No more difficult story can be written. I should like to say that if those mortals who abuse children could see themselves torturing God they would quit. The greatest tragedy is that when God was in flesh 2000 years ago they were not stopped and they did not quit. What can we do? How can we save the children who have been cast off as refuse, abandoned as useless, beaten as dogs, sold as cattle, imprisoned, raped, murdered, and perhaps forever destroyed as potential children of our Creator. These children can become so embittered that even if they do survive to adulthood they may never believe in a God much less one that loves them. Nothing is sadder than to know that eternity may be beyond the grasp of these broken innocents. The twisted truth is that this has been going on since the beginning of humanity. The real truth is that once again God is being beaten with knotted cords and crucified. The difference is that now there are children hanging upon the cross. No greater sorrow other than the murder of Jesus has ever painfully let paint leave my brush to declare unholiness on my canvas. Few things leave me speechless before God in my prayers. Every day that we awaken in safety and peace in a love filled home another innocent child dies unwanted, unloved, and unsung... The Last Supper is dedicated to the millions of children that will never see this painting and know my heart before they die.

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