At the beginning of September, I wrote asking if readers had questions for Anthony, the man who murdered my dad, or myself. And there was, in fact, one question posed by Mark Alman (for each of us). I sent the question to Anthony, and His response (as well as mine) can be found below. ~ For Anthony: “I have been thinking a lot about pain recently and how pain drives us to do wrong things. I believe in my life my most egregious sins were driven by pain. I wonder if you felt that yours were as well?” – Mark Anthony’s response: Yes, Mark. In my life, as well, my worst sin was driven by pain. Men tend to manifest hurt into anger. I think it’s programmed into us! When the Holy Spirit comes into us, we also receive His blessings, or fruit––love, peace, patience, etc––but when we get hurt and…
Archive for the ‘Anger’ Category
For weeks, thick smoke drifted hundreds of miles from the fire in Yosemite to our home in Reno. Ash fell from the sky in a delicate dance much like that of a snowflake, yet in itself was the antithesis of snow. Dirty flakes, remnants of life now dead filled our air. Smoke blocked the Sierra Nevadas from view and, at times, was so thick one could not see to the end of the street clearly. It became oppressive. There was a heaviness to the air I have not experienced before, and everyone was feeling it. “Oh, this smoke,” people would say in exasperation as they mulled about their day. Windows remained shut, and we remained indoors to prevent breathing unnecessary amounts of dirty air. After a while, however, the smoke began to lift. Despite its continued presence, God brought us some of the most beautiful sunsets. “Beauty for ashes,” I whispered…
After a long, exhausting weekend, I decided to turn in early. Yet as my head hit the pillow, thoughts began to running away from me. After hearing some news about our adoption––news that most likely won’t negatively impact our adoption at all––I began to think. And what you must understand about me is that I’ve always been a “thinker.” I analyze and reason through everything. This can be a good thing. But sometimes, I have a tendency to think too much, which can lead me down some pretty dark alleys. And that’s precisely what happened this night. An hour passed, full of thought and cries out to God, when I realized I needed help. I needed wisdom. And I needed someone else to pray alongside me for clarity about our adoption. So, I texted my girlfriend and said, Ok. I need some help. Feeling super discouraged about our adoption. Maybe…
I didn’t want to go digging around my past, but I knew I needed to. I knew some residual effects of my dad’s murder had to still be there. As I walked through some of the most difficult times in the weeks, months, and years following the murder, I remember thinking I sure hope this doesn’t screw me up. My dad wasn’t married at the time of his death which meant that my brother, sister, and I were legally responsible for picking up the pieces when he died. Our extended family helped quite a bit––as much as they could, really, which I am so thankful for––but there was only so much they could do. My mom, however, was the backbone that held us all together, and I will forever be grateful to her for that. She played an integral part in the process of helping us wade through all the mess. (Thank you,…
Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children. – Deuteronomy 4:9 Anthony claimed he was a Christian at the time of the murder, and I had a real problem with this. As a non-Christian and even after coming to Christ, I didn’t understand how someone who professed faith in Jesus could do something like this. Doesn’t a sin of this magnitude disqualify you from being a Christian? You can’t claim to be a Christian and commit murder, I thought. Recently, however, when telling me about a book he was reading by Kyle Idleman called Not a Fan, Anthony said, “I wonder, had I not come to prison would I have stayed a fan of Jesus or become a follower?…