I Was Arrested Again Yesterday
by Neal Horsley
(Carrollton, Ga, Sept 17, 2010) If you are a Christian citizen of the United States of America, this message is for you, a message the Lord Holy Ghost is having me send to you: I'm being torn apart here people.
Literally, like the unborn babies being torn apart every time an abortion occurs in this nation, I am being torn apart. I know exactly how the unborn babies who have been being butchered legally in this nation feel.
Do you believe I have the capacity to feel? Do you believe I am a person? Then this message is from Lord Holy Ghost, the third person of the Triune God to you. Either that, or I am insane, utterly deluded when I was persuaded nearly forty years ago that Jesus of Nazareth rose from the grave, when I was persuaded that Jesus of Nazareth wanted me to know He was alive so my mind could be renewed and I could know the good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.
I'm here to tell you the last forty years of my life has totally convinced me that I am not insane, that the One who answered me when I was in prison and was imploding in my soul, when I had said in my spirit to no visible person, "Jesus, if you want me to die, I'm ready to die; and if you want me to live, you're going to have to show me how" that One is Jesus of Nazareth, my Lord Jesus Christ.
My Jesus answered me then that salvation day long ago, and said, "Pay attention, and it will be all right."
I paid attention to my Jesus then. And every day subsequent to that day, until now. And I'm paying attention now.
The same One who spoke to me then wants me to tell you that I know how unborn babies feel when they're being torn apart in this nation because the same thing is happening to me now.
Yesterday, I was arrested and thrown in jail for the second time since March. I was thrown in jail for the same reason: trying to tell people why my God wants me run for Governor of Georgia.
But instead of making progress in getting elected as Governor of Georgia, I'm being torn apart here people.
Aside from a pitifully small number of people, the vast majority of Christians in this nation are going about their business as if my being torn apart was no business of theirs.
My Lord keeps reminding me that He said, "As you did it not to the least of these, my brothers, you did it not to me."
When I was in jail yesterday, without one telephone number of a Christian anywhere in the USA who I could call to help me get out of the cold, concrete cage I had been put in (Like the idiot that I am, I had opted to abandon my cell phone when they arrested me. Since I had decided to let my cell phone remember phone numbers, I had none in my brain, not even the numbers of my biological children.), I knew exactly what an unborn baby felt like waiting to be torn apart. (If you think I'm exaggerating, think about what you would feel like if you were not only a policeman thrown in jail, but a policeman who was known by your fellow prisoners to be working to establish laws that at least some of your fellow prisoners had already broken. That would normally be a recipe for protective custody...unless somebody wanted you dead.)
Powerful people in the government of Georgia have decided to punish me for showing people in this State a picture of a baby taken at the instant of abortion, a picture of a baby being decapitated. I am accused of distributing obscene material for showing that picture in public.
Like John the Baptist in his jail cell, I await my decapitation here in the State of Georgia, and this letter is the total literal best I can do to try to find some way to keep from being decapitated.
Do you have any idea how I feel? Can you have the slightest empathy for what I am going through? I doubt it, and I have a solid foundation for my doubt.
When I think about my situation, I am tempted to real despair because I know how you and the rest of American Christians have reacted to the other people who were on the verge of being legally decapitated here in this nation for the last 37 years. You have managed to let them be legally slaughtered. And if you have been bothered by it at all, you were not bothered enough to prevent their slaughter. That's a fact that is a really chilling part of my life as I write this letter to you, a fact that tempts me to despair.
But I am not actually despairing because Lord Holy Ghost ministers the fruit of His Spirit to me now just as He did yesterday when I was in a cold prison cell, utterly disconnected from everybody I knew in this nation. Still Lord Holy Ghost ministered to me then: He filled me with the gentleness and the love, and peace, and joy, and goodness, and kindness, and patience, and self-control, and faith that only He can give. And He is doing that for me now while I'm writing to you.
But He does not make me think I can expect much from you. You have learned to treat other people as abstractions who have no real presence. You have already watched millions of unborn babies be torn apart every day over the last thirty-seven years in this nation. What grounds do I see to think you might not let me be torn apart?
One. Those babies couldn't type; they couldn't get your attention except in the most abstract way, a way that had no power to actually move you to prevent their legalized murder.
