#recently heard a sermon that had these points

[nyxronomicon]

Words Like Honey

siren!Geto x GN reader

cw: mind control/manipulation/hypnosis, non-con/dub-con (reader is mind controlled), praise, cult leader!Geto, soft dom, slight dumbification/bimbofication, begging, penetration (unspecified anal or vaginal) nicknames: darling, pet, baby

part of monsterfucktober!

"Come in." Geto's voice called to you through his office door. Although you were a recent addition to his cult, he already noticed how easily you were enchanted by his voice.

"Hello," you smiled nervously. Your heart raced as you took in his appearance up close. You briefly wondered if he was responsible for the clean look or if he had assistants to make sure he was presentable. Either way, you couldn't keep your eyes off him.

"Curious why I invited you here?" He asked, a playful lilt to his voice. It sounded so nice, his honeyed tone drawing you in much more than the usual sermon. Perhaps it was the intimacy of being in an office alone with him.

"Yes, very." You quickly nodded.

"I've noticed you're quite the enthusiastic member of my little organization." He smiled softly. He'd carefully crafted this speech and tested parts of it on a few other cult members, but he'd been waiting for the perfect candidate to utilize its full powers. And now he had you.

Geto had been watching you during his sermons for a while now. It was incredible how quickly and deeply you succumbed to the sound of his voice; it was truly adorable. He'd been biding his time, waiting for the perfect excuse to get you alone.

"I like to meet with passionate followers such as yourself who share my beliefs. This conversation can be as short or as long as you like." Geto watched the telling glaze of your eyes and your now relaxed expression. His pause in speech pulled you out of your daze before he added, "what do you think?"

You attempted to piece together his words, thinking you must be really nervous to have forgotten them so quickly. You weren't aware the man in front of you was a siren, enchanting you with his honeyed voice.

"Sorry, I'm a little nervous, to be honest." You smiled sheepishly. "What was the question?"

Geto chuckled, his laughter gently pulling you back in. "Never mind. Just relax, my dear. I can do all the talking if you want." He grinned when you nodded. "There's really nothing for you to be nervous about. I don't bite." He watched the haze reappear in your vision, your body relaxing again.

"Why don't you come a little closer?" He tilted his head, eyes on you as you moved forward. "Don't be shy. I'd have you right on my lap if it was up to me."

"I'd like to be on your lap, too." The words fell out of your mouth before you could think. In fact, you were having trouble following any train of thought at all, but your response pulled you out of the haze enough to feel the embarrassment of that response. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it." Geto's words instantly calmed you. "It's kind of cute, actually. I love it when people are honest with me about their feelings." You relaxed again, his soothing words the only thing echoing in your head as you mindlessly moved forward. "It shows trust. Do you trust me?"

"Yes." This time your answer didn't break your trance.

"Then come here." He smiled. "Come be my mindless pet for a little while and sit on my lap, hm?"

Your body moved itself to him, taking a seat on his thighs. His hands instantly found your hips, his warmth seeping into you.

"You just fall so deeply for me, don't you?" He whispered into your ear. His speech was now saturated with his siren sound, far more intense than anything you'd ever heard. You didn't have a chance of resisting even his normal voice. This was certainly far more than you could handle. But that was the point. To have you stupid and horny and bouncing on his cock because he told you to.

"You're so easy to manipulate. Just a few short sentences and you're on my lap." His hands slipped under your shirt, feeling your bare skin. "You wanted this, didn't you? You were desperate for me to notice you. For me to take advantage of you. Nod your head, darling."

You obediently nodded, your mind nothing but a swirl of his essence. His voice, his touch, and his scent amplified as you fell deeper into the trance with every word he spoke. Your vision was blurred, your mind no longer processing anything that wasn't the siren whispering in your ear.

"That's it. So good for me." Geto chuckled softly as his hands roamed up your torso. "You're horny, aren't you? You want to give yourself to me?" You simply nodded, allowing him to touch you wherever he pleased.

"Take your clothes off." He watched as your body stiffened, removing your shirt, then standing to remove your pants. You turned to face him, obeying again when he commanded you to straddle him.

"Just look at how hazy those eyes are." He held your cheek, and you nuzzled into it. He could practically see the little hearts in your pupils as you hung into his every word. "You're so pretty when you're like this. Did I ever tell you that? How fucking pretty you are staring at me like that?"

Geto began touching you again as he spoke. "It was driving me crazy to watch how deeply you fall during my sermons. God, I've been wanting to fuck you ever since you first attended." He toyed with your nipples, watching your expression become even more lustful. "Did you know how focused I was on you?"

You silently shook your head, your whole body tingling with pleasure the longer he spoke. His hands found your sex, rubbing you as you gasped. He smirked in response.

"Of course you didn't. You're always so attentive while I speak. Even now, you're a lost little lamb, and I'm a wolf dressed as a shepherd." Geto gathered the essence from your slit on his fingers and brought them to your lips.

"Open." He commanded. You obeyed, parting your lips and sloppily licking his fingers clean. Drool decorated your lips and dripped down his hand. He grinned at how far gone you were.

"Wouldn't you love to fuck yourself on my cock?" Geto smiled, slowly tugging at his robes to show more of his chest. You nodded eagerly as he guided your hands downward, exposing his dick. "Go ahead, darling. Make yourself cum."

His body was so warm. Touching him felt so good. Hearing his voice was like ecstasy. You let yourself fall deeper and deeper under his spell simply because it felt amazing. Your body was alight with desire, yearning for more of him as you lined yourself up with his cock.

His hands pressed on your hips, digging into your skin as you slowly pushed onto his cock. Pleasure rushed through you, although you couldn't pinpoint the source with your mind scrambled like this.

"That's it, baby. Just a little more, you can take it." Geto stroked your cheek, watching your lust-heavy eyes as you hung into his every word.

"God," he hissed as you bottomed out, feeling yourself stretch around his cock. "It's like you were fucking made for me. You feel so fucking good." Geto thrust his hips, sending a wave of bliss to your core.

"Did you forget?" He chuckled. "Your instructions were to make yourself cum." Your expression was blank, but you nodded slightly. "Or do you need to fall deeper for me? Don't tell me I'm not enough for you." Geto laced his words with more of his siren enchantment, your head finally dropping onto his shoulder, completely entranced.

Your mind swirled with the desire to please him. Your body felt heavy, but the touch of his deft fingers kept you buzzing with pleasure. He was everything. This feeling was everything. You would do anything for him. Just his smooth voice was enough to make you twitch around him, your eyes flickering open at his next question.

"How does it feel to be mine, darling?" He grinned, watching your head slowly lift.

"So good." You whined, slowly lifting your hips and bringing them down before setting the pace to bounce on his dick. His head fell back, basking in the pleasure the friction created.

"You're so good for me, darling. Keep going. You feel amazing." Geto's fingers found your arousal, rubbing you as you pistoned on his cock. Your pace was quick but erratic. You were extremely sensitive, as heat quickly piqued in your core.

"That's it. You're so close, aren't you?" Your sex pulsed with need, desperate for release as you moved faster. Your core coiled in tension. He was right. You were so incredibly close, but your mind was too far gone to do anything but bounce and let the tension build until it was almost painful.

"You know what's next. You ready?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded and whimpered, weak unintelligible begging slipping from your lips as Geto smirked. His cock throbbed, close to the edge himself as he let you speed up again. He chuckled as your whining got louder, his power over you making him moan into your ear.

"Ok darling. Cum." His voice was hoarse, enchantment thick in the final word as ecstasy exploded within you, obediently cumming all over him. Geto's seed spilled into you shortly after, feeling the clench of your aftershocks as your movement slowed and the mind control faded.

Your body relaxed in his arms as the haze in your mind began to clear. He ran his fingers up and down your bare spine, his cock still buried deep within you.

"Remind me, darling." As he spoke, you drifted back into his trance. "Who do you belong to?"

"You." Just after you spoke, the trance completely dissipated. Your memories since walking into his office were fragmented at best. Panic briefly flew through your brain, unsure of how you ended up stuffed with his cock.

"I'm so glad you feel the same way." Geto's honeyed tone instantly calmed your mind, and you relaxed in his arms once again.

#jjk smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #kinktober 2023 #monsterfucktober

[crossdreamers]

Was Jesus transgender?

Jay Hulme has written a fascinating thread about how theologians have understood the gender of Jesus. Even though no one thinks of Jesus as transgender in the modern sense, it is pretty clear that Jesus has been seen as crossing the gender binary.

Jay Hulme is a transgender poet, performer and education and you can find his web site here! Jay is currently Poet-in-Residence at ‘The Poet’s Church’, St Giles-in-the-Fields in Central London.

Recently there was some drama where news outlets got angry at a sermon which supposedly claimed Jesus was trans. Obviously the sermon did not say Jesus was trans - but it did touch on some fascinating (and very old) theology surrounding Jesus and gender. So let's talk about that.

God is not male

First I've gotta explain the Trinity... which is way too complex for twitter Suffice to say that God is not male (despite what you may have heard) and is in fact all genders and none simultaneously Jesus is God made flesh, God embodied as human. As a human man, yes, but also...

If you've been on Trans Twitter you'll have seen the "Jesus is trans" jokes. Saying his chromosomes had to be XX because he couldn't have got a Y from his Father. The meme about his side would being from top surgery But people have been playing with Jesus' gender for centuries

And the reason that people have been playing with Jesus' gender in art and theology and all that for centuries, is that Jesus gives us REASON to. So, of course, as we expand our understanding of gender in the modern world, we expand that to trans stuff too.

For all mankind

So lets talk about how, historically, the "Masculinity" of Jesus has been seen and considered, shall we?

So the whole point of Jesus is that he comes for ALL of humankind. We are told that we are all capable of, and supposed to work towards, being "christlike" - after all, Jesus is the embodiment of a genderless (or genderfull) God. The point is not that Jesus is a man, but a HUMAN.

