#Christian reflections

[jambandatl]

Dreamology

Dreamology: A Modern Interpretation of Oneirology with AI, Quantum Knowledge, and Neuroscience Dreams have fascinated humanity for millennia, serving as both a source of wonder and a subject of inquiry. Traditional oneirology (the study of dreams) has explored their psychological and physiological dimensions, but with the advent of modern technologies like artificial intelligence, quantum…

[itsfarmerphil]

What if your body woke up early and the song "I'm So Blessed" kept looping in your mind...

Well, welcome to my world. I wasn’t able to go back to sleep and still the lyrics to the song “I’m So Blessed” kept looping in my mind. I tried to see if adjusting my breathing pattern would help but after many attempts it failed. Then I started praying for my wife and kids and that felt good but didn’t impact my inability to fall back asleep. So, I rolled over, took a look at the clock and gave…

[pastordin]

The Iron Giant: A Story of Sacrifice, Integrity, and Love

Daily writing promptWhat’s your favorite cartoon?View all responses The Iron Giant: A Story of Sacrifice, Integrity, and Love | Pastor Aamir Din Home | Media | Contact The Iron Giant: A Story of Sacrifice, Integrity, and Love ��Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” — John 15:13 (NIV) A Giant’s Choice: Protecting Others at Great Cost The titular…

[compassionmattersmost]

Title: The Heart of Faith: Believing in Jesus and Following His Teachings

Introduction In John 6:40, Jesus provides a profound insight into the will of God: “For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” This verse is a cornerstone of Christian faith, underscoring the importance of recognizing and believing in Jesus. Yet, this belief is not merely about acknowledging…

[dkcdude]

Remembering Sacrifice: Gratitude for Freedom and Life

Introduction As we approach Memorial Day, a poignant moment arises in our collective consciousness—a time to remember and honor those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our nation. This day is set aside not just as a holiday from work, but as a sacred time to reflect on the cost of our freedoms. In a similar spirit of remembrance, this occasion also invites us to reflect on the supreme…

[seekingtheosis]

Christian Perseverance through Faith - Advent Meditation on St. Luke 1:1-25

The post reflects on the annunciation to Zechariah, providing insights into the faith and struggle of Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth. Despite their childlessness and societal ridicule, they stayed true to their faith. The post underscores the transforma

A reflection on the Annunciation to Zechariah In the name of God the Father, Christ Jesus His only begotten Son and the Holy Spirit, One True God. Amen Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus The Christians around the world are gearing up for one their most important festivals which celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ in the manger in Bethlehem. The weeks prior to the Feast of the Nativity…

[karisumawrites]

Don't shine so others can see you. Shine so that through you, others can see Him. - C.S. Lewis

[prettieinpink]

BEING MAGNETIC THROUGH SOFTNESS

BEING OPTIMISTIC, regardless of the circumstances. People love positivity and will gravitate to people who make them feel good regardless of their circumstances.

SMILE. Even if you’re just walking around, having a nice friendly smile appeals to people and deems you approachable.

HELP WHENEVER YOU CAN, hold the door for someone, or lift a small burden for them. However, if you’re helping someone and it is out of your capabilities, it’s people-pleasing.

BE PRESENT, don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future. Just focus on what you’re doing, and with who at that moment.

BE AN ACTIVE LISTENER, engage in conversations with people and genuinely take in the information they tell you + make an effort to remember these facts about them.

AVOID JUDGING AND GOSSIPING, no matter how nice you are, as soon as you display these traits, you create a distance between your friends/family. While honesty is valued, if people don’t feel like they can be their authentic selves around you, they’ll close themselves up.

GIVE COMPLIMENTS OFTEN. Only if you mean it. It doesn’t have to be someone who you’re close to, but even just passers-by.

BE VULNERABLE. People won’t open up to people who are closed up. Share your deepest fears, challenges and emotions to create a deeper connection and trust.

PRACTICE BEING HUMBLE, while it is okay to celebrate our successes, we must be mindful of the manner we do so. Acknowledge other’s efforts and be willing to learn from others.

REPLACE SORRY WITH THANK YOU. If you’re a serial say-sorry person, replace them with thank you. E.g. sorry I’m late -> thank you for patiently waiting.

BE OPEN-MINDED, surround yourself with a diverse environment, and be willing to learn from other’s perspectives.

TAKE ACCOUNTABILITY. Apologise when necessary and own up to your own mistakes, but be sure to not repeat them.

