#and should not be responded to as though it's the gospel truth about how to consume gideon or tlt or any of muir's work

[rucbarthatbowtiesarecooldw]

Saturday Afternoon Session

Conducting Gary E Stevenson

All Glory, Laud, and Honor

David A. Bednar

Be Still and Know that I Am God

Inner Spiritual Stillness of the Soul

Be Still = focusing on the Savior

Truth faith is focused in and on our Lord Jesus Christ

Spiritual stillness = the opposite of inner turmoil

A proper foundation ensures that the structure will remain sturdy and stable over time – requiring an attachment to bedrock.

We build the foundation – the Savior is the rock upon which we build

Faith is built upon the Savior

Sacred time and holy places are the same – focus your time and attention on God and His heavenly Plan

Sometimes being still means on the inside not the outside

Jesus is not the foundation He is the Rock upon which we build.

We may be perplexed by our trials and circumstances, but we will never be in despair.

The gospel doesn’t keep you from trials, but allows you to deal with them with the help of the Lord

Massimo De Feo

My physical sight is not good – what about my spiritual vision? Do I need any treatment there.

Can you see Christ spiritually, not physically? Or are you like the pharaseees?

We keep a clear spiritual vision when we focus on Jesus Christ and stay true to what we know to be true.

What we know to be true: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. Don’t listen to the voices in the world that say that loving everyone isn’t reasonable/necessary/possible.

Declare your testimony in its entirety; don’t let anyone silence you

We keep a clear spiritual vision when we hear the voice of the Lord and allow Him to guide us.

Keeping a clear spiritual vision is about focusing my sight always on Jesus Christ

Jesus Christ is the answer for everyone

God Loved Us So He Sent His Son

Brent H Nielson

Witnesses of Christ

There has never been a better time to be a member of the church than today

335 operating and announced temples!!!

You should leave the bubble

The truth of God will go forth everywhere

You and I are witnesses

Gathering israel has both missionary work and family history work

We are armed with righteousness and with the power of God in great glory

Jose L Alonso

Where do you find peace?

If we put the Savior at the center of our lives, we can find peace

Feeding 5000 men – plus women and children (Matt 14:21). Jesus gave thanks to his father, he was grateful rather than complaining that was all they had. 

Solutions to our trials often don’t come from ourselves – but in God

“Imagine how much love he has for us if Christ was looking for peace and solitude, and he welcomed everyone to heal and help them”

When we encounter challenges, turn beyond them to Christ, and trust in his help

Even when looking for peace and solitude, Christ focused outside of Himself and welcomed everyone to heal and help them!

Adopting a Christ-centered perspective helps us turn trials into victories

Christ is a Healer, and we are ever-present in His mind and heart

Praise to the Lord the Almighty

Gerritt W Gong

194 years since the restoration of the gospel!

Things will work together for our good

Sometimes we just need to have someone there when we’re upset – and that someone can always be God

Trusting the Lord can include trusting Him with our suffering and anger and misery

When we work together for good, we minister as Jesus Christ would

Spiritual First Responders

Going from neighbors who bring cookies to trusted friends

What happened there and then can bless us here and now

Michael T. Nelson

We can be trustworthy, beloved leaders of youth like Helaman and the stripling warriors: build relationships with them, council them, support them

Parents have a primary responsibility for teaching their children

No one serves in the church alone

Heavenly Father wants us to reach out to others, including the youth

Help them learn who they really are through how you feel about them

Follow promptings, even though we’re not perfect, to build relationships of love and trust

No program can replace the influence of loving, covenant keeping adults

How Great the Wisdom and the Love

Quinten L Cook

My focus should be on the Savior and on the Saviors Atonement

We are all children of a loving Heavenly Father

The Savior is the Keeper of the Gate

And He is the one who also pleads in our behalf

Being one with Christ = loving and building community

Requirements for baptism are uniquely simple – repenting before God

D&C 25 basic doctrine of the restored Church

All are invited to partake of the Lords Goodness and all are alike unto God

None are forbidden

All accountable persons are required to atone for their sins

All have a choice – all have agency

Essential to the plan of salvation

All are able to use their agency and ACT

Exercise our moral agency to choose Christ and keep His commandments

2 Nephi 26:33

Both poor and rich have the same spiritual requirements

Many things occur of which we have little to no control

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.” - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Without agency we could not learn, progress, or choose immortal life

We Will Sing of Zion

[thegospelofstjohn]

"The Ishvara." From the Gospel of Saint John, 13: 10-11.

Simon Peter, our doppelganger for Self-Realization tells Jesus he wants to know El, "all of it, everything", via the washing of the entire corpus in his possession. Follwing is His reply, stating without "ritual cleanliness" the Corpus cannot be washed, not even by God.

10 Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” 11 For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean.

Cleanliness called Kashrut is an agonizing topic in the Torah if one does not know what one is doing. I have made it simple and entertaining, even the kids will enjoy being clean.

Observe:

Dirty: The Number is 593, ךץג, תכציג, tachatzig, "being present."

Clean: The Number is 69, סט‎, set, "the foundation of Ishvara" or equanimity, explained as the product of "where we sit." We can sit on our butts or on our heads. The Zohar says we should sit on our heads:

"Noun שה (seh) denotes a sheep or goat. This word appears to be like our word "head" as it describes a unit of whatever flock or herd. This noun is sometimes spelled alternatively as שי (shay)."

Which kinds of thoughts are herded into the mind and where determines the level of dirtiness, or Presence. Jesus says independence, called Sukkah (mentioned in the previous frame) depends on the kinds of thoughts fed into the Corpus.

If one thinks inaccurate things, or does wrong more periodically than prescribed, one must wash the Corpus, the body of knowledge that is leading one astray and chance the essence of the Presence.

The Value in Gematria is 15509, י״הךט, "underneath will be suppressed."

A suppression is similar to computer programming language. When one codes, one can suppress certain variables and streamline the data the server will return in response to the code string. Everyone views the Kashrut as a way of suppressing the bottom, but the truth is it is a way to open the floodgates up at the top of the mind.

Ex.

Clean animals have split hooves and chew the cud. The Kabbalah says they can handle learning and applying knowledge, this is the split hoof, and chewing the cud means they do not take 'the grass' they chew literally, they mull things over.

Unclean animals are like "shellfish."

Watch this...a goat is clean, a scallop is not. Scallops are bivalves, they eat shit and spit it out. They obviously are not at all like goats which chew the cud. Goats climb up, scallops sit there and do nothing. Goats speak, scallops open their mouths but say nothing, then they clam up.

Goat=248, ר‎םח, ramach, "a spear". A spear is a lawfully good person, one who can connect his mind to his elsewhere.

Scallop=244, ר‎םד, ramd, "arrogant, self-aggrandizing, does not respond to authority, wormy."

So to be clean, one must read what I have written and "seek an appointment with a goat, the essence of Ishvara, forsaking the company of the wicked, nasty, evil scallop."

Thus if one observes the Kashrut properly and attains to ritual cleanliness, one automatically exorcises the Chaos 12, the "impurities" contained in improper interpretations of the Haftorah.

And those people you hear screaming all day long about raping people, having sex with little kids, stating Israel belongs to them, who show no equanimity or self-control at all...they do not know God and He does not know them. Turn your face away from them and face the sun.

We cannot and indeed do not naturally give in to the yearning of the Self for the Light, but somehow John, whoever he was did it, and explained how. Humankind will surely benefit if it follows him to the end. The Gospel, therefore will continue.

[christian-perspectives]

Righteousness And Goodness: Is There a Difference?

As Christians, we have responsibilities to both God and people. With that in mind, we must focus on living a life of righteousness and goodness. What does that mean? Righteousness comes from maintaining an obedient relationship with God. According to Peter, treating others gently and respectfully results in a life of goodness. But do this in a gentle and respectful way. Keep your conscience clear. Then if people speak against you, they will be ashamed when they see what a good life you live because you belong to Christ. 1 Peter 3:16 That definition of goodness holds true in most circles and cultures of life. People usually don't speak ill of those who fit that definition. Thus, Peter asked a valid but rhetorical question. Now, who will want to harm you if you are eager to do good? 1 Peter 3:13 Most of us know people we consider good. They offer help when they see a need and will stand by us when we face despair. I often hear people described by others as a "good person." Most people we rub shoulders with fit into our definition of good. Goodness, however, stops when we breathe our last breath. This is where righteousness and goodness differ. Being a good person doesn't automatically make them a person of righteousness. Righteous comes from the root word "right," which branches off into many definitions. One source defines righteous as morally right or justifiable. Others refer to it as correct, perfect, proper, sure, and true. Our society doesn't agree on many of the things that define righteousness.

Being Righteous Defines God's People

Righteousness doesn't define those who don't have a relationship with God. But their lives can reflect goodness to others. God, though, expects the trait of goodness to reside in Christians. The Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things! Galatians 5:22-23 Goodness grows in our lives through our relationship with the Lord. Righteousness, on the other hand, becomes a part of us because of our relationship with Him. The simple biblical definition of righteous means doing what is right in God's eyes. Unlike goodness, a person of righteousness may receive the opposite of praise from others. But even if you suffer for doing what is right, God will reward you for it. So don't worry or be afraid of their threats. 1 Peter 3:14 Our hope as believers revolves around the fact that we will spend eternity with our Savior Jesus. The world doesn't understand that, so Peter said we must stay ready to explain our hope. Instead, you must worship Christ as Lord of your life. And if someone asks about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it. . 1 Peter 3:15 So, how do we explain it? Do we bluntly tell them if they don't accept Jesus into their lives, they will burn in hell forever? That sounds more like righteous indignation than an explanation. It certainly points to the truth but lacks gentleness and completely misses respectfulness. We should give the facts of salvation by coming from the other direction.

What Causes Our Righteousness?

Our righteousness comes from the love of God. He loved us so much that He gave His only Son to die so we can live. By accepting what Jesus did on the cross, you can spend eternity with Him. Those who don't accept Him will completely miss the righteousness of God. Instead, they will suffer eternal separation from the Lord in total darkness and torment. Peter probably learned that hitting someone over the head with the gospel usually doesn't effectively reach them. People also can frown upon us sharing salvation gently and respectably. Peter personally witnessed Jesus give the Great Commission. After his encounter with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, he continuously applied that Commission. It didn't matter how people responded. God will reward you, whether you suffer vocal persecution or a physical altercation, for works of righteousness. You can, however, bring shame to them, not by a rebuttal, but by doing good. Some Christians and even some denominations feel we must suffer for God. The New Testament mentions suffering comes because of persecution from the world more than any other reason. Remember, it is better to suffer for doing good, if that is what God wants, than to suffer for doing wrong! 1 Peter 3:17 In other words, God justifies when Christians suffer because of their righteousness. But if they suffer because of wrongdoing, they deserve the punishment they receive. The secular world today criticizes Christians because of many questionable actions. The behavior and attitude of these so-called Christians exhibit to the world a warped view of righteousness.

How Do We Live a Life of Goodness and Righteousness?

Peter described in this chapter how we should live a life of goodness and righteousness. It comes down to two things. Our relationship with God through Jesus must always come first. The second way we display our righteousness comes down to how good we treat one another. Peter explained exactly what that should look like and the attitude that should accompany it. - All of you should be of one mind. - Sympathize with each other. - Love each other as brothers and sisters. - Be tenderhearted, and keep a humble attitude. - Don't repay evil for evil. - Don't retaliate with insults when people insult you. - Instead, pay them back with a blessing. - That is what God has called you to do, and he will grant you his blessing. 1 Peter 3:8-9 Lord, we don't want to conform to this world, but many of us need to change our attitudes. Therefore help us to please you by living a life of righteousness. Check out these related posts on getting your life right with God - How To Be A Remnant Of God - Jesus Is The Ultimate Sacrifice For All Eternity - Receiving Salvation In The Lord Is Made Easy - Who Can Be Saved? - Born Into The Family Of God Read the full article

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

Falstaff Cawkwell was a legend in his own mind.

He had constructed an elaborate world for himself, a world where his opinions were gospel and his intellectual pursuits unmatched. In his mind, he was not just a physician; he was a beacon of high voltage enlightenment shining upon a sea of ignorance. Yet, on the crowded streets he wandered, past people who rushed by without a second glance, his warnings went unnoticed. He was a ghost among the living, invisible except to those who might take pity on his lonely, solitary alienation or find amusement in his off kilter stride.

He passed through the city; a specter, muttering to himself about theories and ideas that no one cared to hear. He had the air of a man who had convinced himself that the world should revolve around him, and yet, it stubbornly refused to do so.

He had come to think of himself as an unappreciated philosopher, a misunderstood savant whose work would one day be celebrated—when the world finally caught up. For now, however, he was malcontent to remain a quiet observer, more comfortable in his own mind than in any available social space.

One evening, as he wandered down a crowded street, he spotted a group of young people gathered around a street artist sketching portraits. The artist’s hand moved quickly, capturing faces with startling precision. Falstaff found himself drawn to the spectacle, his gaze fixed on the young woman sitting as the subject of the latest portrait. She was strikingly beautiful, with sharp cheekbones and a confident smile, and Falstaff imagined that her life, at least in the eyes of the world, was defined by the image she projected.

The artist addressed her as Haylen.

As Cawkwell observed the scene, an unsettling thought struck him. What if he, too, had a portrait, a mental sketch, painted by the world? What if people could see him the way he saw himself—not through the lens of his physical appearance, but through the intricate, elaborate framework of his mind? How would the world respond to him then? He could practically feel his ideas swirling like a serpent of smoke, begging to be released, to be acknowledged.

When the sketch was completed the artist showed it to Haylen who beamed a level three smile at the artist and a well rehearsed. level one smile at Cawkwell.

Falstaff's thoughts were interrupted when a voice called out to him. The artist holding his sketchpad, stepped toward Cawkwell, a curious look in his eyes.