And Jesus is clear about the fact that he didn't come as "a man" but "a human". So clear that all of the Gospel writers agree on it. In fact, throughout the Gospels Jesus never uses the word "anēr" (male/masculine) to describe himself. He always uses "anthrōpos" (human).

Jesus is the human incarnation of a God who is all genders and none, all at the same time; a God that has created each of us in their own image - all of us, of every gender - and therefore Jesus is not simply "male", but "human", and theologians have long recognised this.

Jesus as mother

Understanding that Jesus isn't merely "male", theologians have often described Jesus as a "mother" - most famously Julian of Norwich, who wrote in the 1300's, said: "Jesus Christ therefore, who himself overcame evil with good, is our true Mother."

Julian of Norwich also stated "The mother can give her child to suck of her milk, but our precious Mother Jesus can feed us with himself, and does, most courteously and most tenderly, with the blessed sacrament, which is the precious food of true life"

This idea of the sacrament as breast milk was not unique to Julian - many theologians drew the connection between these life giving things - even reflecting Rabbinic understandings of the Manna from Heaven as breast milk to create a long thread of understanding.

But one of the most "contentious" parts of the sermon that started this furore and started this thread is a particular (and long held) understanding of Jesus' side wound. Obviously, Julian has thoughts on that, too...

Julian says: "The mother can lay her child tenderly to her breast, but our tender Mother Jesus can lead us easily into his blessed breast through his sweet open side, and show us there a part of the godhead and of the joys of heaven, with inner certainty of endless bliss."

Jesus side wound

Medieval Christians were OBSESSED with Jesus' side wound. It was the highlight of artistic depictions, the focus of sermons, the content of visions. And one of the main things they saw it as, was some kind of portal...

And by "portal", I do, of course, mean vagina. And that's what the oh so contentious sermon said - "look, medieval christian art saw Jesus' side wound as a vagina. Let's talk about that."

The idea is that Jesus gives life. Like a mother giving birth. Jesus raising Lazarus from the tomb, Jesus himself rising from the tomb, they both involve the miraculous drawing out of human life from a dark cave, along a tunnel, and into the light. Sounds a lot like childbirth.

We say that Christ died so that we could live. The Bible says it a lot. Many theologians, living in a time where death in childbirth was common, and childbirth itself could be horrifically painful drew the connection between Christ's physical death on the cross and childbirth.

Theologians saw Jesus' agony on the cross as a form of 'labour' as he 'birthed' new life for all of us. And so, when the soldier pieced his side, proving he was dead, and "blood and water" came out, they saw that as the moment of 'birth'. Like blood and water come in childbirth

With that in mind, when an opening in a body brings forth water and blood, and in the midst of that water and blood comes new life... it's fair to think of it as a vagina. So medieval artists, depicting that moment, depicted Jesus' side wound as such. It was a thing.

The femininity of Jesus

There's also all the theology that surrounded Jesus' actions: theologians living in times of strict gender roles obsessed over the "femininity" of Jesus feeding and serving others. Even speaking to women as if they were equal. Of him taking the "feminine role" in his interactions

But this thread is already very long...

In summary: If you think it's heresy to see Jesus as "feminine" or "mother" or anything other than a masculine macho manly man, you're wrong. And if you think it's "modern woke nonsense", then you've not been paying attention to centuries of theology, or the Gospels themselves.

One day I'll do a whole thread on how it actually is Big Trans Vibes for God to shrink down to a single "gender" and body to walk among us as Jesus, and how weird that must have been for Jesus to suddenly be "male" and not "the genderweird vibe of God" but that's for another time

Ppl have been going BUT WHAT ABOUT 'THE SON OF MAN' and my friends, the earliest Gospels we've got are Ancient Greek and Luke 9:22 says "υἱός τοῦ ἀνθρώπου" υἱός is often translated as "male child" but regularly applies to female children ἀνθρώπου means "human / humanity"

Full twitter thread here!

Photo from the Norwegian play Jesus, the Queen of Heaven, where the Norwegian transgender pioneer  Esben Esther Pirelli Benestad played Jesus. Photo by Fin Serck-Hanssen.

#trans #transgender #queer #lgbt #lgbtqa #jesus #theology #gender theology #christianity #essential #history #religion

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I got one the follower bishops with someone that they love dearly but when their love goes on a missionary quest by the lamb they return with similar injures to them ( leshy 's love get blinded' hetek's get their voice permanently damaged, kallamar's lose their ability to hear, and shamura's get brain damage.)and survive it. Sorry for the long ask btw it just been in my head for a while now.

It's okay! I don't mind the long ask ^^

...........

Leshy

During your most recent (and probably last) missionary, something went horribly wrong.

All you remembered was a bomb scout attacking you, when they accidentally dropped a bomb in the struggle. It killed them but sent shrapnel flying towards your face before everything went dark.

You thought for sure you were dead. But luckily Ratoo rescued you and brought you to the heart chamber, helping you heal up in the red pool.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to restore your sight, though he guided you back to the cult grounds anyways, informing Lamb of your condition.

Leshy heard your voice and abandoned his current task to run over to you, smelling your fear and anxiety.

He was utterly confused as you called out his name and grasped the air. Surely you would have seen him right there. You were looking at him!

Unless...

All he had to do was feel the scars around your face, realizing you couldn't see him at all. You have gone completely blind, just like him.

He immediately blames Lamb, wanting to put their head on a pike for sending you out on a missionary so ill-prepared.

However you insisted it wasn't their fault, telling him not to be so angry with them...and for once he listens to your pleas, opting to take care of you instead.

Until you're comfortable enough to navigate the cult grounds by yourself, don't expect Leshy to leave your side anytime soon.

You two might get matching blindfolds if Lamb deems it necessary to prevent infection (or if you're insecure about the wounds)

Heket

After retrieving some resources in Anchordeep, you returned to the cult grounds feeling okay, aside from a sore throat you got after unknowingly drinking contaminated water.

However Lamb insists you rest in the Medbay so you didn't spread anything and allowed you to be absent from sermons.

But they quickly realized that camelia tea, the "miracle cure" of all sicknesses, wasn't alleviating your ailment one bit.

In fact, by the end of the week..it had gotten to the point where it hurts too much for you to talk, your vocal cords having ultimately succumbed to the infection.

But you begged your leader not to tell Heket yet.

You've been her voice for so long. What would she think of you if you lost yours now?

Lamb respects your wishes, though it's difficult keeping her away from you as she demands to know what's going on.

You used to join her for meals every day...and now she feels quite lonely and doesn't know why or what she might've done.

Are you really that sick? Were you dying?

While Lamb's crusading, they had a follower guard the Medbay's entrance, but Heket easily shoves them aside so she can finally see you, asking what happened on your missionary.

You resort to writing how you lost your voice, feeling terrible about it as you knew this was entirely preventable.

But to your surprise, she's very reassuring and says you don't have to speak for her anymore, though she wishes you told her sooner. She was sad about you missing dinner with her :(

She's been reading a book on sign language (recovered from Silk Cradle by Lamb), promising to teach you so communication is easier.

The two most important phrases she wanted you to know are "I love you" and "are you hungry".

Shamura

Regardless of how you received brain damage (be it a serious concussion or your head getting split open like theirs), it's going to be a difficult and painful healing process.

Lamb, Shamura, and even you had no clue how you survived the journey back to the cult with blood pouring down your face...but your leader immediately treats your wounds and orders you to rest up.

Whenever the arachnid visits you, seeing your head wrapped in bandages just like them, it breaks their heart to see you such a state.

While their memories get jumbled up at times, the one thing they always remember is how much they loved you.

However, your own memories got so badly scrambled that all you could recall is the Shamura from before--as the Bishop of War--and you begged them not to kill you.

Lamb ordered them to leave the Medbay so you'd calm down, but they're quite devastated over the matter.

For days they could barely go near you without you staring at them in terror.

As much as it hurts, they don't blame you. Only the cruel person who made you (quite literally) lose your mind.

With time and help from the other ex-bishops, they'd slowly regain your trust and explain how you fell in love with them, speaking in rhymes and simple poetry.

Sometimes you'd still forget, but they'll do their best to remind you.

Just as you have always done for them.

Kallamar

You know how followers will sometimes ask Lamb to send other followers on missionary quests?

Welp, this happened with you..and Kallamar was rightfully outraged, trying to convince you not to go.

But you reassured him this journey will be good for your spirit, asking that he sent you off in the evening.

And he reluctantly does, giving you a crystal as protective "charm".

He spends the next 1-3 days anxiously awaiting your return.

When you do come back, you're alive but....not necessarily well.

He realizes this right away when he tries helping you get the bag off your shoulders, asking what happened and where you went.

Much to his confusion, you kindly ask if he could speak a bit louder.

It's not much longer after that when he realizes you've lost your hearing entirely.

If you became deaf due to a loud explosion leaving you with permanent damage, he wouldn't have suspected anything until Lamb confirms it.

If your ears got torn out in a similar fashion to his, he's going to notice that right away and freak tf out, bandaging what's left to the best of his ability.

He's convinced that one follower made Lamb send you away on purpose...and they get into a big argument that's only resolved by the fighting pit ritual.

Although you couldn't hear much of the cheering and shouting, you applaud Kallamar after he beats them up, happy he wanted to defend your honor.

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #bishop followers #follower leshy #leshy x reader #kallamar x reader #follower kallamar #follower heket #heket x reader #follower shamura #shamura x reader #headcanons #angst #hurt/comfort #tw injuries

[ramblingoak]

Dumbasses

Cardinal Primo attempts to help his youngest brother sort through some hurt feelings.

I needed some soft older brother Primo last night and came up with this.  Gen, SFW, no warnings and about 1,100 words.  Enjoy!

“He’s a dumbass.”

Primo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Please, Satan, save him from younger brothers.

“Terzo, you shouldn’t call your friends dumbasses.” He had to stop himself from laughing at the petulant face his youngest brother was making.  Primo had been in the middle of prepping the weekly sermon for Nihil when he had received a call from one of the sisters that oversaw the lessons for the younger children.  Apparently Terzo had gotten in a fight with who had, up until now, been his dearest friend in the abbey.

