The Pope is dead

It was a strange thing this. For me anyway.

As a former Catholic, I have come to see the Roman church as something of an institution of deception, a house of lies full of the traditions of men. So there was little grief from me at the Pope's passing. As I prayed for God's mercy upon him, I could feel within myself the twisting and churning one experiences when you help an enemy. How could I bring myself to pray for this man, who stood for the former way of life I escaped? How could I ask for mercy for the man who symbolised the institution I hate, the institution that blinded me to the truth by showing me an annotated photocopy and not the original? What can I feel at this time?

I know only that the Lord is sovereign, and that he will execute justice at this time. I know only that the many Catholics around the world need to know the truth, to hear the truth, that their rituals and sacraments and works are worthless rags compared to the everlasting grace of God through Jesus Christ. I pray that they might be saved, and that God may have mercy upon them. Though the hate mixed with apathy is ... a strange concoction in my heart, I know that God reigns. He will bring all things to light. And on that day, I'll find out.