltered. Most people scared me. I could perform a song in front of a crowd of thousands, but individually? Most kids my age were into things that were frightening—things like KISS and AC/DC and Alice Cooper. I was into Roger's and Hammerstein. From the time I was five, I knew exactly what I was going to be when I grew up. I was going into musical theater. Dancing, singing, acting—the stage! That was my thing. I would be the new Judy Garland. And my friends were not supportive. They were rebellious.
Unlike most of my elementary and high school friends, I never went through a time when I wandered from the Lord. 

To me, there was a darkness in breaking the rules that my friends seemed to think was exciting. They would listen to horrible sounds coming from screeching electric guitars and smoke pot and say bad words and act cool and talk about breaking the commandment of sexual purity. Now as boy crazy as I was, and I assure you, I was—I never allowed my mind to go anywhere near anything past a kiss. I didn't want to. It made me feel dirty. I ran from anything sexual, it made me panic.

I can't say I felt alone. I had a wonderful family. Lots of fun brothers and sisters. My parents were Seventh-day Adventists party animals! My family threw lavish parties and invited everyone. Our house was a continual chaotic amusement park. Everyone came to our house because we had a swimming pool, a pool table, a ping-pong table and my parents enjoyed games and pizza—and paid for it for all of those who showed up. We served the no-no drinks like Coke and Dr. Pepper. My childhood was nothing but one long buzz of good old-fashioned and moral fun.

However, I certainly didn't fit in with my peer group. In order to cope, I emotionally withdrew into my Bible. Most people had no idea how I felt because I didn't let on. In fact, I was so small when this began to happen, I couldn't express what I was feeling anyway. One person on earth outside my family I felt completely free to be myself—and that was a girl named Lauretta Rice. Everyone else made me uncomfortable or scared me, just a little or a lot!

After years of being teased for being uncool, I became defensive and began celebrating my differences. However, because I took a leadership role in school, I wasn't a wallflower. I was very adept at being in charge and slid easily into handling even adult responsibility. 

My five siblings and I had a singing group. We were the Partridge Family of the Dallas First SDA Church. We sang at church and at parties. 

I was popular. Not because of my winning personality. To be frank, I was popular because my family was rich and fun and exciting. Everyone wanted to come over to our house. I was popular but hated all at the same time. And that can be confusing for a child growing up.

The Bible was the only thing that made me feel safe. And by the time I was married with children and had read it through a dozen or so times, I knew it. I knew my Bible backwards and forwards. Not that anyone noticed how well I knew it, nor was I aware of the fact I knew it so much better than anyone else. I just assumed all good SDA kids knew it as well as I did.

"Are you serious? You didn't know that Mt. Horeb and Mt. Sinai were the same place? Really? Huh?"
 That was strange. And gradually I came to understand that even good Adventists kids didn't know what a nephilim was or wouldn't catch my casually references to Abimelech in everyday conversation. It is not that I stood out in anyone else's mind, I assure you. It was inside my own mind that I felt different. And that difference thrust me towards clinging to Him as my pillar in my awkward life. And the Bible was how I heard Him and how I knew Him. 

And as I studied more in depth and with all those Bibles I had in my collection, I was uneasy with the different versions. The translations were…different, (duh? Of course) At first I thought the differences were not important, then the occasional true difference in meaning concerned me. And I wondered which version was really telling me what God was saying. After all, if this is my only lifeline to God, then the Bible needs to be… well, informing us unmistakably what God meant to say. Differing versions seemed to be telling us different things which would mean that I might not be getting the right message from God. Which one was the correct version? Scholars differed. Some said the NASB, p'shaw..totally. Others were certain it was the NIV. I ran into some KJV only proponents—and Christians probably know what that is like.

Learning Greek and Hebrew! That's it! I could read the original version and then I'd know what scripture really said. I decided to teach myself. That didn't go well.

Oh and in there somewhere I left Adventism because it didn't line up with what I was reading in scripture. That was hard.

From morning till evening I was insatiable about learning theology and Christian history. I read Lewis and Tozer, Chambers and Shaffer, Luther and Calvin, Merton and Kierkegaard, Augustine and Chesterton, Kempis and Kant, the Ante-Nicene Fathers (all 10 volumes!) Every word I read was scanned through the filter of what I knew the Bible said and was judged.

And as I read the Bible daily, devouring it on a new non-Adventist level, I started cross referencing the New Testament passages with the old.

Yikes. Something was wrong.