“Copia isn’t my friend anymore so I guess that means I can call him one.”  Solid logic from the young boy.  Primo stood up and walked around his desk to lean against the front of it.  He smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of his cassock and tried to think of a different tactic.  Terzo continued to sit in the too-big-for-him chair and swing his skinny legs back and forth.

“Fratellino, do you see that picture on the wall?  Behind my desk?” Primo leaned forward to catch Terzo’s eyes when he wouldn’t look at him.  Slowly he got a similar mismatched gaze to meet his own.  Primo pointed to a recently drawn picture pinned neatly on the wall next to a few framed family photos. “Can you tell me what it is a drawing of?”

“I don’t know, two kids?  One of them looks like a dumbass.”  Some of the tension seemed to leave Terzo’s body so Primo pressed on.

“Ok, two kids and it looks like there’s a dog next to them.  What are the kids doing?”  Terzo’s bottom lip was beginning to stick out and he had started to rub his fingers together.  A habit he had picked up from his friend.

“They’re holding hands.  And it’s a rat.”  Primo tried to hide his smile, both of his little brothers were so easy to rile up.  He was pretty sure that if this talk succeeded Terzo would be telling Copia all about how big of a dumbass his eldest brother was.

“Molto bene, and you’re right, that is obviously a rat, my apologies.” He ignored that he heard the mumbled idiota Terzo barely attempted to hide and pressed on, “Now my fratellino, can you tell me what is written above the children and their rat?”

And there they were, tears had begun to well in Terzo’s eyes and slowly drift down his cheeks.  His brother could be an insufferable little shit, but he often acted that way to hide that he was a very sweet, lonely boy.  It had never been easy for him to make friends, most of the other children were wary of the Emeritus heirs.  In Secondo’s case they were downright scared of him.  

But when young Copia had moved into the abbey he and Terzo had instantly become thick as thieves.  Copia had come with a few other children from a local orphanage and the shy, reserved boy barely spoke a word to anyone at first.  But after a few weeks of being joined at the hip with Terzo he had begun to open up and gain more confidence.  The two boys were good for each other.

Primo reached over and placed a gentle hand on Terzo’s head and ruffled his hair a bit.  Terzo reached up and batted him away, grumbling and smoothing his hair back down.  “Fratellino?  What does the picture say?” His brother mumbled something while looking down at his hands. “Terzo, come on.  Tell me.”

“It says ‘Best Friends Forever, Copia and Terzo’,” A loud sniffle came from him then and more tears fell.  “And then it says ‘Brizio too’ because Copia’s rat is pretty cool and oh!  Primo!  Copia taught him how to walk on a tightrope!  It was amaz-”  A frantic knock on his office door interrupted his excited chattering.  Before Primo could call out for whomever it was to wait the door opened and a set of red rimmed green and white eyes peered inside.

“Cardinal Primo?  Have you seen…oh.”  Copia had started to rush towards Primo, but stopped when Terzo peered from around the chair.  “Terzo!  I’ve been looking for you everywhere!  Sister Agnes said you became sick and were resting in your room but you weren’t there and I went to find Secondo but he told me you had run away and joined the circus but I knew that wasn’t true because you’re scared of clowns so I went to Sister Imperator but Papa Nihil was there and said to check with Primo and then he closed the door on me.  So.  Here I am.”

Primo watched Copia’s little chest rise and fall rapidly after spitting all of that out.  So much for that shy, quiet boy.  He watched as Terzo jumped down from the chair and stepped up to Copia, his little fists clenched at his side.  Primo held his breath hoping he wouldn’t have a couple of roughed up boys to drag to the infirmary later.

“Copia I’m sorry I called you a dumbass but you said my hair looked stupid and that was mean.”  Terzo huffed and crossed his skinny arms in front of his chest.  

No one said a word for a few moments and Primo was about to prompt Copia to respond but the little boy flung his arms around Terzo, big fat tears falling down his face.  He was blubbering into Terzo’s shirt in Italian, completely despondent.  Terzo stood there awkwardly for a moment but finally began to pat his friends back and eventually calm him.  The two whispered a few things to each other and then hugged again.

“Boys, is everything ok now?” Primo clasped his hands in front of him before the urge to hug them both to his chest got too great.  The two looked at him with small smiles on their face, both covered in snot and tears.  

“Yes, Primo” They both chimed in at once and started to fidget, ready to probably run around the abbey and cause mischief.  

“That’s good, now you’re both supposed to still be in lessons but I will let you take the rest of the day off as long as you stay in Terzo’s room, ok?  Don’t cause any trouble.” 

Terzo grabbed Copia’s hand and immediately started dragging him out of the office, Copia waved back at Primo and he heard his small voice as they both ran out the door, “Wait Terzo, what did you call me?”

Primo sighed and sat back down at his desk.  He pushed around his sermon notes trying to get back into the right frame of mind.  As he was starting to put some more notes down his phone rang again. “Cardinal Pri-, what?  Sister Agnes please slow down, what did Secondo do again?  Lucifer’s balls, alright fine.  Yes.  Yes, fine I’ll be right there.”  Primo slammed the phone back on its receiver and groaned.

Secondo was such a dumbass.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My Masterlist

My Ao3

#my writing #my fics #primo fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus i fanfiction #young copia #young terzo #primo #papa emeritus i #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #ghost

[jaggededges123]

14. Accidental kiss

14. Accidental kiss

“Brother Asht, will you take a look at this sheaf of flimsy? I may need to rest, but I believe the ink’s warped from heat. We may need to have this volume recopied.”

Silas sat hunched over the desk in his study, a fluorescent lamp shining down on his desk in a spotlight so bright that it nearly rivaled the artificial brightness that served as their substitute for Dominicus’s daylight. The knobs of his spine were visible through the thin tunic he wore for his evening study, though that was not what Silas had called Colum to comment on, so Colum trundled over to peer over Silas’s shoulder.

Even in the bright light, Colum had to squint and lean in significantly to see whatever problem Silas currently pondered. His young uncle had a penchant for finding the smallest flaws in things, and condemning them based on the tiniest of blemishes. It was both a blessing, to have a necromancer with such finely tuned senses, and a curse.

Colum leaned even closer, laying his arm on the desk next to where Silas was, their faces hovering beside each other’s. His much older eyes squinted as he tried to quickly examine the flimsy, but he could find no flaw in it. There was just scripture, and sermon, entwined together in a remarkably mundane union for a text created by the Eighth.

“I don’t see what you see, Brother Silas,” Colum murmured, chest rumbling with his speech. The bulk of his chest was pressed awkwardly against both Silas’s ribs and the back of the wooden chair, so Silas must have felt it as well as heard it. “Show me where the flaw is?”

Colum turned, both to see Silas’s expression and to hear him better. The problem was, Silas turned to look at him at the same time he turned to look at Silas.

“Are you entirely blind? It’s clearly—”

They kissed each other as their heads turned—or, more accurately, their lips bumped together, slightly misaligned but still having notable points of contact. Silas’s lips were very soft, which was something Colum had suspected in his weakest moments but never confirmed before now. The last few words of whatever Silas had been saying were caught on Colum’s mouth, half formed and unintelligible, and without even thinking of it Colum’s eyes slid closed.

He missed the way his uncle, who in recent years had grown cold and sharp like ice, distant and faintly luminous like most of the moons which spun around their planet, melted and flushed a red that rivaled a tomato.

It lasted perhaps a total of a second and a half, both of them stunned into freezing, and then Silas squeaked as he hadn’t in years and threw himself to the other side of his chair, nearly tipping the entire thing over in his haste to get away.

Colum grabbed one of the spokes on the back of the chair to stabilize it, and when his eyes opened again, his uncle’s face was drained of all color again, making even his pale silvery hair appear vivid in contrast. His eyes were a dark shock in their sockets, pupils round and large. He took a few shivering, shallow breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Colum said, getting ahead of any impending storm. He was horribly tempted to brush a strand of Silas’s hair behind his ear—his sudden motion had knocked his headband askew, as well. “I came too close.”

He did not mention that they had both been too close. He also did not mention that he didn’t feel the weight of guilt that he probably should—all he felt was a faint strand of confusion, and something tender in him that was so rarely indulged that Colum had thought it died out years ago.

“Don’t—just don’t speak of it again, Brother Asht. Leave me now—your eyes are not as trained as mine, and are of no use at the moment.” Two breaths later, and as Colum stood again, Silas hunched back over the sheaf of flimsy even more, his back bowing like a deceased shrimp’s. His next words were so quiet that Colum wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t hallucinated them. “I don’t need to forgive you.”

The tone was… soft and placid, free of anger. How strange. That sounded less like a refusal to grant mercy and grace, and more like an assertion that forgiveness was unnecessary, which was… surely something. Colum hesitated near the door of Silas’s study.

“I’ll draw your bath in half an hour,” he said. “And set your nightclothes on the counter.”

He got a noncommittal hum in return, and Silas fingered the particular sheet of flimsy he was holding. Silas likely wished he could tear it, so that its worth would be soundly rebutted. Colum knew he did that at times, with kitchen knives and his own ink—he destroyed things that he thought imperfect, even if no one else could see it. Only the most flawless could remain in close proximity to the young Master Templar.

On that thought, Colum retreated from the study, and closed the door behind him. He still had much work to do before either of them could retire for the night, and he had much to think about on top of it all.

#eighthcest #silas octakiseron #colum asht #thanks for prompting! #i've just got one last one (that's not an extra sent by my partner) that i think might be kinda long so i'll probably just yeet it to ao3 #we'll see #tombcest

[troybeecham]

Fr. Troy Beecham

Sermon, Proper 14 A, 2023

Matthew 14:22-33

Jesus Walks on the Water

"Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, "It is a ghost!" And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."

Peter answered him, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." He said, "Come." So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!" Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."

