#Christ’s death for all mankind

[thinkingonscripture]

Unlimited Atonement

Unlimited atonement is the biblical teaching that Jesus died for everyone. Through His sacrificial death on the cross, Jesus bore the wrath of God by taking upon Himself the sins of all humanity and bearing the punishment that was due for our sins.

Unlimited atonement is the biblical teaching that Jesus died for everyone. Through His sacrificial death on the cross, Jesus bore the wrath of God by taking upon Himself the sins of all humanity and bearing the punishment that was due for our sins. His death on the cross paid the price for the sins of everyone. Jesus’ death for sins is the foundation for reconciliation with God because God judged…

[opheliapurple]

One of my favorite things about Arthur and John’s weird relationship is their refusal to properly delegate.

In quite literally every other shared-body story in the history of mankind, working together in tandem with each other would be one of the very first things attempted.

Sure we have “ORTHUR, Jesus Christ orthur they’re dead. They’re all dead. FUCK orthur, it’s Thomas the Tank Engine. He’s staring at you orthur. There’s blood everywhere- WE NEED TO GO-“ etc etc, but that doesn’t count. They fail every single Quick Time event that crosses their path because sometimes John will deliver information, sometimes Arthur will make an action, and neither will happen at the same time.

They both act like they’re just standing very close to one another. They have the problem solving capabilities of two people losing a three legged race.

They are tasked with minding a lighthouse flame upon pain of mysterious and creepy monster-death and god forbid BOTH of them pitch in at the same time. Could you imagine either of them being that reasonable? Their hearts would give out under the strain.

Instead tweedlestupid with one hand and zero eyes minds the light while tweedlestupider with one hand and two eyes dedicates every sense available to the crusade of maintaining their back and forth pre/post/current divorce level bitching.

But even before that, the way they chose to tackle the feat of driving was as insane as it was hilarious. That’s when I knew they were incurable morons and deserved to be stitched together on the celestial plane for the rest of their arcane lives.

Tldr: You could merge the consciousness of any other two souls on this planet together and get a more immediately capable pair. That’s how you know they’re soulmates.

[demonic0angel]

Dan being forced to go to anger management therapy hosted by Harley Quinn.

(I refuse to believe that Dan would be forced into anything, so this is a Dan in Arkham AU lmao)

Wraith huffed angrily. “And that’s why he deserves pain and suffering.”

Harley stared at him in fascination, tapping a finger on her lips. It had been weeks after their breakout from Arkham, and Wraith was quickly becoming a good friend of the Sirens. It had reached a point where now, he was spilling his secrets over a glass of wine (stolen from a Bruce Wayne-endorsed party), about a boy he used to be and the timeline he came from.

It wasn’t the weirdest thing ever, since this was Gotham after all, but it was still both disturbing and thralling.

Harley could not help but stare as Wraith grumbled to himself, blue eyes flashing crimson and sharp fangs being bared in a snarl. Then she asked, “Did your sister ever say anything about this?”

Wraith huffed and swirled his wine lightly. “She said it’s a form of self-hatred. Because I blame myself for our family’s deaths, I blame Danny too. But I don’t care. We are the same person but we are not the same. He is still human, while I have transcended past mankind to be something greater.” His fingers clenched on the stem of the wine glass. “It’s not fair how he gets to be happy, but I can’t.”

A god complex, a superiority complex, and an inferiority complex, all born from the loss of family and self-identity. His psyche was absolutely damaged by his previous experiences, and trauma had made him into something very, very twisted. It was probably true that he was not human anymore, but it was so interesting how he had abandoned his humanity so thoroughly and thrown it aside.

“You can’t?” Harley asked. “Or you won’t?”

Wraith’s expression twisted. “I can’t.”

That didn’t seem right.

He was happy when eating red meat and drinking expensive wine. He was rather happy when they went shopping and included him in their jokes and games. He was plenty happy when he talked about his sisters. He was very happy when interacting with Nightwing, who seemed to effortlessly peel away his layers to reveal a playful, gentle personality that did not seem to be a facade.

“You seem happy around Nightwing,” Harley said. “And us. What do you think of that?”

Wraith glared at her lightly, but he didn’t seem angry, not like how he was when he talked about his little brother, his other self. The venom in his voice and eyes when he talked about his younger self would’ve been better deserved if he was talking about the Anti-Christ, but Harley didn’t voice this.

“Nightwing has the purest soul in this world. It’s strong and beautiful because of how kind it is. It should be a crime to be cruel to it, not when he’s so… good.” His expression gentled and he swirled his wine again before taking a sip. “And you and the others are… nice to me. I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

Harley beamed. “Aww, we like you too, Wraith-y poo!”

Wraith rolled his eyes and took another sip. Harley poured him some more without him asking, and they drank their wine in silence.

Eventually, Harley said, “It’s not healthy to hate yourself so much, y’know? Maybe you don’t want advice, but I think your sister would agree with me. You should let go of the past and live in the present. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore, does it?”

Wraith scowled. “It may not exist anymore, but I came from that timeline. I am who I am because of my family’s deaths and because of Danny.” The hatred in his voice was deep and potent, making Harley shiver. “It can never let me go and I can never let it go either. The past shaped me in ways that cannot be undone.”

Harley took a sip of wine to think. Then she said, “Well. No matter what, me and the girls are here for you. And I think Nightwing really likes you too! Really!”

Wraith hummed, eyes half lidded before he turned and looked at her with a quirk to his lips like a small, genuine smile. “Yes, I know. Thank you, Harley.”

She grinned. “No problem!”

They continued drinking together in companionable silence.

