#someone bring him a bowl of soup for christs sake

[vampmilf]

how do you feel

like he needs to age faster and get more grey hair and also not be so dramatic about it maybe 🙄

[polaroid15]

With Great Power...

Chapter 5: With great power comes a lack of self-care

Summary: May gets sick and Peter works himself to the bone taking care of her. Turns out his powers don't prevent him from getting sick after all.

Read on Ao3 HERE

-------

May is sick. Peter is losing his mind.

He bites his nails down to stubs and holds back her hair when she pukes out everything he’s tried to feed her. He helps her into bed and sits by her door long after he hears her breathing even out.

He can’t sleep so he scrubs the bathroom clean. When that’s done he cleans the kitchen and does his laundry twice. He grabs a pillow and blanket and lays down by May’s door, assured by her heartbeat, and wakes her up at four in the morning to help her choke down two fever reducers.

By the time sunlight streams in through the windows, he feels dead on his feet.

It’s worth it though. May wakes up with a temperature three degrees lower than the last time he had checked it. She kisses his forehead and ruffles his hair before taking a shower. She eats the entire bowl of soup Peter gives her and falls asleep with her head on his shoulder while they watch a movie.

For the first time since she’d gotten sick two days ago, Peter feels like he can breathe. His eyes droop, then close, and he lets go. When he opens them again it’s dark and May is gone. There’s a blanket tucked securely around his waist.

“May?” he croaks, wincing at the pain in his throat. He fights with the blanket and falls in an uncoordinated heap on the ground. “May!”

“Peter?”

Feeling lightheaded in his relief, Peter follows her voice to her bedroom. From the light in the hallway he can see her peer up at him from a heavy mound of blankets. She’s okay. She’s fine. “It’s almost one in the morning,” she says.

“Sorry,” he says shakily, straightening himself on the doorway. “I woke up and you were gone-”

May’s eyes soften in understanding. She pats the empty space beside her. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, Peter listens. He crawls into bed and lays beside her. She rests a comforting hand on his forearm. “I’m feeling a lot better baby. Everything’s okay now.”

“Okay,” he echoes, a deep relief making his eyes water.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

He turns his head to look at her, barely finding her eyes in the darkness. “You always take care of me.”

“We take care of each other.”

It doesn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep.

-----

When Peter wakes up again the room is bright and warm with sunlight. Soft rustling sharpens his awareness over to May’s vanity. She’s sitting at the seat, running her fingers through her jewelry and selecting a jade necklace. She notices him through the mirror as she clips it behind her neck. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” he says, mind cloudy with sleep. “You goin’ to work?”

“Yeah baby. I can’t miss any more time.”

“Oh.” Peter blinks to try to clear his vision and frowns when the effort is unsuccessful. “You feel okay?”

“Well enough,” she assures. She stands with a smile and grabs her purse. “You get some rest today, alright? Promise?”

“Promise,” Peter says. “There’s- there’s a gatorade in the fridge. Take it with you.”

May makes her way to his side and ruffles his hair. Her smile falls into a frown. “You feel a little warm. Are you feeling okay? I thought you couldn’t get sick-”

“Just hot from the blankets,” he says, though the more he thinks about it-

“Okay. Call me if you need me.”

With one final look of measured worry, May turns and makes her way towards the kitchen. He hears the fridge open before the front door does and smiles.

The apartment is quiet.

So quiet-

The next time Peter opens his eyes his stomach twists violently. With a watering mouth, the only thought he can muster is uh-oh, before he’s scrambling over May’s sheets to get to the bathroom. He barely makes it, catching himself by his forearms before heaving over the bowl.

Just like May, it never seems to end. He shivers and sweats and wishes she were here to help him. When it finally eases he collapses back against the bathtub and doesn’t have the strength to flush the toilet.

God, he’s thirsty.

It’s the only thing to get him onto his knees. After days of lecturing May about the importance of fluids, Peter can’t be one to ignore his own advice. He reaches for the tap and misses it by a mile. His reflection swims dangerously in front of his eyes.