I recently read the summary of a sermon on this Gospel reading. The preacher saw this narrative as being an evocative tale trying to teach us principles on how to "handle the storms of life". This Gospel is literally teaching us the opposite. Here’s why.

This Gospel reading is part of a larger narrative on Jesus instructing his disciples about the mission that he has given them. This core section of the Gospel according to St. Matthew is full to overflowing with the stories of the miracles of Jesus. For anyone reading any of my sermons, or hearing me preach them, you will be well familiar with my total confidence that the Holy Scriptures mean what they say and say what they mean, and that the miraculous does not need any explaining away. It is unnecessary to try to flatten out the miraculous in the Scriptures. Quite the opposite! In fact, to do so, to present the Gospels as simply stories of a wise, good man named Jesus who taught nice ideas that we can emulate and be good people, is to miss the core revelation of the Scriptures, in fact the whole endeavor of the writing of the Gospels, and the mission of the Church.

And what is the endeavor of the Gospel and the mission of the Church? St. John the Evangelist said it this way, "Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name." Without the miraculous, without the divine in action in the lives of men and women just like you and me, I see no point in Christianity or in the Gospel. If life really just boils down to us trying to be nice people, well I can get that from any decent philosophy, with the added bonus that it does not require me to participate every week with a community of equally exhausted, hurt, aggravating, dysfunctional people or pay a tithe of my earnings to support the worship life of that community.

Yes, I’ve heard it said a thousand times, "God is everywhere. He can be found on a mountaintop as equally as in a Church". But that version of God as a flattened, humanistic, materialistic, vague universal consciousness does nothing for the human condition. Yes, we can learn many good things from many sources, and even learn to dampen some of the worst impulses of our fallen nature. However, we are unable to save ourselves from our sinful nature, from the cruelty of death, and from the universal bending of human society towards brutality, oppression, and wickedness.

But God has provided for the salvation of all humankind in sending his Son, Jesus, to be the Savior and Redeemer of all who believe in Him and are baptized into his life, death, and resurrection. And Jesus has given his Church, the community of all his baptized disciples (not our institutions and hierarchies), to preach this Gospel of salvation to all the world, and given us His Holy Sacraments to provide the real, objective, and miraculous means of grace. You can’t get that on a mountaintop on your own, or in yoga class, or by any other means in all the world according to the plan of God.

Without the God revealed to us in the Holy Scriptures, and without the Risen Savior sent to redeem us, and without His Church and the Holy Sacraments entrusted to us for the sake of all peoples, we are doomed to everlasting bondage to sin and death. We are destined for everlasting sorrow and oppression if all we have to hope for is some general ideals about how to "handle the storms of life", relying upon ourselves to save ourselves or the world by learning to just be nice.

The truth about us humans is that we are in need of a Savior. Only God can bring about His kingdom. We are absolutely vulnerable to sin, the evil one, and our own cruelty towards each other, and that vulnerability makes us anxious, aggressive, despondent, and dangerous. But erasing God from the universe leaves us in charge of human destiny, both personal and collective. We unerringly seek to have power, to be "in charge of ourselves and of others.

The last century gave rise to some of the most wicked philosophies in human history, namely Leftist ideology, whether in the form of Soviet Socialism/Communism, National Socialism, Situational Ethics, Eugenics and the ongoing genocides it produced in the acceptance of murdering unborn babies, people with disabilities, et al…all of which led to two world wars and decades of international war and conflict. In fact, the wars of the 20th century killed 15% of the human population on this earth, and internationally, if you add abortion deaths to that number, in the 20th century we murdered 22% of the human population. And the wars inspired by Leftist philosophy continue into the 21st century, as does the great evil of abortion. Leftist philosophy denies human sin, aggrandizes our worst impulses, and gives us permission to do the most unspeakable things to each other. Sadly and unsurprisingly, there are people still trying to make these philosophies work, as they protest that "real Socialism/Communism" have never been tried, so we have to keep endeavoring to save ourselves until we get it right…no matter how many people have to be sacrificed.

I’ve said it many times and it bears constant repetition: every genocide, every mass loss of human life, started with someone trying to do "good" for themselves and people like them. When we inevitably run up against the reality of sin and death, and our inability to re-engineer paradise, we begin to start identifying those most unlike us as being responsible for holding us back from utopia, and suddenly violence, havoc, theft, enslavement, murder, and every human form of human wickedness becomes not wicked at all: they become necessary, even good. This is the false gospel that Satan has been whispering in our ears since the Garden of Eden, where we lost our innocence and became vulnerable exiles in an uncaring world.

The truly good news, the Gospel Truth, the true Faith, is that God knows our weaknesses and our inability to save ourselves or to create human paradise, and He still loves us beyond our imagining. God has been pursuing us since the exit from Eden, and has sent to us a Savior, Jesus, His own Son, to whom God has given all authority in heaven and earth to save us. God has also given to us His Holy Spirit, to empower us the be disciples of his Son, Jesus, and to experience, though for now only in part, the life of the kingdom of God which is even now coming to the earth according to the timing and will of God.

By the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit, we can endure the wickedness of human society, our vulnerability to the cruelties of life, and even death, with hope, love, and faith. This is the meaning of this Gospel narrative, and of every Gospel narrative. We are loved by God, who loves us and gave His only Son to save us, and who is saving us even now, who will one day bring His kingdom to earth. And so we wait with faith, hope, and love for the Lord who has the authority to calm the storms of life and the storms of the seas. We hold fast to the Faith of the Church, to the Sacraments, and we give ourselves freely and entirely to God, in self-sacrificing love, so that we might proclaim the Gospel to all peoples in Spirit and in Truth. And as we wait in faith and endeavor to spread the Gospel to all peoples so that they may be saved and find hope, we pray "maranatha!", which means "come now, O Lord!"

Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever.

Amen.

#father troy beecham #christianity #jesus #saints #god #salvation #peace #faith

[wowbright]

Fic: Froot Loops & Resurrection

Klaine Spring Fling: fruit

Words: ~900 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Kurt’s mind is all over the place during Easter service.

This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place between the first and second sections of Love’s Redeeming Work. If you've already read that and remember what happened, you may notice I have moved up Kitty’s introduction to Harmony and Sugar.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (More recent posts are in bold.)

Notes: If it's not clear what a sacrament meeting talk is, it's like a sermon or homily. There's no pastor per se, so members of the congregation take turns giving the talks.

––––

Kurt was hungry for Froot Loops. It was Chandler's outfit. Chandler was in the pew with them, sitting on the other side of Elder Anderson and attentively listening to the first sacrament meeting talk, obliviously sparking appetites with his outfit full of Easter-perfect colors that somehow managed to give the impression of being both pastel and bright at the same time, like the sky on the bike ride to church this morning.

Kurt was glad he wasn't sitting next to Chandler, or he might be tempted to pull off Chandler's tie and eat it.

Was that sexual? Kurt didn’t think so. He couldn't imagine kissing Chandler, much less ravishing him. Maybe holding his hand, but… He’d liked holding Mercedes’ hand. Kurt wasn't a super touchy-feely person, but it was nice to have a friend or two he could do that with. And he hadn't had much of that since his mission began.

No, it wasn't sexual. Chandler's outfit just looked really tasty.

Kurt missed Froot Loops.

Maybe it was the Peeps, too. It was very possible that Kurt was coming down from his sugar high and was merely craving another fix. It had been forever since he had a bowl of Froot Loops. You could buy them in Germany, but it wasn't the same—just three muted colors instead of six sherbety ones, with no orange or green or blue to be seen. Europeans were weird about food coloring. But it was just as well. Kurt couldn't really justify using their meager food allowance on sugary cereals.

Kurt could almost smell them, though. The scent of something fruity and slightly cloying filled his nostrils.

Wait. He wasn't imagining that. It was Elder Anderson’s hair gel.

OK. He really needed to focus on the talk. It was a good talk, actually, all about the faith of the women who found Jesus’s tomb empty when they came to clean his corpse after the crucifixion. Kurt had never heard this particular member talk before, but she was decent, if she had started out a little nervously and with too much quavering in her voice.

But she had also said “death” about a million times already and she wasn't even half done. Which was par for the course on Easter, of course, but sometimes the word hit him, and he really needed it for it not to hit him today. This was Kurt’s third Easter since Finn had died, and he needed to focus on the resurrection. Death was nothing. Jesus had defeated death. Everyone who had departed before Kurt, he would have the chance to see again. Which was the point of the talk, obviously.

He just wished she could talk about the resurrection without talking about what came before it quite as much.

Kurt felt something on his knee. He looked down to see Elder Anderson touching it, just barely, with his fingertips, and realized he had been bouncing his leg throughout the talk. Kurt stilled himself and felt a blush creeping up his neck. He told himself it was because he was embarrassed about bouncing his leg in church, when he should be modeling reverence for Chandler.

Elder Anderson's hands were back in his own lap now.

Kurt wondered if Harmonie and Dolcezza were doing anything incriminating in the back row. He had managed to make eye contact with Schwester Wilde on his way back from the piano and pointed the girls out with his eyes, and she had made a beeline toward them. Kurt wasn't sure if that was a good idea or a bad one. It was going to be obvious to Schwester Wilde that he and Elder Anderson have not prepared them at all for sacrament meeting. And even if that wasn't a sin, even if Kurt knew that God didn't expect him to be perfect, and Schwester Wilde undoubtedly knew he wasn't, it was hard to let the feeling go now that he wasn't surrounded by music.

He wondered how many times Dolcezza was going to cross herself before the service was over.

He glanced at Elder Anderson and reminded himself about mustard seeds.

Elder Anderson must've seen him looking, because he looked back and smiled—that tender, sweet smile that he gave so easily to Kurt, without asking for anything back.

Kurt filled his neck warm again and turned toward the speaker. “When Mary Magdalene left the empty tomb, weeping at the loss of her Savior and desperate to know where his body had been moved to, she saw Jesus standing nearby. But she didn't know it was Jesus. She thought it was someone who worked at the cemetery. She didn't recognize him until he spoke her name. And then, in his voice, in the familiar way he spoke her name, she knew who he was.”