[stumpyjoepete]

Thinking a bit more about Megalopolis (see prev post). It's not really the case that the script is as disjointed or schizophrenic as my post makes it out to be. The central plot is pretty simple: an egotistical city planner has an ambitious and futuristic vision for redeveloping the city, and he butts heads with the Mayor and others who oppose him in this. He ultimately succeeds in building his utopian "megalopolis". Everyone is happy, the end.

And yet.

There's this... intense centrifugal force that prevents everything from cohering into a unified whole. It's like a puzzle where all the pieces are cut from the same picture, but upon closer inspection, no two pieces quite fit together. Or like that collection of nonsensical objects. A fork where the tines and the handle are connected by a chain. A watering can with the spout facing the wrong way. A quick glance leaves you confused, and that confusion is only deepened by further contemplation.

I think this is especially clear in the pseudo-intellectualism of the title cards, narration, monologues, and quotations/references:

Laurence Fishburne does this heavy-handed narration at the beginning and end of the movie (and several random points in between). And there are these associated title cards that look like they were made by applying an "Ancient Rome" theme to some PowerPoint slides. "Or will we too fall victim, like old Rome, to the insatiable appetite for power of a few men?" My brother in Christ, you are making a movie where the hero is named Cesar, and the happy ending is when he successfully pulls a Robert Moses. This is not a story about power corrupting or good intentions going awry. What are you doing???

Cesar Catilina interrupts Mayor Cicero's speech (where he is introducing a plan to build a casino) in order to lay out an early plan for "megalopolis", which is an ambitious and long-term alternative to the (short-term) casino plan. He prefaces his megalopolis pitch by reciting the Hamlet soliloquy. What exactly does Coppola think "To Be Or Not To Be" is about? He must thinks it means, "I am a dark and brooding bad-boy intellectual", since it's hard to see how "I'd like to kill myself, but I fear death" fits into an argument about the importance of long-term thinking in urban planning.

Cesar says several negative things about "civilization". "[Imagine] humanity as an old tree with one misguided branch called civilization... going nowhere." (Shot of notebook shows an illustration with 'war' and 'cruelty' offshoots from said branch.) "Emerson said the end of the human race will be that we'll eventually die of civilization." (Note: unsourced, probably fake quote.) "Civilization itself remains the great enemy of mankind." Umm... you're an urban planner! You're doing a high modernism. What exactly does it mean for you to call civilization the enemy? Is "megalopolis" somehow anti-civilization because it looks like a Georgia O'Keefe painting instead of a bunch of straight lines and right angles? Will the "war" and "cruelty" branches wither and die when buildings have labia?

Also, there's this amazing line read that completely inverts the meaning of a fake Marcus Aurelius quote (the quote was attributed to him by Tolstoy but is not actually something he said). "The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape... finding yourself in the ranks of the insane." Why did you put in that pause??? Fake Marcus Aurelius is turning in his grave! You're supposed to be fleeing FROM the ranks of the insane! I suppose this isn't really inconsistent with the characterization of Cesar, it's just such a fucking batshit thing to say.

All of the cargo-cult intellectualism listed above could perhaps be excused if the vision that the film is supposedly about had any content whatsoever. Or, alternatively, if the movie was about something more substantive, and the vacuous megalopolis vision took place off-screen in an epilogue, like the "happily ever after" of a children's story. But no! The movie repeatedly interrupts the plot to grab you by the shoulders and scream in your face: "I have a vision! For the future!". And then--now that it has your undivided attention--it shits the bed like a man who has just polished off an entire bag of sugar-free gummy bears and washed them down with a fistful of Ambien:

"Conversation isn't enough. It's the questions that lead it to the next step. But initially, you have to have a conversation. The city itself is immaterial, but they're talking about it for the first time. And it's not just about us talking about it. It's the need to talk about it. It's as urgent to us as air and water."

"Mr. Catalina, you said that as we jump into the future, we should do so unafraid. But what if when we do jump into the future, there is something to be afraid of?" "Well, there's nothing to be afraid of if you love, or have loved. It's an unstoppable force. It's unbreakable. It has no limits. It's within us. It's around us. And it's stretched throughout time. It's nothing you can touch. Yet it guides every decision that we make. But we do have the obligation to each other to ask questions of one another. What can we do? Is this society, is this way we're living, the only one that's available to us? And when we ask these questions, when there's a dialogue about them, that basically is a utopia."

After the revolution, we won't have conflicts anymore; we'll have dialogue instead. We won't have a need for the "jobs" and "sanitation" of "now"; we'll have the "imperishable" "dreams" of "forever". We won't have problems that need solving; we'll all be too busy asking each other questions. Now, if everyone could just shut up and get the hell out of the way and let Cesar implement his vision, then "everyone" will soon be "creating together, learning together, perfecting body and mind." A chorus of children's voices gradually morphing into Laurence Fishburne's, chanting, "One Earth, indivisible, with long life, education and justice for all." It's eschatological anti-politics made entirely from cotton candy. Please, for the love of God, stop making Adam Driver monologue at me! Let's get back to Aubrey Plaza stepping on horny fascist Shia LaBeouf!

The incoherence of Megalopolis's vision is compounded by how anachronistic its depiction of our fallen world is. There are some half-hearted (and ham-fisted) gestures in the Clodio sub-plot towards the dangers of Trumpian populism, but the script was first written in the 80's, and it's extremely obvious that Coppola is writing about New York City in the preceding several decades. The city's finances are in dire straights. (There's literally a "Ford Tells City: Drop Dead" reference!) The city is full of slums, the streets are full of crime, and the elites are all decadent. (For Coppola, decadence means that ladies are doing cocaine and smooching each other in the cluh-ub.) The main character is Neo-Roman Robert Moses, and the conflict of the film is about urban renewal. In case you, like Mr. Coppola, have not been made aware, slum clearance is not a major political issue in 2020's Manhattan.

