You remember Fred Phelps? He was semi-famous for showing up at the funerals of people he’d never met and holding up signs that read, “God Hates Fags!” He claimed to represent a church.

Anyway, a few years ago, Fred Phelps died.

Not a surprise, really.

It happens to everybody.

But Fred’s death brought a kind of satisfaction. Fred’s death made us

He really deserved to die.

That’s how it seems to me anyway.

Man, he was a hateful cuss.

He’s who I think about when I hear the word:

Sinner.

I don’t think of myself.

I compare myself to Fred Phelps and that makes me feel much better than when I compare myself to someone like, say, Jesus.

I can understand why God loves me.

I’m loveable.

But Fred?

Who could love a guy like that?

Jesus went to the cross for Fred Phelps.

No question that needed to be done.

Fred obviously needed a lot of grace. He carried around those awful signs. I’ve never done that because I’m sneakier than Fred. I keep my signs inside my head my heart.

Inside, where you can’t see, I’m carrying a sign that reads: “God hates everyone but me!”

I’ll never hold up those signs in public.

Instead, I’ll beg God for mercy.

And rejoice in the atonement of Christ.

Because I’m every bit as hateful as Fred Phelps.

Plus, I’m too proud and arrogant to show it!

There is not a righteous man on earth who does what is right and never sins.

Ecclesiastes 7:18