She cleared her throat. “I think about that a lot. I wonder if sometimes I, too, don’t recognize Christ and his Spirit when they are right in front of me. Mary didn’t recognize Jesus from his appearance, and she could have therefore chosen to deny who he was, even after hearing him speak. But she didn't. He reached out to her and she listened, and then she went insured the days with all the disciples that Christ was risen. We need to have Mary’s faith. Christ knows each of us personally and knows how to get our attention even when we don’t see him at first. Our job is to be ready to listen."

#mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #klaine spring fling #Spring fling 2: Electric Boogaloo #glee fic #my klaine spring fling

[prissnukem]

Cuss, the general practitioner, was devoured by curiosity. The bandages excited his professional interest, the report of the thousand and one bottles aroused his jealous regard. All through April and May he coveted an opportunity of talking to the stranger, and at last, towards Whitsuntide, he could stand it no longer, but hit upon the subscription-list for a village nurse as an excuse. He was surprised to find that Mr. Hall did not know his guest's name. "He give a name," said Mrs. Hall--an assertion which was quite unfounded--"but I didn't rightly hear it." She thought it seemed so silly not to know the man's name.

Cuss rapped at the parlour door and entered. There was a fairly audible imprecation from within. "Pardon my intrusion," said Cuss, and then the door closed and cut Mrs. Hall off from the rest of the conversation.

She could hear the murmur of voices for the next ten minutes, then a cry of surprise, a stirring of feet, a chair flung aside, a bark of laughter, quick steps to the door, and Cuss appeared, his face white, his eyes staring over his shoulder. He left the door open behind him, and without looking at her strode across the hall and went down the steps, and she heard his feet hurrying along the road. He carried his hat in his hand. She stood behind the door, looking at the open door of the parlour. Then she heard the stranger laughing quietly, and then his footsteps came across the room. She could not see his face where she stood. The parlour door slammed, and the place was silent again.

Cuss went straight up the village to Bunting the vicar. "Am I mad?" Cuss began abruptly, as he entered the shabby little study. "Do I look like an insane person?"

"What's happened?" said the vicar, putting the ammonite on the loose sheets of his forth-coming sermon.

"That chap at the inn--"

"Well?"

"Give me something to drink," said Cuss, and he sat down.

When his nerves had been steadied by a glass of cheap sherry--the only drink the good vicar had available--he told him of the interview he had just had. "Went in," he gasped, "and began to demand a subscription for that Nurse Fund. He'd stuck his hands in his pockets as I came in, and he sat down lumpily in his chair. Sniffed. I told him I'd heard he took an interest in scientific things. He said yes. Sniffed again. Kept on sniffing all the time; evidently recently caught an infernal cold. No wonder, wrapped up like that! I developed the nurse idea, and all the while kept my eyes open. Bottles--chemicals--everywhere. Balance, test-tubes in stands, and a smell of--evening primrose. Would he subscribe? Said he'd consider it. Asked him, point-blank, was he researching. Said he was. A long research? Got quite cross. 'A damnable long research,' said he, blowing the cork out, so to speak. 'Oh,' said I. And out came the grievance. The man was just on the boil, and my question boiled him over. He had been given a prescription, most valuable prescription--what for he wouldn't say. Was it medical? 'Damn you! What are you fishing after?' I apologised. Dignified sniff and cough. He resumed. He'd read it. Five ingredients. Put it down; turned his head. Draught of air from window lifted the paper. Swish, rustle. He was working in a room with an open fireplace, he said. Saw a flicker, and there was the prescription burning and lifting chimneyward. Rushed towards it just as it whisked up the chimney. So! Just at that point, to illustrate his story, out came his arm."

"Well?"

"No hand--just an empty sleeve. Lord! I thought, _that's_ a deformity! Got a cork arm, I suppose, and has taken it off. Then, I thought, there's something odd in that. What the devil keeps that sleeve up and open, if there's nothing in it? There was nothing in it, I tell you. Nothing down it, right down to the joint. I could see right down it to the elbow, and there was a glimmer of light shining through a tear of the cloth. 'Good God!' I said. Then he stopped. Stared at me with those black goggles of his, and then at his sleeve."

"Well?"

"That's all. He never said a word; just glared, and put his sleeve back in his pocket quickly. 'I was saying,' said he, 'that there was the prescription burning, wasn't I?' Interrogative cough. 'How the devil,' said I, 'can you move an empty sleeve like that?' 'Empty sleeve?' 'Yes,' said I, 'an empty sleeve.'

"'It's an empty sleeve, is it? You saw it was an empty sleeve?' He stood up right away. I stood up too. He came towards me in three very slow steps, and stood quite close. Sniffed venomously. I didn't flinch, though I'm hanged if that bandaged knob of his, and those blinkers, aren't enough to unnerve any one, coming quietly up to you.

"'You said it was an empty sleeve?' he said. 'Certainly,' I said. At staring and saying nothing a barefaced man, unspectacled, starts scratch. Then very quietly he pulled his sleeve out of his pocket again, and raised his arm towards me as though he would show it to me again. He did it very, very slowly. I looked at it. Seemed an age. 'Well?' said I, clearing my throat, 'there's nothing in it.'

"Had to say something. I was beginning to feel frightened. I could see right down it. He extended it straight towards me, slowly, slowly--just like that--until the cuff was six inches from my face. Queer thing to see an empty sleeve come at you like that! And then--"

"Well?"

"Something--exactly like a finger and thumb it felt--nipped my nose."

Bunting began to laugh.

"There wasn't anything there!" said Cuss, his voice running up into a shriek at the "there." "It's all very well for you to laugh, but I tell you I was so startled, I hit his cuff hard, and turned around, and cut out of the room--I left him--"

Cuss stopped. There was no mistaking the sincerity of his panic. He turned round in a helpless way and took a second glass of the excellent vicar's very inferior sherry. "When I hit his cuff," said Cuss, "I tell you, it felt exactly like hitting an arm. And there wasn't an arm! There wasn't the ghost of an arm!"

Mr. Bunting thought it over. He looked suspiciously at Cuss. "It's a most remarkable story," he said. He looked very wise and grave indeed. "It's really," said Mr. Bunting with judicial emphasis, "a most remarkable story."

#the invisible man #h.g. wells #books #classic literature #currently reading #the book is just as creepy as the movie so far #and griffin just as moody and nuts #haha #i hear claude rains voice which makes it even better

[pastorsperspective]

Are We Stuck in the Middle?

The sermon on August 21st was Titled: “Roots: How Do They Know Us?”. The verses are from Luke 2: 1-14. If you missed it, you can listen here: https://fb.watch/f8xKFSknM1/

Where to start with this one?! I think I could honestly spend weeks here, but I’ll try not to! If you’re new here, what will follow is an interview with Rev. Dr. Chad Johnson about his most recent sermon, in which I will try to pare down our conversation to all the most relevant points, as we both like to chase those rabbit trails. Let’s dive right in!

You began your sermon with lyrics from a hymn I had never heard, so I wasn’t sure where you were going with it. Then you said, “They will know us by our love… but do they?” To be honest I had two immediate thoughts, 1: Pastor Chad is about to stomp some toes today! And 2: I love it! - It’s no secret that Christians do not have the best reputation for being loving, sadly. We aren’t always first in line to show the love of God the way we are intended to. As you began preaching you called it out yourself when you said, “Our love? Really? Maybe our judgement, our hate, our ridicule, or our hypocrisy.” It was at that moment I knew we were going to hear something special. Do you have any examples in mind that inspired this sermon?

I have heard a story about a Pastor, on his first day, he showed up as a homeless person and some people treated him very well and some didn’t. So, he just looked out at the congregation and said, ‘Let’s just call it a day and go home.’ I have countless examples of where I have seen the church lose sight of being the church. Not just on Sunday, in different times and different places, when the peculiarities of tradition got in the way. The church likes to think that we don’t have a little Pharisee in us, but we do, and it shows more often than not.

As you spoke, I was reminded of a situation when a young man came to service (elsewhere) and sat in the front row. He had tattoos and piercings and was wearing a ball cap. I was excited to see him there. He had great energy as he raised his hands to worship and was fully engaged in the service. Before long a veteran member of the church went to the front to greet him and then asked him to remove his cap. The shift in his energy and his engagement was absolutely noticeable. He sat through the rest of the service looking more defeated than uplifted. I never saw him again. How would you feel about that?

If that were to happen, I would not have an issue with a person wearing a hat at all. To me, it’s a very old tradition in the church, but if having the hat makes the person more comfortable and able to worship God in this place; then that, to me, is the bigger picture. I think it’s easy to lose sight of the big picture with the peculiarities. Saying these are the nuances of the things we do and the things we don’t do. I get it, this is a Holy and sacred space. We want to have reverence here. I don’t know that I would say that wearing a hat is irreverent though. The one that really gets me though, where I have had to bite my tongue over the years, is when someone sits in someone else’s spot. The place that they regularly sit in. To watch their reaction to that is fascinating, but it’s also very telling.

I’m very familiar with that! The first time I visited I asked you to please tell me where not to sit because I didn’t want to offend anyone or take their place. I have seen it in many churches. People who have been there for decades and always sit in the same place get really offended that everyone doesn’t know it’s THEIR place. How can a visitor know that though?

I know a Pastor that did this once, they said, ‘Everybody stand up when you go to do the meet and greet fellowship time, do not sit in the same seat you were sitting in. Find a different seat, somewhere that

 you would traditionally never sit in.’ He intentionally wanted them to realize that they can sit in another seat and worship just the same. That was the point of his sermon, that we can get caught up in old, traditional ways.

Being raised by my grandmother, a beautiful and Godly woman if there ever was one, I was always told that you wear your best to church. You are on your best behavior, and you always put your best foot forward in the house of the Lord. Though she meant well, and her point was to always be striving to give our best to God, the lesson I learned became, ‘I have to clean myself up and get my act together before I can come to God’s house.’ Which negates the fact that sometimes we need God FIRST to help us clean up and become the best version of ourselves.

