Both my parents found some odd form of religion. My father showed to be some kind of man of God. When God meets you, the first thing He asks for is repentance. My father nor my mother carry any of that with them.
My dad had an old bible that he kept for years. It was worn and weathered. I think that somehow he hoped to find his way out of consequence through it. His approach was all wrong. You don’t manipulate God.
Inside his bible he kept a picture of his oldest nephew, my sister’s boy. I was close to this nephew for years. He told me that papa called him his PR guy. PR! Personal representative.
How uniquely sad.
My father sexually abused that little boy. That little boy grew up to be a man that struggles with all kinds of evils – manipulation, addiction and the disease of incest. He couldn’t take down the image that my father had erected for him.
My father was a fake wise man.
He had no wisdom. He may have had a great form of disguise, but that’s not wisdom. Oh, he taught. He taught the ways of incest and abuse. And, he was a good teacher. Most of his family is still stuck in his traditions.
Be careful, then, if you come from these false teachers. Jesus said you will know them by their fruit.
Don’t believe their disguise.