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Response to Spencer - chptr 1A Response to James R. Spencers Have You Witnessed To A Mormon Lately? (1986 edition)
By Darren Blair.
How Not To Talk to Mormons
Before I begin discussing the actual chapter, I should note the style that I will use when examining statements from the book. If it's an actual statement that I am addressing, then I will actually quote it. If, however, I'm choosing to address something stylistic or conceptual, I'll do a paraphrase. As I'm going chapter-by-chapter and I state the chapter in the heading of each sectional response, anyone with a copy of this book will be able to find it; if you do not have a copy and wish to read specific quotes, you the reader only have to let me know. I do not intend to allow this book out to anyone else.
This chapter opens with a statement by someone named "Keith" who declares that while it's easy to join the church it's hard to leave. Having not met this person, I cannot comment on his own experiences. An
Response to Spencer - introA Response to James R. Spencers Have You Witnessed To A Mormon Lately? (1986 edition)
By Darren Blair.
Have You Been Owned By A Mormon Lately?
Suffice to say that I am largely unimpressed by the works of many an anti-Mormon. Over the past few years Ive surveyed several pieces, and for the most part they were all fairly uniform: long on ignorance and hatred, and short on factual information. I actually find myself wondering whether or not Jesus weeps whenever some of these people open their mouths.
When one picks up the 1986 edition of this book, theyll see two glowing reviews. Both of the reviews declare that the author has written this book out of love for those who are Mormon, and that the reviewers feel this is a superb work. If one judges a person by the company they keep, then these reviews would be enough to make a person discard the book right here: the reviewers are J. Edward Decker and (the late) Walter Martin. Now, I
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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