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Goodbye Jesus

Do You Feel Bad When 'Witnessed To'?


Medjool

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Hi Medjool,

 

Taphophilia means a love of cemeteries, funerals, and graves. I am a history buff and I love walking around cemetaries for the history. The older cemetaries also have works of art that are incredibly beautiful and is a form of art history that most people miss. I don't have a fear of death, so it's a big deal to me but it seems to freak some people out. (I look like a soccer mom so no one would guess that I like to walking through cemetaries and looking at tombstones in real life.)

 

I will have to see if I can find that date in the farmers markets here. They sound really good.

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<snip> ... (she should) use the effort to pray for all those in the world who have no voice or freedom. I have so much more than I truly need in this world...<snip>

Welcome, Medjool... That is absolutely one of the best ideas I've heard on the subject. :-)

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Thanks SSH. :) She really is wasting her breath on me for so many reasons!

 

Taph - I grew up near some very old cemetaries and used to enjoy going to them, too. I drew them for a school project and enjoyed the art. When I went through a serious depression in my early 20's (around the time I left the church, actually), I used to look at the gravestones and marvel at how all these people had somehow made it through life and made something of themselves. It gave me hope.

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Hey, I wouldn't feel bad about that. if anyone laid a hand on my kid (or in my case, one of my relatives), spiritual or otherwise, chances are that they would be lucky to get off with a chewing out.

 

Nah, seems about right. Don't feel bad about getting witnessed to anymore. There are times, though, that I do feel sorry for the witnesses' delusions, but that's about it.

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I was in the metro the other day and this woman starting preaching to the bunch of us in the cart saying only jesus could save us and how there was joy in him and blah blah blah and giving out tracts. I can't say I felt embarassed but it was really annoying and I told her to buzz off (nicely though).

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Personally I think some them enjoy a good whack on the head. Gives good cause to yell christian persecution!

 

yeah..I hate it with a vengenance. I have a theory that the level of repulsion to witnessing is a gauge of the recovery process. :lmao:

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Guest Beyond_Belief

I feel ANGRY when some idiot thinks a supernatural spirit has asked him/her to threaten me with eternal torture if I don't worship and serve their master.

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Guest Challenger

I had the Jehovah's Witnesses coming around every Saturday. The last time they came by I was out front snaking out my main cleanout, and I was a mess. There I am with two guys dressed in whites and I look like I crawled out of a manhole. When I offered to shake hands they declined and fled. I haven't seen them since. I wonder why.

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"I feel ANGRY when some idiot thinks a supernatural spirit has asked him/her to threaten me with eternal torture if I don't worship and serve their master." Beyond Belief

 

This is such a good way to put it. Christians just can't see that this is what they are doing. I mean, what if somebody did this to a Christian? Wouldn't they feel up-in-arms about it?

 

By the way, I love your username, Beyond Belief! Rock on Petra! :lmao:

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I will never forget the time the Mormons were canvassing the neighborhood. We had been in our new house for literally, maybe a couple hours. My mother - who is a sincere Christian, not given to proselytizing in the least - spotted them first. They were coming up the street on a very hot April day (remember, this is St. Louis, it's blisteringly hot the majority of the year), sweating in their shirts and ties and the woman in her high heels and skirt. (Weird, I didn't know women were important enough in Mormonism to go out and preach.)

 

My mother screamed. "MORMONS! It's Mormons, everybody get away from the door!" I, with my lightning-quick reflexes, didn't know what was going on, so I just sat there, in plain view of the front windows. My mother was scream-whispering at me, desperately - "Hide, hide, you stupid kid!" I saw them for a fraction of a section before I ducked behind the kitchen wall. They rang the doorbell, making my very bad dog Abbey go nuts, but didn't stick around - we were successful in our concealment, and according to them, Abbey doesn't have a soul. (Yeah, right!) Relieved, we set about unpacking again, my mother firmly reminding me to hide myself as soon as I saw anybody in a suit with books approach the door.

 

I hope I don't get approached by any evangelists. Basically because I only come up with really good zingers about four seconds AFTER the exchange has transpired. Damn it.

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