They carry nail-studded belts, heavy chains, whips, and other such sadomasochist paraphernalia. Drag queens strut around, proud, thumbing their noses at straight society. It is then that horrible thoughts begin to surface in me. I'm wasting time. Maybe an earthquake is the only language they can understand.
Sinners tend to get honest when desperate.
The truth surfaces when the games are all over. The phoney fronts, the make-believe facades, all come tumbling down. And suddenly you find just another poor, lost sinner needing the love and compassion of Christ. They weep out pitiful confessions of being kicked around, abused, used, rejected, and misunderstood. I cannot explain the joy of seeing broken bodies and minds restored by the power of God.