Lord we know what we are, but we know not what we may be. God be at your table. * * * Emily - she/her - 26 - Drama and Theatre Grad Student - unironically enthusiastic about stuff - main blog is @demigodsanswer if you see me in your notes
i was about to caption this “me every time my friends and i are just trying to have a nice dinner” or something like that until i remembered that that is, in fact, the exact situation going on in the full strip
Imagine a bee rn in a hive muttering "the beekeeper is not real because he is not intervening or helping me at all with this disastrous relationship I have with another bee". now imagine that's you talking about the good lord. now imagine a dog with a propeller hat on
why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?