"Excuse me, sir, would you mind if I drew you? You’ve got a captivating look."

Haylen elevated her smile to level two. It was apparent that the artist and his model were in cahoots

Falstaff was caught off guard. For a moment, he hesitated. The artist clearly saw something in him, some characteristic he hadn’t noticed in himself. Perhaps it was his posture, his slanted way of carrying himself, or perhaps the way his eyes seemed to capsize everything around him. But whatever it was, it was enough to make the artist curious.

And cause Halen to enchant.

The voice belonged to Jacques LaPlumer.

Falstaff considered LaPlumer a buffoon of the lowest order who wasted his meager gifts on street corners, dive bars and hallucinogenic Halloween parties.

Today, though, there was a shift. As Falstaff passed, the "artist" looked up, his eyes locking with Falstaff’s in a brief moment of mutual recognition. The artist’s gaze wasn’t one of indifference. It wasn’t even one of curiosity. It was something else. There was something in the artist’s eyes that made Falstaff pause.

“Would you mind if I drew your portrait?” Jacques repeated, his voice casual but with a hint of something deeper, something Falstaff couldn’t quite place.

Was it mockery? Was it discovery. Was it a truth or a dare?

For a moment, Falstaff hesitated. He had never been one to indulge the whims of strangers nor encourage bedraggled street stragglers. But today, something in the "artist’s" steady gaze made him wonder—what would it be like, just for once, to be seen? To be captured in a moment, not for his theories or his brilliant mind, but simply as a man.

Why the hell not.

He nodded, settling onto the stoop, his back straight, his chest puffed out slightly in the way of a man who believed that every action he took was meaningful.

As LaPlumer sketched, Falstaff’s thoughts drifted. He thought about his academic triumphs, his countless unpublished articles, his lectures that had enthralled only himself. He thought about his legacy—how he imagined it would unfold in grand books, in libraries, in the minds of future generations who would appreciate him in ways that the current world did not.

Just a matter of time, complexion and connection.

As the artist sketched, Falstaff sat still, aware of the quiet hum of his own thoughts. The pencil moved quickly, the artist's hand drawing lines with an ease that suggested a deep understanding of the craft. Falstaff couldn’t help but wonder what the artist saw. Did he see the depth of his inner world, or was he simply capturing a man who seemed… ordinary?

The portrait, when it was finished, was a strange thing. On the surface, it looked like an ordinary drawing of a man in his mid-thirties, his eyes soft and reflective, his face unremarkable. But the way the artist had captured his posture, the slight tilt of his head, the subtle expression on his face—there was something in it that Falstaff couldn’t quite place. It was as if the portrait had begun to reveal a hint of something deeper, something that could never truly be captured by the eye.

The artist handed him the drawing, his eyes gleaming with a quiet satisfaction. "There you go, sir. Something about you… I don’t know, there’s a story there."

Falstaff looked at the sketch and smiled quietly. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of recognition. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the world saw. Maybe the lines of his thoughts, the complexity of his intellect, were there to be discovered by someone who knew how to look—not just at the surface, but beneath it.

There was something in the simplicity of the moment, in the quiet observation, that unsettled Falstaff. This man, this stranger, saw him—not as a genius or a legend, but simply as a perplexing character in a preposterous world. And for a fleeting second, Falstaff wondered if that was the simple recognition that he had been craving all along.

The portrait finished, the artist looked up at him, a small, knowing smile crossing his lips. "You're not as invisible as you think," he said, his words light but carrying weight.

Haylen nodded parumpapum pum.

Cawkwell paid and paid dearly

He thanked the artist and walked away, the sketch tucked under his arm. As he moved through the streets, unnoticed as ever, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, perhaps, just for a moment, someone had seen him—not the ordinary man walking through the crowd—but the unseen world of ideas that lived quietly within him.

As he retreated, the "artist"’s words lingered in his mind, unsettling him more than he wanted to admit.

Not as invisible as I think.

He turned to look back hoping that Haylen had turned her head to follow his retreat but no she was already posing for yet another portrait as a man Cawkwell recognized as Thornton Krell looked on, obviously impressed by the virtuosity of LaPlumer's vision and lured by the leveling enticement of the model.

Cawkwell returned to his office, a narrow space tucked away in a building that seemed to mirror the isolation he had come to embrace. The air inside was heavy with the musty scent of old books, spilled beer, bitterness and stale coffee. It was a space that reflected him—cluttered yet organized, filled with volumes of philosophy, history, and science that no one else ever seemed to notice. His small desk, a relic from another time, was covered in papers, half-finished manuscripts, and an assortment of pens—some inked, some dried out, all forgotten until the next urgent thought demanded attention.

Yes it was a mess but within that mess, Cawkwell knew the exact location of every morsel of debris.

He kicked off his shoes, sinking into his armchair by the window. The streets outside were bustling, as always, with the noise of a city that always yawned but never slept. The moment with the "artist" still echoed in his mind, like the faintest whisper of something that might have once been meaningful but had now slipped just beyond his grasp.

With a sigh, he picked up the well-worn copy of Frankenstein from the pile of books beside him. It wasn’t the first time he had read it; in fact, it was a book he had returned to many times over the years. He had often thought of it as a kind of mirror—a reflection of his own obsessive pursuits, his own endless striving for knowledge and recognition, and yet the novel had never failed to unsettle him.

Cawkwell opened the book to the first page, his eyes skimming the familiar lines. “You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.” He paused, staring at the words, feeling them in the pit of his stomach as he always did. The opening letter from Robert Walton was a reminder of ambition—of someone so determined to achieve greatness that they were willing to sacrifice sanity for it.

The monster in Frankenstein had been driven by the same burning need for recognition, for purpose, for acceptance. He was a creation—an amalgamation of discarded parts stitched together by someone who saw only the potential for greatness in his experiment, never the consequences. Was he not, in some way, like Cawkwell himself? Wasn’t his life an ongoing experiment, a pursuit of intellectual glory that had cost him his relationships, his connection to the world, his very humanity?

He turned the page, lost in thought. Cawkwell was not a scientist, not a creator of life—but his agile mind, like Victor Frankenstein’s, was a place where ideas could take root and grow into obsessions. He had created a world in his head where his intellect mattered more than anything else, where his ideas could, one day, improve the world. But what was the cost? He wondered, as his eyes moved over the words of Shelley. How many others had been forgotten in his pursuit of clarification. His wife, his colleagues, even his students—all had fallen away, victims to his unyielding belief in his own genius.

And then there was the matter of LaPlumer. The man who had seen him, really seen him, without the layers of his intellect or self-constructed legend. The fleeting moment of visibility had unsettled him, more than he wanted to admit. It was as though the artist’s simple, unpretentious gaze had pierced through the armor of his self-importance, revealing something raw, obvious and vulnerable. Something that Cawkwell had long buried beneath his theories, his disappointments, his guitar and his books.

He found himself reading the words again, the same passage where the monster confronts Frankenstein: “I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had deprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.”

The monster had been abandoned, rejected by the very creator who had given him life. Was this the path Cawkwell was on? Was he so consumed with his own aspirations that he had become blind to the needs of others? Was he, too, crafting a life of sterile, self reverential achievement, while ignoring the very thing that made it meaningful—connection?

He set the book down, rubbing his temples. The air in the apartment felt heavier now, the Karloffian weight of his own thoughts was pressing down on him again. He wasn’t sure what he was searching for in Frankenstein—answers, perhaps, or just a way to make sense of his own growing doubts. The legend of Falstaff Cawkwell was beginning to feel more like a hollow echo, a story that had lost its resonance. He had spent years constructing a myth, but now, the cracks were starting to show.

He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. "What am I doing?" he wondered. The question was quiet, but it lingered in the air, hanging between him and the empty room. For the first time in a long while, he was unsure of the answer.

Falstaff leaned back in his chair, the worn pages of Frankenstein forgotten for the moment, his mind shifting again to the frustrations of his interactions with those who seemed incapable of grasping the intricacies of his thoughts. It was a problem he had faced for years, an ongoing struggle that had only deepened with time. Conversations, for him, were not merely exchanges of words, but complex, layered dialogues that required a certain level of intellectual rigor. And yet, it was in these very exchanges that he often found himself most exasperated.

He recalled his most recent conversation with Ice Rivers, an informal patient who stopped into the "orfice" now and again. Rivers, a man of middling intellect and scribbler of impulses, had been blabbering on about some trivial observation on the latest developments in cinematic literacy, when Cawkwell had attempted to steer the discussion toward the broader implications of creativity—its moral and philosophical ramifications, the responsibility of the creator in the age of technological advancement. But Rivers, as always, had only nodded vacantly, his mind unable to follow the thread of the conversation. His response had been a mindless reiteration of trivial facts and cultural vulturism, as though facts and fabrications alone were sufficient to solve the grandest questions of existence.

“How does one explain the deeper significance of knowledge to someone who can only grasp its surface?” Falstaff thought, his mind circling in frustration. “What is the point of engaging with the uninitiated if they are content with their ignorance?”

It wasn’t just Rivers. It was everyone—students, acquaintances, even the briefest encounters with strangers. His thoughts were like electronic frequencies, Hendrix solos intricately composed and rich with nuance, but these minds—these poor, limited minds—were incapable of riding the wavelength. Instead, they grasped at fragments of his ideas, interrupting him before he could finish his thoughts or placing them into contexts that rendered them incoherent. He would speak of the nature of consciousness, for instance, or the ethical dimensions of scientific progress, and the short-circuited response would inevitably be something disconnected, like the value of a well-made coffee or the latest gossip about some trivial athletic scandal.

Even his wife had been prone to this. She would sit with him at the dinner table, her gaze distant, her mind wrapped in the mundane details of home life. He would attempt to explain the latest epiphany he had reached, how a breakthrough in his thinking had led him to reconsider the very nature of existence, only for her to interrupt with a question about the state of the laundry or whether he had remembered to call the plumber.

“Can they not see?” he wondered. “Am I so alien in my pursuits? Is this the price one pays for knowledge? For depth?”

The more he pondered it, the more his own sense of isolation deepened. In the act of engaging with others, he often found himself forced to simplify, to dumb down his thoughts, or to explain things in ways that felt like betrayal. The sheer tedium of repeating the same explanations, the frustration of watching his ideas be reduced to paltry and mundane pablum—it gnawed at him, making him resentful of those who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, understand.

It was this inability to connect that had fueled his retreat into the realm of books and ideas. Here, in the silent company of philosophers and scientists, he could be at peace. There was no need for interruptions, no need for explanations. His thoughts could unfold without hindrance, spiraling outward into the vast expanse of possibility.

He thought back to the "artist" from earlier that day, the one who had seen him without the filters of expectation or the biases of the academic world. The artist had spoken not in terms of intellect, but in terms of visibility—of a raw, unrefined engagement with the world. The "conversation" had been as awkward as brief, clumsy even but there had been a moment of connection, a flicker of something that went beyond the intellectual exchange he so craved. Could this be what he had been missing all along?

The idea seemed absurd at first. But as he sat there, staring at the book in his hands, a faint glimmer of realization began to emerge. Perhaps it wasn’t just the intellectual conversation he needed. Perhaps he had been so focused on the pursuit of higher knowledge that he had overlooked the simple, human need for understanding—understanding not in the sense of dissection and analysis, but in the quiet, compassionate observations that required no grand theories or complicated explanations.

He put the book down and stared out the window, lost in thought. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than the precision of intellectual debate or the pulsation of electrifying thought.

But that notion didn’t settle easily. It fought against the very core of his invisble being.

How could he, after all these years of training his mind, of forging his identity around the pursuit of intellect, simply abandon his quest for deeper understanding? He wasn’t sure, but the question lingered in the back of his mind, like a niche he couldn’t quite scratch.

Then it came to him, like a beta wave of clarity in the midst of his frustration. If he wrote his thoughts down, there would be no interruptions. No one could cut him off, misunderstand him, or force his words into a context he hadn’t intended. His mind, so accustomed to the friction of inadequate, contradictory conversation, could finally have the space it needed to unfold, uninterrupted and unfiltered.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he rose from his chair and moved towards the desk. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, an eager anticipation building in his chest. He cracked his knuckles with a deliberate slowness, savoring the moment of potential. Here was his escape, his refuge. Words on a screen, each one his own, each one a pure expression of his mind—no one to interrupt, no one to distort his meaning.

He sat down at the desk, opened his laptop, and began to type.

“Falstaff Cawkwell was a legend in his own mind.”

[leonbloder]

Religion & Science Are Not At Odds

The multitude of studies that have been done over the past few years to determine the cause of so many people identifying as having "no religion" reveals that one of the main reasons is that religion (and Christianity in particular) is "anti-science."  

There's some truth in that assessment, to be fair.  

Because I travel in the Christian lane of religious thought, I can speak with some authority about what I have observed firsthand, and the anti-science voices within Christianity speak loudly and frequently enough to verify that assumption. 

Many Christians assume (because that's what they've been taught) that the Bible should be taken literally, even the parts that weren't taken literally by the originators who passed them down thousands of years ago. 

Perhaps unknowingly, Christians who adopt this stance have entered into a centuries-old debate that goes back to St. Augustine, who wrote about this in 415 AD.  

Augustine wrote that to believe the book of Genesis was a factual account of the creation of the cosmos did violence to the Gospel.  He went on to say this: 

If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven, when they think their pages are full of falsehoods on facts which they themselves have learnt from experience and the light of reason?

I've always found it interesting that many thought leaders within the "literally true" camp love to refer to St. Augustine to bolster their theological beliefs, but they always seem to leave out his writings on biblical literalism.  

Why am I writing about this today?  Well, I feel like this is one of those topics that deserves some deeper thought by all of us.  Our world is becoming increasingly divided over issues like this, and we must know how to respond. 

