The Gun They Put in My Hands

Moments before a storm.

For those asking “How did we get here?”

This is not a complete answer,

But it’s an important one.

This is part of my book-in-progress, AWAKEN.

It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever written. And one of the truest.

This is what I grew up in.

(Content Warning: religious trauma, racism, misogyny, indoctrination, gun violence)

The Gun They Put in My Hands

By Ahza Rex

(A testimony of belief, grief, and breaking free)

I was eight

When they put a gun

In my hands. 

Good job, kid—

Just aim straight. 

I looked up at my daddy,

Smiled proudly. 

And over the years,

I went with my dad,

His friends,

Then mine too. 

Just blowin’ off some steam,

Hooting and hollering,

Manly bonding. 

But then something,

I couldn’t name,

A chilling excitement,

Started to change. 

From brothers in Christ,

We became soldiers of Christ.

We laughed. 

We cheered. 

We were warriors of light.

At first, it felt like purpose.

Like belonging.

We were the heroes 

In a story they wrote for us.

To proudly stand—

Strong and tall— 

To the death,

To bring forth

The end and the King. 

Meanwhile,

I searched videos

On how to be

In a relationship. 

But all I was fed,

Were talking points 

On how women 

Were second class—

Too emotional,

Passive aggressive,

Unfit to lead. 

I saw my mom,

Screaming—

Never asking—

Doing all the cooking

And cleaning—

Huffing and puffing—

And agreed. 

I saw the fear 

In my dad’s eyes,

He was always served first. 

Her ridicule—

His softness—

Unattractively weak. 

After each big fight,

He bought a new 

“Manly” thing. 

511 military gear. 

REI survival kits. 

A suped up WRX,

Mercedes Kompressor,

A large four wheel,

Pig-faced SUV

With a floating compass

And a snorkel. 

Another gun. 

They looked weird

On my father,

Swimming in camo,

Large bottle glasses,

His kind, nervous smile—

Cracking. 

She too, believed,

Women were unfit

To lead. 

“These modern women—

Stealing men’s jobs,

It isn’t right.

There’s a natural order

To things.” 

My friends in

High school,

Started saying 

Uncomfortable things—

Women are weak—

Everything went wrong

When women started

To vote. 

My mother,

Filling out 

“Family” ballots,

Agreed. 

The messages rang

Loud and clear.

“Our King,

Our Savior,

Is coming!

Suit up,

The end is near. 

Are you prepared?”

My dad echoed—

The pastor,

The radio,

The books on revelations,

It was 24/7. 

This will bring about

One nation,

United in Christ,

We stand tall. 

It’ll start with the corrosion 

Of our beliefs. 

Just you see—

Good bye Christmas tree. 

The earth will shake,

There will be more quakes,

Much more devastation. 

Just you see. 

Next thing you know,

“They’ll be marrying goats.”

At first they laughed,

Then they were ranting,

Raving— 

Foaming at the mouth. 

Then there will come,

A man birthed from below,

The antichrist,

And he will brand them

With the mark of the beast,

They will wear it proudly. 

But then we will build

Our great nation. 

The Seven Mountains—

Government, media, schools—

All must fall in line

With our teachings.

The promised heaven,

Here on earth.

It is foretold.

Don’t you see?

And you did see,

If you didn’t,

You weren’t chosen. 

You were left behind. 

Chosen since the dawn

Of time to scream,

To suffer,

The gates of hell—

Eternally. 

Once we establish,

A Christian nation,

The King will come back—

Resurrected,

The second coming,

You’ll see. 

And somewhere in there,

No one could agree when—

Before—

Or after the tribulation?

Some years in?

But we will be raptured,

For we are the chosen.

That’s what they said, 

So we prepared.

Every month,

We went into the deserts

And the woods,

We blew up cars and books,

And shot targets with faces.

We didn’t just have one gun.

We had nine—

A Sig 1911,

A Mini-14,

An M1A…

Each one cleaned,

Each one ready,

With concealed carries.

My friends’ families?

Ten, fifteen—

Some had rooms of safes,

Just in case

The end came early.

We will have peace 

On earth for 10,000 years,

Then Satan will be released,

For one last rebellion. 

We will fight with the King,

Our glory is ours—

Satan defeated. 

No other message,

Was allowed in our house,

Only Focus on the Family. 

What about the friends

We love and hold dear?

That’s why you need to evangelize,

Be a soldier in Christ,

So they’ll accept Christ—

Salvation. 

For they need to be,

Like you,

A true,

Christian. 

Not Mormon,

Not Buddhist,

Not Muslim or Jew. 

Not Catholic,

Or Protestant—

“They pick and choose,

They don’t read the Bible right,” they’d say,

Disgust crusted on curled lips. 

And your friends—

The weird ones,

The gay ones,

The alphabet things—

Abominations. 

The black ones?

Children of Cain—

Forget them. 

