Recently I've grown worried that my grandchildren aren't on the right path to one day being True Christians™ like their parents and I: for one they hardly show any interest in going to church and act as though Bible memorization were a chore! At ages 6 and 8 I know they have a few years before they are accountable for their actions, but I'm still worried that they haven't shown that they love Christ enough. With so many bad influences and crazy people in the world feeding my grandchildren lies through the media and school I knew I had to take actions into my own hands, lest they be permanently scarred by the deranged actions of some sick individual. Last week I came up with a plan to see if they really love Jesus and went through with it last night. I convinced my son to take his wife out for a date so I could baby sit the kids.
The evening went off without a hitch: we had pizza, watched a movie and had a grand old time. Bedtime came and I tucked the children in and read them a story.
Once they were asleep I dressed up in all black, put a ski mask on and started lurking around in the bushes outside of the house. I broke in to the house and tip-toed upstairs. I visited my granddaughter first. She lay in bed like a little angel, her blond hair cascading over her pillow and a little stuffed bear held tight in her arms. She is truly the apple of my eye. I took out a rag doused in chloroform and held it over her mouth. She awoke long enough to let out a muffled scream before passing out.
I then tip-toed across the hall to my grandson's room and did the same to him.
While the kids were out I tied them with some rope to two chairs and waited for them to wake up. When they did they were horrified to see a masked stranger standing before them.
"We're gonna play a little game," I said in a deep and threatening voice. It was at this time they noticed the handgun I was holding in my gloved hand. "I'm going to ask you each a question. If you answer correctly you may live, but if you answer wrong I splatter your brains all over that wall."
They began weeping.
"But to make things even easier I will tell you the correct answer to the question before I ask it. Sound easy enough?"
After a spell they sheepishly nodded their heads while sniffing up snot running from their noses.
"I'm going to ask you if you believe in Jesus. If you say no I will untie you and let you live, but if you say yes I'm going to put this gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Understand? Then let's play."
I kneel down in front of my grandson.
"Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and personal savior?" I asked.
He bowed his head and cried.
"Answer me!" I shouted, while pointing the gun in his face.
"No!" he cries. "I reject Jesus!"
"Very well." I move over to my granddaughter.
"Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and savior?"
She thinks about it for a while and then looks me in the eyes and boldly says, "Yes!"
I pretend to be taken aback and ask her why, in the face of certain death, she chooses to accept Jesus Christ as her savior, when she can just lie and say she doesn't so she can live.
"Because we learn in Mark 8:38 that Jesus is ashamed of anyone that is ashamed of him. I would rather die than have Jesus be ashamed of me!"
Her weeping comes to a crescendo as I slowly raise the gun and point it at her forehead. At this point her brother is crying and begging me not to kill his sister.
I pull the trigger and a stream of water shoots out of the gun and hits her in the face. She looks up at me, confused.
"If I were really a dangerous psychotic your brain matter would be splattered all over that wall behind you and you'd be dead right now, but you'd be in heaven with Jesus," I say to her. I turn to my grandson, "But you... even though you'd live to see another day your life would be empty and without purpose because you rejected Christ, and when you did die, likely from a drug overdose or the AIDS, you would go to Hell to endure awful punishments and torments for selfishly rejecting Christ in the face of death. You sicken me."
I then left the room, took off my burglar garb and returned to pretend that I had been knocked out by the assailant when he broke into the house. As I untied them, they told me about the horrors that they had to endure. I commended my granddaughter for standing in her faith even with the barrel of a gun pointing straight at her face and I scolded my grandson for rejecting Christ. Unless my grandson shapes up I fear he will receive the torments of Hell, for as we learn in Matthew 10:33, if you deny Jesus he will deny you to his father come your judgment. Knowing this it would be better for a Christian to be killed for accepting Jesus than to be spared for lying and saying you don't believe.
I'm afraid I have a lot of work to do with my grandson if he ever wants to be a Saved Christian, but I feel joy in my heart when I report that my granddaughter is clearly on her way to being a Saved young woman in the coming years.
PRAISE HIM and SHOUT GLORY!