Some of us struggle to answer our friends, co-workers, and loved ones who might believe Christianity is a "one-trick-pony" regarding "foolish opinions about our books."  

We don't know how to counter the arguments of people who claim that they reject religion because it is incompatible with science.  So, most of us go silent.  We don't have to, though.  

Some sixty years ago, the philosopher Alan Watt had this to say about the science/religion conflict: 

The clash between science and religion has not shown that religion is false and science is true.  It has shown that all systems of definition are relative to various purposes, and that none of them actually “grasp” reality. 

The fact is there is enough mystery to go around within the spheres of both science and religion.  Each has its own foggy regions that are unknown, and each struggles to grasp reality.  

As it turns out, God defies all of our attempts to explain God. 

You can be a Christian and embrace science.  A great many texts from the Bible that so many Christians want to take literally were not meant to be.  The truth within them transcended the "facts," and the authors were fine with that. 

You can also be a science-minded person and embrace Christianity.  Christians are not single-minded on biblical literalism; many believe in embracing the considerable truths within the mystery of our faith. 

May we find new ways of knowing and seeing grounded in the mysteries of what we don't know, even as our faith seeks understanding.  

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.  

[stpaullutheranchurch]

march 19 2023

2023 Lent 4, March 19th

Old Testament: Isaiah 42:14-21

Psalm: Psalm 142

Epistle: Ephesians 5:8-14

Gospel: John 9:1-41

Sermon Text: John 9

Sermon Title: “Do you see”?

Grace to you and peace, from God the Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

From our Gospel text this morning; “Jesus answered, it was not because this man sinned, or his parents, that he was born blind, but that the works of God might be displayed in him”. (John 9:3) “And there was a division among them”. (John 9:16b) “And they reviled the blind man”. (John 9:28a) “You were born in utter sin … and they cast him out”. (John 9:34) “Jesus said to them, if you were blind, you would have no guilt; but now that you say, We see; your guilt remains”. (John 9:41)

The last two Sundays, we have heard Jesus’ speak of the need to be born again (in John 3) and to worship God in spirit and truth. (in John 4) Today, He encounters a man born blind and brings him from darkness to light; both physically by giving him physical sight, but more importantly spiritually, by bearing witness to Himself as both Son of God and Son of Man.

I am sure you have heard the term Karma. It is a term used quite frequently in our culture. For example, whenever something bad happens to someone, their opponents/enemies often say it is karma, meaning they are suffering because of something they did wrong. To speak of it briefly, karma is basically the idea that what goes around comes around, that in this life, people always, eventually get what they deserve.

But Karma is not a Christian idea at all; it is an eastern or Hindu idea which is also related to reincarnation; another non-Christian idea that denies the bodily resurrection. For example, in this philosophy, people who are born in extreme poverty or with a severe illness or disability are seen as suffering for something they did in a previous life.

Again, this way of thinking is not biblical. Recall how much Job suffered, losing almost his entire family and all of his property, even though Scripture called him “blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil”. (Job 1:1b) Jesus deals with this in another context as well, when He is asked about a tower that fell and killed 18 people in Jerusalem. Jesus responded, “Do not think that these were worse offenders than all the others who dwelt in Jerusalem … but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish”. (Luke 13:4b-5) So, we should not automatically assume that because something bad happens it is a direct result of a particular sin; sometimes things happen because we live in a fallen world.

Therefore, in our text this morning Jesus clearly condemns this idea that had also crept even into the disciples’ way of thinking. “As He passed by, Jesus saw a man born blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, Rabbi, who sinned; this man or his parents, that he was born blind? Jesus answered; It was not that this man sinned or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him”, (John 9:1-3) delivering the man from physical and spiritual darkness. So, God is at work in the lives of His saints, even when things are not the way we would like; even through illness, suffering, persecution, and the like.

Jesus continued, “We must work the works of Him who sent Me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world. Having said these things, Jesus spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva. Then He anointed the man’s eyes with the mud and said to him, Go and wash in the pool of Siloam … so he went and washed and came back seeing”. (John 9:4-7)

You might think that this healing would make many people happy, but that was not the case. The man gave credit to Jesus for his healing, but shortly afterwards, “they brought to the Pharisees, the man who had formerly been blind. Now, it was the Sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes”. (John 9:13-14) “Some of the Pharisees said, this Man (Jesus) is not from God, for He does not keep the Sabbath. But others said, how can a man who is a sinner do such signs? And there was a division among them”. (John 9:16) In the previous chapter, some of the Jews had already taken sides against Him and “picked up stones to throw at Jesus”. (John 8:59a)

They continue their interrogation of the man born blind. The Pharisees are not looking for the truth, they are looking for a way to blame Jesus and trying to drag this man into their scheme. They had ruled out giving Jesus any credit for something good, so they tried to discredit the testimony of the man Jesus healed.

Many of the “Jews did not believe the man had been born blind and then received his sight, until they called the parents … who said, We know this is our son and that he was born blind, but how he sees, we do not know … ask him, he is of age. He will speak for himself. His parents said these things because they feared the Jews, for they had already agreed that if anyone should confess Jesus as the Christ, they would be thrown out of the synagogue”. (John 9:18-22)

Sadly, even his own parents, who knew what had happened, did not defend their son because of fear of being thrown out of the synagogue. The Pharisees continue to intimidate “the man who had been born blind and said to him, Give glory to God. We know this Man (Jesus) is a sinner … He answered … one thing I know, I was blind, now I see”. (John 9:24b-25) Here you see the cost of following Jesus. All he did was passively receive healing from Jesus and now he is the enemy of nearly everyone; denied by his parents and attacked by the religious authorities.

The pharisees again ask the man how he was healed and he responds with confidence/courage and even a bit of sarcasm; “I have told you already and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become His disciples? And they reviled him”. (John 9:27-28a) They claimed, “we know God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where He comes from”. (John 9: 29) They hated this man, simply because he testified of Jesus.

This saying amazed the man who continued to speak of what Jesus had done for him. “You do not know where He comes from and yet this Man opened my eyes … Never since the world began, has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, He could do nothing”. (John 9:30, 32-33) This new believer did not whither under the attacks of the Pharisees, but rather grew stronger.

This was too much for the Pharisees, “They answered him, You were born in utter sin and you would teach us? And they cast him out (of the synagogue)”. (John 9:34) When Jesus heard what had happened, He found the man and said to him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man? He answered, and who is HE sir, that I may believe in Him? Jesus said to him, you have seen Him and it is He who is speaking to you. He said to Jesus, Lord, I believe, and he worshipped Him”. (John 9:35b-38) Moments earlier he had confessed Jesus as a prophet from God, but now he worships Him as Lord and God.

Jesus said, For judgment I came into the world, that those who do not see may see and that those who see may become blind”. (John 9:39) Jesus came to save the world, but those who reject His salvation also bring everlasting condemnation upon themselves. Knowing that Jesus had spoken these words against them, “some of the Pharisees said to Him; Are we also blind”? (John 9:39-40)

They did not like the direct answer that Jesus gave them. “Jesus said to them, if you were blind, you would have no guilt, but now that you say, we see; your guilt remains”. (John 9:41) They stubbornly insisted that they were right and that everyone else was wrong about Jesus. If they had simply acknowledged their spiritual blindness, Jesus would have healed them too; but since they refused His gracious gift, they remain in their sins. The same is true for any of us who refuse to admit their need for Christ.

All of us are naturally born enemies of God; spiritually deaf and blind; unable to see and hear and believe the Gospel on our own. But God sent His only Son to this wicked world to redeem sinners; to purchase and win the forgiveness of their sins by His atoning death on the cross. He graciously offers salvation, the forgiveness of sins and the gift of eternal life through the hearing of His perfect, inerrant Word and the receiving of the sacraments; by the power of the Holy Spirit. We who believe in Christ are a new creation in Christ Jesus.

Paul wrote that we all were at one time in the darkness of unbelief, but as a new creation, “you are light in the Lord. (So) Walk as children of the light, for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true … and take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness”. (Ephesians 5:8b-9, 11a) So, by daily contrition and repentance, we strive to live this new life in Christ, that He has given to us as a free gift. We do not make excuses for our spiritual blindless, but rather when we sin, we confess it and receive absolution. This is the free gift of God for all who believe in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

The peace of God …

[ignitesthestxrs]

are you a kiwi? I'm american myself, but honestly feel like I haven't seen enough kiwis talk about the locked tomb (though i think im partly just missing most of the discourse anyway somehow??)..

if you ever feel like layin out some more thoughts ab tlt id love to read em! <3

i am a kiwi! there is a small but thriving kiwi sf/f community, but overall people are not...terribly online, or terribly into fiction lol. i definitely know there are kiwi fans of the series out there but in general i can imagine most of them simply not wanting to get into it. i don't really want to get into it! i just saw a reply on a post i reblogged and lost my mind about it for a couple of seconds.

as a pākehā/white kiwi i am like, both protective of these books, critical of them, and kind of ill-equipped to be the person criticising how māori characters and māoritanga/māori culture is depicted in them.

tamsyn muir is a pākehā author writing māori characters that she didn't initially identify as such getting like,,,increasingly more māori in depiction as the books go on and she learns more about the general consensus on how white people should write characters of colour. and those māori characters are involved in instituting, recreating, participating in a uh....very roman? sort of societal structure? and in the latest book there's this further māorification of Jod while also depicting him as a radical under fire from the government in a compound, and act which has both deep historical and very recent (2007!!)roots in aotearoa nz culture.

this māorification of gideon too with the prince kiriona stuff is also: something. what is it? i don't know. i don't think it's Cancellable Offense Bad, or even bad at all. but there's an overall freedom of mishmashing aspects of kiwi and māori culture into a broader sf/f context that muir has kind of taken it upon herself to perform, when ultimately it's not her who should have been the person who got to do it, you know? the structural racism of the global publishing industry means that a pākehā writer can step up onto that stage with an ease and popularity that a māori writer is going to have institutional difficulty accessing in the same way. do i think carl tor editor picks up these books if they're written by a brown author? idk man

and then on the flip side - this is a part of her lived experience too. as a pākehā writer, choosing to write, do you include your pākehā-ness? your kiwi-ness? choosing to do that, do you include your knowledge and understanding of te ao māori/the māori world? are you stealing or are you sharing? what is yours to share in the first place?

these are questions that i think every pākehā writer should ask themselves as they're writing and they're also questions that i don't think have a Correct Answer, or even an answer full stop. they're things that i think muir started asking around book 3 lol which is a very better late than never kind of thing, but it's also clear as the books go on that she's laying down her road as she runs on it, so to speak.

i think muir is Trying In Public, which is a deeply vulnerable thing to do, but also, she is right now a very popular pākehā writer introducing māori character and culture to a broader audience, many who have not encountered any of this before, in an environment where very few māori writers have an opportunity to do the same.

so when that broader american audience comes and picks up what muir has put down and then unthinkingly applies their own american cultural lens to what they have in their hands - it's weird, right? it's weird in ways that many (i generalise - not all, obviously, there are also many americans who do have global context) americans can't understand, because those americans don't live in a world where they are outsiders on the global stage. even americans who understand that the rest of the world is not america have not necessarily experienced that in a way that is intrinsic, intuitive.

the world is shaped by america, either by its presence or by its absence. so when a pākehā writer creates māori characters and uses te reo māori/the māori language in her work, which then gets read and used and consumed by an american audience as though it is a creation that belongs in their worldview - it becomes disconnected entirely from the source muir borrowed, or stole from, or grew up with. it forces the conversation into this place of whether or not the americans playing with this particular doll know what they're doing or where the doll came from or why it's a doll anyway, instead of like, why has muir made this doll and should she have and are there other people making dolls, or are other people making different things entirely.

links to some sf/f by māori writers:

THE DAWNHOUNDS by Sascha Stronach

LEGACY by Whiti Hereaka

WATCHED by Tihema Baker

PŪRAKAU, ed. Witi Ihimaera and Whiti Hereka

GUARDIAN MAIA

[misscrazyfangirl321]

I feel like we as Christians should be very careful how we respond to people who have religious trauma. I know that we hear it thrown around in contexts like “My parents made me go to Church as a kid even though I didn’t want to” so much that it feels a little like Tumblr using the word “gaslighting,” but-much like actual gaslighting-religious trauma is a very serious thing.

We should take it at least as seriously as anyone else does, if not more. Think about it: Someone who should have met the God we know-the loving God, the God who saved us-and instead, someone used His Words and His Name to harm them. 

Now, I’m not saying that God is loving but not just; He is loving in a way that calls people away from sin. Absolutely. We should not try to sell some cheap “God just wants us to be happy” version of the Gospel that waters down God’s incredible holiness and incredible grace. 

And yes, people’s faith should be in God, not in Christians, but we are called to be representatives of God on Earth. That means speaking the truth, but it also means never abandoning love. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth, yes. 

But never forget: love is also kind. 

[nerdygaymormon]

hey david i uhhhh got into a fight with my mom bc she said sth homophobic and i asked for an apology and she tried to justify it by telling me being gay is a subconscious choice made by people with sexual trauma and now i'm in my brother's room crying and could really use some love from someone who Gets It

Let's talk about your mom. This church taught her that there's no such thing as gay people, that all those gay people are actually straight and something happened to them. She heard this taught for decades. And if they would just want to be straight, and pretend to be straight, they would eventually return to being straight and have all the blessings of the gospel and get to live wholesome, productive lives.

Over the decades, when the Church makes changes in how it views and treats queer people, they don't make a big announcement. At some point they could no longer defend their ideas for what turns people gay, so they changed to simply saying they had no opinion on the matter. For at least a decade after the church said it no longer encouraged mixed-orientation marriage, local leaders hadn't heard the message and continued encouraging gay people to marry straight people.