[love-others-despite-differences]

[and-her-saints]

an online self-describing 'tradcath' in ~250 A.D. in Dura-Europos, Syria: guys the church has gone woke. they have drawn Our Good Shepherd in a vulgar, pagan manner. they literally painted Orpheus in the style of the hellenistic frescoes and thought we wouldn't notice. this is sacrilege AND satan worship. we are living in the end times.

[jambandatl]

Endless Love

The Leap of Joy in Art and Theology Introduction: The Power of Expression Good morning, church! Today, we explore the story of Mary and Elizabeth in Luke 1:39-56, a story rich with joy, faith, and divine connection. Elizabeth’s baby leaps in her womb at the presence of Mary and the unborn Savior, Jesus. This moment is not just a profound theological revelation but also an example of how…

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

obviously I'm all for complementarianism and Biblical male headship and gleaning wisdom from history, but Alisa Childers was so correct when she said some on the Christian right are trying to bring back a type of patriarchy that never existed

[pastelribbonsxx]

am i my brother’s keeper?

[viinchester]

Haunted Reflections

Warnings: References to Violence and Murder, mentions of Stalking, Trauma (related to losing a limb & violent incidents), Obsessive Thoughts, Unhealthy Behavior, graphic descriptions in thoughts of Gore (Violence, Bloodshed, a bit of Body Mutilation), Moral Ambiguity (we're talking about Brian Moser here, hello?), Insults (like a single word lol), mentions of Drugs (two sentences, nothing about taking them), mentions of Death

Fandom: Dexter (TV Show/Series)

Pairing: Brian Moser/Rudy Cooper x F!Reader

Request by: @ireallydontknowohcrabs

Summary: You head to your routine appointment for a readjustment of your prosthetic leg at the Miami prosthetics clinic. This time, however, you are met with Rudy Cooper instead of your usual doctor. Unbeknownst to you, his dark secrets lie hidden beneath the surface, and you’ve unwittingly captured his undivided attention and care.

Word Count: 2.321

My Masterlist

A/N: Initially wasn't sure about which direction to go with this request, but I decided on one eventually.😅 It was fun to write, so I hope you guys will it!💞 Reposts/Comments with feedback are, as always, very much appreciated!!🙏🏼 And just as a reminder: My requests are currently open.🥰💙

You expected this visit to be the same as any other to the prosthetics clinic usually was.

You were going to meet Dr. Gardner, the prosthetist who had been with you since you’d first been fitted for your prosthetic leg, and he'd make a slight adjustment to it, and then you'd leave again.

But instead of that being the case, when you walked into the clinic today, you were greeted by someone else. A man, much younger than Dr. Gardner, with a tall frame and dark curly hair stood by the window and was currently slipping on his gloves. The doctor, obvious by the signature-white lab coat he was wearing, calmly turned to you with a professional and slightly reassuring smile.

“Unfortunately Dr. Gardner’s out sick at the moment,” he immediately explained, his voice smooth and composed. “I'm filling in for him, so I’ll be the one handling your adjustment today. My name's Dr. Rudy Cooper, it's nice to meet you.” He shook your hand gently before gesturing to the chair in the middle of the room. “Please, have a seat.”

You nodded, sitting down and rolling the cuff of your pant-leg up, glancing at him curiously. “Well then let’s see if you’re as good as Dr. Gardner at putting me back together.”

Brian gave a small smile as he seated himself across from you, gently lifting your leg to begin his examination on your prosthetic. “I’ll try my best. Dr. Gardner’s very good at it, from what I hear.” His voice was light, but he was already scanning you, taking in the way you moved, the way you spoke.

When his eyes reached your hands, he had to do a double take, his world stopping. Your nails, painted in the exact same way his mother used to paint hers. The hues were extremely similar, and the order of the colors was identical.

It came out of nowhere and hit him like a physical blow. For just a second his breath hitched and his usually steady hands trembled at the sight.

No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

His mother’s nails, now on your hands, like some ghostly echo of the past.

The carefully constructed facade of calm professionalism flickered for a moment as a flood of memories surged through him.

His mother’s laughter, the smell of her perfume, the soft touch of her hand as she ruffled his hair. And then… the blood. Her blood, mixing with the colors of those very same nails.

How could this be happening? He hadn’t thought about his mother in this way for so long, hadn’t let himself remember.

Blinking a few times, he quickly put your leg down and reached for your file instead, fighting to regain control over his composure.

He couldn’t lose it here. Not now. It was just a coincidence anyway. Just some random woman with the same taste in nail polish.

Still, deep down the shock lingered, sending tremors through the carefully walled-off parts of his mind.

