A Season of Grief, Letter to the Church Part 2

This is a follow up to “Letter to the Church, A Season of Grief”, three years later.

Dear Pastor Steve and Becky,

It has now been three years since I have seen your face or communicated with you. I wanted to update you to the things that have happened to our family since our last letter. You will be hopelessly dissappointed and broken hearted I am certain, but alas I must record the truth, no sugar-coating; of what has transpired since March of 2009. Today is Feb 15th, 2012, and I never thought this exact letter or even a remotely similar letter could ever be written, nor be manifested in reality. Today is the opposite of yesterday, yet somehow the days are included within the very same lifetime.

Glinda and I expected for some reason, after being faithful to our church in our own minds, to be contacted by you. Perhaps you would call or email to console us, perhaps you would drop by to visit and pray. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. We were contacted actually, by Mike Swooper, and we made plans to meet him at his suggested time. We were excited. We were scared. But mostly we were anxious to hear what the word of the Lord had been. A true on-fire witness to the Holy Fire of the Almighty. We expected too much, to say the least. We would find out shortly.

Perhaps this story will remind us all of Naaman and Elisha, keep it in mind as you hear the events that unfolded.

We came to be healed, we came to see the Man of God. We thought we were going to a spiritual place, where everyone would be in deep worship, with the Spirit guiding every moment. Instead we came to a building made by man’s hands on man’s land, to see a man who certainly seemed ready to go eat his lunch; having to finish his appointment with us quickly- so as to not get a bad parking space at Salt Grass Steakhouse. We were blown away by the lack of experience that we encountered.

Sure, you answered us technically. Sure, you did what you could. Right? Did you pray for our family? I guess it does not matter. I guess it never did. If you did pray for us, I would venture to say that God hates you and decided your prayers should be vetoéd with a passion. That is what sight would suggest; yes, conclude. Sight is all that we sinners can sense of love… in the flesh.

Since that fateful yet disappointing meeting together, silence is what came to us. Panic attacks are what came. Post traumatic stress disorder is what rocketed to our home and hearts. Not immediately, as it is said- it was a” slow fade” indeed. Although slow torture- as I derive, is the worst form of suffering that life is capable of producing, and death is it’s fruition of fancy.

Pastor, since that day, my wife has spiraled out of control to a pitiable rock-bottom shell of a woman; she is deflated in every sense of the word. She is not covered by the blood of Christ it seems, and is on her way to her eternal home in the lowest pits of hell itself. She is a VIP in the section of Hades called “PEOPLE WHO GAVE UP“. We cannot barely lift our eyes to see the sun in the morning, for shame of the sin that so bloodily covers our hands; our salvation being violently murdered by Satan himself. He came to kill, steal and destroy. We’ve regrettably witnessed his masterful work as professionally as he has executed his will in our lives. Our family has partaken together of satan’s woes; his cold blood-thirsty stains seem unable to be washed from our clothes, it is that strong. Don’t believe me? Think I’m exaggerating?

Behold: This day my wife is an adulterer, a liar, a thief, a manipulator, a drug addict, a severe alcoholic, a mean drunk, a lazy wife, an unfit mother, a felon, a mentally incapacitated invalid. She is the epitome of failure in every sense of the word. She defines the disaster that is possible if your really want to be the best at being the worst. A shame and a pity, a disgusting sight to lay eyes on. Obnoxious to even be near such a being. A worthless, good-for-nothing. The salt that has lost it’s saltiness and is cast out to be trampled by men. She is just like the people whom Christ Jesus came into the flesh to save. Just like them. Just like you.

But one might say,

“I am NOT like her, I am a good person, Jesus loves me so much, he died for me! Don’t say such things Miguel, you must be smoking crack, you…you crack-smoker! Blasphemy I tell you, utterly perverse lies!”

But I tell you, oh foolish man, that you are a bald face liar, the worst lie ever spoken or believed. Deceit has blinded the one who believes it. Deception is the ruler of the one who thinks it so.

How can this be? Jesus Christ is holy, and he demands we be holy too! Of course he does. But our holiness is not generated from ourselves, rather, it is totally and completely coming from God Himself. We are the righteousness of God in Christ, not the righteousness of God period. Without Christ, one is only able to be unholy, one is empty, one is dead.

Glinda is dead. Glinda is gone. Rest in permanent death, the second death, for she has made her bed with Lucifer, son of the morning, so crazy as to not realize that it is not too late to shack up with the KING OF KINGS and LORD OF LORDS. She might as well be dead. Right? RIGHT???

Wrong-O my friend. He desires that none be lost, that none should perish in ignorat sin or filthy lust and greed. Until the final heart beat, unto the very last breath…..hope. There is hope. There is only hope.

His mercy endureth…..forever.

So what do you have to say, or not say? Or what do you have to conclude, or not to conclude? What will one who reads and understands what has happened…possibly make of this all? What a pickle!!! Poor wally is lost again, though wally’s entire world was created just for the purpose of him being found by his Creator. Ironic! Don’t you think?

Just a simple update this time, not a masterpiece of impressive words or a plethora of scripture recited by memory; or even a gift and tithe of all. Just this, this is all I have. Pretty pathetic I agree. Pretty effing pathetic indeed, I do declare. But since the sh*t has hit the fan, the mess has been made, who will clean it up, Who, Who, Who?!!!!

Not me, not Glinda, not you, not the church, not satan. There is only One who is always able; One who is willing; to reach His perfectly clean hand into the dirty diaper of the naked truth. But will He?

Why should He? We knew better, Glinda knew better. She knew the word of God, she knew that what she was doing was wrong wrong wrong!!! I’ll be the first to cast a stone at her!!! Put away the evil from you and destroy the wicked!!! But let’s just explore every option that appears to us, just to be sure that we are absolutely self-righteous. Any lion-hearted christian man would do no less.

To be continued……


Mr. and Mrs. Miguel Bustamante

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