Confessions Of A Former Racist - Democratic Underground

Ghost in the Machine

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Sun Jan-20-08 11:39 PM
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Confessions Of A Former Racist

The photos in this letter are of a person I hardly know anymore. He taught hatred, was a racist and was an abuser of young minds. This man justified it all by saying he wasn't a hypocrite and never did drugs. Of course, this man is me.

For many years I lived by the motto, "We must secure the existence of our people and the future for white children". This was the creed of my Aryan Brothers and many people lived for, and died for, this message. I so firmly believed these words that I had them tattooed on my skin. These were not the only tattoos I had. Other symbols of hatred that permanently mark my body include "G.F.B.D.", which stands for "God Forgives, Brotherhood Doesn't". Because I was President of the East Coast Chapter of the WPO Aryan Brotherhood, I knew for a fact that anyone who went up against the brotherhood would soon find himself in a body bag. I was a true believer in this false message; I believed it so much that I would have died for this message at any given time.

I lived and breathed brotherhood, and I preached hatred to anyone who would listen. I preyed upon the confused, the angry, the troubled and the weak. I fed them full of these lies, that I held as truth, and I turned them into creatures of violence and hate - just like me. My best friend was also all too easily a duped convert. My greatest shame came while I was preaching at a white supremacy rally. I caught a glimpse of my three year old son doing the "white power" salute - just like his daddy. I was bringing the people who were closest to me down to my "hell on earth". This was the life I led for 17 years, and it took a miracle to get me out of it.

But every day of those seventeen years, a kind, loving, caring woman prayed for me and my soul. Through my actions, I had turned my back on my mother, but every day she prayed for a miracle and for me to leave the Aryan brotherhood and to know Christ.

I thought that my heart had been cut out and that I was heartless. I even commemorated this event with a tattoo of my heart being severed by a knife. But... something inside of me started to stir. It's hard to pinpoint what happened to put that miracle into action. I didn't change all at once, but all of the sudden it was no longer appropriate for my son to experience the same things of which I was so proud. I didn't want my wife and family to know that world. But if I stayed in the brotherhood, how could they not know it? Knowing that I had sentenced men to death for leaving, I knew I had to leave the violence, the hatred, the power and the money.

When I left, my family ended up in a small town in Florida called Lake City. I had no ties to this community and could not fathom why I should be there. I soon found work and opened a tattoo shop, which was next door to an auto repair shop owned by my landlord. Mr Bates showed us something different. We didn't curse or misbehave when he was around; not because we feared him, but because we respected him, and he was a Godly man who would not tolerate nonsense in his building.

During this time, a crisis entered my home. My pregnant wife was hospitalized with complications, endangering her and the baby. I didn't know where to turn for help, and someone suggested that I pray to God for help. This was a totally ridiculous notion to me - me, the man who had preached against God for 17 years. But I was desperate, and was willing to try anything, so I approached Mr. Bates and asked him for advice on how to pray. He introduced me to his pastor, Kevin Trent, who, to my surprise, agreed to meet me at his church. I honestly thought that the ceiling would collapse on me when I entered the Central Church of Christ in Florida. Expecting religious answers, I had no intention of sharing my real life with this stranger; all I wanted was advice on how to handle my current situation. As I gave Pastor Trent my story, my life came tumbling out uncontrollably. I couldn't stop the words and I shared it all. After a while, I thought he might pass out from fear or disbelief. Tears streamed down my face as I told him that I had sold my soul to Satan and I feared that God would never forgive me for what I had done.

I was shocked at Pastor Kevin's response. Instead of condemning me and rushing me, he listened to me for over three hours, and then told me the story of another man that reminded him of me. He told me that there was a man named Paul in the Bible who was just as committed to his brotherhood. Powerful and famous, this man Paul also murdered for his beliefs and was totally sold out to a false cause. Paul personally persecute followers of Jesus, but Jesus forgave him and handpicked him to become an ambassador for Christ. Pastor Kevin told me Jesus would forgive me too, and that Satan had no control over my soul anymore. He invited me to continue studying with him and to attend his church. For the first time in my life, I feared what people would think of me - six feet, nine inches tall and 315 pounds of tattoo covered terror.

MUCH MORE: http://www.jimtullministry.com/testimony.html