Two thirds of the way through the movie, a falling Soviet satellite provides a deus ex machina, blowing up the financial district and clearing space for megalopolis to take its place. Ironically, a previous attempt to produce the film came to its abrupt end when two planes flew into some buildings in the financial district. Perhaps you heard about it. The financial backers of the film at the time considered Megalopolis's plot a bit too close to current events for comfort and withdrew their support.

But Coppola's depiction of Manhattan was already decades out of date by then. Moses stepped down in '60. Jacobs' book railing against urban renewal came out in '61. The Power Broker came out in '74. One presumes popular opinion of Robert Moses soured in the following years. The crisis of the city's finances that peaked in '75 was over by '81 when NYC balanced its budget and reentered the bond market. The crime wave of the 70's and 80's had receded by the year 2000. The demand for housing in NYC proper is as high as it ever has been, and it's only getting higher. Megalopolis imagines America as an incoherent mishmash of several decades of mid-century NYC, dressed up in the toga of the late Roman Republic, calling out for (Robert) Moses to part the slums and take us into a promised land that is literally beyond any description, and whose only concrete feature seems to be glowing people-movers.

A Robert Moses with the power to stop time, at that!

Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Cesar discovers he has the power to stop time in the opening scene of the film. I forgot because it's literally irrelevant to the plot. Time stops a few times, and then it starts back up again, and the events of the film just plod inexorably forward. For a movie as temporally dislocated as Metropolis, perhaps that's just as well.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Back for More

Written for @steddieangstyaugust - days 9 (Upside Down) and 11 (Temporary Character Death). They just happened to merge and I didn't stop them.

It was eerily quiet in the Upside Down. The rustling of demobat wings had died down, black tendrils lied still as their master fled to God knows where to lick his wounds. Only the constant storm that would never bring rain loomed over them.

Steve's vision was still blurry after the near strangulation at the Creel house, and Eddie? Well. Eddie was dying.

"Wait here until we can find help," they'd said. "Keep him safe. Keep him alive and talking." Robin and Nancy dragged Dustin away, screaming, crying, and Steve made a reckless promise to make sure that his favorite twerp of the twerp troupe (also known as the Party, the most annoying kids known to mankind) was out of danger. Or at least as much as one could be when the world was ending.

So, the promise? Keep Eddie from dying.

That was easier said than done. Demobats made Eddie their free buffet - Steve hated himself for thinking that, but maybe he could blame it on the dizziness - and now Eddie was even more full of holes than a golf course. Minus the flags.

Yeah, maybe Steve was panicking a little. But hey, who wasn't?

"Come on, man," he muttered as Eddie's hand dropped, letting go of the blood soaked cloth. "Keep it on the wound. I'm not an octopus, I can't plug in all of these, uh…"

Eddie laughed, but it made such a horrendous gurgling sound that Steve hoped he hadn't done that. "New entrances to the temple that is my body, Harrington?"

Steve's brow furrowed in disgust. Which was funny because, you know, they were covered in blood and grime, so this shouldn't have even fazed him. It still did. "Ew. Don't…just don't."

He still reached out and repositioned Eddie's hand to cover the less severe wounds. Which really weren't less severe, all were gnarly and jagged, but at least Eddie could reach them. Steve's hand didn't leave the most dangerous looking one on his neck, pressing down and slowing down the bleeding.

"Aww. Harrington is shy," whispered Eddie, but obediently used the last of his strength to cover the wound on his side.

"Am not. Your innuendos just suck. Where did you get those, in a history class?"

Eddie's mouth twitched into another smile. "Nah. In front of the mirror, like all proper men. Which might be…why they don't work. On other men."

Other men. Huh. Steve had never suspected anything.

His eyes were starting to close, his breathing more shallow, and yep, this was the moment that Steve would normally get up, get punched, get in the harm's way so the others could escape. But this time it wouldn't work. It was just him and Eddie and so much blood that just wouldn't stay on the inside where it belonged.

Keep him talking. That's what he promised to do.

He nudged Eddie with his knee. "Hey. Hey, Munson! Now I'm curious. How do you know they don't work? Have you tested them?"

Eddie groaned, but one of his eyes opened again. "Jesus H Christ, Harrington. Can I just die from blood loss and not embarrassment?"

"Nope. No dying either way. Tell me."

Another groan, another gurgle. "Didn't test anything, man. This is Hawkins. I never even told anyone. Shit, I didn't even want to tell you, but I'm feeling kinda lightheaded…"

Not good. Not fucking good at all. "It's fine, we're bonding, right?" But Eddie didn't respond, and Steve didn't have a third hand to slap him awake, so he just went for the conversational jugular. "I mean. I kinda get it. I saw a lot of stuff in the locker rooms and I've always thought Tommy has some nice shoulders and back. And…below."

That got Eddie's attention. His eyes opened again, and the bloodied grin he showed Steve was worth the mortifying admission. "Well well well. Who would have thought we have the same taste in men, King Steve? Type, I mean. Hagan's an asshole. But jocks…hmmm. Good for you to…have such a nice view."

Now he was talking too much, and his breath was getting even more shallow. Shit. "You'll get it too, man. Not all places are Hawkins. So stay awake, keep pressure on your…ugh, fine…new entrances to the temple of Munson, and I swear that when you're all healed up, I'll drive you to wherever you feel more comfortable, and we'll get you a jock to smooch or admire. Or both."

"Sounds nice," whispered Eddie. Then, after a pause: "being smooched, I mean. It's so lame, dying without being kissed. Ever."

Look, Steve was running out of options. There was no sound, no indication of help coming, and he had to keep his promise. The world was ending anyway. "Would you like not to?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I mean," said Steve and even attempted his signature hair flip, which earned him a weak chuckle from Eddie. "I know I look like shit now, but I was a jock. And I'm pretty sure I'm a better kisser than Tommy."

