If dishonesty is a sin, then I have sinned at least twice this week.
Just this week, I have been the leader of two Bible groups for kids and teenagers, reading mainly from the book of Acts and Mark’s Gospel.
It was a task which I had no prior intention of undertaking, and would abhor if it ever were forced upon me, but under the strangest of circumstances I did find myself agreeing to it, and thinking that the children would somehow be better off, so long as I was there to suffer it with them.
Turns out I was wrong.
On both these occasions, I spent most of my time sitting with the kids whilst my faithful friends stood up front, reciting, if you will, the holy messages of God. For two hours I was in silent protest against practically everything they did or said, so much so that it disgusted me to the pit of my stomach, that by the time it was my turn to finally speak, I had already felt so disconnected from the whole of humanity that I was sensing a certain numbness falling over my entire body.
The feeling of being the only nonbeliever in any particular room at any particular time is something I am and should be well-accustomed to, but it was the reality of sitting amongst impregnable children who were trapped under the spell of indoctrination carried out by teenagers who had been indoctrinated as children themselves that sickened me to the very core. If I had a gun, truth be told, I would have blown first my own head off, and then everyone else’s in that room who I thought was, in any way and shape and form, responsible for this unforgivable act of mental cruelty and abuse.