Ya know…. Jesus picked some really obscure texts to use to make His point. When you read the context of the verse, it shook me. How did Jesus get that meaning from that text? No one else would have taken that verse from that Psalms or from the Prophets and fit in into the context Jesus was putting it in. And in fact, many of Matthew's references of Jesus doing something "in order to fulfill the scriptures" didn't really match up either. Jesus and Satan slung texts at each other like grenades but when you look up the references of those texts, it makes you wonder why they would choose them. They knew something about those texts that we don't.

And Peter? Uh? How did he get those Old Testament references (such as the Psalms) fit in with the situation he used them in? See Acts 1: 15-21. And the texts used at the Jerusalem Council? If anyone had tried to use those texts today to prove what the Apostles expected them to prove to their listeners, we would accuse them of taking them out of context and twisting them! And Paul? He was either totally misquoting scripture or deliberately mixing texts up. For one such example read his first letter to the Corinthians (v. 2:9). He seems to have cut and pasted from Isa. 64:3 and Jer. 3:16 combing too unrelated texts as if they were one!

When you cross-reference these types of passages as a 21st century Christian, it can unsettle your faith. We are taught the Bible is clear and the unerring Word of God. Well, Jesus and His Apostles didn't understand the doctrine of perspicuity, because they sure used Old Testament texts in very obscure ways. Where did we get this idea that the Bible is so clear? Peter clearly tells us that it isn't. (II Peter 3:15-16)

When I began reading the Jewish Talmuds, I felt better. The Hebrews did the same thing too. Pulling a text out and making it fit into the oddest situations was… normal… evidently. They saw layers of possibilities of scriptural usage that today we would vehemently reject as twisting scripture. That knowledge made the growing panic subside, but it dawned on me that… just everyone can't do that.

If scripture was now open to a multiplicity of interpretations, then pretty much anything could be argued as Biblical. Yikes. Uh… double yikes. Then Ellen White could be correct. And David Koresh. Anyone then could do this and claim the authority to do it like Jesus and Peter and Paul. If scripture isn't clearly one interpretation, then how in the world can we know who's a false shepherd giving us a false interpretation?

This wonderful, beautiful, golden life-line to God I had always depended so much on was starting to stretch. Scholars who could read Greek and Hebrew manuscripts interpreted scripture differently. There are a multiplicity of versions with various if not discrepant meanings. And now I discover that Jesus and the Apostles used scripture in a way we would find… alarming. Hum.

During this time, I was amassing a library on how the Bible was put together. Also, I was emailing and personally interviewing Bible scholars in every denomination pouring out my concerns. (People like J I Packer, Bart Erhman, religion teachers at Hillsdale College, Tel Aviv, dozens of pastors on the East Coast). I took university classes about the subject and visited places like Bob Jones University and any other place where there were original manuscripts—such as the Library of Congress and the British Library. I scheduled vacations around this quest.

If your faith is not extremely strong, I suggest you don't study how the canon of the Bible was put together. If God wasn't directly involved in the messy, long, chaotic process then there is no possible way this Bible is true.

At first, no Christians thought of Paul's or Luke's or Mark's gospels or epistles as anything but important letters to the churches. They might have been venerated, but they were never seen to be fully, infallible, inerrant scripture for decades or longer. And there were hundreds of copies of them floating around. Many were hasty and sloppy transcripts.

It was only later, as the importance of these letters became clear, they were carefully copied. But to add to the possible problems, earlier Bible manuscripts were burnt when they became old--out of respect. So we have no original or even close to original copies of scripture to verify later transcriptions. These letters and gospels were hand-reproduced for three centuries before anyone decided to put all these various letters and gospels together into one book.

Pastors I would throw myself in front of begging to be counseled heard all the details and facts I had uncovered in my quest and were frazzled. They were visibly demoralized with my questions. I once was courteously, yet forcefully, thrown out of a pastor's office, albeit after three hours of passionate discussion. (To be precise, the pastor who had kept the door open to his office to protect us both was sorry he did because people down the halls could hear our yelling.) 

I was left empty. And as the years past, I was discouraged. Then close to despair. All these great scholars, these men of God, tried to give me good answers. They really did. We spent hours, days and weeks together trying to pound them out. But I got nothing that satisfied me. In fact, even the scholars themselves usually finished our study with some version of, "Some things we won't know this side of heaven."