"…have better ass too…"

Steve burst out laughing, and perhaps he managed to hide the slowly rising wave of hysteria. "Yes, thank you! I knew someone would eventually have good taste and say it out loud. But seriously, uh…I'm offering. I mean, as far as first kisses go, this whole scenario will be pretty memorable."

Eddie smiled at him from the ground, and it was so sad that Steve wanted to punch Hawkins, his younger self and everyone who made Munson look this self-deprecating. "You don't have to, Steve. Pity isn't a good look on you."

"It's not," he said quickly, with more force than he'd intended. "Seriously, Eddie. It's not. It's…curiosity for me too. And maybe I also need to take my mind off things, because this whole week has been so incredibly shitty, more for you than me, but still, and it's not like we have anything better to do anyways. So I'm asking again, a bit more tactfully this time - may I kiss you before you change your mind and stop liking jocks?"

"Not gonna happen," whispered Eddie, but his smile was wider now. There was a strange sheen to his eyes, but Steve was only focused on buying just a bit more time, a few more minutes, even seconds. "Come on, big boy. Deflower my lips. Or something."

"You just had to make it weird."

Steve leaned down and inspected Eddie's face. It was covered in drying blood, so were his lips, but it didn't matter. He moved even further, still maintaining the pressure on Eddie's neck wound, and pressed their lips together.

It wasn't much, he was careful not to obstruct Eddie's breathing, but it felt nice. He imagined what it might have been like under different circumstances - Eddie's stubble against his chin, maybe taste of his cigarettes instead of blood, hand in his wild hair and around his slender waist. He winced as Eddie's tongue darted out and licked the cut in Steve's lip, but he met him halfway without hesitation.

As he started pulling away to give Eddie more space to breathe, Steve had a sudden realization. Despite his loudness and abrasive behavior, Eddie deserved the gentleness, the caution. Steve wondered if he could have given it to him in another time, another life.

"So," he asked, still hovering over Eddie, "was that everything you dreamed of?"

Eddie's voice was barely more than a sigh now. "Bit…less blood in my dreams. But…yeah. I really wish…"

The hand on his wound was slipping again. Steve moved it back. "Yeah?"

"I really wish I could have come back for more."

His hand dropped again, and this time, no matter how much Steve threatened, argued or pleaded, it wouldn't rise again.

"Eddie." Steve nudged him again, but his body was still. "Hey, Eddie. Wake up. You can come back for more anytime you want. Just…just hold on, get better and then you can have as many kisses as you want. Come on. Don't…"

When Nancy and Robin finally made it back with supplies, they found Steve still covering Eddie's wounds, not leaving his side. When they tried to move him, to make him let go of Eddie's body, Steve could only say one thing - "I made a promise."

..

Two weeks passed. The world was still ending, Max was in a coma, and Eddie was gone. It felt wrong, being able to summarize so much pain in such few words. Steve couldn't look Dustin in the eye, grateful for the return of the California crew so that Dustin had someone to support him apart from Lucas. He broke two promises in the same day, probably the most important ones he'd ever made.

His body functioned on autopilot. Donations, disaster relief, he did it all to keep busy. He slept very little, but when he did, he no longer had the intense, terrifying nightmares. Instead, he dreamt of Eddie, alive and well, meeting him in a bar, at Skull Rock, kissing him again and again.

Every day he woke up, had a blissful moment when reality was hazy, and then it hit. Eddie would never kiss him again.

It was yet another night full of tossing and turning in his bed. When Steve finally fell asleep, he was in a familiar dream. Sweet and soft kisses, Eddie's hair tickling his face. But this time, his lips felt more rough, and there was sharp pressure on his lower lip.

When he woke up, he thought he was still dreaming. His head was gently cradled by slender hands, long hair was tickling his face…and Eddie was in his bed.

He was dirty, covered in crusts of dried blood. His clothes were torn and the unnatural sheen in his eyes that Steve had noticed back in the Upside Down made it seem like the whites of his eyes were glowing. His nails were sharp, his canines were peeking out from under his upper lip, but it was him, in flesh. In scarred but miraculously healed flesh. 

"Eddie?"

"You said," he whispered, and it sounded raspy, rough. "You said I could come back for more."

It might have been a dream - or maybe not, Steve would find traces of mud and a familiar looking bandana in his bed the next day. But Steve didn't know that yet. What he knew was this - even if it was a dream, even if he was about to have yet another painful realization the next day, he'd take it. Because Eddie was worth every single second of that pain.

He wrapped his arms around the dream visitor's neck and pulled him back into his bed. "I did say that. And I'm a man of my word."

[eroguron0nsense]

I've written before about how Ace's story has so many goddamn biblical allusions/parallels with the New Testament (conceived of by a miracle, survived a state-sanctioned mass infanticide/femicide, handed over for execution by a traitor, biblical resurrection kinda fulfilled through Luffy and Sabo inheriting his will) that I sometimes wonder if it's kind of intentional. That being said, if Ace is a Christ figure, he's a very interesting take on one: he's not dying voluntarily, but because the Navy and the World Government are hoping to set an example, reaffirm their power, and (theoretically, although this is a far less convincing motivation than punitive cruelty for the sake of it) discourage people from participating in the search for Roger's legacy and "end the great pirate era". He's not perfectly wise or selfless or divinely blessed by his parentage, nor does he ever identify with his semi-divine father; he's a twenty-year-old who rejects Roger and spends his whole life trying to find some agency and freedom from that legacy, living with the perpetual excruciating terror of being discovered until it finally happens and he's doomed both by the narrative and by the terrible destiny of being born a D and Roger's child. His execution isn't framed as a predestined moment of divine sacrifice and absolution, it's a frantic nightmare that ends in tragedy, surrounded by constant reminders of the hollow, twisted "justice" and false promises of a new dawn espoused by the oppressor. And when he does end up sacrificing himself, he doesn't do it for a greater purpose, or for the good of mankind: he dies fighting for himself and his family, he dies turning around to confront the tormentors who have taken his and his loved one's lives and freedom and mocked their sacrifice, and, most importantly, he dies for Luffy. He dies in defiance of these grand narratives ascribed to him: not to save the world or bring about a new era but in the name of defending the people he loves and finds his purpose in loving.

