Yes, I suppose I could move. I could give up my beautiful and beloved house, on which I've lavished so much time, energy, and money. I'd been thinking about moving to a decrepit mid-nineteenth-century farmhouse so that I could have the horses on the back acreage and could restore the farmhouse.
But I'm not going to be chased from my house and I'm certainly not going to be scared away from going to the church I've loved for ten years. That would be really Satanic, if this screwball scared me away from my church! Nope, sorry, I've got the Lord and I've got the Browning, (and the .22 and the 410 and the 30.'06) so I'm staying right where I am until I bloody well feel like moving.