I grew up in a small town, the second child to two typical, middle class parents. My dad was a civil engineer, and my mom volunteered in various capacities along with being a stay-at-home mother. Both of my parents were very religious, and were consistent in taking their children to church and teaching them about God and the Bible. They even sacrificed financially so that all of their children could attend a private, Christian school.
There have been, on occasion in my life, and I am sure in yours, certain moments in time when a word or group of words cannot be uttered. Oh, we may attempt to muster the effort – maybe even use facial expressions as a type of “visual aid,” but try as we might, words fail us from time to time! In my life it happened twice. My name is Lino Zarrillo, and this is my story.
Most people think that they will get to Heaven because they are good people and have not done anything “really” bad, like murder someone. In my case, however, as a registered nurse working in an abortion clinic, I was responsible for assisting in the abortion of several hundred babies. I had personally convinced many of these girls/women that this was their best option and was directly responsible for pushing them forward in having the abortion. I WAS AN ACCOMPLICE TO MURDER.
My name is Brian Fetterman, and this is my story. I had been feeling dissatisfied for a while. By anyone’s account, I should have been happy. I had a good job, a nice house, and a loving wife, and was by most measures successful. But I was becoming more and more discontented, not with my situation or status, but with myself.
I was born and raised in Allentown, one of seven children. My parents belonged to the Catholic church, and although we didn’t attend church regularly, I did occasionally receive the sacraments. My mom prayed with us nightly and tried to teach us right from wrong. She had many good values and always shared them with us.
When I was very young, until I was seven years old, my parents took me to church. After that, I would occasionally go with some neighbors. When I was about 18 or 19 years of age, I was starting to wonder what religion was all about. At the same time, my girlfriend was urging me to get to know God. This drove me back to the church that I had grown up in. I attended several Sundays to hear what the pastor had to say.