TLDR: Oda’s take on the Christ Figure isn’t a prophet or all-knowing son of God, but a young person born with a terrible fate, who tries to live and find love in his friends and brothers and family only to have it stolen from him by the powers that be for a cruel birthright he had no say in, whose execution and its symbolic purposes are forced on him from outside. He's a child who deserves the world and is killed for the "sins" of others, but instead of dying on the cross, instead of being sacrificed on the altar of state control for an ostensible end to an era, he manages to die fighting on his own terms for something that truly matters to him, and the ripple effects caused by his death/sacrifice are slated to eventually bring about the downfall of the system that murdered him.

[fairylando]

don't ask me why, but me and my friend were talking about how carlos is going to be free from fraudrrari in less than 20 days and we ended up comparing him to the virgin mary (i swear it will make sense and we both grew up in christian italian families as atheists) and... how her given festivities actually add up with some of his important dates ??? buckle up!

‧˚

⭒ "Festa dell'Assunzione di Maria" — august 15 she was raised to eternal life without bodily death, and very close to it carlos announced he signed with williams.

⭒ "La Natività della Beata Vergine Maria" — she was born on september 8th, he was born on september 1st (BOTH VIRGOS)!

⭒ "L'Immacolata Concezione" — december 8th, "from the first moment of her conception, the Blessed Virgin Mary was, by the singular grace and privilege of Almighty God, and in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, Savior of Mankind, kept free from all stain of original sin."... and what happens on december 8th? his last race in fraudrrari, exactly.

she was the lightly brushed by melancholy blue print after all!

[blushcoloreddreams]

Verse recs for combating lust?

1 Corinthians 10:13 “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

1 Corinthians 6:18 in the Bible says, "Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body

1 John 2:16 "For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world."

Romans 13:14 "But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof."

James 1:14-15 "But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death."

Galatians 5:16 "This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh."

Romans 8:6 "For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace

Matthew 5:28 "But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart

1 Peter 5:7-8 "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour"

Hebrews 13:4 “Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral

Proverbs 6: 25-26 “Do not lust in your heart after her beauty or let her captivate you with her eyes. For by means of a harlot a man is reduced to a piece of bread, and the adulteress will prey upon his precious life”

Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me

[walkswithmyfather]

Romans 5:1-6 (NIV). [1] “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, [2] through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. [3] Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; [4] perseverance, character; and character, hope. [5] And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. [6] You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.”

“Grace: God’s Second Chance” By In Touch Ministries:

“When we trust Jesus, He pours out His unconditional love upon us.”

“Scripture paints a grim picture of mankind apart from the Lord: dead in our sins, under God’s wrath, and subject to eternal separation from Him (Ephesians 2:1-3). Through the cross, we are given a second chance to be in a relationship with the Lord. When we trust in Christ, He pours out His unconditional love—and grace—upon us.

Because of grace, we have been justified by faith. Justification is a declaration by God that we are not guilty in His sight. At salvation, Jesus died on the cross and rescued us from the penalty for our transgressions. All our disobedience—past, present, and future—is fully forgiven.

We gain this remarkable pardon through genuine faith in Jesus Christ—in other words, by acknowledging God’s judgment that we are sinners who need a Savior because we’re unable to save ourselves. True faith rests on the belief that Jesus’s death atoned for our sins, God accepted His Son’s sacrifice on our behalf, and we are fully forgiven. Grace gives us peace with God. Because we’ve trusted in Christ, we’ve been adopted into the heavenly Father’s family (John 1:12-13) and have His favor forever.

Through grace, we have been offered a fresh start. May we make full use of this opportunity by passionately pursuing God with all our heart.”

[Picture thanks to Ben White at Unsplash]

[givemearmstopraywith]

the word intifada, in arabic, اِنْتِفَاضَة, literally means "shaking off." a shiver, shudder, tremour, trembling, shuddering, quivering. psalm 2:11 tells us to "serve the lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling (בִּרְעָדָֽה)." on the day of the lord in isaiah 13:13, the heavens and the earth will tremble: god is in the trembling. philippians 2:12 reiterates this psalm: "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling (τρόμου)." when the haemmorhaging woman of mark 5 audaciously touches christ's cloak and he feels his power leave him to heal her, she approaches him "trembling with fear" to confess what she has done, which he responds that her faith has healed her: "go in peace and be freed from your suffering." when jesus dies, there is an earthquake: the earth trembles at the moment of jesus’ death, the rocks split open, and the dead walk. what has been is shaken off. the crucifixion is not an end, but a beginning: a commencement, because god has commenced his intifada, his mission to free mankind from the human injustice which is the absence of grace and mercy.

throughout the scripture, trembling is the precursor to something else. it means god is in proximity; it means we are about to be touched by grace. shivering is the body’s natural reaction to an outside stimulus- an effort to get warm when confronted with cold, or the adrenaline in our bodies priming us to respond to danger. intifada is the natural human reaction to the outside stimulus: the body, the community, making an effort to get warm when left outside of justice, a response to danger. trembling is the work of god, a smudge from the fingerprint of his creation. when we shake, god is in the trembling. god is in the shaking of rage and tears. god is the fight against injustice. god is in the intifada. how much more does the earth quake for all those little ones.