While I don't excuse your mom, she has a queer child and should've been more interested in queer topics, I can understand why she made the comments she did. And those are really hurtful because she basically said you're defective and should be ashamed & seeking help to become "normal" like her and other straight people. It's totally dismissive of your identity and experience and the truth you know.

————————————————————

Let me speak directly to you.

Being queer is a gift. It brings a different and important way of viewing the world. Being queer makes you especially empathetic to others who are in emotional & spiritual pain. Being queer is as though you've been given more colors of the rainbow and that lets you create things that inspire and challenge the wider world.

Unfortunately, the world fears that which is different. And that which it fears, it oppresses. The fear comes from misunderstanding, and if they understood us, they would raise us up, not push us down. What we have to offer the world is more kindness, more peace, more art, more stories, more humor, more empathy, more cooperation.

God says that even though our parents might abandon us, God will never (Psalms 27:10). God is with us no matter what our church says (Isaiah 43:1). Being queer isn’t the problem, it’s the broken and defective way people respond to queer people. That is a reflection on them, not us, just as your mom's words are really about her and her beliefs, not any truth about you. In fact, what she said is the opposite of what any Christian should do if they are trying to love others.

You are loved, you are cherished, you are being cheered on, you are valued and a blessing

[sunflowerdjarin]

Fire Escapes

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: “You know I don’t like heights, right?” + “Then why did you come out here?”

Warnings: Mention of heights, big mentions of commitment to all my fellow commitmentphobes

A/N: I did not plan this fic and you can tell

You sighed as you were greeted by Diego’s empty apartment as well as an open window in the kitchen. You climbed out onto the rickety fire escape, “You know I don’t like heights, right?” You muttered as you felt the metal shift beneath your feet. Diego sat with his back in the corner as if he wasn’t on a piece of metal from the 1910s that held him 30 feet off the ground. “Then why did you come out here?” Diego shot back with a lifted eyebrow as you sat next to him. He was dressed in his casual clothes, some loose fitting sweatpants and a faded t-shirt of some band. “Gotta face your fears sometimes.” You sighed as you sat next to him and sighed. “At least if we fall to our deaths on some fire escape that has violated safety codes for the past 50 years, we die together, right?” You looked up to the dark sky for a moment of comfort only to hear Diego’s light chuckle. 

“To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.” Diego mocked singed, which made part of you so elated to hear Diego’s voice, but the other part of you wanted to wince. “God, you listen to The Smiths? I might need to rethink this whole friendship thing.” You looked over at Diego with your eyebrows knitted together. “I listened to The Smiths in high school, but I do not like Morrisey.” Diego held up his index finger as an interjection. “That’s a big difference.” 

“Huge difference.” You lulled your head to the side to look at him. “Why are you out here?” You asked sincerely as the sound of the busy street in the distance buzzed on. “I just needed a minute for peace and quiet.” Diego answered as he kept looking forward, his pale white scar staring back at you. You nodded with a sigh as you caught an understanding of what he had meant. You began to move back towards the window before you felt Diego grab your hand, “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.” He sounded distressed this time. Diego was never good at expressing his emotions and part of you believed he didn’t know how to even process them at times. 

“I know you didn’t. I’m just going inside to give you some peace and quiet. When you decide to come in we can talk about it or we don’t have to talk about it either. I’m just going to stick around until I know you’re alright.” You nodded at him and he responded with a nod as well as you slid in through the window. Diego felt a warmth spread across his chest as he sat on the fire escape alone. There weren’t many moments where people tried to understand Diego more than they just assumed that they understood him. You and Diego hadn’t been seeing each other long, but yet he saw that you at least tried to understand him. He sat on there with the cool wind greeting his body from all angles, but everything that plagued his mind started to fade away as he heard your footsteps through his apartment. There was a level of comfort in knowing that you were always there with good intentions for him. 

He shifted his body to peer into his apartment to see you sitting on the counter as the coffee maker next to slowly dripped out fresh coffee. He smiled softly to himself as he watched you swing your legs gently making sure not to hit your feet against the cabinets below you. Diego leaned his back against the metal again and took in a deep breath as he listened to the sounds of the city in the distance before climbing through the window. “I’m making coffee.” You said innocently as you remained on the counter. “A man just crawled in through the window and all you’re going to say is that you’re making coffee?” Diego looked at you quizzically as he walked towards you. “Considering you are the one who pays the bills here, I think you should be the one concerned that there’s someone in your kitchen making coffee.” You shot back as you leaned forward and gripped the edge of the counter. 

“I can let that slide considering they are very cute and they make a decent cup of coffee.” Diego replied as he walked up to you on the counter and leaned into you. You immediately took him into your embrace. Diego sighed as he felt one of your hands rub gentle circles on his back and the other one playing with his hair. He could feel himself melt into the embrace. You pressed kisses onto his forehead that was partially exposed as his head found its way into your neck. Diego could feel himself let his guard down. He wasn’t on his toes and ready for a fight. He wasn’t putting up his emotional barriers. He was here, in this moment with you. He was vulnerable and exposed, but he felt safe. He was yours for the safekeeping and you accepted it with open arms. 

He leaned back just far enough so that he could look you in the eyes, “Are you okay?” You took hold of his face scanning for any inconsistencies and evidence that he might not be. “Yeah, I’m perfect.” His voice was warm and inviting, you only heard this tone when it was just him and you. Diego was articulate in everything he said or did even considering his impulsive tendencies. He noticed how you were still looking at him unsure of what he said was the truth. “I have a lot on my mind, but you seem to clear it up anytime you’re around.” He added on in defense which made you smile a little bit. 

You kissed Diego’s forehead gently and Diego could feel the ghost of your lips as he rested his head back into your forehead. His arms moved to scoop you off of the counter. “Where are we going?” You protested as you felt the cool counter disappear from underneath you. “To bed.” Diego said confidently before you pointed to the window. “You left the window open though.” Diego placed you down onto your feet as he moved to shut and lock the window. He looked back to see you pitifully looking at the coffee still in the coffee pot. “I’ll drink it in the morning.” Diego spoke as if he was reading your mind. “It won’t be fresh in the morning though.” You rebutted. 

“Yeah, but it will still be a coffee made by you which automatically makes it good.” Diego tried to bribe you, desperate to get into his warm bed with you. You sat there for a minute before dumping it out, “I’ll make you a fresh cup of coffee in the morning. I’d rather waste it than have you drink stale coffee, Diego.” He listened closely to how his name tumbled from your lips. He had always had mixed feelings about his name. He wasn’t gifted with a name until he was nearly 5. The name Diego felt so personal to him as it was gifted to him from Grace, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel reminded that even from the day he was born he was given a number that ranked how useful he was. When Grace spoke his name it truly felt like his name. When you spoke his name, it felt like gospel. He felt deserving of his name. It was his and it was the only way you knew him, you never knew number two, you only knew Diego. 

“I mean… If you moved in…” Diego toyed as he moved in to hold you again. You turned your head to look at him skeptically. You knitted your eyebrows together, “Are you asking me to move in?” You weren’t expecting this to happen tonight of all nights. You only stopped by Diego’s since you knew he had a long day. Diego staled for a second as he scanned your eyes looking for any unsurity. He could feel the insecurity building up and questioned if he mentioned the idea too soon. “W-Would it be such a bad thing?” Diego flinched at his stutter. He felt a whirlwind of emotions building up in him. You moved in closer to him, you held his cheeks in your hands which caused Diego to finally open his eyes to look at you. He was afraid he was going to be met with a sympathetic look, or even worse a pathetic look. Instead, he saw nothing but warmth and love. It was everything he needed and everything he wanted. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing, not in the slightest.”

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {5/?}

hey! this part is honestly mostly angst? like i think the start of it is ok but the rest is angsty as hell, because pre-bite isaac <333

mostly isaac/reader in this chapter and a little Derek towards the end, also peter but mans can’t talk yet so idk if he counts?

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!! reblogs and comments are so appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: blood, sad thoughts, reader being sad, isaac being sad, mentions of abuse, swearing

FOLKLORE MASTERLIST

Taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom​, @cece-lives-here​, @chocolate-raspberries​, @belsandthings​, @dancing-tacos-23​, @truly-dionysus​, @britty443​, @tanyaherondale​, @furiouspockettoad​, @yunsh-17​, @random-thoughts-003​, @gloomybrieyxb​, @futuristicslimemongerbanana​, @linkpk88​, @big-galaxy-chaos​, @im-a-stranger-thing​, @riaisnotcool​ let me know if you’d like to be added <3

The lights in his room were dim as they always were when you walked in. It’d been nearly two weeks since you’d last visited Peter, between becoming a vampire and trying not to get in a fist fight with Derek every five minutes you hadn’t had the time or energy to visit your favourite Hale.

When your eyes fell on him a strange feeling settled over your chest, you couldn’t quite put your finger on the sensation but if you had to describe it in one word; unsettling. It didn’t deter you from sitting in front of the man the feeling was coming from, though. If you were trapped in your own body you’d probably feel a little unsettled too.

Not wanting to waste anymore time you sat down in your usual seat across from Peter, shaking the feeling off as best you could before giving him a pleased smile, “Long time no see. I’ve got so much to tell you…” You trailed off, shaking your head when you caught yourself waiting for him to reply.

“First of all I got attacked by a werewolf which sucked and now I’m a vampire which, coincidentally, also requires a lot of sucking.” Silence.

“And I made some new friends, which is cool- Isaac got a little jealous but it’s fine, I handled it. I feel bad keeping him in the dark about all of this but I just want to keep him safe y’know?” Of course you received no answer, opting to continue filling Peter in despite his usual lack of response.

“Your nephew has been driving me crazy, by the way.” You informed him, letting out a grunt at the thought of how annoying Derek had been over the last few days, “He’s got this tough guy thing going on, I think it’s just to psych Scott out honestly, which is fine! But it’s the fact that he’s keeping it up with me as if I haven’t known him for seventeen years!” 

If Peter had control over his body you knew he would’ve laughed at your annoyance towards his nephew, he always had. Whenever Derek teased you growing up, it was always Peter that you’d go running to.

“Uncle Peter!” The man sighed at the sound of your shrill voice, closing the book he’d been reading out on the porch as you ran up to him with an angry pout on your face.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asked, opening his arms as you threw yourself into them. You let out a puff of air, settling yourself on Peter’s knee as he sat on the porch steps. “Derek said that because I’m only six I can’t play basketball with him and his friends!” You whined.

Peter only scoffed, his arms pulling you close as he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’re idiots, each and every one of them.” 

There was always something about uncle Peter, he had a certain tone of voice that made anything he spoke sound like gospel. If Peter said it, you believed it. That was just how it was, thinking about it now you figured that your attachment and high level of trust in Peter probably had something to do with the fact that he’d practically initiated you into his pack when you were so young. Truth be told, he was the hardest loss of the Hale’s for you to come to terms with because even though he hadn’t died he’d still been lost.

You twiddled with your fingers as your thoughts began to wander, getting the hang of heightened emotions wasn’t so easy now that you were sat in front of Peter, or what was left of him. You hadn’t noticed the tears that had built up in your eyes until they began to sneak down your cheeks, slipping down your chin and coating your neck with their salty stream.

All you could do was imagine that he was more than an empty shell, that he was himself and listening intently, that he was just waiting for you to finish before he offered his sage advice.

“I really wish you could tell me how to handle all of this.” You sniffled out, pressure in your chest growing as, for once, it was the weight of your own emotions weighing it down. 

Since being turned you hadn’t gotten a chance to stop and breathe or really even think about what was happening to you, living in a constant state of confusion, fear and loss. 

“I just feel… so lonely that I can hardly breathe sometimes-“ Your breath hitching stopped your confession in its tracks while your tears continued to fall freely down your face, there was no point in trying to wipe them away- you’d broken the dam.

Your watering eyes focused on the ceiling as you poured your heart out to the man who was essentially your second father, despite the fact he was more or less completely unresponsive you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his empty gaze. 

“Nobody knows what I am, really. And it’s like I’m all on my own and nobody knows how to help me or- or anything!” Eventually you met his eyes and it was then that your feeling of sorrow grew considerably bigger, the pang in your heart sinking all the way down to the pit of your stomach as a new layer of tears replaced the ones that had just fallen down your cheeks.

“I’ve upset you.” You stated, heart racing at the fact you’d managed to upset Peter Hale himself.

Quickly you wiped your tears away, your face was still wet as you took a deep breath, shaking away the feeling that was eating you up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying I just- I really need someone to talk to, you know? Usually I’d go and rant to Isaac but I can’t tell him anything and it’s killing me but everyone told me not to and I also told myself not to�� it’s a mess. I’m just so lost.”

Peter, as usual remained quiet, but there was something in his eyes- it was quick and barely there but you’d seen it. They’d flashed red. 

*

After you composed yourself, you left Peter’s room and made your way to school, you’d woken up early to visit Peter.

As soon as you entered the building your feet moved quickly towards your locker, you sorted your books out as fast as you could before making your way to Isaac’s locker. Your meeting with Peter had shaken you up and honestly, in the moment, you just needed your best friend. 

As usual when you arrived by Isaac’s side you alerted him by gently tugging on his sleeve, you didn’t know why but he was extremely nervous, to the point where you felt your own stomach beginning to turn. Even though you’d sought him out for your own comfort you discarded that plan as soon as you met his eyes, he needed to be comforted more than you did right now.

“What’s wrong?” You immediately blurted out, grabbing his free hand that hung by his side unlike the other that held his locker door open, knuckles turning white from how tightly he clung to the metal door.

Isaac only shook his head, he gave you the smile that he always gave you, the one that screamed “please don’t worry about me” but you knew better than to believe that smile because as gorgeous as it is, it’s fake.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.” He squeezed your hand in an effort to deter you, but yet again, you knew better. 