Absolutely! What I think of when I hear that is that it’s a very Old Testament to New Testament mentality. We’re guilty of this in the tradition in the scripture of the church, right? The Hebrew way was you cleaned first and if you were unclean then you couldn’t go in. So, I think that that is still prevalent, but what we are finding in Christians today is more of a New Testament to Old Testament; there’s a reversal. We need to find Jesus in order to clean up, like you just said.

That reminds me of a song. You often speak in song lyrics, which I love because that’s also how my brain works. I can’t always find the right words to express my thoughts, but I can always find the right song. What we’re talking about brings to mind one of my favorite songs by Matthew West, called Truth Be Told. The lyric goes: “There’s a sign on the door that says ‘Come as you are’ but I doubt it. ‘Cause if we lived like it was true, every Sunday morning pew would be crowded.” Then it goes on to say, “Didn’t you say church should look more like a hospital? A safe place for the sick, the sinner, and the scarred, and the prodigals – like me.” And that’s just, wow.

And that’s not the mentality in the church, sadly.

Do you think God cares, at all, if we dress up and clean up before we come to church? Not discounting the fact that somebody’s best may only be dirty tennis shoes and ripped jeans and they are still presenting their best?

Here’s where I always go with questions like this: We’ll never know the answer, but do I think God cares? No, because I think God is after our heart. Now, to the person that does do that, I would ask, what is your intention? If your intention is all about how I look to those around me, you’ve lost it. In your grandmother’s defense, if your intention is, this is God we’re talking about and I want to be reverent and respectful. That I can get with, but I don’t think it’s a requirement. I think that’s where we get into trouble is when we say, ‘Oh, no, everybody has to.’ When the reality is, you just said it, some people’s best is the same boots and jeans they wore to work yesterday. I go to the heart. If that’s what you feel you need to wear in front of Jesus, then wear it! That’s why I don’t always wear the robe. I think we can get into that habit of that showy church. I try to push back a little bit and say, yes, I love the robe and it is our tradition. Any time a person preached in the Methodist tradition we wore a pulpit robe. That doesn’t have to be the case all the time, and it is bone hot in the summer, so.

I have thought about that. The suit and the robe and the lights and it’s a hundred degrees outside. I don’t know how anyone does it! I think people get stuck in the trap of this is the way we’ve always done it, this is the way we always will do it, and you cannot preach any other way. There’s a lot of generations between my grandmother and you. You’re just a couple years older than my son. Do you feel like there’s been a generational shift regarding the way things are done?

Yes. I feel there is very much a shift happening in the life of the church. I have heard friends say, ‘We are one generation away from the Gospel not ever being heard again.’ I don’t agree with that. I think the church is in a transition season where we are transitioning out of this ‘we went to church because we went to church’ mentality. We’re shifting into, ‘we go to church because we need church’, and that transforms our lives. I think we are getting there, but as with any transition there’s always that low point and I think that’s what we’re seeing now. The low point of both sides not being very involved because one side is very frustrated that things are changing and the other side is very frustrated that things aren’t changing fast enough. At least that’s my perspective and experience. Our hope is that every generation brings us just a little bit closer, a little bit more like Jesus. I do think that we are seeing a shift in the church that I’m very excited about.

So, dear readers, it was at about this point that Pastor and I went on a huge rabbit trail of discussing generational differences and what those look like, how they affect the church today, how we need ongoing conversations among the generations, etc. A conversation that would make this already long article much too long! I would like to skip to something much more relevant, the parts of the sermon that Pastor left out!

In your notes, directly after the parts about your mom and how she showed her love for you and for your friends; displaying the love of God. There were several points that you didn’t make. When I read over them and I was actually amused because I was trying to figure out if you didn’t make those points simply because you ran out of time, or because you were worried that most of us weren’t wearing our steel-toed boots? My personal favorite was: Be intolerant of Intolerance. But there were several others that deserve to be heard if you don’t mind me sharing. Those points were really good and we need to go back and visit those sometime.

Please feel free to include any of that! I can answer that question. It was for time constraints. I knew I had already gone off in a couple places and I would rather leave out points then to just gloss over them. I had already been a little long winded and stepped out, so I knew my time was up.

These could definitely be a sermon series all on their own. You wrote:

We are faced this morning with the question: What can we do about this sin, this difference, this marginalization?

Start paying attention to what you say. Most people already know to avoid generalizations and stereotypes, but most of us are still guilty of using language that causes offense. Even if we don’t mean to. We have to be mindful of jokes and sayings that we have grown up with, that we are accustomed to, but can be very offensive.

Be willing to accept correction. Even the most well-meaning people make mistakes and have misunderstandings about others. When someone points out your errors, offer a sincere apology and be ready to learn from the experience. It will earn you much more respect than responding with defensiveness or anger.

Be intolerant of intolerance. Are you willing to confront derogatory and hateful speech? Online? In person? What if the person is a friend or relative? The risk of staying silent is sending the message that discrimination and intolerance are values that you are willing to tolerate.

Seek out marginalized voices and perspectives. Go online and look for activists, bloggers, authors, artists and other voices from marginalized communities. Their personal stories and experiences will greatly inform your point of view. If you have the opportunity to spend time with someone from a marginalized group, your most important job is to listen to them and learn.

Educate your own community. Your voice is most effective within your own group since you are in the best position to confront its stereotypes and misunderstandings, some of which you may have overcome yourself. You also have special access to them as an audience that other communities do not. Use it!

These are things that truly need to be said! I really hope you come back to these points and expand on them in another sermon sometime, but I have to ask, how many times have you omitted parts of your sermon because you knew you were going to offend people?

Well, I don’t do it for that reason. I wouldn’t write it in the first place if I worried about that. My sermon writing practice is; I pray over the scripture, I pray over the takeaway message, and then I write it. I write it, first, to me, but then I go back through it and I imagine myself… Well, sometimes I will physically do it. I’ll go sit in peoples’ spots in the pew and try to put myself in their shoes for a minute. How are they going to hear this and what do they need to hear? I pray about it because I’m not just preaching to me. Yes, I’m preaching to me first, but I am preaching with the idea of how can I best get it heard by this very diverse group of people in the congregation? I don’t think about if this is going to upset a person to the point of disaster. My hope is that if I say something in the pulpit that is upsetting to them, that they will come talk to me and we can have a conversation about it, which is why I love this. [sermon interviews] I had a preaching professor that said, ‘When you write your sermon, just write your sermon. Don’t let your head or heart get too much in the way.’ I think that has benefitted me because when I first started, I was very hesitant to say some things that I will say now because I had to live into that. Now that I have lived into that, if I say something that upsets you from the pulpit, I feel very confident that I am backed by scripture and I am backed by the traditions and the doctrine of the United Methodist Church. As long as I’m doing those two things, I’m not concerned with upsetting people.

All those points tie in perfectly to all the examples that we have discussed about the man in the hat, the dressing up for church, the sitting in someone’s seat, generational differences, and so many other things that we can get offended over. There seems to be an overall feeling across all denominations that we are stuck in the middle, just stuck. Stuck between what it has always been and what we want it to be, not wanting to offend anybody and not wanting to move too far or too fast, or to move backwards. Which, of course, reminds me of a song from Casting Crowns called Somewhere in The Middle that speaks to that desire of wanting and waiting for something big to happen, but also not wanting it to happen because it’s going to upset people, and everyone just sits there and nobody talks about it. Church, let’s start talking about it! I leave you with this song: Somewhere in The Middle https://youtu.be/G0UYT33RXoQ

#methodist #pastorsperspective #pastorchad

[baptistsuicidewidow]

O Unde Esti

Today I spent some time cleaning out the van while Isaiah slept in between church services, and I found Jeremiah's stack of CDs. I of course kept every single one of them, and I scoured high and low for the CD he said got misplaced. I almost gave up hope until I found the name of a song in Romanian that I had loved the most on the back of one of the empty CD cases. Although it was an empty CD case, I had more info to find the music online.

Now I have all the songs downloaded and ready to put on a new CD for Isaiah and I to listen to for awhile nonstop again.

This CD warms my heart more than I could've imagined.

Jeremiah and I were listening to this CD from Thanksgiving till the CD got lost around February. I remember how cold it was outside, with my husband braving the roads taking us to and from church... Although it was cold outside, we were toasty in the car, us 2 and the 4-7 month old baby. The cheery sounds of the accordion, the percussive sound of just the pick on the strings, the two happy Romanian guys who capitalized on familiar harmonies the entire album... I fell deeper in love with Jeremiah with this music.

I began searching online for an accordion I could afford to give him for Christmas, since he had never had one of his own and I knew he would FREAK OUT if he got one... I imagined him playing it while the kids and I happily listened throughout the house...

I started learning Romanian, so much so that I needed to stop myself, since I was getting way too carried away with the leaderboards on the Duolingo app.

We really had a great winter last winter. We were excited about our new church (Faith Baptist), being parents to such a cute baby, optimistic as ever, and we were happy. We had a wonderful Christmas, New Year's, Valentines... All while listening to Daniel Si Marcel.

So I am so grateful to have found this today. It's nearly impossible to feel sad when I listen to this music, since it brings me nothing but wonderful memories with Jeremiah.

Recently, I've been replaying the 3 or 4 bad nights WAY too many times in my mind. In the sermon tonight, Pastor Clark was going through Ecclesiastes 3, and he pointed out that there was "a time to kill.... A time to kill negative thoughts that are bringing you down." I just loved that. That's what this CD is going to help me to do this winter. It looks like Isaiah is going to have random Romanian verses memorized before he is 2 lol. Jeremiah was such a dear-a trick psychology test even put forth that I saw him as my slow loris. A highly unique animal that most people haven't even heard of... But having an adorable side that is unmatched by the vast majority.

I digress. I'm going to miss my Slow Loris until I get to heaven.

O unde esti means Oh where are you?

