I consider my blogging to be the beginning of my "public ministry," although it was not the time or the means of my choosing. I was forced to blog as my only defense from the cultist stalkers. I realized that I had to with patience and kindness educate them in the error of their ways, and it occurred to me that knowing they monitor my communications (to say nothing of my personal habits), to use the cyber stalking as my way to teach them how they have gone so sadly astray in their lifestyles, their beliefs, and ultimately their souls and also how they have led so many astray, many who died unknowing and therefore unrepentant.
Today while styling my hair (I turned gray at a very early age; it runs in my family on my father's side) I thought of an analogy to describe what my life and hidden ministry was like before the blogging. So here it is.
I am like a person who when walking down the street, hears the crying of a baby. All of my life I have heard the cries of anguish, and of love, of people and communities. Following the cries I find a baby in a garbage bag, and I rescue the baby, and love the baby.
But the story always ends the same. First, cultists who observe my rescue of the baby conclude that I love garbage and filth, since that is where I found the baby. They totally miss the point that I loved the baby, and was willing to go into the filth to find the baby. So cultists proceed to throw more babies into the filth and, better yet, to "give me what I am asking for," they bring the filth into my own house, smearing it around and filming it with glee. They monitor my love of the baby and manipulate it however they can, using their tools of filth (the telephone, their mouths, their own blogging and "radio shows," the "performance arts" etc.)
Second, the baby inevitably grows up to tell me that he or she really wanted to be in the filth all along, and that I'm the fool, not they. These babies drop "hints" to let me, the fool, know that the world is all of filth, and I'm just too dumb to realize it. (It never occurs to them to ask me who I really am, and what the world is really like). I watch each baby walk, or crawl, away, showing me their rear ends and slamming the door behind them.
What they fail to understand is when the love I have felt on a human level is repeatedly rejected, yes, I have to stop feeling those feelings. But my help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth, and it is His love that I continue to feel for all, yes, even the blasphemers and the molesters. It is no longer my love in my mortal body, but the food of my love comes from God. This is why I blog and continue to try to convert to the genuine God's love the very cultists who have brought nothing but filth and sadness to my life thus far. Nothing, absolutely nothing but the sad, the profane, the warped and the depraved. But unlike others, the filth is not my habitat of choice or my school. God, only God is my role model, my provider, my source and my strength in matters of love. I no longer feel much about personal affection for humans, for obvious reasons. But I live within a constant stream of Spirit from God to retain the portion of his Love that he has given me to continue my work and my "ministry."