I couldn't accept that answer. I just couldn't. If the Bible is our sole way of knowing the will of God, if the Bible is God speaking to us, then I cannot believe He is speaking so enigmatically that we cannot know for certain what He is meaning. How can we "go and sin no more" if we don't know for certain, clearly, decisively what sin is? When an entire denomination can say that sabbath is a necessity of faith but being against abortion isn't or when another denomination can claim that believer's baptism is a necessity of faith and another baptizes babies, when one denomination is demanding that homosexuality isn't condemned in scripture and no one can even agree on what version of the Bible is the correct one…well…


My golden chain to the Lord broke. My faith in scripture was demolished. If the Bible isn't trustworthy, then how would I hear God's voice? Would the Holy Spirit directly speak to me since I no longer believed Scripture trustworthy? John did write that the Holy Spirit would bring us into all truth, right? That passage didn't say that the Holy Spirit would bring us into the truth using the Bible. So, perhaps I could trust the Holy Spirit… But wait. I got that information from the scriptures. So if the scriptures aren't trustworthy, then I can't trust them about the Holy Spirit bringing me to all truth.

What about Jesus Himself? 

Really, all we know about Christ historically comes from the witness of the four gospels. So if the scriptures aren't trustworthy, how do we know that Jesus resurrected? Did miracles? Was crucified? Or was even a true person and not a character made up by a group of fanatics?

Oh dear. My mind and heart wanted to shut down. I shouted a theological version of Patrick Henry's "Give me truth or give me death!" And I meant it. God knew how I had honestly searched, body, soul, strength and spirit. All my life I had searched and scraped for the buried, priceless pearl. I had indeed searched the scriptures to show myself approved. I had thrown myself into seeking the kingdom first. And I was left confused. While I still clung to faith in God, how was I to know His truth, when I suspected the Bible was fallible?

Satan was using this to tempt my very foundation of belief.

All the while, unbeknownst to me, the answer was coming into view. The knight in shining armor riding on a white horse was coming at me full force and I couldn't see through the midst. 

When I left Adventism, I promised myself I would look into all the major denominations and give each one a true shot at being the right church for Arthur and I—the most Biblical. I had been studying different denominations for almost a decade. 

I didn't care if the church members sang "Zippidee do dah" in purple Barney the dinosaur outfits for church or if the pastor hung from the ceiling naked while giving the sermon or if fist-fights broke out at potlucks. I didn't care what the church service looked like or how the members acted as long as it was Biblical. That was my standard. Just let the church be…. Biblical, I whimpered to God in my prayers. Ironically, at that time I wasn't convinced the scriptures were God's authentic word. 

Total cognitive dissonance, again. I had already gone through this once leaving Adventism. "Truly God!!" I cried out to Him,"not again! Shouldn't You be logical, consistent, reasonable, understandable?" My search was extensive:

Anglican. United Methodist. Centenary Methodist. Russian Orthodox. Greek Orthodox. Church of Christ. Assemblies of God. Mormon. Church of God. Southern Baptist. Free Will Baptist. Evangelical Lutheran. Missouri Synod Lutheran. Wisconsin Synod Lutheran. Prespyterian USA, Prespyterians of America. And various other Pentecostal and Baptist churches. 

I was attending four to five different churches (of different denominations) each week. And during the day, I was studying their beliefs. Really. No exaggeration. I really did this.

Deliberately I had saved the "Whore of Babylon" for last. I resented that it was even a church I had to look into.
As I studied more and more into Catholicism their entire system of how they looked at scripture, as fearful and bewildering it was for the first few years, started to make sense.

When a Catholic would explain a doctrine, I would test it just as I had everything else. First I would put it through the mental Bible filter which could do a preliminary scan for outright heresy. If it cleared that hurdle, then I would go home and study it myself comparing different versions of scripture and Bible research material—commentaries, dictionaries, lexicons, concordances . If the doctrine cleared that hurdle, I would begin discussing it with my Bible scholar friends. Those Catholic doctrines were put to the test in various ways.

However, what helped clear things up the most profoundly for me was the authority of the Bible itself. The Catholic Church solved what to me was the unsolvable mystery of how we trust scripture and whose interpretation is the correct one.

Bullseye of theological consistency.

They explained that the scripture was never supposed to be our only means of approaching God. In fact, if the Bible had never been produced, we would still have total access to Him through another conduit.

Jesus didn't come to earth to establish a book to lead us. Even if that book were His very Word! (Which I am now, in a new way immovably convicted that the Bible is the infallible Word of God.) 

Jesus always had an authority for His people. Christ came to establish an authoritative church. (Scanning Bible for heresy....Abraham. Jacob. Moses. King David. Solomon. Jesus. Peter. Yes! Of course! Why didn't I see that before?)

When that fact sunk into my head and heart, it made all the sense in the world. Zero cognitive dissonance. Jesus set up a church with Apostles and teachers who had His own authority to rightly interpret scripture. He gave them the right to organize, codify, copy, translate and interpret scripture. Jesus didn't establish a church of sand… millions of tiny little rocks. No. He built His church upon the Rock. (Petros, Petra, Kephas, Cephas, however you wish to translate the title.)