It's all so fitting. O unde esti, Jeremiah?

#coping with grief #dealing with grief #grief poetry #grief/mourning #griefandloss

[juliesdiary]

06/07

My heart feels like it’s missing something. Recently, I’ve discovered that a guy that had previously expressed his interest in dating me, has been engaged. As far as social media goes, his relationship has leveled up in just a couple of weeks. I'm glad that I missed out on that “red flag”, but this has also caused me to reflect and really tap into my feelings. It’s as if I’m pretending to be oblivious to the obvious. I know I’m never going to fall in love again. I know I’m never going to experience what it’s like to be chosen time after time by the same person. I know I’m never going to experience that obsessive kind of love that I often daydream about. I know I am incapable of loving another person. Reminds me of something this other guy told me; “all it takes is one guy to mess it up for everyone else.” That guy had tried asking me out several times, but I always rejected him. After rejecting him for the 3rd time he decided to ask why I had been so set on “no”. Up until that point, my ex-husband had already claimed his new girlfriend on social media, posting her and even adding her name to his bio along with the ring emoji. I remember my phone shaking in my hand when I saw everything that he had been posting. My stomach dropped to my feet, and I think I might have actually heard my heart breaking. Why? Why wasn’t I good enough? Why did he finally decide to give her everything I had asked and begged for? My heart feels empty and hollow. Like a house when the whole family leaves for vacation. No talking, no yelling, no laughter, no crying, just complete silence and emptiness. Will he ever come back home to me? I know it sounds idiotic to think that way after everything he has done to me but those last couple of months we had agreed to work on our marriage, and I was actively seeking help. I began to listen to sermons on how to better your marriage. I had begun to take care of myself more. I was working 5 and sometimes 6 days of the week. Then I got blindsided on a random Saturday when he texted me saying that he no longer wanted to be together. That he had thought about it for a few days and wanted to be alone to work on himself. However, just 2 weeks later he posted his new girlfriend with several heart and heart eye emojis. He had blocked me on everything so how did I find out? Well, that’s another story to tell on another day. I wish I could move on just as quickly and easily as he did. But it's been 4 years since we broke up and I still haven’t gotten over it. I still love him. Is it loyalty or just plain stupidity?

#juliesdiary #artists on tumblr #tw depressing stuff #vent

[cryptidghost]

(CW for religion mentions)

Yo! A bit ago you put tags on a post talking about how you had anxiety over afterlife things until recently. Would you mind talking about what helped you? I’ve had major anxiety about the afterlife my whole life from being raised christian and recently it’s really coming back but I have no fucking clue on what to do about it.

(the post in question https://www.tumblr.com/cryptidghost/715270378716528640 )

I know that was from a bit ago so I’m really really sorry if I dragged out unwanted feelings.

You're fine!

Honestly, I'm not sure if you're going to like my answer or if it will help you at all because it is a personal and religious one. Bit of a read under the cut.

I've had a big spiritual journey that's went around in different places and such. I grew up going to church primarily with my father when I would visit him and occasionally went with my mother and grandma when I was young. I'm not sure where or when I absorbed the "you're going to hell if you don't do/do x, y, and z" idea when I was young. Or the whole idea that God is constantly watching over you and watching every single thing you do and writing it all in His "book". I struggled a lot with parts of the Christian theology that I grew up with and often questioned what I heard in a pastor's sermon (honestly I still question what I hear when I go to church with my dad). I never really asked questions or was encouraged to since I have been shut down in the past, or my family gave unsatisfactory answers. Hell was one of my biggest fears and I couldn't grasp why God would put some of the very creation that He loves there. And I was very afraid that I would end up there eternally despite me being trying to be a good child. So when I was a teen, I was disillusioned and just resented Christianity (particularly American Evangelical Christianity), despite still wanting to be in a relationship with God. I looked towards other avenues to get my mind off of all of that, particularly neo-paganism.

Neo-paganism was a refreshing avenue for a bit, and I learned different points-of-view with Kemeticism and Norse Paganism, but that only lasted a few years. My fear of Hell still presided in the back of my mind though. Even presented with these religions, I couldn't make up my mind about afterlife and I was ignoring the God question/problem that I needed to get to. When I entered moved away to get my bachelor's, I decided to attend a Jewish Temple near me because I was safe to do so. There, I grew more comfortable with God and liked how the rabbi presented the theology to me. I read books, researched online, attended a Jewish 101 class, tried to go to Shabbat weekly, etc. I grew a little comfortable with not really believing in the fire-and-brimstone Hell that I grew up with, rather a type of "cosmic washing machine" that the rabbi had mentioned one day when asked about this question. I was really considering conversion for a while.

Then Saint Rita and Easter happened. I don't know. I can't quite explain it. I was taking an Topics Art History class about Italian Women in Art from the 1400s-1650s. All sorts of stuff were mentioned in the course's book, nuns occasionally since they participating in art. Saint Rita sparked my interest in a Christianity I was unfamiliar with and I went from there. Easter was a few weeks away and I don't know why I made the decision to go to a Catholic church for Vigil and Easter service but I did. It was interesting to say the least. And then I went to a nearby Episcopal church instead because there's parts of Catholicism I am not quite okay with. And then I kept going. And I talked one-on-one with the priest there and am still going. I eventually came to the personal conclusion that God really doesn't "send" anyone to Hell. Maybe it's a personal rejection of the loving grace of God and the absence of His presence since every individual has free will to reject it that feels like Hell. Not being in fire burning and tortured, and so forth. But even if someone does reject it, God has an insurmountable amount of grace, love, and mercy, too. So who knows, maybe God does the "cosmic washing machine" thing and takes everyone in to His arms. The fact that Hell (however you might see it) has been Harrowed and is continuing to be, is one that brings a lot of peace to me.

I'm not sure if this helps you at all and idk if you are religious in any capacity, but feel free to message me if you need to.

#asks #anon #tw religion #tw christianity #i guess i have a bit of an orthodox or a universalist view #don't get me wrong i still feel guilty or bad about some stuff but its really the grace and love part that keeps me going

[whatisonthemoon]

An Article On Yasue Erikawa’s “Comfort Women” Activism (No Mention of U.C. or Moon)

Source: http://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/nation/2013/08/113_117360.html

A Japanese activist urged the Japanese government to make a formal apology, Tuesday, for the sexual enslavement of Korean women during its colonial rule here (1910-1945) and inform the whole world about the truth of the issue.

By Chung Min-uck A Japanese activist urged the Japanese government to make a formal apology, Tuesday, for the sexual enslavement of Korean women during its colonial rule here (1910-1945) and inform the whole world about the truth of the issue. “It is essential for Japan to face history in an upright manner and make a formal apology to Koreans, especially regarding the sexual enslavement,” said Yasue Erikawa, 66, president of the Group that Promotes Friendship by Overcoming the History between Korea and Japan, in an interview with The Korea Times, “This will serve as a starting point in mending ever-deteriorating Korea-Japan ties.” Referring to past occasions in which former Japanese leaders offered apologies for wartime atrocities against Koreans including those made by former Japanese Prime Ministers Tomiichi Murayama in 1995 and Naoto Kan in 2010, the activist argued that these cannot be accepted as full and sincere. “(The past apologies) do not count because no Koreans regard them as sincere,” said Erikawa. “Together with a renewed formal apology, Japanese government should also launch an investigation into its drafting of Korean women for sexual slavery and open up the truth to the entire world.” The group president first came to Korea in 1970 when she married a Korean. Living in Korea since then, she said she found out about the truth behind the past deeds done by the military of her homeland. “I got to know many things about what Japanese have done to Koreans after coming to Korea,” said Erikawa. “The sexual enslavement hurt me the most and I came to think what I can do about it. It goes same for the Japanese who joined the group.” She said her driving force to establish the group came when she saw the Korea-Japan relations deteriorate due to the sexual enslavement of Korean women. It was established in May 2012 with a small group of Japanese people regularly visiting nursing homes where some of the sexual slavery victims reside. “I felt the same feeling when I recently heard of the news that a Korean man drove his one-ton truck into the entrance of the Japanese Embassy in Seoul,” Erikawa said. “Can’t the Korea-Japan relationship be something like that between my husband and I, full of love and trust? I really felt sad.” The civic group leader also commented on the ongoing civic movements led by the Korean Council for Women Drafted for Military Sexual Slavery by Japan, a Seoul-based civic group that holds “Wednesday rallies” regularly in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul demanding proper compensation and a full apology to the victims. “The council displays a sign stating sexual slavery but I am doubtful of its purpose as it moves in a direction to divide Korean-Japan ties and also the ties between the government and ordinary people,” she said. “This also motivated me to launch the organization.” Meanwhile, Erikawa said her group is planning to expand its agenda to other problems between the two neighboring countries such as the Dokdo islets.

Related links below

The Might of Heaven (2015) - text from Sanctuary Church's sunday service including a sermon by Hyung Jin (Sean) Moon, with Hyung Jin going into Erikawa's history, with text of her talk as well.

Yasue Erikawa: An Often Unrecognized Asset

Japanese Sanctuary Church Says Yamagami Had No Sanctuary Connections

On the KCIA’s Money for Yasue Erikawa (1978)

Yasue Erikawa, Moon, money, shame, guilt, fear and hell.

A Japanese Import Breaking through in Korea - Yasue Erikawa in a FFWPU (UC) publication in November 2009 about working in South Korea. Erikawa on Kook Jin, “"Kook-jin nim is very spiritual, and at the same time, very intelligent. Whom could I introduce to him? It was so difficult to think of a person who could interact with and work with Kook-jin nim..."

The IFVOC in Japan, and the UC’s Presence in Okinawa

IFVOC’s Founding (According to the UC)

On the KCIA’s Money for Yasue Erikawa (1978)

6500 women missing from Moon mass weddings

#yasue erikawa #comfort women #japan #korea #south korea #japanese government #sex trade #sex slavery #human trafficking #sex trafficking #asia #women #fumiko ikeda #activism

[lilyliveredlittlerichboy]

My relationship with Christianity is. Interesting.