“Tha’s not good,” he slurs to himself.

And then his eyes roll back up into his head. He isn’t awake long enough to feel himself hit the floor.

------

“Damn kid and these damn grey hairs-”

Tony grumbles to himself all the way from his empty lab to his car, and then all the way to the Parker’s apartment. The kid had been scheduled to come over hours ago and had never showed. It was more than unusual in itself, let alone the seven missed calls and thirteen unanswered text messages.

He checks on Karen, but Peter hasn’t been in his suit in days.

He texts May, but she doesn’t respond either.

He tries valiantly to convince himself that it’s nothing, that there’s probably a very safe and healthy explanation as to why Peter is dodging him. It’s not like he’s the kid’s father, for God’s sake. But no matter how hard he had tried to work in the lab alone the kid’s absence had made him too sick to his stomach to stay focused.

So here he is. The seventh floor. He knocks loudly at Peter’s door and frowns at the silence. If Peter’s wearing his watch, he should be here.

He should be here.

He knocks again.

Again.

With a dry throat, he tries to call the kid one last time. When his enthusiastic voice fills Tony’s ear via voicemail he shoves it back in his pocket and spends the next five minutes picking their lock.

Thankfully, no one sees.

“Hello?” he calls when it opens. The apartment is dark. “Peter? Are you here?”

There’s no answer. Pushing aside the invasivity of it all, he steps into the Parker home and shuts the door behind him. “Pete?”

Tony flicks on the lights and doesn’t bother to take off his coat. He heads towards Peter room but is stopped in his tracks long before he can reach it.

Because the bathroom door is open. Because he sees Peter sprawled out lifelessly on his back halfway into the hall. The fear that overtakes him at the sight is enough to freeze him until he sees Peter’s chest moving up and down in short, labored breaths.

“Kid!”

Tony’s knees ache when he slams them down beside the boy. He grabs at Peter’s fever-hot face and slaps lightly at his cheeks. “Wake up Peter. Come on buddy. This isn’t a good look for you.”

Groaning, Peter opens his eyes to slits. He looks up at Tony as if he’s the angel that’s come to bring him up to the pearly white gates and shudders against a cold sweat. “Tony?”

A delirious laugh bubbles out from his chest. He smooths back Peter’s hair and tries to ignore how his heart skips a beat at the heat rolling off his skin. “It’s Tony now huh? After all this time and you choose now?”

Peter’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. He shakes his head. “Wha’s happ’n?”

“You passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“Wha- why‘re you here?”

“Because you passed out on the bathroom floor dummy.”

Peter whines, his face paling behind the red hue of his fever. “Feel sick.”

“I know buddy. I’m sorry. I’m here to help. Where’s May?”

Peter considers this for a long time. “Mm. She’s sick too. Went to- went to work.” As if answering leeches all his energy, Peter’s eyes close and his head lolls. Tony shakes him until their eyes meet again. “Christ kiddo. You’re scaring me. I thought you weren’t supposed to get sick.”

Eyes shining with tears, Peter’s frown grows. “Tony.”

“Okay, we gotta get you up. Can you sit up? When’s the last time you drank something?”

“Don’ know. Tried. Fell. Don’ feel good.”

“I know Petey. I’m so sorry. Let me help you-”

Peter cries out before he can finish. The last of the color drains from his face quite suddenly and he goes boneless against the linoleum. Tony feels for a pulse and nearly cries at how erratic it feels against his fingertips.

“FRI! Call- call an ambulance.”

-----

Hours later, Tony sits beside May in Peter’s hospital room. The smell of antiseptic is giving him a headache and he holds his head in his hands, willing for the nauseating anxiety to leave with the pain in his skull.

Peter is okay, he tells himself. He’s fine. Stop worrying.

After some light threatening, the ambulance had arrived at the Parker residence in record time. Tony could barely keep up with their hurried descent to the street and had lost time in the ambulance. He had followed Peter as far as he could and then slid down the wall when the boy had disappeared.

Someone had taken a picture of him on their phone camera. He was too exhausted to yell at them.