[jojotier]

thinking about judas as a tragic character both narratively and metanarratively because no matter what he's Doomed. if the christian god is real then Judas's fate was sealed the moment he was cast to be a dissenting voice to god's son if a different god is real he's trying to protect his community from a false messiah if no god is real Judas is misguidedly trying to secure a better future for the jewish community. no matter what for centuries theologians refuse to extend the same grace jesus extended to them to judas and in the inferno he's doomed to be forever chewed in Satan's mouth. all because it was his role in the narrative. because jesus needed to be betrayed by one of his closest men, because every terrible thing that happens to christ makes his forgiveness of mankind that much sweeter, and the guilt eats judas iscariot alive. is it not punishment enough to know you doomed someone you loved to death?

[talonabraxas]

“Tonatiuh, the Verb of San Juan, the Logos or creator of the universe, with its triangular tongue of fire, is the golden child of sexual alchemy, the spiritual sun at midnight, the eagle that rises and soars, the resplendent dragon of wisdom, and it is represented by the star that gives us life, light and heat. Decorated by the Nahualts, it appears in glory at the very center of the Stone of the Sun”. -Samael Aun Weor – The Secret Doctrine of Anahuac.

Tonatiuh, God of the Sun Talon Abraxas

In each and every corner of the world, mankind has strived to give tangible representations to personify the great realities of the spirit. It should not amaze us that the Incas, Mayas, Aztecs, Egyptians, etc. resembled the sun with the universal spirit of life in an attempt to relate its physical and spiritual characteristics. In this way, they taught others about the greatness of that which is intangible. Undoubtedly the sun has been, is, and will be the means to allow the world to understand what truly is the Spirit of the Being within each one of us. Just like the physical sun imparts life, light and warmth, our Being gives us spiritual life, wisdom and wishes to learn that which is mystical.

Among the Aztecs, the God of the Sun was called Tonatiuh (Tona = the maker of the sun and heat, tiuth = to go). In universal Gnosticism, is it the Being or the Spirit the one who imparts life, and at the same time, the sun is the symbol each aspirant should manifest within: to create the sun is to integrate oneself with the Being.

The God of the Sun, Tonatiuh, is represented in the microcosm by the Intimate, the most spiritual element within each man and woman. In the macrocosm he is the Solar Logos or the Divinity. Either one will trigger our impulse towards the self-realization of our Being, using as its means awakening that is both mystical and spiritual.

In Nahuan culture, as in others, the Sun was the symbol of the Father, the eternal Masculine Principle; the Moon, the mother or the eternal Divine Feminine Principle, and Venus, the symbol of the Celestial Child. Tonatiuh, the God of the Sun, is the incarnation and expression of the fire that comes from the heavens. Tonatiuh is the representation of the divine aspects and itself explains the creation of all that exists.

The wise Aztecs of Anahuac gave the creator both: masculine and feminine form. The creator in its masculine aspect was called Ometecuhtli (ome = two, tecuhtli = Lord), and the divine feminine principle Omecihuatl (ome = two, cihuatl = Lady). They are the Lord and the Lady, God and Goddess of Duality. On this aspect, VM

Samael Aun Weor states:

“The face of Tonatiuh in the Aztec calendar is the face of Ometecuhtli-Omecihatl, Lord and Lady of duality, God of life, of love and generation.”

“Enclosed by two concentric circles, around which are four squares within two other concentric circles (the unmanifested absolute: Ipalnemohuani), encompass it all: the feline claws of Quetzalcoatl ripping human hearts, the Sun of Wind or 4 Ehecatl, the Sun of Fire or 4 Quiahuitl, the Sun of Water or 4 Atl, the Sun of Jaguar or 4 Ocelot and the Sun of Movement or 4 Olin, the East and the West, the North and the South, the twenty days of the month, etc.”

“This explains why the Nahuans venerated the Sun and the dual significance the numbers had for them.”

Samael Aun Weor – Aztec Christic Magic, Monogram No. 8

Tonatuih’s crown or Xiuhitzolli represents the Ancient of Days, the Kaballistic Kether, the three aspects of divinity: the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the Logoic triangle of the Hebrews.

Each man has its own particular ray, resplendent in all its glory and might in the world of the ineffable Gods; the golden ray, the Being of our Being, the internal Christ of each man. It is the Sephirotic crown of the cabbalists, the Crown of Life. “Be faithful till thy death (says the Holy One), and I shall give thee the Crown of Life”. (Revelations 2:10).

We will find all the attributes of divinity wisely expressed in their artistic forms by the wise of Anahuac, as we can tell from the date of Two Canes in its crown. The number 2 (both circles) represent the feminine and masculine aspects of divinity.

“Ometecuhtli-Omecihuatl, Lord and Lady of duality. “Ome”: two; “Tecuhtli”: Lord. “Ome”: two; “Cihuatl”: Lady. From this divine dual principle, masculine and feminine, emanated the Universe. This God-Goddess had four sons, the four Tezcatlipocas: Xipotec, the red one; Tezcatlipoca, the black one; Quetzalcoatl, the white one; Hizilopochtli, the blue one.”

“From this divine and indivisible binary were born the four colors of the four races that populate the Earth. Ometecuhtli has the presence of the Cosmis Christ. The Nahuas represented him with a beautifully adorned tunic and a stone phallus, symbol of light. Omecihuatl has all the presence of the Cosmic Virgin.”

“The Nahuas represented her with a beautiful blue mantle…”

“He is Huehueteotl, the Ancient God, father of the gods and father of men. She is Tonantzín, our beloved Mother.”