This to me was the ultimate Sabbath. I could put down the spiritual battle I had been internally waging for decades. All this time I knew there was an enemy but I couldn't quite discern who he was. I had been swinging at windmills. And now things cleared up.

Most of me was set free with giddiness, exhilaration, pure joy and thanksgiving to God. God had not abandon us to relativism and theological chaos. There was a golden standard! Maybe I had to let go of the golden thread, but what I received in return was the golden mountain of God! The very kingdom itself! Rock solid.

There was a small part of me that was incredibly irritated that the answer lay in Peter, the Rock—the whore of… I mean the C…C…Caaaaa..the Caaaaatholic (gulp) Chur…It seemed impossible that God wanted this Naaman (me) to go wash in that dirty Jordan River. This was humiliating. No one I knew would believe that my husband and I had gone from Adventism into Catholicism via scripture. People would think we had gone stark raving mad.

But I could not be those nine cured lepers who walked way. I had to be the one who came back to God with thankfulness. And I was. And I still am.

It is hard to be Catholic. As I continue to research each and everything the Catholic Church teaches, I still go back to the scripture to back it up. Like the Bereans, I listen to the Apostle and then returned to scripture for verification.

While I might never have seen the Catholic view on my own, I now realize it was there all along staring me in the face. I just had been programmed to understand scriptures the SDA Protestant way.

Each morning when Arthur and I have our morning devotions, I am shocked at how Catholic the Bible is. Having read it almost forty times through, I still am amazed at how I missed the most obvious meanings and how they all fit together perfectly.

If it had not been for the Catholic Church, I know I would no longer be a Christian. Because if the Catholic Church had not been authorized by God to orally pass down the truth, then inscripturate the truth, then copy and protect the truth, then interpret the truth, well… there would be no such thing as truth. We would have no Bible, we would have no way of knowing the correct interpretation of that Bible. And to me, it is totally useless, illogical and completely impractical to have an infallible, inerrant written Word of God if there is no infallible interpretation of it.

That would be like God giving His children the perfect, infallible, unerring antidote to a fatal bite, but then hiding the correct antidote among millions of vials of erring, fallible antidotes. But then add to that the Lord commanding you to take the correct antidote or you will die.

So here I stand. I can do no other. I am madly and passionately in love with Christ and His Church. I see its past and present mistakes. They are horrible. What can I say? The Catholic Church has bad and good people in it who have done bad and good things.

But she is mine and I love her. 

Long ago I gave up wanting to be an actress. Watching what Hollywood and Broadway were putting out in 1970's and '80's killed it for me. However, in that vein...There is a song from the musical Cabaret that fits my feelings about the Catholic Church (and is rather ironic if you know the musical). The lyrics (slightly modified) go:

I know what you're thinking:
You wondered why I chose her
Out of all the Churches in the world.
That's just a first impression,
What good's a first impression?
If you knew her like I do
It would change you're point of view.


If you could see her through my eyes
You wouldn't wonder at all.
If you could see her through my eyes
I guarantee you would fall (like I did).
When I went public about her
I heard the Protestants moan.
But if they could see her through my eyes
They'd toss out "Scripture alone."

How can I speak of her virtues,
I don't know where to begin?
She's perfect, she's smart, she chants music
She gives grace, forgives but hates sin (like I do).
When walking to Adoration together
They sneer, with my rosary in hand.
But if they could see her through my eyes
Maybe they'd all understand.

I understand your objection
I grant you the problem's not small
But if you could see her through my eyes
She wouldn't look unbiblical at all.

Maybe that song isn't in the Bible, but it's true.

That is my confession.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015


Catholicism: 101 for Adventists 

Confession to a Priest

God sent His Son into the world, not to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through Him. John 3:17

I remember studying the Investigative Judgment at Dallas First Church's SDA Elementary School. It brought me to my knees. Literally. I began a renewed seriousness in my prayer life. I had become a little too comfortable praying at night laying in my bed with my mind wandering.

Once I learned that at any moment my name might come before the Lord for eternal judgment, I decided perhaps my body posturing should show Christ that I truly meant that I was sorry for all my elementary-aged sins. So I began to kneel down and put some efforts into remembering all the things wrong I had done that day. I wanted a clean slate if my name came before the Lord for judgment while I was sleeping.

While Catholics do not believe that we are judged before death, one thing we have in common with our SDA Christian family is that we do feel that we need to take sin seriously.  Catholic teach that an examination of our conscience is not an obsession over our sins, but attempting to be realistic about ourselves and see ourselves as God sees us. Catholics do not believe we should be overly harsh, but we examine our consciences in order that we may become more and more sensitive about the great importance and meaning of our lives. It shows us that what we do is important, not only to God, but to those around us. Our lives have great importance and significance. What we do or fail to do has meaning. And that is very, very good.