He had called May. She was at his side in a matter of minutes.

She still is. Tony spares her a sympathetic glance. She’s sitting with her head resting on Peter’s arm, a wad of crumpled tissues held tight in her fist. None of them had thought Peter could even get sick, that it was outside the realm of possibility.

Turns out, he definitely can.

May catches him staring and offers a watery smile. “Thanks for taking care of him Tony.”

“It was nothing.”

“He was fine when I left. I was nowhere near this bad. If you hadn’t shown up-” she chokes and looks away.

Feeling a similar tightness in his own throat, Tony coughs to clear it before responding. “He’s okay now. That’s what matters.”

May nods slowly, but guilt still clouds her features. “He didn’t really sleep when I was sick. He spent every second taking- taking care of me.” She pauses, her mouth hanging open in unspoken words. Then, “when Ben and I found out his parents had died we were terrified. I never thought I’d be able to love him as much as I do. I don’t know what I’d do without him Tony. I swear to God. I’d die if I lost him.”

That makes two of us, Tony thinks. “He’s a good kid.”

“Too good sometimes.”

With great power-

Tony sighs. He stares at Peter’s lax face and feels something swoop in his stomach. “What can I do to help?” he asks.

May smiles weakly and threads her fingers through Peter’s hair. “You’re everything to him,” she says quietly. “You’re his idol, his hero. You’re there for him, Tony. You show up. That’s all I can ask for. You’re already helping.”

Biting hard on his cheek keeps his expression neutral, but he can’t prevent the flush that spreads across his face. He hopes May doesn’t notice. “He has the whole world on his shoulders. I wish he didn’t.”

“He’s a teenage superhero,” she laughs, though without humour, and hangs onto him more tightly. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before. My nephew is a teenage superhero.”

Tony chuckles along, rubbing his hands over his temples. “He can stick to walls.”

“Why- why the hell do we let him do this?”

Humming a non-answer, Tony shrugs. May’s eyes soften. “Ben would’ve been proud of him,” she says in a whisper. “I think- I think that’s why he does it. And why I let him. Ben would be proud.”

With great power, comes great responsibility.

“You’re a good Aunt.”

“Mm. I certainly try.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know.”

Slowly, between them, Peter stirs. He blinks up at the ceiling as May smooths his hair back. Tony tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat, or how he leans forward in his chair. “You back with us baby?”

Peter’s mouth turns up in a loopy grin. He stares at the ceiling as if it’s spinning. “Woah. Wow. Dreamt I was- I was Spider-Man. ‘S so cool.”

They both laugh. Peter smiles too even though he clearly doesn’t understand the context of the humour. He looks at May and some clarity leaks into his eyes. “You ‘kay?” he asks.

“Yeah baby. I’m okay. All thanks to you.”

“Yay,” he breathes. His head swivels heavily in Tony’s direction and his smile widens, which obliterates that last of Tony’s resolve to stay as stoic as possible. He feels his eyes well with tears. “How ya feeling kiddo?”

“High.”

“Yeah I’ll bet.”

Peter yawns and sinks further into the mattress. As his eyes flutter he says, “tired. Larb you guys.”

I larb you too, kid. More than you know.

The chairs suck, but May and Tony don’t leave his side.

Not even for a second.

[whumpiary]

content warning: food paranoia, disordered eating, pressure to eat, referenced violence, panic attack, drugs/drugging mention,

-

It takes Josiah a few hours to calm down before he tries talking to Cass again. There was no point threatening pain because Cass didn’t fear it and there was no point pretending he was the sweet and caring nurse because Cass didn’t buy it.  

Cass knows who he is. Hard, violent, steel. And that’s what he’ll get.

“Alright, Cass. Enough,” he says, armed with a bowl of soup “Either you eat, or I’ll drive you to the nearest hospital and dump you out front.”

“No you won’t.”

“Try me, Ace.”

Cass flinches imperceptibly at the nickname.

“You hate hospitals even more than I do. There’s no way you’re taking me to one.”

