Be a bigot

A few weeks ago I wrote a piece of fiction, imaging the world in a few years. Now I wonder if it was distopic enough to be realistic, as it appears that even I underestimated the speed and ferocity of the attack being waged on Christianity. But whether it takes 5 years or 5 months, we know the eventual outcome. The day and hour is not ours to know, but we can see the signs and be prepared.

Sometime after I wrote that last piece, I had the privilege of

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The death of a bigot

Note: In a departure from the usual fare, I thought I’d try my hand at fiction. Nevertheless, there are several important ideas in the following short story.

 

The man Leslie was currently calling “Dad” found it.

He wasn’t really Leslie’s dad–Leslie had never met his dad, but he had called 11 men dad over the past 10 years. At 14, Leslie couldn’t really remember much before that.

“Just wait until your mother comes home” the man had said. Leslie sat on the edge of the bed and wondered what his mother would do. Like everyone else Leslie knew,

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