I’m a generally live-and-let-pray kind of guy. I have no personal interest in worship, but if you do, great. As long as you don’t burn science textbooks, blow up people, or show up at my front door to save me, we’re cool.
Unless you say things like this:
The first seminary class graduated in 2002. “They walked down the aisle in their rented caps and gowns, and their families cried,” Cain says. “One mother came to me and said, ‘I can’t understand my emotions. My son came to prison and found Jesus, and he’s graduated from seminary. He had to do this terrible crime to get to here.’ I told her maybe the victim didn’t die in vain.”
No, of course not. He didn’t die in vain, he died in fear and pain so some vicious thug could become a minister. I feel so much better now. I’m sure the victim’s family does, too.