A Sense of Poisoned Rationality

Yesterday I read a news article about how some members of Westboro Baptist Church had written a parody of Panic! At The Disco’s song I Write Sins Not Tragedies. I didn’t watch or listen to the cleverly titled (but reportedly extremely profane and hateful) You Love Sin What a Tragedy. (But while we’re on the subject, why does the official version of that song bleep out “God” but not “damn”? Is there some inside joke I’m missing?)

Apparently this article and the silliness behind it stuck in my subconscious all day, because last night I had a dream that I attempted to infiltrate the church and learn its secrets, but my dream-self must not have been terribly subtle, since the dream ended with a very exciting car chase in which I narrowly escaped thanks to a concerned accomplice’s tip-off. (Okay, maybe I’ve also been watching too many spy shows.)

Thinking about my dream again when I woke up, I reflected that it probably wouldn’t be terribly easy to become a member of Westboro Baptist Church. Other members would be able to tell if someone new was dedicated to their cause, and there’s no way I’d be able to fake hate like that.

The actions of the members of Westboro Baptist Church make me angry. What they do is completely incomprehensible to me: how can you claim to be a follower of Christ when all the world sees you do is hate, hate, hate? How can you have missed that huge, blinking sign hanging in the Bible that says: “GOD IS LOVE”?! There wasn’t a single second during the life that Jesus Christ lived on this earth that was dedicated to hate. He didn’t even punch the devil in the face when he came to tempt Him in the desert. And the only time He got really pissed off was when people were using space in the temple for money changing instead of what it was meant for; He went bezerk, flipped over tables, and screamed, “This is my Father’s house!” (The message there was, “Seriously, you guys, let’s show some respect for this place, and for the God we came to worship.”)

If Jesus came to earth today to just chill for a while (instead of the whole Second Coming/trumpets/angels thing), He’d probably go hang out at Westboro Baptist Church. It probably wouldn’t be to go nuts, flip pews over, tear down several “God Hates Fags” signs, and scream, “This is my Father’s house!” (Although that would be awesome.) When He was here before, He spent most of His time with prostitutes and tax collectors―the people who needed Him the most. Who needs Him more today than people who spread hate in His name?

Hate only begets more hate. If you are a follower of Christ, you should act like Him. Jesus loves you, Westboro Baptist Church.