In the late 70s, while in college in Atlanta, I fell in love with a Baptist woman. It was important to her that I attend church with her, and it was important to me that she would keep sleeping with me. But it was more than that - I had no religious background and I was curious what it was that over 2 billion humans believed re: Christ.
As it so happens, I started attending Liberty Baptist Church in suburban Atlanta just as the fiery pastor began preaching and teaching, verse by verse, the Book of Revelations. Over the course of months, three services a week, I sat among the apparently sweet-natured flock and learned all about the final days, with a heaping-helping of rightwing politics thrown in for good measure.
What I learned would be no surprise to those familiar with the "Left Behind" series of books, but as I listened, intently and without judgment (at least until the teachings were completed), I experienced a creeping dread: if the preacher was right then "God" is a nasty piece of work, and if the preacher was wrong then "Christians" were to be feared. More after the jump.
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