“Didn’t say I’d take you in, I said I’d dump you out front.”

Cass scoffs like he doesn’t believe a word but Josiah sees his shoulders tense, his breath catch. There’s a fear there. He leans on it.

“Two nights ago, you drop at my doorstep, half dead, force yourself back into my life after a year of radio silence. I take you in, I patch you up. I don’t ask who did this, I don’t ask if they’re following you or if I’m in danger of them coming to my goddamn house. Hell, when I try asking, you force your way into my fucking head just to stop me.”

“That wasn’t what h-”

“I’ve dropped my whole damn life just to keep you alive and now you’re planning on starving yourself to death on my couch?” Josiah stands up straight, takes up as much space as he can. “You think I’m not begging for an excuse to get rid of you? Palm you off onto someone else? You think I won’t take you to a fucking hospital? Like I said… Try me, Ace”

Cass is breathing hard. Fuming. When he looks up, he seems to be trying to calculate something from Josiah’s face. Josiah stares him down, crosses his arms, hopes his face is impassive enough to hold down the lie.

“I’ll name you again,” Cass says, voice low in a shaky attempt menace and venom. “I’ll get into your head, make you cut your own hand off.”

Josiah snorts. 

“Go on, then. This time when you pass out I’ll let you choke on your tongue.”

Cass holds his gaze, trying to call the bluff. There isn’t one. 

“I didn’t mean to come here, I didn’t mean to…force myself back into your life,” he blurts. Panicked distraction. “It just happened.”

“I don’t care. You’re here now,” Josiah says, resolute “My house. My rules-”

“And I eat when you say I eat, I heard you. You gonna dictate when I shit as well?”

Josiah just shrugs and passes Cassius the bowl. “If I have to.”

Cass is breathing like he’s just lost a boxing match. He stares down at the bowl like he could scry a way out of here through vegetable broth.

Hair loose and hanging over his face like this, he looks impossibly young. Naive and innocent and wounded.

Young and wounded Josiah could buy. He doubted Cass had ever been naive. Innocent he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot stick.

Cass is shaking. His knuckles are white pearl where he grips the spoon. You’d think Josiah had asked him to swallow glass.

“Come on Cass,” he prompts, after a few too many moments of still. 

“I’m trying,” he grunts. Then a shuddering breath. He puts the bowl down on the coffee table, makes a sound of frustration. “I… I want to eat it.” A breaths. “I do.” A breath. “I’m just…” A breath. “I- I can't… can’t…”

He’s hyperventilating Josiah realises, bent at the middle, fingers gripping in long hair. 

“Cass-”

“I’m trying,” Cass whispers, voice thick. “I swear I’m trying, J. I’m trying”

Josiah had been prepared for the worst. He’d been prepared for defiance and snark and for violence and for a fight. He’d been prepared to be named again for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t been prepared for panic. For terror. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this. He really wasn’t the sweet and caring nurse. He wasn’t the person for that. He sits down next to Cass, touches a hesitant hand to his back. 

“It’s okay, Ace-”

“If you… if you call me that… one more fucking time…I really will make you cut your hand off,” Cass says between ragged inhales.

Josiah retracts his hand. He moves back on the couch to give the other man space. He resists asking what do I do like some moron. He counts in his head ten seconds, twenty seconds, as Cass’ breath slows.

“I’m fine,” says Cass, gripping his hair and resolutely not fine “I’m fine. I’m sorry. This is stupid. I’m just. I’m sorry. I’m fine. Sorry. I’m just tired”

“Yeah and probably hungry,” Josiah says, maybe a little too roughly.

“Yes. I’m hungry, alright?” Cass snaps “I’m fucking starving. Shut up.”

Josiah looks at Cass, stupidly. “Then eat”

“I’m trying you stupid fucking-” Cassius cuts himself off with a frustrated grunt. He looks like he could push Josiah’s stupid fucking head through the stupid fucking wall. He takes a deep breath and tries again “I’m trying, J. I’m just… in my head. In my head it's… not safe. The food, the… this place, the… God, anything. I’m so hungry and all I want to do is eat but every time I try my fucked up head tries to tell me that it's… that the food is…”

Cass trails off, gesturing mutely at the bowl. He can’t seem to say it. As though it’s too stupid, too paranoid. His shoulders are bunched up around his ears and he’s sitting on his hands. Everything about him screams shame and embarrassment.