We, like the SDA church, reject the idea that a Christian has absolute eternal security once they have been baptized into the Body of Christ. We believe the Bible is very clear that even Christians can willfully turn their backs on "so great a salvation." While God will never let anyone or anything snatch us from His hand, we are allowed to purposefully leave the sheepfold and hide from the One who comes seeking us. 

Catholics and Adventists believe sin destroys us. And even after we become Christians, deliberate sinning can destroy our relationship with Him. Jesus Christ came to earth to forgive us our trespasses and by that we become reconciled with the Father.  The Cross offers to us the gift of grace and as Catholics put it, "re-creates in us what sin has destroyed that we may enter into the gift of His inner life."(How to Make a Good Confession, "Sacrament of Penance, " Prince of Peace Catholic Church,, Taylor, SC.)

So, when Christians sin, in what we have done or what we have failed to do, we need to be reconciled to God. And rather than be fearful or prideful about confession and repentance for our sins, we should understand that this is a wonderful, joyful experience.  Catholics believe that within the sacrament of confession, we encounter God's mercy in a very special way. God not only forgives us freely through the merits of the sacrifice of His Son, but He gives us a special grace to overcome temptation.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation or Confession was instituted by Christ Himself in the upper room when He breathed upon the Apostles and said, "Receive ye the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained. (John 20:23)

Catholics teach that only God can forgive sins, yet He communicates that we are forgiven through His appointed Apostles and leaders. 

Catholics believe that no sin is private. All sins affect the Body of Christ. ( Eph. 1: 22-23; 4: 4-29,  Col. 1: 18, Rom. 12: 4-5, I Cor. 12: 12-29) 

While we can and should pray a prayer of contrition immediately after we have sinned, some sins are not only an offense against God and ourselves but our sins affect others.
 That is why Catholics teach that God set up a system here on earth so that sins we continually struggle with, sins that are of grave matter, can be confessed to a priest. And as the priest, he represents the entire Body of Christ and one can receive the fullness of repentance for grave sins. 

While many Catholics see Confession as a unwanted duty, and that may be conveyed to non-Catholics who observe them, they don't truly understand the miracle of what is happening. At each confession, we are being re-created into a new man, our sanctification is being accomplished by His Mercy! We are being restored and removing any sin in our life that is blocking His love from flowing into us. It is a time we can practice Christian courage, humility and submission to God.

If we look around, so much money is spent on counselors and so much of what we see coming out of entertainers, so much of what we see in people "acting out" is truly the human need to publicly confess. We need to say to another person—"I'm sorry" and hear the words of forgiveness and reconciliation.  We also need to do this when we sin against God.

Humans are happier when they have found the courage to admit their mistakes and confess them orally to another human being. God understood this and gave us the sacrament of Confession and Reconciliation for us and for our sanctification. I have found it personally to be one of the greatest gifts of God.  

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Healthcare in the US by Marta G.

The world is growing cold. The snow storms are not just in the weather, but in the human heart. 

My husband (let's call him Joe Nurse), has been a travel nurse since 2001. We have been all over the United States and abroad having three month to a year contracts all over the east and west coasts, as well as the south. Something has really changed in the US medical field in the past few years. Many blame it on Obamacare, which may have something to do with it. But it goes way deeper. Something has left the hospital--and the best way to describe it, is care. 

My husband, Joe Nurse, has seen the almost complete collapse of professionalism in the healthcare industry. Young immature new nurses who act like they are working for a fast food restaurant, texting their friends and talking to other nurses about their private lives as they are taking care of the patients. Cold hospital systems that only care about the financial profits of the hospitals. Insurance agencies setting the standard for how much care a patient will receive. Doctors threatened so strongly by lawsuits that they will literally do what is in their own best interest rather than protect the patient. 

Let me tell you what happened to Joe Nurse in the last couple of weeks. Do not think that this story is rare or remote. This is just a sample of what is happening daily in hospitals near you. 

Joe Nurse, currently on a 3-month contract in a hospital on the east coast, was given a patient who had a central line. (A central line is an IV that is put in a large vein on the side of one's neck while in the hospital so that the nurse doesn't have to keep sticking a person. The nurse can give medications and get blood from it.) 