Letting your eyes roll, you furrowed your brows, “Seriously, tell me what’s bothering you.” You demand not missing the defeated look that fell on his face when he hung his head, brown curls falling over his eyes, “Nothing, (Y/n). Just the parent teacher conferences are happening tonight…” He trailed off as he shuffled his feet.

The realization of why he was so nervous about it hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t care who was watching when you threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you with a sigh. “How is it gonna go?” You asked, already knowing the answer would be: not well.

Isaac’s arms held you against him tightly, stabilizing you as you had to stand on your tiptoes to get a good grip around his shoulders, ever since he’d had his growth spurt when you were both thirteen if you wanted to hug him properly you’d always need to get on your tiptoes. He wouldn’t lie though, he thought it was the cutest thing. 

“I’ve got a C minus in Chem.” He muttered against your neck, tightening his grip on you for dear life, you both knew Mr Lahey wouldn’t be pleased. 

With a little grin, in an attempt to lighten the mood you pulled your head back to look your best friend in the eyes, “Should we dip? Run away? Move to France?” The question was made with humor but you were really considering the thought of just dragging him out of the school’s double doors and flying away to somewhere sunny where the pair of you wouldn’t have to deal with any of the shit you have to deal with in Beacon Hills. 

Isaac gave you a sad smile, connecting his lips to your forehead quickly with rosy cheeks before disconnecting from you, “I think that would probably make things worse.”

Before you could respond Isaac shut his locker and spoke again, “Anyway, what had you so upset a few minutes ago?”

Deciding that today wasn’t the best day to confide in him you simply offered him a sad smile and weak explanation.

“Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Wanted a hug.” Isaac let out an airy laugh, tilting his head to the side with a smile.

He beckoned you in for a side hug, “Get in here.” Immediately you obliged, attaching yourself to the boy’s side as the pair of you walked towards your first class of the day.

All you hoped was that his anxiety didn’t get the better of him today or later on when his father confronted him, so, as any good friend with supernatural abilities would, before you parted ways you made sure to transfer some much needed relaxation onto the boy who was positively teeming with fear. For now, it was all you could do for him without exposing yourself, you prayed it was enough.

*

As the day drew on your mind drifted from your conversation with Peter to your conversation with Isaac constantly. Understandably. You needed to get on top of your heightened emotions and you needed to do it fast, because to put it simply; you were drowning.

But like you mentioned to Peter, nobody knew anything about anything, not even Deaton could tell you how to gain control or even tell you the full extent of your capabilities. The loneliness was what hit the most. It was that empty, distant, ever-sinking feeling that was slowly but surely swallowing you whole. Scott had Derek, not to mention Stiles, to help him figure out everything he needed to know, an experienced wolf and a loyal best friend to walk him through everything, to support him, to keep him grounded, to tell him the dos and don’ts of being a wolf.

What did you have? An unwavering loyalty to a member of a pack who was barely even alive? Half baked theories from books of lore that your parents managed to dig up from some dusty corner of the attic? Derek who spent all of his time focused on Scott despite a member of his own pack being in obvious distress? A best friend you can’t confide in because he’s just as broken as you are? It didn’t seem fair.

The bite turned you to a vampire instead of a wolf, every night you wondered why you’d taken this form when seemingly nobody else had ever been turned by wolf bite, the conclusion you’d come to was that it was just some sick karmic joke. A test of endurance that you weren’t sure if you were going to pass. The universe spotted you- hand picked you as it’s favourite love-sick, hopeless romantic with a heart too big for her body and with a soul that felt emotions as vast and deep as the ocean. It chose you, but the gag was you never wanted it to be you. For once, you wished someone else had won the prize that felt more like a curse.

It was all too much. You felt too deeply. Every emotion consumed you, every sound vibrated like bass from a speaker, every touch sparked like static and every beating heart made you hungry. But every time you even so much as pondered simply giving in to the feelings, of letting go of that rope that seemed to be holding your empathy close and letting it fall away, every time you entertained those thoughts that voice, from the first night, would ring through your skull and echo until you agreed to the words being spoken by the oh so familiar voice. Don’t let it kill you.

Scott had been nowhere to be seen all day, nor had Allison, it was only when you’d spotted Stiles sitting alone at lunch that you’d realized that the wolf and his girlfriend probably ditched. 

The final bell eventually signaled the end of the school day, solemnly you walked alongside Isaac towards the doors of the school, stomach twisting with anxiety knowing that the next time you’d be seeing him he’d more than likely be barring a new bruise or emotional scar.

“Can I drive you home?” You asked, hoping he’d say yes but understanding when he shook his head no, “I cycled here, I’ll take my bike. Thank you though.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, looking at him with worry clear on your face, it was all you could focus on and you were half sure he could feel it too, your efforts of masking it failing.

Isaac could feel the worry seeping off you, but even before you’d turned he always had a knack from knowing when something was on your mind. He knew all your tells, when you were worrying about something you’d bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows, when you were upset you’d wring your hands together or play with your fingers, he knew how you were feeling whenever you were feeling it purely because of the mannerisms you used when you were around him. It’s how he knew that you’ve been hiding something from him since you’d been attacked, the boy didn’t know what it was but he saw it weighing you down, he was determined to get to the bottom of it so he could be there for you. He let out a heavy sigh when he realized in the moment that the roles were reversed and with the way you gazed at him he knew you wanted to be there for him, like you always were.

“I’m gonna be okay, nothing that hasn’t happened before.” He finally spoke in an attempt to reassure you that there was nothing to worry about but his statement only served to upset you more and he silently cursed himself as he watched the corners of your lips sink downward. “It shouldn’t happen ever.” You told him softly, trying your very best to keep your composure when you heard your voice crack.

Glancing around quickly, Isaac grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards your car, knowing how much you hated getting upset in front of people he took the initiative to carry on the conversation in the confines of your car away from the rest of the prying students.

Once you were both situated in the front seats, Isaac spoke up, “I know that you hate seeing me hurt, I know it shouldn’t be like this but it is. I’ll survive, you need to stop worrying about me so much, (N/n).”

“You don’t deserve this.” You muttered, sorrow dripping from each word. 

“(Y/n)-“

“No Isaac! You don’t deserve to be treated like this! Every time I see you hurt it makes me so fucking angry because when you tell me what happened you say it as though you had it coming! But you never do, you never have it coming!” The words left your mouth in a high pitched string of cries as Isaac simply lowered his gaze to his lap, hating how your voice shook in agony for him.

With every word you spoke you became more and more worked up, tears trickling down your face freely now that all the cars in the parking lot were more or less gone. “And every single time I wish I could do more for you- I wish that I could make you see what I see.” Your confession was fragile, the words barely audible as they passed your lips.

Isaac lifted his head, his own eyes welling up, “You have no idea how much you do for me so don’t think like that.” He demanded, his tone far more assertive than you’d ever known it to be.

His hand met your face, gently but quickly, his palm cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away your tears. For a second, you closed your eyes, imagining the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek happening under better circumstances before reconnecting your eyes with his.

“I’m gonna go home.” He told you, sad smile on his lips as you shook your head, gripping the wrist of the hand he still had placed on your cheek desperately. “Stay.”

“I’ll come over to yours tonight ok? But you have to let me leave.” When you didn’t move, he sighed and pulled his hand away from you himself, trying not to wince at the hurt look on your face.

Your best friend opened the car door and stepped out, leaning in with an arm resting against the top of the door with a look on his face that you couldn’t pinpoint, that feeling had returned to your chest though, the light and flowy one. “Love you, kid.” His lips formed a cheeky grin when the nickname caused you to smile, he hadn’t rubbed the fact he was two months older than you in your face recently, you should’ve seen it coming. Finally allowing yourself to give him a weak smile you gave him an equally as weak, but still meaningful, “Love you too, idiot.” Before he shut the car door and made his way towards his bike.

*

To put the cherry on top of an already stressful day when you got home Derek was waiting at your dining table expectantly. The first words leaving his mouth being, “Where’s Scott?”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a blood bag out of your fridge, Stiles had been sweet enough to fill some bags for you since you were both still trying to work out the whole euphoric feeding situation, feeding on Stiles on a school night usually meant Stiles being completely away with the fairies the next morning and obviously you needed to feed during the week. Blood wasn’t as tasty cold but as weird as it was to admit, it still slapped.

Taking a sip from the small straw sticking out of the bag you raised an eyebrow at the wolf in front of you, “I dunno, Derek. Where’s my hello?” 

“This is serious.” He growled, “So am I.” You rebutted, taking another sip as the man grew more irritable.

He didn’t answer, only growled at you, he was probably hoping you’d buy into his ridiculous power play. You didn’t, obviously.

Nonchalantly, you lifted yourself up onto the counter of the kitchen island, facing Derek and sipping your blood happily.

“Growl at me all you want, D. Scott might buy into your big bad wolf act but I remember when you used to watch Barbie movies with me every single day.” You told him matter of factly, “Things are different now. Scott needs my help.” At his statement your carefree demeanor faltered. You needed his help, but not once since you’d been bitten had the man you considered a brother offered you even a morsel of support but yet here he was in your home, asking for a beta he barely knows.

“If Scott was around today would you have come to see me?” You asked him, keeping your voice as steady as you could.

Derek shook his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “No, because I’m looking for Scott.”

Slowly you nodded your head, allowing his words to sink in. Today had been emotionally draining, sure, but you couldn’t find the strength within yourself to leave this alone.

“So where exactly am I on your supernatural list of priorities? Or am I even on it at all?” The question was harsher than you intended but Derek had a fairly hard head, if you wanted to get a point across you sometimes had to be a little less than gentle with the delivery.

The wolf groaned, head falling back in exhaustion, “Can we not do this right now?” 

Slapping the now empty blood bag down beside you and crossing your arms, you glared, “Answer my question.”

He gave you a hard look, standing up from his seat in what you assumed was an attempt to intimidate you, “I’ll admit you’re not my top priority right now, alright? Scott needs me, you’ll be fine.” A humorless laugh left your lips as you jumped down from the counter, squaring up to the taller man before you with absolutely no fear.

“Are you sure about that, D? Cuz last time I checked, Scott has Allison and Stiles and Deaton and you telling him exactly what to do and when to do it. I have no one.” Derek bit his tongue, his jaw clenched and lips pursed before he gave you a response, “He needs all the help he can get. Your abilities aren’t as difficult to get the hang of as his are.”

“Oh yeah?” It was a challenge, not only had he managed to piss you off and upset you at the same time, he’d also managed to erase the pain of your own transition in favour of defending Scott. 

Derek sighed, the voice in his head telling him to step down when he noticed your fists clenched tightly into balls against your side, “Look (Y/n)-“ He started before a gasp ripped from his throat when you arm gripped his.

The anger, the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion, the weight that came from feeling everything all at once, you made him feel it all, not releasing your tight grip on his bicep until he’d looked down at you with tears glazing his eyes.

Roughly, you ripped you hand from his arm, purple eyes glowing as you stood chest to chest with him, “Maybe if you bothered to check up on me you’d know that my shift wasn’t easy, I don’t have the hang of my abilities and every single morning I wake up and think about how much easier my life would be if I just let them destroy me.” You were seething, Derek’s face was painted in shock as he stood at a loss for words.

“But hey! By all means go help Scott. What’s pack loyalty anyway?” Your words were seeped in venom and as soon as they left your mouth you took advantage of your enhanced speed, running from the room only leaving a gust of wind and an emotionally overwhelmed Derek in your wake.

[larktb-archive]

Hi! I'm too shy to come off anon, but I need your help understanding something. I hope I'm not bothering you!!

I don't want to interact with anyone who is a fascist, but I'm not entirely sure what makes someone fascist. Can you please explain it to me?

I know I could look it up myself, but I know that not all definitions online can be correct and I just want your perspective;;

Thanks!

Hi anon! Well, fascism comes in many forms so “sussing out who’s a fascist” is technically a little harder to do than having a simple checklist. After all, doesn’t a White Supremacist have different beliefs to a Japanese fascist? And doesn’t a Japanese fascist have different beliefs to a Wahabist? These beliefs clash don’t they? Well, yes and no. Sure the surface level beliefs are different but the underlying core beliefs of these groups are actually quite similar; it’s the specifics which are different. Even though it isn’t a “bible” on what is fascism and shouldn’t be taken as gospel, Umberto Eco has an essay called “Ur-Fascism” which contains 14 points, which can help us identify whether certain beliefs are fascist no matter the specifics of their belief system. I’ll explain the points in short and give some examples. Quick disclaimer, I am not an expert on fascism or any of the ideologies I’ll discuss by any means so if you aren’t taking Umberto Eco’s writing as the 100% correct truth, definitely don’t take mine as that either (this is how you should treat most sources tho):

1. Cult of Tradition and 2. Rejection of modernity

I put these two together because they’re kind of inseparable. This is basically the idea that there was a “glorious past” that people need to return to and modernity is a corruption of that “glorious past”. In British fascist thought, this past is generally the 19th century at the zenith of the British Empire or mid-20th century Britain. The latter is more common for people who wish to be a little more PC with their writings; instead of trying to use a by-gone era that pretty much no one alive can remember, they use a much more recent time with nostalgic ideas of “the good old days” which doesn’t seem threatening on it’s surface but is dogwhistling for a time when there weren’t as many immigrants in the country.

You may have seen the “reject modernity, embrace tradition” meme and it’s pretty much the most obvious incarnation of this idea. Similarly you may seen people online use “degenerate” as an insult. If you look at the meaning of the degenerate it means “having lost the physical, mental, or moral qualities considered normal and desirable; showing evidence of decline”; it’s microcosm of these ideas put into a single insult. This is why you tend to see conservatives use it more than progressives.

I’d also argue that terfs obsession with 2nd wave feminism and their utter rejection of intersectionality and modern feminism is another manifestation of this idea. 