I can type. I can actually get a message from Lord Holy Ghost to you. Here is the message: As you did it not to the least of these, you did it not to me. Now the "me" in that message is from Jesus and is about Him. But the "me" is also me, Neal Horsley. I am literally the least of God's children in the USA. Nobody outside the womb is leaster than me. I am rejected, despised, loathed so that even most Christians despise me. One Christian even called me a "pervert" this week. (He is a street preacher named Jeremy Sonnier. I don't know what he bases his accusation on, but I guess he'll tell you if you contact him at email@example.com )
While I am despised, I am also a person the Creator started equipping to abolish legalized abortion in this nation before I was born. My daddy spoke to me on his death bed while I was still in the womb of my mother so that, of all the people alive today, I would know for a fact that an unborn person was just like a born person. He was 23, dying in a Newnan, Georgia, hospital from some unknown ailment that in less than a month had turned him from a robust, vital young man on the verge of shipping overseas (it was 1943) to a man who knew he was dying. It was then that he spoke to me. I don't remember it, like I don't remember anything before about the age of three or four. But my mother was there, and my grandfather, and my daddy's brother. They all told me the same story with slightly different details. The first Otis O'Neal Horsley had already had his stomach opened, and the doctors had closed him without doing anything because whatever had gone wrong was too far advanced. They had told him he was dying. At some point in his dying, he had begun to sing Amazing Grace real loud. But nobody shushed him. Then he stopped singing, turned to my mother who was visibly pregnant with me, looked at her belly and said, "Son, I've got to go now. You take care of your mother." And he patted me on the head. My mother started crying real loud. And they had to carry her out of the room. But she came right back when she shushed. That's the only time I ever met my daddy. And I can't remember the meeting at all. But I know it happened. Like I know other things the people who raised me tried to teach me when they knew them to be God's honest truth, things like Jesus. That's how I became equipped to be a person who knows it's the God's honest truth that unborn babies are people like you and me. I know them because my daddy knew them and made the last thing he did on this earth a reminder to me that I could never forget as long as I lived.
So that day, years after I first knew Jesus was alive, that day when I was in Seminary at Westminster and God showed me that the way the children of Abraham allowed the child sacrifices in Psalm 106 were like what we Christians were doing in the USA, I knew what God meant to be the work He had created me to perform.
I believe that's why things have developed as they did over the last 25 years since that day in Seminary.
But obviously it was Neal Horsley doing things. Nobody claims that I am Jesus Christ.
I talked to Dr. Clair Davis, one of my teachers at Seminary recently and told him I was running for Governor but the only thing I had managed to accomplish was piss everybody off. He said that was not the way politicians normally got elected. I told him I hoped that my being despised would mean God got the glory. And that's what I think is happening now.
I think if I'm not actually the "least" Christian in the USA, I'm definitely in the running. And I think that's why Lord Holy Ghost is raising me up to confront you one more time with a person on the verge of being legally murdered in this nation to see whether you might repent and actually treat the least of His children as if they were Him. If I can actually accomplish anything God has to get the glory.
So that's why I'm writing this letter, to give you one more chance to do something that can have the power to abolish legalized abortion in the United States of America. That's why I'm running for Governor of Georgia. That's also why my enemies in this State are doing everything in their power to tear me apart, figuratively, by having me thrown in prison; or, literally, by having someone in my prison murder me after I am literally imprisoned.
And I do face prison. This is the sign I'm being prosecuted for showing the people of Georgia. As you can see, it's a terrible, gruesome picture. Of all the pictures I have ever seen of an abortion, it's the worst. That's why I chose it. I wanted to show people how horrible it is to tear a baby apart. I wanted to show people how unspeakably vile and evil it is for Christians to stand by and allow it to happen to any person on earth, but most especially to people who were supposed to be born alive in the United States of America.
The ramificartions of what is happening to me redounds to the heavenlies. Can you grasp what that means?If you do, you'll understand why I need help: legal help, money help, help help. You can contact me at 770 838 5940, mail me at 871 Kingsbridge Road, Carrollton, GA 30117, or firstname.lastname@example.org
I'm being torn apart here people.