Something was wrong with the central line. When 
Joe checked the central line with a pressure valve it was five times the normal rate of pressure. (No, I have no idea what that means either, but it's not good.) So Joe kept trying to convince the anesthesiologist who put in the line to come and check it. The chest X-ray--they had already done didn't look good. But no one was taking responsibility for it and dealing with it. 

For days Joe bugged the head nurse and the doctors on staff that this was a problem, but the anesthesiologist kept telling Joe he would come later. Two days passed and my husband made a stink about it and told the pulmonologist to look on the cat-scan they had already done on the on the patient's chest, but to look specifically at where they put the central line in. He had never done this before and thought this a genius idea. (And later would prove to have saved the patient's life.)

So when the pulmonologist saw the results of the cat-scan, he turned white. 

The anesthesiologist had accidentally put the central line directly into the patient's aorta (his heart). This could have killed the patient. He was on high doses of heparin--and even the slightest knick in his heart from the central line moving around could have caused him to bleed to death. (Among other things!)

Accidents happen, but the anesthesiologist should have immediately taken care of this within hours of putting it in. Joe Nurse had been sounding the alarm for three days and the anesthesiologist had done nothing. In fact, no one had done anything. This was gross negligence. 

When the staff heard about the mistake the anesthesiologist made, everyone on he floor knew that this was a huge potential lawsuit. So everyone was immediately backing off, so they wouldn't be a part of this guy's healthcare "team." Everyone's tone went to whispers.

Rumors immediately began that someone was going to get the axe for this to safe face so that the hospital could say they "took care of it." But everyone knew it wouldn't be the anesthesiologist. 

A few days later a former nurse who was now from corporate (not the specific hospital, but the healthcare system--corporate headquarters) suddenly showed up and started shadowing Joe Nurse. 

One patient, Joe had on that day, was a shackled (four-point) prisoner who had two body guards. This guy was huge and was a "berserker." He would pretend to be sedated and when Joe would come near him he would become violent and once even grabbed Joe's wrist-even though he was handcuffed. 

Because the guy's handcuffs were too small for his wrist, each time the guy thrashed around and tried to get out, he would rub his wrists. So the doctor ordered the patient to be sedated so he wouldn't hurt himself. Because of this, occasionally Joe needed to go in and wake the patient up and make sure he was okay by asking him or her questions. Joe had just earlier done this and the patient was extremely violent, but he did answer all the questions correctly. 

The corporate lady shadowing Joe came in and grabbed the patient's chart. She looked at the prisoner's wrists and asked why they weren't padded. But there was no room to pad them. The doctor had hoped sedating him would keep him from making things worse. She demanded Joe pad the cuffs, so he did. (And they had to go get special pads to prevent cutting off the patient's circulation to his hand. But remember the doctor did not order this procedure--the corporate lady did!) 

Then she asked him why he had checked the box on his chart that said he was responsive. He told her a few minutes ago they had gone through the questions with the patient had gotten them all correct. 

The lady abruptly left and was not seen again. 

The next night Joe received a call from the hospital, but he couldn't get to it, no message was left. 

The next day, as we were driving into the parking lot of the hotel for my son's wedding, the hospital called again and told Joe that his contract was cancelled. He didn't understand what that meant. Was he fired? They emphasized very strongly that they were "not going to continue the contract" and did not indicate that he was fired. We couldn't believe it. Joe wanted answers so he began calling people from his agency to find out what was going on. 

The agency's policy is that when you are finished with a contract you have 48 hours to leave the apartment. This is standard to the nursing agency industry and we have done this for almost fifteen years. However, we were three hours from our apartment at our son's wedding. And that would mean we would be having to leave our apartment during the wedding! So we put in for an extension to leave. Immediately upon settling our stuff in the hotel, we got on our knees and just cried out to the Lord. What on earth! 

There is so much more to the story, but for the sake of sticking to the subject of hospital care--we did get the extension, so we didn't have to leave our son's wedding and go vacate our apartment. 

And we did hear the the complaint that led the hospital to cancel the contract. The corporate lady who shadowed Joe, said that the prisoner was unresponsive and that Joe had checked the box that said he was responsive. (Now keep in mind that this lady had been a nurse but wasn't at the time and she did not do an assessment on the patient but only came in for sixty seconds before making this "pronouncement." And also keep in mind that the doctor had ordered the patient be sedated because of his violence towards the nursing staff.) 

Joe's travel agency said that was a totally bogus excuse to cancel and that it wasn't even going to be put on his record. That was worthy of a conversation of clarification, but not even a warning or a write-up. No, this had to be something else. However, since the hospital had to have a reason to break the contract, the hospital would use it. What is interesting is that the hospital had just re-signed Joe for another contract saying he was a great nurse. 

