to do more damage.
But they seemed to keep on getting themselves into trouble. Again and again he
had to ask for God's forgiveness in their lives, but nothing seemed to change.
And he had a difficult time coping with the teasing behind his back. They would
laugh at him when he gave them a Bible to read or when he would give them a
Bible quote he thought might get them through the day.
“Remember you are all children of God. He will forgive you and love you
if you ask him to,” he would say. But they wouldn’t listen. No one would.
He had given up on his old lifestyle. He had to. Give up his rich and wild
life where everything was possible. Where the cars were big and the boats even
bigger. After boarding school, he told his parents he didn’t want to work for
their company. He didn’t want to end up like them. He told them he was gay and
wanted them to accept it.
They had slammed the door right in his face. Called him a disgusting
faggot and told him they never wanted to see him again. He was no longer their
son.
After that he had to get by without his parent’s money for the first
time in his life. He found love and helping hands at the gay bars of
Copenhagen. Men brought him home and gave him money to have sex with them and
sometimes he even got to spend the night. He lived on the streets, selling his
body to whoever wanted it, eating only whenever one of his clients was kind
enough to buy him something at a bakery or a hotdog stand. And he thought he
had deserved that life. He loathed himself. He hated that his sexuality had
brought him into this mess. Why couldn’t he just have oppressed it? Why did he
have to blurt it all out in front of his parents?
One day he had sex in an alley with a man who turned out to be a priest.
He proved to be a really nice guy and they started talking afterwards. He told
him he had known ever since he was a kid that he liked men. But he had learned
not to express his sexuality in public.
“As a priest, no one would ever ask you why you don’t have a wife and
kids,” he said. That gave Bertel an idea. Not only could he hide his ugly
disgusting, impure thoughts from the world, maybe he would also be able to help
someone else out of their miserable lives. Maybe even young kids who needed to
be saved, as he had needed it, when God came along in form of a priest.
After getting an education, with a little help from his friend from the
alley, he got a job working at the juvenile detention. But very soon he realized
he didn’t make much difference in their lives. He reached out to them but they
didn’t change. God didn’t work in them and make them better. So he went to his
altar and prayed about it.
“Why won’t they change, God?” he asked. “Why do they keep laughing at
me? Why won’t they listen to your words?”
And he had gotten his answer. In God’s own words. “So if your eye—even
your good eye—causes you to lust, gouge it out and throw it away. It is
better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be
thrown into hell. And if your hand—even your stronger hand—causes
you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.”
Jesus had said it like that. So it had to be, then.
Pastor Bertel had then gone to one of the kids in the middle of the
night and put acid in both of his eyes. Of course, he had sedated the kid
first. He wasn’t a monster. And then he had left him there for someone else to
find. No one ever knew how it happened but the kid never looked at a woman with
lust again. And he never raped anyone again.
That’s how he began his real work for God.
Sometimes he would just teach the kids a lesson by beating them
senseless and threatening them with death if they told anyone, and sometimes he
had to go to more extreme methods in order to reach the youngsters. Sometimes
he had to castrate someone to keep him from raping.
After a while, it had become even better than back at the boarding
school when he and his friends used
But they seemed to keep on getting themselves into trouble. Again and again he
had to ask for God's forgiveness in their lives, but nothing seemed to change.
And he had a difficult time coping with the teasing behind his back. They would
laugh at him when he gave them a Bible to read or when he would give them a
Bible quote he thought might get them through the day.
“Remember you are all children of God. He will forgive you and love you
if you ask him to,” he would say. But they wouldn’t listen. No one would.
He had given up on his old lifestyle. He had to. Give up his rich and wild
life where everything was possible. Where the cars were big and the boats even
bigger. After boarding school, he told his parents he didn’t want to work for
their company. He didn’t want to end up like them. He told them he was gay and
wanted them to accept it.
They had slammed the door right in his face. Called him a disgusting
faggot and told him they never wanted to see him again. He was no longer their
son.
After that he had to get by without his parent’s money for the first
time in his life. He found love and helping hands at the gay bars of
Copenhagen. Men brought him home and gave him money to have sex with them and
sometimes he even got to spend the night. He lived on the streets, selling his
body to whoever wanted it, eating only whenever one of his clients was kind
enough to buy him something at a bakery or a hotdog stand. And he thought he
had deserved that life. He loathed himself. He hated that his sexuality had
brought him into this mess. Why couldn’t he just have oppressed it? Why did he
have to blurt it all out in front of his parents?
One day he had sex in an alley with a man who turned out to be a priest.
He proved to be a really nice guy and they started talking afterwards. He told
him he had known ever since he was a kid that he liked men. But he had learned
not to express his sexuality in public.
“As a priest, no one would ever ask you why you don’t have a wife and
kids,” he said. That gave Bertel an idea. Not only could he hide his ugly
disgusting, impure thoughts from the world, maybe he would also be able to help
someone else out of their miserable lives. Maybe even young kids who needed to
be saved, as he had needed it, when God came along in form of a priest.
After getting an education, with a little help from his friend from the
alley, he got a job working at the juvenile detention. But very soon he realized
he didn’t make much difference in their lives. He reached out to them but they
didn’t change. God didn’t work in them and make them better. So he went to his
altar and prayed about it.
“Why won’t they change, God?” he asked. “Why do they keep laughing at
me? Why won’t they listen to your words?”
And he had gotten his answer. In God’s own words. “So if your eye—even
your good eye—causes you to lust, gouge it out and throw it away. It is
better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be
thrown into hell. And if your hand—even your stronger hand—causes
you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.”
Jesus had said it like that. So it had to be, then.
Pastor Bertel had then gone to one of the kids in the middle of the
night and put acid in both of his eyes. Of course, he had sedated the kid
first. He wasn’t a monster. And then he had left him there for someone else to
find. No one ever knew how it happened but the kid never looked at a woman with
lust again. And he never raped anyone again.
That’s how he began his real work for God.
Sometimes he would just teach the kids a lesson by beating them
senseless and threatening them with death if they told anyone, and sometimes he
had to go to more extreme methods in order to reach the youngsters. Sometimes
he had to castrate someone to keep him from raping.
After a while, it had become even better than back at the boarding
school when he and his friends used
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