Samael Aun Weor – Aztec Christic Magic, Monograph No. 10

The three eagle feathers of the symbol of the cane, or Acatl, together with the pearl, represent the Greek TETRAGRAMMATON, the holy FOUR, symbol of the Trinity plus that which is unmanifested.

In ancient times the hair was directly related to the creative energies, similar to what we have seen in the myth of Sampson and Delilah on the Hebrew kabala.

The wrinkles around his eyes allegorize the wisdom we should reach by awakening our consciousness in our daily living. Among the Aztecs, the maximum authority was represented by a council of elders, who had dedicated their lives to the elimination of their egocentric interests.

The eyes of the God of the Sun are the eyes of the Internal Father, who sees all, who is always vigilant to that which we think, do and feel.

In the nose or Yacaxihuitl we find a wise combination between the breath that imparts life and the work with the masculine and feminine forces, as we see three eagle feathers on each side. The number 6 (3 feathers on each side) represents the crossing of these forces.

The Borgia Codex mentions the ritual of the perforation of the nose. This ritual is intimately related to the science of sexual transmutation through breaths, breathing and respiration.

The Solar Logos emanates all its creative might to this world and then collects it transmuted, to impart himself life. In a similar manner, the human being should imitate this process.

The tongue in shape of a blade or Tecpatl, is the verb, the word, the Logos, the power the verb has manifested in all that has been created. Curiously, we find in the tongue an eye, symbol of psychological self-observation, showing the necessity of being attentive to what we say, as the verb carries extensive responsibility. In addition, we find a claw that shows the power of the word. With the word we can bless or damn, aid or cause suffering. This shows us the sacrifice the initiate must undergo to ensure the right use of the word. The word has the power to create, which is why it is necessary to develop self-observation as well as a sense of responsibility in its use. We need to learn when to speak and when to be silent.

“In the beginning it was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. This was in the beginning with God. All things by Him were created, and without Him none of what is would be. In Him was life, and life was the Light of men.”

St. John, 1:1-4, Bible of Casiodoro de Reyna, 1569.

In the Chalchihuitl (precious stones) we see six jades forming Tonatiuh’s collar. These symbolize the virtues of the soul: tenacity, patience, willpower, altruism, philanthropy, love… all acquired through the destruction of the undesirable psychological aggregates we carry within.

In his ears or Xiuhnacochtli we see that from the shape of the circle emanates an adornment of three eagle feathers. The circle is a symbol of eternity, the unknown absolute, that which the Greek referred to as Agnostos Theos (the unknowable God which cannot be defined). In Sanscrit it is known as Sat (That). From that which has no name emanates the trinity of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and as a result, the Holy Four: the Tetragrammaton.

The ears show by themselves the need to listen to that which is spiritual, to closing our ears to blasphemy, damnation, prejudices and all unsubstantial words of the ego, but to place our attention in the Voice of the Silence, the Wisdom of our Father.

“Ears with large pendants show the need to learn to listen, to place our attention to wisdom.”

Samael Aun Weor – Mayan Mysteries

[ignylinn]

Going on with Catholic GtN re-read.

I was sorting out some quotes I've made a few days earlier, and here is what I noticed.

The 8 Houses prayer names Jod as ransomer of death, scourge of death, vindicator of death.

Ransomer and Vindicator are both titles used in refer to Jesus. Specifically, Ransomer and Vindicator of mankind.

Ransomer of death and Vindicator of death are really weird, especially together with scourge of death.

It looks more like yet another words Jod knew and used for the style but ended meaning something completely opposite. Like, Christ saves people from death, Jod saves death from people. Whatever that means.

In this same prayer we find the Lyctors are called divinely ordained, also Christian term. I at one point was thinking that all necromancers might have some priest role, ordained by default, by their powers which came to be (were discovered) by Jod.

If we take Catholic structure, Jod ordaines Lyctors and they ordain others, and there is some ritual established. But it does not seem that anyone else is ordained - I mean, that is what Jod and Lyctors might be telling others. In reality, Lyctors were self-"ordained" and in incorrect way.

And! Last but not least, the Teacher in the Canaan House tells Harrow of a "sum of all necromantic transgression" on the lower levels. Which is very interesting. He basically directly connects Lyctorhood and/or Jod to transgression (sins). And the Teacher is also penitent.

And frankly, the whole thing looks more and more like religion of John's own (narcissistic?) dissociation, where he is somewhat able to recognize his own sins but forces his guilt on others.

Thus creating religion paradoxic at the core, where everything is a sin and a blessing simultaneously, and you cannot escape eventual guilt.

[mesozoic-system]

Fucking kill yourself already, you piece of shit. No wonder Roy left you. You're just a waste of oxygen and space

Fun fact: I know exactly who this is. No need to remain anonymous, or are you afraid of what your friends would think if they saw you telling strangers to kill themselves?

And I've attempted to before. The very first time I tried to take my own life was when I was 12. I took a handful of my medicine.

After I recovered, I started going to church. I found peace in worshipping God and Jesus Christ. I loved going to church, I loved being part of such a community.

I was raped at 14 inside of a church by someone I thought I could trust, and I tried to kill myself again when I was 15.

My view of religion turned sour, and I began to realize how fictional the Bible was, how evil it was. I turned my back on God and Jesus. If God's love is conditional, then I want nothing to do with it.

People like you, mindless Christians who follow an ancient book blindly, hoping it'll give you answers for the unexplained, it gives you comfort believing that there's something out there that you can trust.

And I respect that.

But for you to use such evil as a way to explain your immoral actions is unjustifiable. You ignore everything in those pages except for what you can use to hurt others.

Let's take a look at a few paragraphs.

(Women aren't supposed to wear pants.)

Deuteronomy 22:5 - A woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment; for whosoever doeth these things is an abomination unto the Lord thy God.