Everyone knows. Every nurse on that floor, every doctor and everyone at corporate knows that Joe's contract was cancelled to get him out of the way--and as a fall guy--for the anesthesiologist. 

This is common folks. Very common in healthcare.

When Jesus said the root of all evil was money, this is what He was referring to. It's all about the lawyers making money, the insurance companies making money, the hospitals making money, the doctors keeping their jobs for money, the patient finding a way to sue the hospital for money. 

The healthcare system in the US is no more about patient care; it is about healthcare systems paying huge bonus's to its doctors and executives.  

Tuesday, February 10, 2015


Calling all pro-life Adventists! This is your chance to change your denomination BACK to its original pro-life position. Support this and then call the GC and demand the church become officially pro-life. Demand that all SDA hospitals stop performing abortions-on-demand. Demand that one of the worlds most notorious abortionists, Edward Allred's name be taken off the business building dedicated to him at La Sierra University. This is your chance! Take it!

Here's the link: Adventists and Abortion

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

The Prodigal Son or the Saint

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matt. 11: 28-30

I was taught growing up to look at the bells and whistles of Catholicism, their sacraments, their rituals as being like the Pharisees in scripture. Catholicism was equated with this text:
For they bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers. But all their works they do for to be seen of men: they make broad their
phylacteries, and enlarge the borders of their garments, And love the uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues, And greetings in the markets, and to be called of men, Rabbi, Rabbi. Matt. 23: 4-7
Protestants teach that Catholicism takes away  from simple faith in Jesus. That Catholicism turns that wonderful rest we have in Christ into a works-righteousness. 

Yet, there is another way of looking at this.  Step into the world of Catholicism, put on her glasses and see what she sees and I think
you might be surprised.

From a Catholic perspective, it is sin that weighs us down and enslaves us. Sin takes away our freedom to think, our freedom to act, our freedom to love ourselves and others. Sin takes away our very ability to love God. For sin demands our full and total devotion. Sin grows till it consumes everything. It has a scorched earth policy.

And this is where the Protestant model of salvation comes in.

As a Protestant growing up, personal testimonies were emphasized. Think back on those spiritual emphasis weeks in Christian schools. The pulpit was often handed over for people to give their personal testimonies. These were to inspire the student; but almost always, the testimonies involved the person falling into deep, depraved sins (and that was the part that was entertaining and provocative to us children.)

Our innocent ears were enticed with the allure of drugs, alcohol, lust, perversion, greed and self-centeredness. When the speakers choked up and explained that their fun had been exhausted and they were sitting in the ruins of divorce, broken relationships, drug addiction, self-hatred and shame, then—then they felt regret. God took pity on them and they had a born-again experience. 

To our young ears, this part of the story wasn't nearly as convincing as it was supposed to be.

The message was—be bad, really bad and then look at what a witness you will be when God saves you. It is because they were wild they got to have the pulpit. Of course our teachers and pastors didn't intend on this being the message, but our little ears took note of who got the attention—not those who had been faithful to God and obeyed the rules. No, it was those rebellious against God. After that, all the kids began to want a dramatic testimony.

Many of those giving these inspiring stories were not from our congregation. So there was a disconnect between their families and friends and the audience. But occasionally, a parent of one of the students from our school would speak. Then a light went on. 

I knew these speakers' kids. They were usually depressed or rebellious. Often they were the ones experimenting with drugs or sex. As I listened, anger would grow in my heart. I would silently scream to those parents as they spoke, "Wow, so God must have preferred you to all the people you devastated along the way. Your family—your children! They are wounded and bleeding from your mistakes and you are standing up there bragging that God saved you!" I hated those testimonies. Their lives were squandered and painful.  It seemed to me God was just letting His children play in the street and get hit by cars and then got the credit for being the physician who saved their life.

Why would we need to sink to the depths of moral corruption and hope that God will come rescue us. It was tempting God. And yet year after years this came across as the model of salvation. The only Christian story was that of the prodigal son. It was expected, in fact it was prayed for. What a waste! Sin got to shackle us and devastate our lives and then the rest of our lives were spent in clean-up and warning others not to follow in our paths. 

Something was wrong.

What if Jesus gave us a different model of salvation. Maybe Christians were never supposed to go rogue and come back corrupted and spent. Wouldn't that be a much better and easier road? Wouldn't it be nice if our heroes never had to live a life that shattered those they loved, who didn't spend most of their lives trying to undo the addictions and character destruction that the Devil had done to them? 

The model of the Catholic life is not the bad guy turned good, but the saint who never left. (Not to say there isn't a lot of prodigal sons, its just the saints lives are emphasized as Christian models.)