3. Action for actions sake

This is less detectable in terms of individuals but still important to note that these people tend to support action without a cause. Sure the insurrection at the white house earlier this year was action, but it had no substance behind it. It was action for actions sake, which is why any principled leftist didn’t support it. Fascists will tend to openly just call for action but won’t be very specific about the purposes of the action; as long as they agree with the ideology behind it they’ll support it. It’s why fascists love harassment campaigns and mindless acts of terror. Take Wahabist terrorist orgs like Al-Qaeda or ISIS, it doesn’t matter if bombing an Ariana Grande concert has no point, the only point is the action itself.

4. Disagreement is treason  

This one’s pretty self explanatory, they will ostracize you if you disagree with them. Again, terfs tend to do this, and I had a long conversation with an ex-terf I called a dumbass, who basically said that she was ostracized by them and mocked for having different beliefs (hope she’s doing well actually). There’s numerous stories from ex-terfs like this.

5. Fear of difference

There’s a tendency for fascists to group people into “us” and “them”. “They” are considered to be intruders who need to be removed whereas “we” are the people who deserve to be here because it is “our” right to be here. In Zulu Nationalism, this tends to be any non-Zulu speakers who they deem to be “Shangaan” even if they aren’t actually Tsonga, it’s just a pejorative at this point. If you see vague references to the “elite” without any reference to who they are and what makes them “elite”, this is tends to be a dogwhistle for Jewish people. Western Fascists have very little issue with the workings of capitalism itself or the accumulation of wealth by capitalists, they just don’t like “them”, taking “our” stuff. Any references to “us” and “them” is pretty much a red flag.

6. Appeal to Social Frustration

Fascists will tend to brush upon actual issues faced by the poor today but will instead blame it on an outside force. You’ll see job loss being blamed on immigrants or vague “elites”. Terfs do this too. They’ll see young girls who are genuinely struggling with patriarchal issues and divert all that pent up rage towards trans people and the “q*eers” (which they do tend to use as a slur unlike what most people would have you think). 

7. Obsession with a Plot

Everything is a conspiracy! The election was rigged! 9/11 was fake! that fucking pizza place/this furniture company is a sex ring! All of these are supposedly plots by the deep state who are trying to do... something or other. You’ll notice these “Plots” don’t actually have a purpose, but the fact that there is a plot itself is the issue. This is a way of engendering paranoia in the group while also feeling that there is a constant war against you even if there isn’t. This is also why, despite news sources being pro-capitalist the right will swear up and down it’s leftist media which is controlled by “them” (usually just meaning Jewish people).

8. The enemy is both strong and weak

“Trans people have infiltrated academia and the only reason people refuse to see gender as an immutable biological concept, is because they’re too afraid of the trans cabal to say anything. But also everyone can tell trans people are crazy and haha you have a high suicide rate.” It’s contradictory that’s the point. They need to feel that they’re both counterculture but also they need to be winning at all times so that contradiction is necessary. Also the use of the word “cabal” is a pretty big red flag for all forms of fascism.

9. Pacifism is trafficking with the enemy, 10. Contempt for the weak, 11. Everybody is educated to become a hero and 12. Machismo and weaponry

All of these are kind of interrelated so I’m grouping them together (also this is already fucking long as hell so I don’t wanna bore you any further). You’ll tend to see a love for the military or at least military aesthetics when looking through fascist blogs. Guns aren’t just a tool for fascists, they’re representative of masculinity and the necessity of violence. Pacifists and anyone who refuses to fight are weak and therefore are “degenerate”. If you do not fight, if you are not willing to fight, you cannot be a “hero” (an ubermensch or a matyr). This comes with the fetishization of violence instead of the recognition of violence being an means to an end, and the worship of individuals rather than of communities and organizations. Take Japanese fascists and their lionisation of the imperial military and their desire to once again have an actual army.

Terfs don’t necessarily fit these roles except for arguably 10 considering how much they seem to look down upon the mentally ill and those who commit suicide and surprisingly 11 since that involves the hatred of non-standard sexual activities and terfs hate non-standard sex (this is from the most vanilla bitch who is very uncomfortable with kink but understands its not inherently good or bad). I have a feeling this is more so because terfs are mainly women (there are male terfs ofc) whereas this was written for male led organizations. 

13. Selective populism

When fascists talk about “the people” they tend to mean “the people we like”. “The working class” can be translated to “this cishet white christian man from Minnesota who owns land but hey he lives in a rural area so he’s working class right?”. They’ll also tend to have “tokens” who will suddenly become the mouth piece of the entire community they’re supposedly representing even if no one in the community asked them to (i.e. Milo Yiannopoulos). 

14. Ur fascism speaks Newspeak

They speak in terms which are both inaccessible to anyone outside of their circles whilst being so simple that once you learn them it becomes easy to understand. They abhor any form of “academic” speech so you’ll rarely see them source things (unless those things happen to agree with their views, which is rare but Jordan Peterson is popular for a reason) and if they do source things they probably wouldn’t have read them fully and will rely on you also not reading them. This is to limit any critical thinking so that your brain is basically jellified into an unquestioning organ which only responds “yes” or “no” and only appeals to a higher authority without any form of reasoning involved. This is why they complain about “the lefts memes being too wordy”... because they’re used to not having to read (this is somewhat tongue in cheek but heyho if the boot fits).

And that’s the 14 main features of fascism, if anyone is displaying multiple of these ideas then they are most likely fascist, and if an organization or group continuously replicates these ideas, then they are definitely fascist. I hope this wasn’t too long but like I said... very complex topic. (Also hopefully this is written well, it’s 10 PM and I am surviving off Irn Bru energy drink). Hope this helped!

[hobbitsetal]

“Give all you have and follow Me”

Dear anon,

You asked me, in the course of asking about another of Jesus’s parables, “also when he says that you cannot be a desciple without giving up everything we own.. like are we actually meant to give up everything we physically own?”

Since you asked about a parable in Luke, I’ll quote Luke’s account of this interaction also. Google tells me it’s found in Luke 18:18-30:

“And a ruler asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery, Do not murder, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother.’” And he said, “All these I have kept from my youth.” When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich. Jesus, seeing that he had become sad, said, “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” Those who heard it said, “Then who can be saved?” But he said, “What is impossible with man is possible with God.” And Peter said, “See, we have left our homes and followed you.” And he said to them, “Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life.”

The question, I think, is “is it wrong for a Christian to own things?”

The short answer is “no.” The longer answer is you have to use Scripture to interpret Scripture; that is, passages like this one have to be understood within the greater context of Scripture as a whole. What else does the Bible have to say about owning things? and particularly about Christians owning things?

I’ll pull out a few things from the New Testament for you, since one might perhaps make the argument that Old Testament wealth was under the Old Covenant and not the New Covenant.

Joseph of Arimathea comes to mind. He was a wealthy man who gave up his tomb to bury Christ’s body. Nowhere in the text does anything indicate that Jesus had a problem with him being rich. In fact, because he was rich, he could afford a tomb.

Acts 4:34-37 illustrates the Christian attitude toward possessions well, I think:

“...and there was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. Thus Joseph, who was also called by the apostles Barnabas (which means son of encouragement), a Levite, a native of Cyprus, sold a field that belonged to him and brought the money and laid it at the apostles’ feet.”

But does this mean we must sell what we have and donate it to the church? Well, no.

Further on in Acts, 16:14-15 to be specific, we learn of a woman who took the apostles into her home. “One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul. And after she was baptized, and her household as well, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.” And she prevailed upon us.”

Nothing is said of Lydia selling her home or her business. Purple, in Biblical/Roman times, was a very expensive dye, so mentioning that she sold purple goods was a way of saying she was rich. And she used the wealth to practice hospitality and to give the apostles a place to stay. She’s never mentioned again in the Bible.

There’s also James 4:13-15, one of my favorite passages:

“Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.”“

James doesn’t condemn people for trying to make money; he reminds them that everything we have comes from the Lord.

So. I could go through more passages, but I’m trying to condense a book into a tumblr post, so let’s just summarize how I understand the Bible’s teaching on owning stuff overall and Jesus’s point in this passage.

The rich young ruler came to Jesus asking what he could do to earn salvation. Jesus reminded him that no one is good and reminded him of the Ten Commandments, to which the ruler answered that he’d kept all of them.

That’s a heck of a claim to make. James says, “For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it,” and Paul says something similar in...Romans? Personally, I fail the First Commandment daily: “Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.” 

You wanna know how many times I fail to prioritize God as I should? Enough times to make me grateful that He is a God of grace.

Yet Jesus doesn’t call him out on the height of this claim. He doesn’t even choose now to elevate the Law as He does in the Sermon on the Mount, when He equated hatred to murder. (I’m screwed on that count.) Instead, He tells the ruler that the only thing he needs to do to be righteous, to earn heaven, is to give up his wealth.

Jesus is God. God knows all things, including our thoughts. I’m convinced that Jesus knew already how the ruler would respond to this challenge. He knew that the ruler loved his wealth and what he had more than he loved and desired God.

That’s really it, anon. What do you love most in this world? What are you willing to give up for the sake of the Lord? If obeying God meant breaking up with your s/o, would you? If obeying God meant telling the truth when it would hurt you to do so, would you? If obeying God meant sacrificing some creature comforts?

There’s a pastor named Brad Bigney who preached a sermon series and wrote a book, both titled “Gospel Treason.” Bigney defines idolatry (or having a god before the Lord) as “anything you are willing to sin to get, or you are willing to sin to keep.”

If being rich or owning something is more important to me than anything else in the world, that’s a problem. That is a sin. That is what Jesus condemns in this passage.

Everything we have, from the breath in our lungs to the money in our bank account to the people in our lives, is a gift from God. Everything we have ultimately returns to God. There’s nothing wrong with me having money. In fact, it’s a very good thing that I do because I’m able to use that money for God. This isn’t my money; it’s God’s money. So when I make decisions about what to buy or not buy, I make those decisions to honor God to the best of my ability.

My parents bought a boat and a vacation home. They’ve used that boat and that home to bless other Christians: to take them out on the bay and to give them a beach getaway that would otherwise be too expensive. My parents have used their wealth and their physical possessions to feed souls and bring rest to the weary.

Nice clothes, books, quality furniture: there’s no sin in having these things. Indeed, owning something that will last for many years is usually a wiser use of money than buying something cheap that will need replacing, though it’s not always a feasible choice for people.

It always comes back to the heart: what do you value? What do you trust? Are you secure because you have money in the bank? Or are you secure because you trust Jesus when He says He will provide for what we need?

If you lost everything tomorrow and you were out on the street with the clothes on your back, could you say with the apostle Paul, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.“?

[writing-in-the-tiny-house]

The Gift of Beta Readers

The Gift of Alpha Readers

If you wish to become a patron of Writing in the Tiny House podcast, please visit www.patreon.com/writinginthetinyhouse today!

The following is a transcript of this episode. For the complete transcript, please visit the show’s website.

[00:00:00] So you did it guys. You have written the next best thing and you are so eager to get this out into the world that you have revised it, you have combed through it, and you have all of these things ready, but nobody has read it yet. So what do you do next? Well, let's find out today on Writing and the Tiny House.

[00:00:26] Hello. Hello. Hello. And welcome back to the show. Welcome to Writing in the Tiny House. I am your host Devin Davis, and I am the guy in the tiny house who is here to show you, you busy adults working a nine to five like me, that it is completely possible for you to write that work of fiction that you have always wanted to do.

[00:01:06] And you should. I just recorded 20 minutes of audio and didn't actually record any of it. So we're starting over and it's fine. Because now I get to say the things that I didn't save very well the first time, and it's okay to start over. We're still learning some of this new recording equipment and that's okay too.

[00:01:26] But many of you know, because I announced in last week's episode that I have been working on some smaller things as a way to get my writing more available, to get my writing into the hands of people who are eager to read it and to do it faster than I could do if I were to just write a book just because the time to produce a book is much longer and there are a million different ways to share your writing with other people.

[00:01:57] So I have been working on some smaller things and I am working on them in conjunction with Krissy Barton from Little Syllables Editing. She is going to be the editor on call or whatever, the editor in this whole project of writing a collection of short stories or novelettes. And so with this, I am writing these smaller works, and I'm going to be releasing them on a schedule, provided all of this works out okay. Right now we are on track with this first thing. And so I expect everything to be okay. And I think that this is something that we can reproduce right now. All of this is tentative stuff though. Like this is not gospel truth yet, but in doing these shorter things, I still need to go through the different steps of writing and revising and cleaning up these smaller works of fiction as I would have to do with a book.

[00:03:07] But because the thing is shorter, all of those steps don't take as long to do, which is kind of cool. It's fun to blaze through some of these different steps a little faster, and to get that progress done faster, to arrive there more quickly. And with this, I also hope to have myself on a regular releasing schedule, which means that there is kind of a stopwatch going for each of these projects.

[00:03:35] And for this first one, I am hoping more than anything. And I am taking a leap announcing this on the podcast that this will be ready for sale by the end of October. I'm going to post it on amazon.com and it will be available to purchase there. It'll be affordable. Don't worry about that. But I wanted so badly to share my writing and I think that I'm going to do it.

[00:04:00] So what I'm doing is this collection of short stories ties into the larger books that I am also in the middle of that I have set aside for the moment. So the world that all those things take place in these smaller short stories will tie into that same world. And this collection is called Tales from Vlaydor, and this is Installment One, which is entitled Brigitte.

[00:04:29] And so, yeah, so we did it. We've written a manuscript. We've gotten, you know, a few revisions under our belts, but if you are like me, perhaps you don't outline things very well. I surely don't, I don't like to outline. I like to write and then make huge revisions to what I've written because I don't like to outline, but for this first installment, I did not get any feedback to begin with on the story itself. I wanted to sit down, I wanted to write the story, revise a couple of things just because I wanted to present it in a good way to a small group of people. So I sat down. I wrote the thing. I revised it a couple times. I sent it through Pro Writing Aid, which by the way, Pro Writing Aid is amazing.