He flipped through your file as casually as possible, clearing his throat once to keep his tone friendly, but professional. “Just going over some notes here. It says the injury happened... a few years ago? Could you remind me of what happened, just to make sure everything lines up?”

Forcing a polite smile, the mask of Rudy Cooper slipped into place, though it felt more strained than usual. His eyes couldn’t help but glance back to your nails every time you so much as shifted, the image of his mother — and her terrified eyes, her pleading hands, those painted nails — almost overlapping with you. He could barely hear your voice over the roaring in his head.

Not noticing anything off, you nodded, hesitating for a second. You hesitated, not because the incident was difficult to talk about anymore, but because it had become such a strange story to tell. You’d almost made peace with it, enough to laugh about it sometimes.

“Yeah, it was... a pretty bad day. Tried to steal some drugs. Not for me, though.” You smiled shyly, a hint of awkwardness in your tone. “My idiot ex, thought I could help him out of a mess he got himself into. But then I got cornered by three guys with a chainsaw. Like something out of a horror movie, right?” You laughed a little, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Brian’s hands paused again, but he kept his face neutral, even with the chaos inside him growing. Drugs? That was already close enough to the horrors of his past. But then you mentioned three guys with a chainsaw, and the floor seemed to fall away beneath him. Though his expression didn’t change and he resumed his adjustment on your prosthetic, the memory inside his mind hit him like a sledgehammer, and in vivid detail as well. His mother, the men, the chainsaw whirring. He was too young to stop it, too small to save her, but the memory had never left him. The blood, the screams, the way her nails had clutched at him in desperation before the world went red.

And now here you were, sitting in front of him, your soft voice recounting a version of his nightmare.

Brian exhaled slowly, maintaining a steady voice. “That’s... an intense way to lose a leg. It must have been terrifying.” His words sounded professional, if empathetic, but internally he struggled to comprehend how this was possible. How could you have survived something so reminiscent of what happened to her?

His disbelief mixed with something darker, something predatory. He had been powerless as a child, but not now. Not anymore.

The thought of you cornered by men with a chainsaw, just like his mother, made something in him snap into place. His shock was replaced by cold determination.

It was as if the universe had handed him a second chance, a way to rewrite the past. This time was different. This time, he wouldn’t be helpless. This time, he would stop the violence, before it consumed you, too.

You gave a small shrug and kept talking, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of him. “Yeah, it was... I honestly didn't believe I’d make it out alive. But it’s been a few years now and here I am, still standing. Just… in a slightly different way.” You offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “Guess I’ve learned to adapt. Well, kind of. I’m still getting used to the leg in a way, but hey, I haven’t fallen flat on my face in a while, so I guess that’s progress.” You smiled again, this time more genuine though, trying to lighten the mood. “And at least my ex didn’t get the drugs. Silver linings, right?”

Brian’s gaze darkened slightly at that, though he kept his tone light. “I see. That’s very impressive and brave of you, as I can only imagine how tough all that must have been. I’m hoping your ex is not someone you still have to deal with on top of that?”

You hesitated, biting your lip and avoiding his eyes, a little uneasy at the topic of your ex boyfriend. “Well, actually… he’s, uh, kind of been stalking me, on and off. Nothing too serious, but... it’s still annoying, you know?”

Brian's fingers flexed around your prosthetic, the material fitting securely into place. His eyes, though still composed on the surface, deepened in intensity and became more focused. Your ex was stalking you. Lurking, like a predator. His jaw clenched, and his disbelief at the situation melted away, replaced by a new resolve.

I couldn’t save her. But I can save you.

The idea of this man, your ex, still in your life filled him with an odd sense of purpose. He didn’t care about people, not really, but this was different. You had painted nails. You had suffered violence. You reminded him of her.

He would make sure nobody hurt you ever again. Starting with that ex-boyfriend of yours. Yes, he would definitely be dealt with. Permanently.

And going further, from now on, you would become his patient. Dr. Gardner had served his purpose, but Brian knew, with a chilling certainty, that you wouldn’t be seeing him again. Not if he could help it.

He forced a sympathetic chuckle, masking his true emotions as he continued to work on your prosthetic with his usual precision. “That sounds... frustrating. You’d think he’d get the hint by now.”

“Right?” You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to dispel the tension that came with the subject of your ex. “But I’m fine, really. It’s just one of those things I have to deal with.”

Brian simply nodded, his hands moving delicately, ensuring the fit was perfect, but his thoughts were miles away, plotting, considering what exactly he needed to do next to make sure you'd no longer have to do deal with it.

