"At the age of nine I saw my first execution, in the grounds of the brick factory. The man had been condemned to death for stealing copper wire from electric pylons to sell in China, crossing the border under the cover of darkness. He was dragged to a recess dug at the foot of the mountain, near a railway track. A train that happened to pass just at that moment, by a barely believable coincidence, stopped to let the passengers watch the scene.

"Executions were a frequent occurrence in our small city. Five or six a year. But the inhabitants never tired of them. As soon as an execution was announced, they hurried to the place where it was to be performed. The locations often changed, but I don't know why.

"The children went and stood in the first row, ready to leap forward to pick up the rifle cartridges or the bullets that were left stuck in the execution post after passing through the victim's body. People flocked in huge numbers. Primary and secondary school pupils even skipped school to join the audience, which always consisted of hundreds, or even thousands, of people.

"Small posters went up in the city several days before each event. When the time came, the condemned man was displayed in the streets before being led to the place of execution, where he was made to sit on the ground, head bowed, so that everyone could get a good look at him..."

Yes, there is much more. I commend the book to you. And as always I ask you to weep and pray with me. Imagine a land where public execution is sport.

And, think of it. Condemned to death is bad enough. Death is death. Guilt is guilt. People must "pay their debt" to society. But infinitely, eternally worse: no chance of eternal pardon from the debt that cannot be paid by men. No Bible. No chaplain. No advice as to how to call on the Name whose blood cleanses away all sins, before entering that place from which there is no recall.