[00:05:19] Especially if you are using Scrivener as your word processor, because it integrates into Scrivener. It was the easiest thing to do. I recommend sending anything you are working on through Pro Writing aid before you let anybody read it, just because the edits were easy to do. And because Pro Writing Aid made it easier to read.

[00:05:42] Everybody seemed to have a better time. Pro Writing Aid does not replace a professional editor, but it is a very good tool to use along the way. So I wrote the thing, I sent it through Pro Writing Aid, and then I gathered in a way, a group of people that I would want to get feedback on this first draft, I guess we can call it a first draft. On this first revision, I guess.

[00:06:09] And this is what we do, this is how we approach this. So I needed to get feedback because first of all, I needed to know if this was a story that anybody wanted to read. I wanted to know also if this was a story that people would be willing to buy, and I needed to know if after reading this, they would be interested in reading more.

[00:06:35] And if the results were such that, no, this story idea is not a good idea. You need to switch to something else. I didn't want to spend so much time and energy on something that nobody would want. And so I would sooner scrap the whole idea and start a fresh with a new story idea rather than try to simply make something work.

[00:07:04] And so, because I'm writing to market because I want this to be sold. And so I want there to be a certain audience appeal. I wanted to make sure that I was on track and on base with the very foundation of this story. So that's what I did first. And I recommend you doing the same thing with your shorter works of fiction also, or with your novels.

[00:07:29] So here's the deal. I'm sure that you have heard the term beta readers a million different times if you are engaged in the writer, community. Beta readers are basically the people who are doing product testing for your book. They get your book and you need to know that the book is working for them as books need to work for readers. Does it keep their attention? Is it easy to read? Is it entertaining? Can they keep track of characters? Can they keep track of places? Do they have a good experience? Are they surprised during the surprising parts? Are they scared during the scary parts, all those things.

[00:08:10] That is what beta reading is for, but there's a big step before that. Some people call it alpha readers. Some people call it, I don't know other stuff, but. I had this concept and I needed to make sure that the concept was okay. So I selected a few of my close friends and another person that I'll get into in order to share ideas.

[00:08:36] So I wrote this novelette called Brigitte. It is about 9,000 words long, and I included just some questions at the end as a prompt, as a way to help people give feedback. And I recommend that you do the same. In a novel I recommend actually that you include things like that in sections of the book, rather than just a big, long list at the end of the book, just as a way to get the gears moving so that people can be inspired or understand how to give feedback, just because, especially in this most recent round of feedback, I have found that so many people read just to be entertained and they don't read critically. And that is fine. And so the little bit of help for that is really good for them. And it's good. It's good to hear all sorts of feedback. I've also found that for many people. So with this story, the vast majority of the feedback was positive.

[00:09:45] People liked the story. It was pretty middle of the road, which is okay. But people liked the story. They thought that it was easy to read. It was easy to get to the end. They weren't confused by people or names or places. And so I took that as a good affirmation or confirmation that I was on the right track with this, and I should move forward.

[00:10:14] And that is great. With many of the people though, the feedback was simply, Hey, this is great. I like it. I would want to read more of things like this. And that feedback is valuable for a specific reason. If that is all they're saying, this is great. I want to read more. While that feedback is not going to help you iron out the kinks and dings and dents in your manuscript. And it's not necessarily going to help you with your craft. It can show you that producing work like this. There are people who want to support your craft. And that is very valuable. So even though the tools aren't there, even though the feedback isn't there to help you get better as a writer, it is really cool to know that people are there to support you as a writer.

[00:11:12] And like I said, that is valuable too. However, with a lot of people, they responded to the questions. And I liked that and I took notes and I paid attention. With those questions though, I found that with many of them, I didn't require seven people to answer each of those questions just because the same answers for many of those questions ended up showing up like seven different times.

[00:11:41] That's okay. We live and we learn. However, there were a couple peers a couple people that read it, took notes, re-read it. And then had a really long conversation with me about how it went about, what was working and what wasn't working. And I'll come back to that in just a second, just because people who are willing to put that type of attention and energy into my work, those are people that I hold near and dear. I mean, everybody who is supporting my work is held near and dear, but those are the people that I will go to with the first ideas, with the baby ideas that I need to grow from, the really underdeveloped things that need to grow that are still vulnerable and still scary and still underdeveloped. And working together we're able to come up with some cooler things for the next revision of this story. 

[00:12:47] With this, and I recommend this thing until the day I die. It is important to send your work, especially if you are writing to market, it is important to send your work to someone you don't know, or to many people that you don't know.

[00:13:02] When you are ready for that, you will know. I sent this first revision. I will likely try to find another person that I don't know to read this after this next round of revisions, but here's the reason why. The feedback that a stranger gives you is really hard to take, but it is super honest and it's usually really direct and it's really easy to understand, and that matters my friends.

[00:13:30] These people are not preserving a friendship. And so there is no holding back when it comes to what isn't working, what is confusing, what seems silly, but seems banale or stupid. I mean, what other words did this nice person include? But the points that this person brought to my attention were good points. It was clear that I had not conveyed so much of this story clearly.

[00:14:01] And like I said, because we weren't already friends, there was no reason to pretend like we were friends and try to sugarcoat anything. Most of the stuff that this person told me was really good and really valuable feedback. And so what I was able to do is take the key points from her feed back and talk about them with these other friends who were interested in helping me develop the story.

[00:14:29] So they didn't have to worry about stepping on eggshells. They didn't have to worry about offending. I got to say, oh, this other lady said this and this and this. And they're like, oh yeah, I guess that makes sense. And then we were able to discuss together ways to make it better. So with these conversations, some people tend to kind of freak out about it because they don't know how to have a critique conversation. So with these conversations, it is you and somebody else. And maybe a third person who are trying to improve a specific work. They're trying to make things better. If you or someone is coming to the table just in the attitude of saying this sucks. You need to leave it alone. You need to throw it away.

[00:15:16] Then you're not going to have this conversation with that person, but everybody has the common goal and the common understanding that this work is not finished and we are joining forces to make it better. The way that this conversation unfolds is much of the time the person will have notes. The person will have some ideas, but they don't really know how to get started about it just because Cohesion and hoping that everything links together and thoughts and different things like that.

[00:15:50] But this conversation is not going to be a dissertation. This conversation is not going to be like baring of souls. This conversation is largely brainstorming, which means a lot of the ideas and a lot of the topics don't have to mesh in the most beautiful way throughout the conversation. It's okay to jump from topic to topic.

[00:16:15] It's okay to say, oh, are we done with this? Because on the next page, this completely different problem is there. Let's talk about that now. And through those, I had two friends who were very interested in helping me improve this work of fiction. And that is exactly how the conversation went. They put aside an hour, we had a phone call and we talked about all the things that didn't work.

[00:16:42] And we talked about the things that this stranger critique partner brought to my attention, and we were able to iron out things and bring up some different ideas and some different approaches that I should try to incorporate into the next revision of this work. And that happened to me twice and it was beautiful and I felt enriched at the end and they were excited that they were included with this.

[00:17:11] And it was a really good thing. So I guess the takeaway here is when you are searching for feedback, it is important to help by supplying a list of questions. If it's a person who's already experienced with giving feedback, they likely won't pay much attention to those questions, but a lot of people don't read fiction critically.

[00:17:35] And so they they may need a little help with that. And that's great. Also, if you find those friends who are so engaged and so interested in helping you develop your craft, make sure to keep them near and dear. Take care of those friends. And lastly, If you have the people who say this is good, I want to read more, and then don't say much more than that. That means that you're on the right track and that what you have written is good. And while it may not improve your craft, it shows that there are people in the world who want to support your craft. So that's the quick take home for today. 

[00:18:24] Thank you so much for tuning in and listening to this episode. If you wish to become a patron of this writing in the tiny house podcast, go topatreon.com/writinginthetinyhouse. And I will have links to that in the show notes of this episode. Go ahead and follow me on Instagram. My handle is @authordevindavis and on Twitter my handle is@authordevind. And have fun writing. We will see you next time guys. Bye.

Check out this episode!

[lawrenceop]

HOMILY for The Baptism of the Lord (B)

Isa 55:1-11; Isa 12:2-6; 1 Jn 5:1-9; Mark 1:7-11

Many things have been missing since the pandemic began. Right now, for example, because our community is in self-isolation due to sickness, I am, once again, missing having people here in church worshipping God alongside us Dominicans. But I hope that at least some of those who are missing can be helped in however small a way by this livestream. But like so many other new measures being undertaken at this time, it’s all too virtual, too distant, and ultimately too inhuman and sometimes, even inhumane. 

For we are bodily, relational, physical persons, which is why we long to touch, taste, smell, feel, and hear. Sight and mental ideas, though important, we realise are just not enough, which is why a live-streamed Mass or Zooming in to ‘visit’ our grandparents is never sufficient but all too limited and limiting. If there’s anything we can realise more deeply in the midst of this pandemic, it’s that we are human beings, a unique combination of the bodily-physical and the spiritual-psychological, and so we need to be sustained, and nourished, and kept healthy in both body and soul altogether. Many of the debates and disagreements we’ve had at this time as Catholics have revolved around the unique difficulties of being human and staying humane, of serving both body and soul, of having a care for the whole human person. 

It seems to me that, although we can be grateful for the applications that our modern technology enables, nevertheless all our solutions, being solutions devised by other frail human beings and being dependent on soulless machines, are fatally limited. 

The reason we celebrate Christmas, and the focus of this Christmastide season which ends today with this Feast of the Lord’s Baptism, is all about God’s solution for humanity’s fundamental sickness, a pandemic that has plagued us since Adam and Eve sinned against the wisdom and goodness of God, choosing, somewhat irrationally, to follow their own limited knowhow to find happiness over and above God’s way, which is the way of self-giving love. God’s solution for the sickness of sin, therefore, takes into account our human condition, our human nature, which is a rational, intelligent, thinking nature, capable of knowing truth and of choosing to do good. God’s solution for the plight of humanity, therefore, is altogether perfectly humane and is perfectly suited to our being human. For our sakes, God became Man, and Christ, by his teaching and his actions, becomes God’s way to be human, teaching us how to be more genuinely human, more humane, if you will. Thus St Thomas Aquinas says: “to open the way to God for everyone, God willed to become man, so that even children could know and love God as someone like themselves; and so by what they can grasp they can progress little by little to perfection.”

So, God became Man in order to remove our sins, indeed, more than that, he comes to enlighten our minds with truth and to rectify our wills; to reform and remake us from within so that we are motivated not by our sinful desires, but by loving what God loves, and doing as Christ does. In other words, in the person of Jesus Christ, God comes to befriend you and me so as to make us friends of God. As St Thomas says: Man’s sickness consisted in falling into wanting and doing the wrong things, so “righteousness of the human will consists in the proper ordering of love, [and] rightly ordered love is to love God above all things as our supreme good”. So, “to excite our love towards God, there was no more powerful way than that the Word of God, through whom all things were made, should assume our human nature in order to restore it… because the strongest way God could show how much he loves man was his willing to become man for his salvation; and nothing can provoke love more than to know that one is loved.”

In fact, today’s Gospel makes it even more amazing. For God loves us so much that he’s not content to just become Man and so become the cure for our sins. More than this, God wants to become the cure for the natural end of our human condition, namely, God wants to save us from eternal death. And so we’re made, by Christ and through Christ and in Christ, into beloved sons and daughters of God! This is the beauty of the Incarnation, of the Christmas mystery that we have been celebrating, and it is at the heart of the Christian Gospel: that we should become sharers in the divine nature of God’s own immortal Son. 

And the way that God communicates this grace, this spiritual transformation, this renewal of mind and heart that elevates our human nature, is in a bodily, physical way because that is how human beings relate to things and with one another. So, through the Sacraments, beginning with Baptism, Jesus Christ touches us, moves us, embraces us, changes us, and indeed, unites himself to us so that we can be united to God. For at your own Baptism, the Father also declared: “You are my Son, the Beloved; my grace rests on you.” (Cf Mk 1:11)

One of the things that has been missing from our churches – one of the first things to be taken away, in fact – is the holy water at the entrance. In St Dominic’s, our stone holy water stoups are so large that they look like a baptismal font, which is fitting because the holy water that should be there points to the Sacrament of Baptism. Sadly, instead of the holy waters of Baptism, we now have sanitisers, and perhaps you’ve also absent-mindedly crossed yourself with this as you entered a church! 

But, once again, this man-made solution can serve to show us how very different and limited this is compared to God’s solution. At first glance there can seem to be some similarities: the sanitiser kills germs, and Baptism washes away sin. But this is only a very superficial similarity. For whereas the sanitiser only kills the bacteria and viruses on your hands, in the crevices of your skin, and so on, it merely acts on that which isn’t human and reacts with those things that are outside of me, on the surface of my hand. 

The Sacrament of Baptism, on the other hand, doesn’t merely wash over me externally. Rather, it acts on that which is human, acting interiorly on my rational soul, forming my human dispositions and making me more responsive to the Holy Spirit, more obedient to the Word of God, more humbly and trustingly Child-like towards God my Father. In a word, the Sacrament humanises me, by restoring my relationship with God and with other people, placing me within the communion of God’s friends that we call the Church. The Sacraments, because they are devised by God for us human beings, make us more truly human by making us more open to love. So the grace of Baptism, which is at work within us over our lifetime, makes me become more like God the Son, more Christ-like, more loving of God and his commandments, as St John says in today’s Second Reading.