He was nothing if not methodical, his mind working like a finely-tuned machine, always planning, always calculating. When it came to taking care of your ex-boyfriend and Dr. Gardner, he would need to use two different approaches, that much was obvious.

Your ex-boyfriend would be the one to pay in blood. The man had been the catalyst for your suffering, the reason you had been put in a situation that mirrored Brian's own mother's gruesome death.

So your ex wasn't going to just disappear, that would be too easy, too nice. Instead, the bastard was going to feel every ounce of pain, every bit of terror that Brian imagined his mother and you had felt. He’d stalk him for days and learn his habits, figure out where he was most vulnerable. And when he’d finally make his move, it would be somewhere isolated, somewhere he could really take his time.

The act itself would neither be quick nor clean. Instead, Brian would make it messy, and visceral. He'd use tools that mimicked the chainsaw that had haunted both him and you. While he wouldn’t use an actual chainsaw, far too noisy and difficult to control, he would choose something just as violent, perhaps a hacksaw or an axe. He would let your ex feel the terror, hear the whir of a blade, and realize that his time was up.

In his twisted mind, Brian believed that you deserved closure. You needed to know that your ex-boyfriend was truly dead. Maybe you wouldn’t know it had been Brian, but you’d know your ex had been taken care of — brutally, and publicly even. The police would find the body, bloodied, hacked apart, left in some abandoned place where no one could escape the horror of the scene. It wouldn’t be a neat kill; it would be a spectacle. The kind that left a permanent mark in the mind of anyone who saw it.

It would be justice for you, and revenge for his mother.

It would be perfect.

You were going to feel safe, knowing that the danger had been wiped out, grateful that the threat was gone.

Dr. Gardner, on the other hand, required a different touch. Brian held no ill feelings toward him, the man simply needed to die out of necessity. But the doctor was a respected figure in your life, and if he simply vanished or died a violent death, you might grieve too hard, or worse, become suspicious. So Dr. Gardner's exit had to be quiet, peaceful, and leave no room for doubt. Brian could easily make it look natural, the man was already old enough that it wouldn’t raise too many questions if he were to die in his sleep anyway.

He'd slip a small dose of potassium chloride into Dr. Gardner’s food or drink, undetectable and mimicking the signs of a natural heart attack. The man would feel a sudden, overwhelming pressure in his chest, his heart seizing painfully — but he wouldn’t be able to cry for help. And in mere minutes, it would be over, and the man would be found peacefully in his bed or his office chair, just another old guy who’d met his end from "natural causes". No one would question it, and you might feel sad for a little while, but definitely not suspicious.

And Brian knew grief over a natural death tended to fade more quickly.

Then you’d return to the clinic in need of further adjustments to your prosthetic in the future, and who would be there for you? Him. The friendly, capable replacement who’d been there all along.

As Brian thought about it all, his hands checked the fit of your prosthetic, his fingers running along the edges.

“Now, hopefully this adjustment will work perfectly for you,” he then said, his voice calm as ever. “If you need anything else, any follow-up, you can come back to me and I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded — still oblivious to anything going on underneath his professional exterior — as you softly smiled up at him and stood up, testing your leg and finding it already fitting better. “Thanks, Dr. Cooper, it’s great, and that’s really nice of you. I’ll be sure to come back if I need any more work done.”

Brian smiled back, but it was colder this time, more possessive. “Rudy, please. And I’ll be here, whenever you need me.”

As you left the clinic, you felt relieved, glad that everything had gone well despite the fact that Dr. Gardner wasn't the one doing your adjustment. Dr. Cooper, or Rudy, had been kind, careful, and understanding. He was a really nice man. Hopefully you'd have him as your prosthetist again if Dr. Gardner ever fell sick another time.

Watching you walk away, Brian was certain of your return. He intended to mold your future so that you would always come back to him.

You may not know it yet, but he was going to ensure you’d never need anyone else, ever again.

[gothchrist]

"War Porn," in The Conspiracy of Art by Jean Baudrillard

[agoddamnrayofsunshine]

Such complicated feelings about Mary Hatford because like. She was not a good mother. She was abusive and unkind, she beat Neil so badly that her words haunted him long after her death. But also. She was never given the chance to be a good mother. A young woman, arranged to marry an older man, who was not only horribly abusive but also incredibly dangerous, a woman who had a child at a young age and then spent the next decade and a half keeping him as safe as she possibly could, even when that meant treating him horribly. She was not a good mother, but the one thing about Mary Hatford that cannot be denied is that she absolutely, without a doubt, loved her son. I think that maybe, under better circumstances, she would have been able to become a good mother.