I used to hope for a firing squad

I used to hope for a firing squad.

Not because I wanted to die, and not because I was in emotional pain, but because I thought that if I could just suffer enough for Jehovah, it would finally count for something. The idea was that if I ended up in prison, or got tortured, or stood in front of a firing squad for my beliefs, I would be able to prove my loyalty once and for all. Just endure whatever came, die faithful, and wake up in paradise. It felt like the only way out that guaranteed the right outcome.

It’s strange to admit that now, because I don’t feel particularly traumatized by those thoughts. I don’t carry nightmares or panic attacks about it. But when I look back at that kind of thinking, I can see how deeply wrong it was, especially for a child. And I do mean child. These weren’t thoughts I had as an adult under pressure. This was the quiet fantasy of someone who had absorbed years of talks and publications and dramatic experiences read from the platform. Stories where the ones who died for their faith were the heroes. The ones who endured unimaginable suffering were the ones who made Jehovah proud.

I was never sure I’d be strong enough to make it through Armageddon or even to stay faithful in daily life. But in some twisted way, I imagined that if things got really bad, I’d find the courage in the moment. I’d hold out, and then it would all be over. One act of faith, and then the resurrection. It felt simpler than the long, exhausting process of trying to be good enough every single day.

Today, I feel far removed from that mindset. It doesn’t stir up fear or grief — it just feels foreign, like something I once believed in a different lifetime. And that distance, that sense of looking back at a version of myself I barely recognize, is part of what brought me here. It’s why I write. It’s why I speak up. Because somewhere out there, there’s another kid who thinks he’s only worthy if he dies a martyr. Someone should probably say, out loud, that this isn’t normal, and that it never was.