When I began to study the sacraments, I realized these graces were to keep us from sinning. The sacraments were put in place so that we could, from the beginning, remain free as Christians and never have to experience the wounds of grave sins. We did not have to fall prey to the lie that sin is fun. We were not destined for divorce, drug addictions, sexual addictions, pouring out our youth and life forces down the sewer.  

Yes, all of us fall short of the glory of God. All are sinners, yet, why would God want to stand back and watch us free fall into hell, just to have to take the long road back up to level ground?

We were destined for greatness. ("Be ye perfect, even as your Father in Heaven is perfect.") By faithfully following the sacramental path Christ laid out, we would live as Children of God in His light and love from the beginning. That is a path of rest, that is the light burden God gave us. Sin is heavy, grace is light.

It is Satan who wants us to look at Christ's path as burdensome because it requires us to go to mass, go to confession—repent and be reconciled with Him and flee from temptation. 

Yes, it may seem a great burden when you'd rather watch football, or sleep in, or watch a movie—or give into lustful thoughts, selfish thoughts. It can be inconvenient to get on your knees and pray or walk out when someone or something is tempting you to sin.

But those things are really rather easy compared to rehab, divorce court, watching your children fall to temptation and follow the same steps of ruin that you followed. 

The sacraments are truly a wonderful blessing. Little miracles that we need to reach out for 


The sacraments make your life easy and your burden light. 

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Orthodox Priest Turned Seventh-day Adventist Talks of Unity of Faith

Thursday, January 8, 2015

A Very Weird Dream

This is a record of what happened last night. It is one of several dream incidents that I have not recorded. But I will record this one.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015; Manassas Park, Virginia.

My husband and I were lying in bed watching the first episode of a documentary about Prohibition by Ken Burns. I had already seen it but wanted to review it because it explained a lot about American culture in the 19th century.

I fell into a very deep sleep. Then:

Everything was in grays and blurry like a colorless thick fog, like shadows dancing on a wall from a fire. There was nothing scary about the shadows, nor in the shadows.

The space around me seemed to close in on me even though I could tell the place was infinite. And I was inside this space, unable to move back or forward, suspended without being able to advance nor retreat.

There were no sounds exactly, just an expansive deep space sound—like a dead silence in a huge cathedral. I could feel nothing, for I wasn't physical anymore.

I knew I was dead.

I panicked because I realized life was over. It was over, I repeated to myself, life on earth is over for me. But I couldn't remember anything—nothing. I couldn't remember who I was, my life, everything was a blank. I was totally helpless. I couldn't go back into life, I had to be here. But I wanted to go back into life.

Though I had no physical body to feel cold, through my spirit, there was a deathly chill sensation. There was a frozenness about the place that you experienced, but couldn't feel.

To write that knowing I couldn't go back into life made me sad or regretful is to confine an emotion. Emotions were no longer inside me for there was no "me," physically at least. A sadness permeated everything. It was as if I could swim in this fog for a millions years and if I reached out and touched something, it would be the sadness I experienced when I first arrived.

I did not feel as if I was being punished. I did not feel as if I had chosen this. It was just there and I didn't even know how to figure out anything. Everything was a state of being that couldn't be changed or understood.

Yet, all of that was peripheral. What was the most terrifying thing about the place was the realization that I was alone. There was an eternal "aloneness."

And I felt something human words are unable to describe. I was facing an infinite isolation on all sides of me, and there was a deep horror, a steely terror that I never imagined. I have always heard that the worst type of loneliness was to be alone in a crowd. No. The worst type of aloneness is when there is no one left anywhere in the cosmos. Not even God.

Then I woke up and looked at the time. It was 9:35 pm and the documentary was still playing on my computer a few feet away.


Was this from God to teach me something? I don't know. But I do know that growing up Seventh-day Adventist, not believing in purgatory or hell, I had never been afraid of either. Now I am. But the first thing I thought of when I awoke was that I needed to pray for people in purgatory. They were helpless and alone just as I had experienced.

Then secondly, pondering as I look back upon the dream, I realized that I have not appreciated life. I feel a bit like Scrooge this morning wanting to jump and scream and shout that I am alive. I have been buried so deeply in theology and the knowledge that I am eternally God's child, that I haven't really been appreciative for this life—as much as I should be anyway. The gift of life is extraordinarily important and we should not focus all our attention on the afterlife. This life is a gift.

And finally, the dream taught me something. Goblins and ghosts and demons are not as scary as isolation. An eternity of aloneness, without God, without loved ones, without friends, that is what hell is. And you don't even have memories to comfort you.

Wow. Don't go to hell. It is hell. And I just had a little few seconds of something like it.