To live where I lived, to be the only kind of person that I could be to live in that place, was far worse to me than death. I gazed up at the stars and prayed to God to save my soul from hell but to not let me survive that moment. I wasn’t stupid; I knew that hell was real and that I didn’t want to be there for an eternity. I also knew that waking up to life as I knew it was the next worse thing. God answered my desperate plea that night to save my soul from hell for all eternity but He also saw fit to save my mortal life as well. I was sentenced to a little less than four years following the shooting but I was a different person forever after that night. God had saved me. I was flooded with a deep and resonant impression that because I had asked for salvation I would never be in danger of dying and going to hell ever again. I no longer had to wake up to the hell that I called Home and I wasn’t ever going to literal hell either! I had received a gift that was beyond my ability to describe. It was a gift that was worth gun shots, worth prison time, and worth the decades of disability and discomfort that I faced afterward. That is what I told the judge who sentenced me and it has been the truth, without fail, ever since.     

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