They’ll turn you

With their fun,

Their deceitful tongue. 

So close your eyes

And ears, 

For don’t you

Want to be a chosen one?

So you close your eyes

And ears.

Turn away from your friends, 

Your loved ones. 

For love is a risk,

Truth, a threat.

And everything soft in you,

Becomes

War.

And you march

Down and down,

A dark hole you go,

For all you can see 

Is the cruelty of this world

And what awaits—

In heaven. 

Your dad says to you,

The pastor,

The radio too,

We need a red map,

A one issue—

To bring the kingdom of heaven. 

So now you no longer

Just fight for the kingdom of God,

A soldier of Christ,

But all the unborn babies, too. 

Every Sunday,

Every gospel study,

Every weekday,

Every hour,

They scream of the frightful things

The democrats do. 

They scream of a consolidated power—

The united nations—

Will bring upon a demon. 

This demon all will love,

They swore he wore a tan suit. 

Still, my hands tremble

When the sirens rise.

My legs twitch—

A constant waiting—

For the trumpets to blast.

Am I ready?

So now I march 

With a gun in my hand. 

To eradicate the demons.  

I was born for this. 

I was chosen. 

Even the ones who smiled.

Even the ones who loved me.

All I see—

Are demons. 

I smiled proudly…

Not knowing that one day,

I’d run 

From everything 

They taught me.

What I Carry:
I don’t remember all of it at once. 

It comes back in waves.

I read the Left Behind Series—

Not just once but again and again.

Our family bookshelf overflowed 

With Revelation commentaries.

We studied the Five Points of Calvinism 

Like doctrine was destiny.

My dad read me the Bible almost every night.

At church camp, I prayed in the woods.

That part still feels sacred.

Not all of it was bad— 

And that’s what made it 

So incredibly hard to walk away.

I changed the names of my LGBTQ friends in my phone 

So my parents wouldn’t know—

Told them they were church friends.

I told lies upon lies and felt guilty for all of it,

But I never got along with my Bible study peers.

We had mugs with Proverbs 31 on them.

Devotionals stacked on my mother’s nightstand.

Teaching her to submit,

Teaching me love was obedience.

I don’t own guns anymore,

I’m no longer their child.

I’ve reached out again and again,

But they slammed the door.

I still carry this.

And it’s so heavy.

Author’s Note:

I grew up in Arizona in the 90’s and 2000’s. This was normal in the churches my family attended. 

My parents and guy friends were targeted hard. Almost all of them fell down into the Milo, Patterson, extremist pipeline. 

Our dads brought us into the desert to shoot, prepping for the day “the radical libs” would come for our guns. We’d laugh, “try pulling them from our cold dead hands.” It was also my introduction into backpacking— part of prepping.

**Side note:

I don’t have problems with owning guns or concealed carry itself. 

While I don’t personally own guns anymore,

I have a problem with the lack of gun regulation—

And the context we were brought up in. 

I have a problem with hearing about a new school shooting 

So often it rolls off the tongue. 

On Sunday and on the radio, programs like Focus on the Family, fed us a constant stream of Revelations, the 7 Mountain Mandate, and Project RedMap. 

Even the Christian bookstores sold war—

Crosses beside dog tags.

I had one.

Stamped metal—

“Soldier of Christ”

I wore it under my t-shirt,

In my camo pants.

I didn’t know I was being drafted.

(These tactical items were also sold in church camps,

youth retreats, vacation Bible schools,

missionary kits, and men’s conferences)

Our household banned every other other radio station to be played, except occasionally classical. Oldies, if it was a family bonding day.

My dad, who holds a masters in electrical engineering—

We graduated together on the same day, in the same field—

Believes dinosaurs were put here by demons 

To lead us astray. 

We weren’t poor.

My mom was a schoolteacher.

My dad, a successful engineer.

Not a cult in the woods.

Normal on the outside,

Evangelized on the inside.

They’re not ignorant.

Not uneducated.

They just…believe.

And that’s the terrifying part.

He firmly believes the end times will happen in our lifetime. 

I was lucky I got out.

But the indoctrination runs deep. It still lives in my nervous system.

I got out almost ten years ago.

My body still shakes—

Still seizes— 

Waiting for those trumpets.

Combine that with just the destitution in Middle America and the South— 

Literal food deserts—

Fear becomes a breeding ground. 

I’m not surprised we are where we are. 

But I’m incredibly heartbroken. 

I miss my dad. 

I miss who my dad used to be. 

I’m scared—for him, for me, for all of us.

Thank you for reading.

If this resonates with you—if you grew up in it too, or are still clawing your way out—

You’re not alone.

This is part of a larger body of work, AWAKEN, where I’m trying to remember what is sacred beneath the smoke.

I hope you find pieces of yourself in it too.

—Ahza Rex

If this stirred something in you and you want to connect,

I’ve made space for that.