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September 10, 2020
by Steve Sanchez
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The End of Suicide

I TRIED TO KILL MYSELF IN 1989.

Things were tough, I was deeply in debt, drug addicted and thinking things were never going to change. I tried to take the selfish way out because I had no hope.

My Uncle Brent shot himself through the heart with a deer rifle when I was a little kid because he had no hope.

Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain took their lives despite the fact that they were rich and famous because they also had no hope.

According to the Centers for Disease Control suicide rates have gone up 30% since 1999 “among both sexes, all racial/ethnic groups, and all urbanization levels.” More than half of these individuals had no mental health issues.

The World Health Organization reports that nearly 800,000 people take their own lives each year—one person every 40 seconds—and for every successful attempt, twenty more try. 45,000 people died in America by their own hands in 2016.

Some people believe in the false notion that once this life ends all their problems will be over because there is nothing after death: We just get buried in the ground. That is suicide’s appeal. That everything will be better.

When I tried to take my life over thirty years ago I didn’t think of the afterlife nor the people I would leave behind; I just wanted out. Life was overwhelming. I thought there was nothing to live for anymore.

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September 3, 2020
by Steve Sanchez
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Back Issues of the Weekly Community Church of the Hills’ Newsletter!

Click each date for newsletter.

September 16. 2020: Are You a God Grouch?; Love Your Enemies; Still More Covid Memes

September 10, 2020: When I Attempted Suicide; “An Eye for an Eye” Hilarious Covid Memes

September 3, 2020: “Agony & Ecstasy: My First 5 Years @ Community Church of the Hills”; BLM Analysed by Two Black Theologians; My Eldest Daughter’s Boyfriend; Biblical Cursing & Swearing; Current Event Memes

August 26, 2020: Rehearsing Marriage Vows; Who Influenced My Preaching; Revenge of the Statues.

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July 23, 2020
by Steve Sanchez
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Dead at 61

I TORE THE MINISCUS on my left knee in my sleep. Yeah, in my sleep. The ortho said that this was not uncommon for someone my age. Yeah, my age. I’m 61. People die at age 61.

Ernest Hemingway killed himself, as did Anthony Bourdain–at 61. Infamous mobster John Gotti died of throat cancer while Ma Barker died in a shoot-out. Benito Mussolini was also shot to death. At 61.

I turned 61 last March and I now wonder if the coronavirus might do me in. Or walking up the stairs. Or pizza. Now, it’s my stupid knee. I tried to tough it out, but it was way painful. I’m scheduled for surgery tomorrow. Will I live to see 62?

According to the Bible I’m worthless. Let me re-phrase that: I’m worth less. In the Old Testament, the worth of a man or woman dedicated to God was based on how much work could be expected from them. At age 59 my worth was 50 shekels, a full month’s wages. Alas, I’m now only valued at 15 shekels–for the second year in a row! I can sense feebleness starting to set in with senility not far behind, then, of course, my heart attack.

Am I going to slow down? No! Am I ready to retire? No! Retirement is not Biblical. My hope is to work as unto the Lord until, well, I can’t anymore, 15-shekel man or not.

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July 8, 2020
by Steve Sanchez
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To Mask, or Not to Mask? That is the Question

I’ve heard the conspiracy theories:

“To wear one is to participate in the Great Social Engineering Experiment.”

“Wearing one is part of a Satanic Plot.”

“A mask causes us to lose our identities so we can be herded like sheep to be made into Soylent Green.”

I know the “effectiveness” arguments, too:

“Yes, wearing a mask can help contain the virus for those who may have The Covid.”

“No, masks aren’t effective and look stupid.”

What’s a Christian to do?

This is what I’m doing and it has a lot to do with my last trip to Austin.

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June 23, 2020
by Steve Sanchez
3 Comments

No Longer “Baby D”

MY “BABY D” IS NO LONGER A BABY, but she’s still mine. On this, her 21st birthday, I get choked up as I think about all the wonderfully fun times we had together.

From the first day, when I visited you at the hospital in the incubator, and read to you from Matthew chapter 1, and you fell asleep during the genealogy….

…to when I almost killed you at age 2, when you climbed on one of those cheap white plastic Walmart outdoors chairs, stood up and pushed against the back until it tipped over and your head smacked the cold, hard concrete. I ran over, panicked, picked up your lifless body…only to find it wasn’t lifeless! Nothing happened at all, except a little red dot on your forehead. I set you down, turned around… and then you did the same thing again! And you still didn’t die!

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