(readmore cus this got So Long and i don't wanna clog up ur dash)

I was born into a culturally Christian country to parents who had both been christened, but had both since left the church. So I grew up more or less agnostic. I took religious education in school and went for the protestant branch.

we got the choice, as "Christian" i.e. not defined as anything else, between catholic and protestant. my dad grew up catholic and I think between my parents they agreed that protestant was gonna be the lesser of two evils.

I loved school and I loved learning. When I was 7 I snuck into the catholic service once. I didn't take communion (didn't even know what that even was at the time) and was a little fascinated and a lot weirded out by the intricate rituals. I never felt the desire to go again.

(We had services with the protestants too but they were held in a community centre and mostly we were just told kid versions of bible stories.)

In religious studies in high school, we learned about other religions and were told lots of stories, not all of them from the bible. Later, we were taught historical context to some biblical stories, which I found so fascinating.

When I was 13 I joined a church choir with my dad (in a protestant church). This meant that I was now in church on a Sunday with passing regularity, at least a handful of times a year, sometimes more. Good Friday, Christmas Eve and occasional random services which weren't special other than we sang a Bach cantata (which our choir director was very partial to) (and he was right about this tbh).

So I became accustomed quite intimately with the lore and rituals of Christianity, while maintaining a somewhat comfortable distance from the actual religiousness. I listened to the sermons and had my own thoughts about them. The protestants were quite tame, to be honest. I also went to catholic services a handful of times in that time, usually with my dad's family, and usually hated it. (The church. I don't have a problem with my dad's family.)

Anyway, I finished school as a newly out, socially anxious and awkward baby queer. Moved to uni, in Scotland.

I had a very Christian flatmate in my first year. I'm not much of a drinker and during Freshers week where most events seemed to involve alcohol, the Christian Union was a breath of fresh air with their non-alcoholic and still fun events. I maintained the same very practiced arms-length distance while enjoying the events.

At some point during the year I asked a guy who'd been preaching minutes before how he felt about the Church's overall stance on homosexuality. I'd recently dipped my toe into queer activism you see, and had a very real undercurrent of fear of christian retribution for my deviant "lifestyle". That guy tried to assure me that it was mostly just one super-evangelical family in America pushing all the queerphobia, but it didn't reassure me a whole bunch. Around the same time I heard stories out of the LGBT society of being told by members of the Christian Union that they were gonna go to hell. I didn't really go to many more CU events after that.

I entered an era of intense Church-scepticism, which I've always had in moderate amounts. I was on tumblr a lot and learned pride in my sexuality. I was still in choirs, still singing christian music, but meeting other queer people through the choirs as well. I met my first trans friends. By the time I finished uni, i was thoroughly disillusioned with religion (read x tianity).

When I moved to Cardiff, my girlfriend at the time convinced me to join her church choir. This meant being in church every Sunday cus Anglicans are on another fucking level. I kept up with it for a time. The people were nice and they got my pronouns right. I met some lovely friends through that church.

But that church collapsed thanks to some meddling by the bishop, and now I barely even go to my secular trans choir. I miss singing t bh

And I'm back on tumblr. And I've followed quite a few Muslim and Jewish folks. I have Jewish and Muslim friends and I know that "religion bad" is an ice cold take with vibes of cultural genocide. I have Christian friends as well who observe their religion and they are almost all trans queer polyamorous. I've been learning a lot about the biblical context I was taught in school, and how it was still presented from a very much Christian perspective. I've been reflecting on how even though I'm not a religious person, I don't see myself as Christian, this religion has been having a biiiig hold on my life. There are few parts of my life that have not been touched by my Culturally Christian experience and my brushes with Christianity. I belong to the cultural majority in all countries I've lived in for any amount of time at all. I'm Christian in all but name, really.

I've been aware of the horrors of christianity for a long time. The crusades and the genocide and the witchhunts, the pedophilia and sexism and homophobia. I'm learning more now and it's hard for me to see christianity as a force of good, at all, ever. Sure individual christians can be perfectly lovely people and individual churches can be safe spaces for marginalised people.

But I've also been learning a lot about how the good-evil dichotomy was basically invented by the church to keep people in line via fear. I see the consequences of forced christianisation in people from countries that weren't originally christian. I see callers with megaphones and pamphlets and wonder what it would take to cut through their brainwashing. I hear about the terrible damage that cults derived from christianity do - mormons, scientology, jehovas witnesses, even satanism.

I think about how especially catholic services have always felt a bit occulty and strange to me. Bells and incense and weird tasteless wafer bread. The body of christ you say? you want people to take this shit seriously? and millions across the world DO???

I'm at a stage now where I think the church as a global, tax-exempt organisation needs to be dismantled, and we as a society need to have a frank, honest discussion about the values christianity has instilled in us by default. about how catholicism is mostly built on devotion based on fear, and (while historically very effective) this is no way to treat entire populations. its so fucking damaging and has done untold damage to the very foundation of our society.

I wonder what life could be like if millions of Christians were freed from this idea of They Have To Be Perfect Else They Will Burn In Hell Forever. And then the people who have been historically oppressed by christians as well.

What if we built a society on a foundation of joy and care? Hope and community?

(NO!!! not the Christian kind of "if we bring all of these poor sinners into our Community, we can have Hope for their eternal lives". just, Hope that we can make society here, on earth, a better place for everyone, through strengthening Communities.)

The more I think about it the more christianity has got its claws into everything, politics media healthcare everything, and that's just not right. I cannot unsee it. I don't really know what I can do about it? My plate is so full already. But if I just, say, work on dismantling the stigma around disability, work on society seeing disability as a Thing that just Happens and not some kind of divine karma punishment deal, that will already help I think.

And I'm doing that already.

#sorry for the extremely lengthy ramble #christianity #cult mentality #i need a tag for my own rambles

[wutbju]

You knew it was going to happen. You could feel it. And of course it was a Herbster.

Here's Matt's whole statement:

Dear Dr. Bob,

My heart has been grieved recently with the way the past of Bob Jones University has been dragged through the mud. As I have read much of what people have been saying, I've often thought, "if this is all true about the BJU of the past, how in the world did anybody leave Bob Jones and do anything positive for the work of the Lord?" And that's the point, right? Those things aren’t true. BJU was not a "legalistic, externals based, pharisaical, only concerned about the outward and not the heart" kind of school. That isn't the school I attended. I’m no Bob Jones apologist. There were plenty of things I didn’t like during my years of training, but that is the point, it was training! BJU was known as a boot camp for life. It was only 4 years. It was meant to train soldiers for Christ and that meant it would be hard, strict and have some ridiculously silly rules. I think we have all heard of how the marines handle their recruits in order to train them for war? I think we forget that we are in spiritual warfare and Bob Jones was a place devoted to training people to be uncomfortable, deny self and limit our liberty for the greater cause of serving the Lord without distraction. We were taught discipline, self control, concern for others and deference. Many of us who graduated from BJU weren’t following the rules because we thought it made us justified (legalism) or more worthy before God. We were doing it because we loved God and wanted to serve Him with all we had and submission to authority, even in silly rules, was a part of it for those 4 years. There were plenty of rules I didn’t like, but that is to be expected from a young and immature 18 year old. You know what I did like? I enjoyed praying in the early mornings with my friends under the stairs at the end of Smith first floor. I enjoyed getting on our knees in prayer group and bringing our requests before God. I loved extension to the boys home or to bible clubs or park basketball that ended with sharing the gospel. I enjoyed my teachers who lovingly and diligently sought to do all they could to help me be as ready as possible to serve the Lord with my life. You and I both know that no place is perfect and there are plenty of things that you would do differently, but Dr. Bob, there are people serving the Lord all over the world who were saved, changed, shaped, challenged, grown, and sharpened because of their time at BJU. I'm one of them. I still have much growing to do, but my passion, knowledge and desire for the Lord grew during my time at the university. It grieves my heart (and also makes me angry) to hear people speak of the school the way so many have been speaking the last few weeks. My heart has grieved for you. Thank you for your tireless work and investment into thousands of students during your time as President. Thank you for willingness to do the right thing even when you knew you would face criticism. Thank you for your chapel messages and Sunday sermons. Thank you for the excellence that was evident all over campus. Thank you for not compromising on doctrine, but also keeping the worship lofty, music excellent, modesty appropriate and separation important. Thank you for keeping the preacher boy program as a priority. Thank you for challenging graduates to go help a small church. Thank you for keeping us reminded that souls were dying every day. The school that everyone is trying to save wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the sacrifice of you and so many others. I'm sorry you're having to deal with this right now. I know I'm only one voice, but I pray there are many others who are writing you and expressing the same kinds of things. God used my years at BJU to shape me and grow me to a useful vessel in His service. To God be the glory. Thank you for serving the Lord. God bless you.

Joyfully serving Him in Hong Kong,

Matt Herbster

(Please, no negativity or arguing in the comments. Thank you!)

And you know the accolades would follow!

And then Clifton Cauthorne asking for a Matt-generated Letter for people to sign:

#Bob Jones University #Make BJU Great Again #Make BJU Bob Again #Make Pettit Prez Again #BJu Board of Trustees #Matt Herbster #Nate Leupp #Bju Board of trustees #Clifton Cauthorne #The Silent Majority Stands with Bob

[totodiletears]

Thinking about how the first time I heard the "The curtains are blue" story it was from my dad saying it was a real thing that happened at a lecture he attended, where he personally heard the author say it was just because he liked blue. Of course I believed him back then, why wouldn't I?

And I'm comparing this to the thing I've heard several people talk about where the preachers at their churches told them fake stories as though they were real stories. I don't mean stories from the bible, I mean stuff they claim happened very recently. And it's considered okay because even if the story isn't literally true, it points toward a "real" truth. This is common enough to be normal within those groups.

My dad had a regular paying job, but he did and does minister work at church too, including preaching sermons. And... I dunno where I'm going with this, exactly, but it's something I'm thinking about.