Why I Murdered My Friends

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a nonfictional piece of writing explaining why I murdered my friends.

Submitted: August 01, 2020

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Submitted: August 01, 2020

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Yesterday, I came to the rather unnerving realization that I am responsible for the death of not one, but many of those whom I profess to hold dear. Needless to say, I, who wouldn’t wish untimely expiration on any person, no matter how foreign a figure they were to me, was quite astonished to look in the mirror and see the eyes of a murderer staring back at me one day, and out at me from photographs I took with my victims. That day was yesterday. Today is Confession Day. A few ‘morrows later may well be Judgement Day, so time is of the essence, as the saying goes.

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I came to Christianity in my early teen years—I won’t refer to my ambiguous relations to Jesus Christ via Sunday school, Princess Bibles, and mass-produced journals with scripture inscribed in the corners by printing presses as anything but faux religion, much less salvation. No, I was saved the day I realized the magnitude—some of the magnitude—of God’s sacrifice of his only begotten son to the sinners of the world so that they—so that I—might have eternal life. I was saved the day that I realized the only way to be thankful for such a sacrifice was to devote my life to embodying the sort of life God would me to live. At the time I did not understand the sheer weight of the pledge I prayed to Jesus; I would praise him and be an ambassador to his kingdom until the end of my days. I was naïve and didn’t fully understand the amount of spiritual strength it would take to make good on my word.

Coming to Christianity was the only the beginning, however. As one of my pastors put it, coming to God is like marriage. You do not figure it out on the day you say, “I do”, you figure it out for the rest of your life. You grow. You change. Your relationship is strengthened each day as you overcome each obstacle. That was how it was for me and how it remains to be. I grow each day.  

It is because of these things that, while I was saved the moment I confessed with my mouth that Jesus is Lord and believed in my heart that God raised him from the dead (see Romans 10:9), I understand also that I am expected to do more than be saved. I, who can do all things through Christ the Lord who strengthens me (see Philippians 4:13), can surely share the Good News and the gift of everlasting life with others. Friends, family, classmates, superiors, even complete strangers. Not just natives, either. “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:18-20).

The beginning of my freshman year at high school was supposed to be my first step to obeying Matthew, by evangelizing at the K-12th Christian private school that I attend, The King’s Academy. I had no doubt in my heart that I would freely share the gospel and embody who a true Christian is every single day that I was there, and even when I was not. Unfortunately, that is now how it went for me. I was consumed in no time at all by homework, friendships, dramas, and one particularly nasty argument with my best friend. My mission’s objective was no longer to please God, but please those around me. No longer to raise the number of His followers, but my grades. My mom praised me for my success that school year, but I ask you, how is that success? I aborted my mission. I fell far too easily into temptation.

While I was at school, a friend of mine told me that she believed in the murder of babies, and I did not reprimand her. Another friend of mine called the group of boys who I called my friends a “bunch of retards”, and I had laughed! My lunch table discussed the perversion and public viewing of intercourse when I left the table, and sometimes even right in front of me, and I continued to sit there. All but one of the boys did not object to this, and that, somehow, was enough for me. Sometimes, my friends betrayed each other, accusing one another of homosexuality or transgenderism, and I did not raise a finger in protest. I was a sorry excuse for an evangelical, I was no evangelical at all. I was passive, apathetic, and hypocritical. I could not claim to believe in everything the Bible said while simultaneously partaking in the same sinful pleasure of those whom I chose to associate with, not to convert them but to become one with them and one like them. I told myself that I did this because they were my friends. I considered this to be a good enough reason to stick around. The Bible does not.

A simple google search of verses on friendship will bring many results, but I think 1 Corinthians 15:33 puts it best. “Don’t fool yourselves. Bad friends will destroy you.” That is when I came to the realization that everyday I was destroying myself by acquainting myself with these people.

Yes. I am a fool. I am given the gift of everlasting life that I am far from deserving, I pledge in fear and remorse to Christ Jesus that I will amend my wicked ways and live for him, I set out to evangelize at my high school, and then I change my mind and destroy myself.

It gets worse.

All this time, while I committed many errors in my ambassadorship to Christianity, God did not forsake me. I was still saved from a fate more terrible than my imagination, not by my own doings but by the grace and mercy of Christ Jesus. So, if you think things got worse in that I was abandoned by God, you are wrong. If I were abandoned by God, I would not be here today writing these confessionals. Things got worse because, on top of keeping myself always in the presence of ill company, I murdered them.

With a smile on my face.

I am no stranger to the existence of hell. Hell is the worst kind of suffering, a suffering awaiting those who do not accept Christ Jesus. Worse than period cramps, worse than cancer, worse than any pain endured on Earth. There, there will be tears and the gnashing of teeth. That is why Mark 9:43 says, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off. It is better to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out.” This Bible verse means that any sacrifice on Earth is worth it to avoid the ultimate sacrifice of your soul. This is how I know that the sacrifice of a friendship is better than the sacrifice of a friend.

I have friends who believe that abortion is right, even though the Bible forbids us to murder. I have friends who do not believe that we need to love our enemies. I have friends that believe it is not necessary to be Christian all the time, only “some of the time”. I have friends that believe there is nothing wrong with the LGBT community, friends who are a proud part of it, when Leviticus 18:22 clearly states, “Do not have sexual relations with a man as with a woman, that is detestable.” These friends claim themselves to be Christians, and many of them believe they will be saved. I have, on varying levels, corrected all of these friends in their false thinking and made attempts to redirect their morals—all except for one group—the LGBT.

I know that in this day and age, homosexuality and transgenderism is something that is revered and fervently defended, and that speaking publicly against it will give me a poor reputation on this Earth. That is why I refrain from doing so, not because I am worried about hurting my friends, but because I am worried about myself. If I really love these friends of mine who believe in the LGBT and those who are a part of it, why do I sooner risk their eternal suffering than them not liking me? Not for them! For me! For me, I murder them. For a life that James 4:14 describes as being like a mist before it vanishes, I sacrifice their eternal lives that I may have a little more fun, a little more of an easy time in my “mist” of a life.

I came to this revelation only two days ago, when a friend of mine, Benjamin Hurovitz, convinced me to attend a few sessions of virtual Young Generation Mission Camp. The first meeting I was barely able to attend, popping in for only about fifteen minutes, but I learned from even that little amount of time. The speaker, Kate, was preaching, and one thing that she said is something I will never forget and that has changed my life forever. “Your friends are dying!” And I knew. I knew that was the truth, and I knew that it was, in part, my fault.

That is my confession. I was too weak to save my friends. Yes, I could go back to them and beg them to change their ways, but how could they take me seriously after I spent so many months agreeing to everything they were doing? A sudden change of heart would mean nothing to them, most likely. That is why, I am afraid, there is much damage that, though I will dedicate the rest of my life trying, I will not be able to undo.

Love your friends and family. Don’t murder them.

If you believe in the gospel and know that you are saved, please share that with everyone you meet. Speak publicly against bad things said in your company, don’t just sit there and go along with it. Be a dedicated ambassador of Christianity. 100% committed.

The reason I put an ice cream sundae on the cover of this book has to do with the reason I murdered my friends. I murdered my friends for worldly pleasures. While they died, I ate ice cream.


© Copyright 2020 Ava Rose Weisberg. All rights reserved.

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