Deuteronomy 22:28 - If a man comes upon a young woman, a virgin who is not betrothed, seizes her and lies with her, and they are discovered, the man who lay with her shall give the young woman's father fifty silver shekels and she will be his wife, because he has violated her.

Genesis 7:21 - Every living thing that moved on land perished—birds, livestock, wild animals, all the creatures that swarm over the earth, and all mankind. Everything on dry land that had the breath of life in its nostrils died.

Deuteronomy 21:18 - And they shall say unto the elders of his city, This our son is stubborn and rebellious, he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton, and a drunkard. And all the men of his city shall stone him with stones, that he die: so shalt thou put evil away from among you; and all Israel shall hear, and fear.

Proverbs 23:13 - Do not withhold discipline from a child; if you punish them with the rod, they will not die.

1 Samuel 15:3 - Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.

Leviticus 21:17 - For the generations to come none of your descendants who has a defect may come near to offer the food of his God. No man who has any defect may come near: no man who is blind or lame, disfigured or deformed; no man with a crippled foot or hand, or who is a hunchback or a dwarf, or who has any eye defect, or who has festering or running sores or damaged testicles.

Leviticus 20:13 - If a man lies with a male as with a woman, they have committed an abomination; the two of them shall be put to death; their bloodguilt is upon them.

Timothy 2:11 - A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet.

Leviticus 26:29 - You will eat the flesh of your sons and the flesh of your daughters.

Ephesians 6:5 - Slaves, obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them sincerely as you would serve Christ.

Genocide, sexism, homophobia, racism, murder, and none of this is important to you because god forbid, someone's gay!

Next time, do your research. You're shaming your own religion.

[bloodsappho]

These crosses all over my body

Remind me of who I used to be

And Christ forgive these bones I’m hiding

From noone successfully

Wrestling with God, secrets that can’t be hidden, flesh and bone. Themes established from the very outset. Of course we wonder what are these crosses, these secrets. As we will hear, violence haunts the protagonist. She is abused, she fights back, she kills. So are the crosses decorative sigils, testaments of faith worn around the neck and fingers? Are they cuts and bruises and batterings? Are they deep, inner wounds, bleeding out silently? Are they self inflicted cuts, scored with a razor into her wrists and thighs?

Self-inflicted razor wounds go much deeper than the pop-psych logic of “self-harm”. Particularly prevalent amongst young women, they attest to a body-mind that wants to open, to bleed, to have its own limits annihilated in a rush of pleasure and pain. Mortification of the flesh is particularly common in Christian culture, self-inflicted punishment for sinful thought and deed, attributed especially to women.

Camille Paglia:

“The artist makes art not to save mankind but to save himself. Every benevolent comment by an artist is a fog to cover his tracks, the bloody trail of his assault against reality and others.”

Later

“Art advances by self-mutilation of the artist.”

Hemingway claims “to write is easy, you just sit down and bleed”. Bowie claims “to be an artist is a ridiculous thing. It makes much more sense to earn money, look after your family. I don’t know why anyone would do it.” Self experience attests to artists sitting in frozen cold apartments, unable to eat properly, following a voice that nobody else can here. Addicts and artists often go hand in hand.

“These crosses all over our bodies”, the stacked wounds and traumas of war against the everyday. The great mistake of Amero-boomerist art criticism to assume that such wounds and traumas are the fault of oppressive power structures themselves. Such power structures exist to keep violent nature in a straightjacket, a state of affairs that the artist simply cannot abide by. The only advice that can ever be given to someone who is thinking about becoming an artist is “Give up now”, because the path of crucifixion is not something that can be chosen or rationally debated.

Many cultures and esoteric paths offer Gods of ecstasy and vision who undergo violent metamorphoses and stand at the crossroads of life and death: Jesus, Dionysus, Shiva and Osiris just a few. Of course the Christ myth is an evolution of the Dionysus myth, but the Christian Universalist reading comes out of Jewish linguistic totalitarianism which wants to banish the erotics of masks, idols and personas. The multiplicity and polymorphism, not to mention the perversity, of the various robes of the dying God is anathema to the priest line that wants to establish strict loyalty and sexual submission.

Judaism today has evolved to be a champion of the erotics of the eye, with many of the great figures of Hollywood Jewish artists trained in Romanticism and Expressionism who fled central Europe when the Nazis came to power in the 1930s. It is in fundamentalist Islam where we see the nightmare of Abrahamic totalitarianism most clearly, with women wrapped in rags and virgin girls offered as the heavenly reward for total submission to God.

Michael Jackson, one of the most influential and biggest selling artists of all time. One hardly ever hears his name mentioned save in scorn, and yet his traces are everywhere — the songs and dances of every popstar of the last 20 years are unmistakenly scorred by his influence. Jackson is frightening because he is, we might say, trans-everything. Massively androgynous, morphing from black to white, physically and musically, adult and child, his career is a violent and unceasing metamorphosis. He was under the knife as much as under the camera, a vanguard of celebrity plastic surgery taken to extremes, to many an angel and to many others a satanic freakshow.

The artist, condemned to create beauty at the monstrous intersections of life.

[fictionadventurer]

Christ walks the world again, new-bound on high emprise, With music in His golden mouth and laughter in His eyes; The primrose springs before Him as He treads the dusty way, His singer’s crown of thorns has burst in blossom like the may, He heedeth not the morrow and He never looks behind, Singing: “Glory to the open skies and peace to all mankind.”

Singing: “Lady, lady, will you come away with Me? Was never man lived longer for the hoarding of his breath; Here be dragons to be slain, here be rich rewards to gain . . . If we perish in the seeking . . . why, how small a thing is death!”

--From "Desdichado" by Dorothy L. Sayers