Field Report ~ Lamoni, Iowa ~ March 5, 2010
The Burden of Doomed america’s Mothers
Isaiah 49:15 Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.
On October 7, 1998, in the wee hours of the night, Matthew Shepard – 21 years old – was in a bar in Wyoming. He was trolling for strange flesh, a libidinous fag in heat really, and hooked up with some brute beasts already heavily drugged and looking for more drug money. He ended up beaten to death; they ended up in prison for life; and the truth of that matter ended up the victim of spin doctors . starting with his vicious vulture of a mother, who tells the fairy tale of him being targeted for his fag-dom while shedding crocodile tears and collecting money.
We know 21 year olds; we know children; and we know the commandments of God as to how to raise children — such that when they are 21 they are not left in a waste howling wilderness of confusion and perversion such as Matthew Shepard was. We also know parents, and particularly mothers, and their unique position in the life, heart and mind of a child. It requires diligence, fidelity and faithfulness to do that job and the whorish witches of Doomed america have long-since forgotten their children and those duties, which they discarded like last year’s fetid trash as they pursued their own interests.
Judy Shepard is Matthew Shepard’s mother. She was given – with the blessing of that child – a non-delegable duty to raise him in the nurture and admonition of the LORD her God. She refused to do that. In 1,000+ ways from the day of his birth she molded him into a lust-driven beast, made to be taken and destroyed, which was exactly his end. She gave him to understand – by her words, her actions, her lack of words, and her lack of actions – that whatever foolish notion popped into his head; whatever foolish impulse popped into his heart; whatever feeeeeeeeelings his deceitful heart gave space to; it was all fair game to act upon. She taught him that God is a liar, and that His clear commandments were open for debate and dismissal. She prepared him for death and destruction and hell. And then, like the unclean bird of prey she is – a vulture, really – she has since the time of his death, fed off of the dead body of her son.
Here are some prominent features of a vulture, which fit Judy Shepard, which sound a loud alarm to anyone near her, and which instruct servants of the Most High as to how to consider her:
- They were an unclean bird under the Mosaic Law, to be held as an abomination (Lev. 11:13-14).
- They prey on dead animals primarily – and eat things in any state of decay.
- Occasionally, they go after living prey, but there are two ground rules when that happens – which explains her fetish with high school and college targets, easy and wounded prey at the hands of her fellow witches posing as mothers in Doomed america:
- Vultures go after small and young prey.
- They do not go after healthy prey, but rather attack the wounded and dying.
- Their most common defensive tactic is to projectile vomit (watch out for that flying vomit, youth of Doomed america . she’s coming for you!).
- They go flying about for their prey (thus the many flights across Doomed america for victim fishing fests), can see their prey from miles away, and when flying long distances they do not use their own resources, but rather “grab a free lift” from the work of others (travel expense account, anyone? Speaker’s fee?).
- Their method of choice to cool down and/or to clean decaying germs off, is to urinate on themselves. Perhaps that explains the high proportion of filthy nasty dykes surrounding Judy Shepard (or at least in part explains it .).
Dramatically juxtaposed to that pitiful parental failure, now typical in Doomed america where 100,000+ babies are killed in their mother’s protective womb each month, here’s good news, beloved. Our Heavenly Father will NEVER forget us! Expositor Gill’s words are beautiful on this point:
. . . he cannot forget, because of his nature, on which forgetfulness cannot properly fall; he will not, because of his promise, which never fails; he may seem to his people to have forgotten them, and he may be thought to have done so by others; he forgets their sins, but not their persons; he cannot forget his love, nor his covenant with them, nor his promises made to them; nor does he forget their love to him, nor their works, words, and thoughts; the righteous are had by him in everlasting remembrance. All this suggests that the Lord stands in the relation of a parent to his people, and they stand in the relation of children to him; they are born of him, and are as it were pieces of himself, and little images of him, and dear to him as the apple of his eye; they are like sucking children, that suck in the milk of his word, and suck at the breasts of his ordinances; and they are used by him in the most tender manner, as infants are; they are kissed by him, and dandled on the knee; they are led by him, and taught to go; he delights in them when they begin to speak in prayer or praise, though in a lisping and stammering manner; all their little actions are engaging, their works done by them, though imperfect, and a great deal of childishness in them; when anything ails them, he sympathizes with them, he takes care of them, and provides for them; and it is a concern to him whenever he is obliged to chastise them, and can he therefore forget them?
With such tender blessings pouring over us, how could we but hasten north to Lamoni, Iowa, on the cool winter evening of March 5, 2010, and love our neighbors – in reasonable service to our King – and warn them of the grave danger they were in as they poured their time and energy into performing The Laramie Project? How could we but remind them of the gentle and clear commandments of the Almighty God vis-à-vis the Satanic milquetoast served up in that silly human-worship play? And how could we but rejoice that – like the unclean ravens serving Elijah at Brook Cherith – the vultures picking over Matthew Shepard’s body in pimping that play cannot help but preach Christ of contention? Every bum in the seats watching that play gets a beautiful mini-picket when a “God Hates Fags!” sign hits them up side of the head in each performance.
With great rejoicing and happiness filling our hearts, we say: Thank you, dear Savior; and please come quickly!