However, something can still be missing, and that something is you and me. I don’t just mean that people are missing because they’re staying away during this pandemic, or because of Covid restrictions. I mean that people can be missing, even well before 2020, if they’ve not really wanted the Sacraments but treat it like a cultural rite of passage; if they’ve not really been engaged with the Christian life and its demands; or if they’ve not really been present to all the graces that God has been pouring out upon us. Tragically for many, the Christian life, which is a call to a living relationship of love with God, can lapse into something distant from my full human experience. So, to use a rough analogy, it can become a bit like being at a Zoom meeting but with my camera and mic turned off; or trying to have a party with friends via Zoom: it’s virtual, not quite real, because it doesn’t really touch me or change me as a human person. Consequently, what’s missing has been the whole human person, body and soul. And yet, it is for this full human encounter that God became Man, and that Christ continues to give himself to us in the Sacraments. 

So, this is vital: for the Sacraments to take hold and deeply work in us; for God’s grace to actually have a powerful effect in my life, then my disposition, my receptivity, my willingness to be changed by God, and to let him encounter the whole Me is needed. As St Augustine says, “God who created you without you, will not save you without you”. Because God acts humanely, and so he respects our human freedom, and he wants to save the whole human person in a humane way by inviting you and me into a relationship of mutual love with him. God does this through the Incarnation of his Son; through the attractive teaching and example of Christ; through the grace of Christ communicated by the material instrumentality of the Sacraments and the beauty of the Liturgy; and through the communion of Saints. So, if today you should hear his voice, harden not your hearts, but respond to his invitation, and give yourselves, body and soul, to this relationship of love. As the prophet Isaiah says, the Lord calls out to you and me in a way that engages us, body and soul: “Come… eat… listen. Pay attention, come to me; listen, and your soul will live.” 

If you’re not baptised yet, but thinking about it, come. If you’re already baptised, like me, then let's listen and follow Jesus more closely. For, as St Augustine says, thus we shall realise that “to fall in love with God is the greatest romance; to seek him the greatest adventure; to find him, the greatest human achievement.”

[deathvalleyqueen]

“I’m Pregnant” 

I saw this on a prompt list going around a while back and wanted to do this one, particularly for the twins, mostly because it would happen right before The Gospel of Mary Jane. This is considered part of the canon for Mary Jane’s story/world. 

Rating - M (swearing mostly)

TW: Pregnancy mention

Ship: John Seed X Mary Jane 

Word Count : Just under 2,800

The last place I expected to be was in a gas station bathroom, with my brother Jimmy and Mac outside of the door while I peed on as many drug store pregnancy tests as we could find in this podunk county. I couldn’t do this back at the farm house, or my parents home down the street. Someone would find out. Someone would tell John...or worse Joseph I reminded myself. With a heavy sigh I placed the last of the seven tests we had managed to find at six am on a Saturday morning, on the edge of the dingy sink. I pulled up my pants, washed my hands before walking right out of the bathroom. 

I was greeted by the confused faces of my two eldest brothers. Jimmy reached out and gripped my shoulders. “What are you doing?” He asked me as I tried to keep walking back to his truck. “You can’t just piss on them and walk away.” 

“I can and I will…” I declared trying to push past him only to be stopped by Mac. He tilted his head and looked at me like I was a puppy who had misbehaved. “Stop..” 

“You woke US BOTH up at five in the morning, in a panic because you had suddenly realized you hadn’t had your period in two months.” Mac physically turned my body around as I tried to dig the heel of my converse into the pavement to no avail. “Now go back in there and find out if you are fucking pregnant before you go hide in the laundryroom and get drunk...again.” I refused to budge, a scowl painted across my face. Mac let out a frustrated sigh. “For fuck’s sake, Mary Jane…” 

Jimmy pushed open the door and gestured inside. “If you are scared half-pint, then you know what. We’ll come look with you, right?” Jimmy asked wide at Mac who cringed at first at the thought of going into a bathroom with his little sister, but ended up nodding his head once I looked up at him with my big ‘please, big brother’ eyes. 

“Yeah, whatever… lets just find out if our family is going to be permanently fucking interwind with the shit show that is The Seeds…” Mac grumbled. 

I shook my head. “You know you used to like John, before Joseph came around.” I pointed out finally walking back into the bathroom. “Both of you…” 

“I liked the fact John was a free fucking lawyer.” Mac said as he placed his hands on my shoulders giving me a gentle push towards the sink. “And that Duncan money wasn’t bad either… but him as a person is a little shit.” Jimmy scowled over at Mac. Mac lifted his hands from my shoulders and put them up defensively. “Tell me that you actually liked John, Jimmy… tell me and I swear to fuck I will eat my boots.” 

“I wouldn’t say I liked him, but he has always been good to our sister so we don’t have room to say fuck all about fuck all.” Jimmy admitted with a shrug. 

I smirked as I pointed back at my eldest brother. “Jimmy, is in fact correct.” I laughed before all the laughter faded as my eyes landed on the first of the tests. A bright blue plus sign caught my eye. Then the word ‘Pregnant’ on the digital one. One by one I looked at each and they all said the same thing. 

My brothers caught the shift in my mood and the both peered over my shoulders. In unison the both declared. “Fuck.” I looked between them, each with a concerned expression on their faces. 

“Well, I mean.” I started nervously trying to find some silver lining in a situation I was not expecting to find myself in. “John is very good looking, the baby will be beautiful..” I muttered as I picked up the tests and put them back into one of the boxes before shoving it into my purse. 

“Yeah, the kid is gonna be cute as shit.” Mac agreed as I pushed past them both to walk towards the car. “MJ, are you okay?” Mac asked as he followed behind me. 

“This is not small news…” Jimmy continued. 

“It’s what Joseph wanted for us.” I mumbled. “He said as much before we left Atlanta.” I shook my head more to myself in utter shock. John and I had only ever briefly talked about the prospect of children and both of us had agreed it may have not been the best path for us. That was, however long before Joseph walked back into my husband’s life and changed the whole course of our lives and relationship. 

Jimmy slid in front of me and stopped me by grabbing my shoulders. “But what do you want?” His question was so weighted. “Do you want to have this baby?” His second one only more so. In truth I had no idea what I wanted more than just go home and talk to John. I wouldn’t even be able to gage what this was going to mean till I saw how John reacted. 

“I want to talk to John.” I whispered. “If he freaks out, if this triggers something in him… can I even in good conscience bring a child into that?” My voice shook as I spoke, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. John was never violent with me, but he could be violent. My brothers both had seen it with their own eyes. He also had a temper and mood swings, which I had learned to deal with but a child adds so much more to the equation. 

“I know..” Jimmy responded with a soft smile. “John may change for the better though, like I did when Claire was born. She helped me calm my shit right now. Best thing in the fucking world to ever happen to me.” Jimmy had a point, one that I really hadn’t considered at that moment in time. I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around him hugging him tightly as I started to cry. “Eh, half-pint, none of this waterworks shit you are going to mess up my shirt.” He laughed trying to bring a little lightness back to the moment. 

“JImmy is right, MJ. Having a kid can really put a lot of things in perspective. For all you know. John and you popping out a couple of little Seedlings could really like to save him from his own self destructive bullshit.”  Mac shrugged as he made an over exaggerated ‘I don’t know’ face which did it’s intended job and made me chuckle as I lifted my head. “Peanut, you aren’t going to know anything till we get you home and you and John get the fuck out of that house and talk someplace ol’Joe isn’t gonna be sticking his nose in.” I nod slowly as I take a step back from Jimmy. 

His hands lingered on my shoulders as he looked down at me, “Doughnuts?” He asked with a smirk. “So John doesn’t think you ran out of the house at the ass crack of dawn for no reason.” I nod again as Jimmy motions for Mac to go get the car started. 

We did in fact go get doughnuts and brought some home as our grand excuse of why I had disappeared before anyone was up. As we walked in the house I could tell my absence had caused quite the commotion. John was pacing in the dining room, his hands raking through his hair. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed, just in grey sweatpants as he panicked. “Where is she? Where could she have gone. My tuck is still outside, I told you all this was too much for her, Joseph. You had to ease her into things slowly or she was going to crack. Now look. My fucking wife is GONE.” John was so wrapped up in his own panic he didn’t hear my brothers and I walk in. 

Joseph and Jacob however did. I held up the box of doughnuts for them to see with a nervous look on my face. “John…” Joseph started calmly. John wouldn’t acknowledge Joseph till he put his hand on his shoulder. “Turn around…” John’s slowly turned around. 

I smiled nervously across the room at him, “Hi baby…” I laughed through gritted teeth as I held up the box of doughnuts. “Do you want a doughnut?” I really don’t think the look on John’s face could properly be described by mere mortal language. His eyes were wide, his jaw clenched tightly to keep himself from saying something he would only regret as he very quickly stormed across the room. 

“Do I want a doughnut… Did you really just ask me that?” He grumbled as he reached where I was standing between my brothers. John snatched the bakery box from hands and shoved it towards Mac who scoffed, protesting his roughness was going to harm the doughnuts. It was not the wisest of choices, as John only snarled at him. “Would you just shut about the doughnuts.” He snapped as John took my hand. “You… upstairs… now.” 

“What did I do?” I protested as John started to drag me towards the stairs. “Babe, what’s the matter? Is this all because I left before you were up?” I asked softly, really worried that I was about to walk into a huge fight and it was going to be the worst possible time to tell John the ‘news’. 

Just as John was about to speak, Jimmy cleared his throat. “Johnny, if you are gonna be pissed off at anyone, be pissed off at me, I texted her because I was up and wanted to get out for a while… this is all my fault.” I looked back over my shoulder at Jimmy who just shrugged when I silently questioned why he just took the blame for me. 

John looked down at me, squeezing my hand to regain my attention. “Is that true?” 

“Why would we lie?” I questioned back softly as I pulled my hand away. “I can spend time with my brothers, they won’t let anyone hurt me. Especially not them two.” I nod my head back towards my brothers. John nodded slightly, still obviously upset. 

“I, just...Mary Jane…” John stammered as he reached out for me. 

With a heavy sigh I forced a smile. “Come on, let’s go up stairs.” I whispered, taking his hand. It didn’t take any coaxing at all to get John to follow. My brothers didn’t say anything, just took seats on the couch. I suspected they were going to wait around for a while to see if there ended up being any sort of fight between John and I before they left. 

As I set my purse down on the bed, debating if I should even have the conversation I really needed to have with John in that moment. He answered the question for me when he slipped his arms around my waist pulling me back against him and away from the edge of the bed. “Why did you real go?” He asked softly. I knew he knew Jimmy was lying. Jimmy has never historically been a good liar and John could read me better than anyone else. 

I took a long deep breath in as I leaned back against his bare chest. My lips parted as I tried to find the right words to start off this life changing conversation. “John.” I started as I turned around, his arms still round my waist keeping me close to him. With another long deep breath in I closed my eyes and decided to just get it over with. “I had my brothers take me into town to get a pregnancy test.” I paused and gestured back to my purse. “Well I think there are eight of them actually…” 

For a man as educated as John was, he was obviously confused by what I just said. “Pregnancy test? Why in the world…” He stopped himself as things started to click. His eyes grew wide as he took a step back letting go of me. ‘Wait, are you?” 

“I’m pregnant.” I was so scared to see his reaction, I had closed my eyes before I had spoken and kept them closed till I felt John’s hand on my stomach. I opened them to find John looking down at me with tears in his eyes. “Babe..” I muttered softly as I reached up and touched his face. “Are you okay?” 

John nodded slowly against my hand. “I just wasn’t expecting this.” he sighed and I tried not to laugh. It didn’t make sense to me how he didn’t expect this to happen. Particularly when he was the one who had talked me into going off my birth control at Joseph’s behest six months prior. 

“I don’t know how?” I shook my head as my hand slipped away from his face. “I haven’t been on the pill for six months, John.” John shrugged and I chuckled as I shook my head. “We are far from chaste, as well ya know. I am actually shocked it took this long for this.” I gestured to my stomach where his hand was still resting. “To end up happening.” 

“I know.” John mumbled. “I had hoped before it did we would be settled in a place of our own again.” I nodded along agreeing with him as my hand covered his. “Are you okay with this?” He asked looking into my eyes. 

I shrugged much like I had when my brother asked me the same question. “Do I have a choice not to be anymore?” John chewed on his bottom lip as he tilted his head to the side not wanting to answer that question. “I don’t, do I?” 

“You don’t want to have our child?” John asked, trying to deflect from answering my question. 

“I didn’t say that,  I just asked if I even have a choice to want something different. The answer is ‘No’ you could have just said it.” I pulled back from and John took a step forward trying to stay close to me. “I love you John, part of me is over the moon at the idea of us starting a family but I also am terrified bringing a child into all this. We are not the most stable people.” John scoffed and I shook my head. “We agreed not two years ago that the idea of us being parents was a disaster waiting to happen, what changed.” 

“We have family, we have the Project, we are not the same people.” He wasn’t wrong about the last part, those people were still inside us. I knew it and so did he. “We are going to be fine, this baby is going to grow up surrounded by so much love…” John promised as he gripped my hips pulling me towards him.

“And so many guns…” I muttered as I rested my hand on his chest. 

“There are far worse things for them to grow up around and you know this.” He wasn’t wrong about that either. I leaned forward and rested my forehead on his chest. “You said part of you is happy about the baby?” John asked and I mumbled ‘yes’ back to him. He moved one of his hand under my chin and coaxed me to look up at him. “Then be happy, I’m happy about this. It’s not what we would have planned for ourselves, but what if this is God’s plan for us?” He smiled as he leaned in. “Can we be happy? Please.” 

“Yes,” I muttered trying as best as I could to push down the nagging little voice in my head that was telling me this was just going to trap me here even if one day I waned to to leave. John would never let his child go, I knew this about him before we even had children. He had lost too much in his life, been hurt too much to ever simply let something as important as family slip away from him again. Instead of dwelling, I forced a bright smile as I pushed myself up on my tiptoes. “Let’s be the happy family…” I whispered as John leaned in to meet me in a kiss that sealed my fate to forever be bound to the Project at Eden’s Gate.