As always I ask that you give my podcast a listen

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It is 6:47 in the morning.

I normally go to bed at about 10 or 11 pm. I just posted a pod cast, posted a couple of movies and I’m just trying to wind down.

I’ve been trying to get the word out about my pod cast.

Its kind of my pride and joy right now. I think the last one was pretty good.

I have an annoying condition known as chronic prostitits, so what does that mean, that sometimes it burns to pee, but I’m not so lucky that its an STD. Right now its bothering me, so I have to kill time until I can sleep.


So what am I going to write about is the final installment about working at the Lubbock State School. My Lessons from the Mentally Retarded continued.

So lets talk about the third assumption that I had as a charismatic christian when I began my job at the State School.

3.)God miraculously healed people as a result of christian prayer.

I think that my beliefs as a charismatic christian may have been unusually extreme. But not so much that you can’t turn on christian television or radio at any given time and hear this kind of rhetoric.

The fact is that millions of people believe that God, miraculously heals people of diseases as a result of prayer.

I have a brother who was born with a nerve disorder that caused him to be born paraplegic.

In addition to that my brother went blind as a result of a disorder called hydrocephaly at the age of 5.

I really, really, wanted to believe that God caused miraculous healing.

At the state School this was a painful concept always at the surface of my mind.

I had just read a christian book written by some douche bag who had actually worked at the Lubbock State school, and claims to have witnessed miraculous healings.

If someone who’s IQ had been less than 70 for years, what would they do if miraculously healed anyways. How would the system react to that?

Surely that would not simply go unnoticed?

These were questions that I was asking myself, yet trying not to ask myself.
I wanted to believe, since I was being taught at church that the likelihood of experiencing a mircale was directly proportional to your faith. Your ability to believe no matter what.

I can’t believe I bought into this bullshit for so many years.

I prayed, and prayed, and prayed, for my clients.

One in particular I’ll call Thermy Jorton.  Thermy Jorton was one of the best behaved clients I ever had to work with. The poor guy had to wear a helmet all the time, in case he had a seizure that caused him to injure himself. He had been raised in a nursing home, so he was a young guy but behaved like a geriatric.

He also self mutilated. He would cut himself. It was very very frustrating.

I prayed so much for this guy, I can’t even speculate how much. Easily everyday.

I would do weird shit like try to go into prayer trances while speaking in tounges. Don’t ask me, its insanity sanctioned by the fact that it is considered impolite to criticize religion.

Needless to say my prayers were never answered.

Enter the problem of suffering.

Why would a good God allow my friends at the state school to have to live in their torment. Is it that God can’t do anything or that he won’t.

When I was a theist my answer to this question was simply that since we had eternal lives our present suffering was nothing but a blink of an eye in the face of eternity.

So I guess I thought my retarded friends who I cared for every day would awaken post-mortem to a normal intellect?

Its hard to remember what must have happened.

In all my years as a bible believing Christian, I don’t think I saw a single case of miraculous healing that couldn’t be attributed to natural recovery.

We usually get better anyways.

When I finally quit the State School I did so to try to take a job with a religious organization, it turned out to be one of the worst mistakes of my life. I ended up in a kind of indentured servitude that was only enforceable by my belief in the bible.

I would do this not once but twice.

Though the second time I quit the Lubbock State School it was to travel the country penniless with my girlfriend.

Such was the pendulum of trying to believe in God, yet be honest with myself about the world I lived in.

Either way so much of who I am today was written by the days that I spent caring for the mentally retarded.