“There’s nothing in the soup, Cass,” Josiah says after a minute. “There’s not even any stock powder, I ran out. It’s just vegetables and water. You watched me make it.”

“Yeah but I didn’t see wh-” Cass stops himself mid-thought again, clearly realising how stupid he’d sound to finish the argument “I know there’s nothing in it. I know that but I can’t tell my body that and I…”

Cassius takes a deep, deep breath and closes his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is so small Josiah nearly misses it.

“I need help, J,” he says. “Just. I want to eat. Help me. Please.”

Josiah’s heart stops. Cass is asking for help. Cassius I can do my own damn stitches Drake didn’t ask for help. Ace never asked for help. Ever. 

He’d mutter apologies or thanks. He’d take what was forced on him. He’d allow help if you insisted, sure, but he never asked. Even two nights ago, delirious and barely conscious he’d tried to insist on walking inside himself. 

“J, please.”

Cass’ voice brings him back. It’s a whisper, almost a beg. And what else can he say?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” he clears his throat and reaches for the bowl “I can… look, same as the water, alright? I eat half, you eat half”

“Yeah but what if-” Cass cuts himself up, pulls his knees to his chest. When did he learn to make himself so small?

Josiah raises his brows, “What?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s stupid”

“Cass. I’m not eating half a bowl of soup just for you to come up with another excuse in five minutes. It does matter. What?”

Cass hesitates, closes his eyes, and then let’s it rush out all at once. “What if you’ve put something in that settles at the bottom and then you just leave the… the bad bit for me”

Josiah stares at him like he’s been struck. He brings his hand up to rub over his face, hand settling on the back of his neck. Is that what Cass thought of him now? “Jesus Christ.”

“Told you. Stupid. Sorry. I know it’s stupid”

“Yeah, damn right it’s fucking stupid,” he says, shaking his head. Everything about this is stupid. But Cass needs to damn well eat. Josiah sighs. “Fine. Alright. Fine, whatever. Spoon by spoon then. I eat, you eat. Till the bowl’s done. How’s that?”

Cassius seems to be trying to think it over, pick it apart, find the trick. Then, slowly, he nods. 

Finally.

Josiah takes a mouthful, taking care to very obviously swallow it. He feels like an idiot magician setting up a trick. Nothing up my sleeves! Nothing in the soup!

Then he holds out the spoon.

Cass is staring at the bowl like a viper might leap out to attack him, so Josiah scoops some broth onto the spoon and offers it out again, hoping some numb part of Cass’ brain registers the gesture. Instead of reaching for it, though, he opens his mouth like a baby bird. Josiah breathes in sharply.

This is fucked. Completely fucked.

He wants to walk away. He wants to punch a hole in the wall.

But Cass is terrified. And he needs food. Whatever stupid thing it takes. So he feeds him.

As soon as Cass closes his lips around the spoon he makes a sound like he’s been hit with pure bliss. It’s enough that he closes his eyes and Josiah feels such fucking relief that he almost forgets how awkward and horrible this is. He’s nearly holding back a smile.

It’s an easy process to repeat. Spoon for him, spoon for Cass.

“Fuck that’s good,” Cass mutters after the third or fourth mouthful. 

“‘Course it’s good,” Josiah says. “I cooked it.”

Cassius takes another mouthful, holding the spoon himself this time. “Since when do you cook?”

“Since when do you care?”

They keep eating. One after the other. Spoon by spoon.

“I’m sorry,” Cass says softly, once half the soup is gone. He doesn’t sound sure on what he’s apologising for.

“It’s okay,” Josiah tells him. 

Its a lie. They both know it. It isn’t okay. None of it is.

“For what it’s worth, I do care,” Cass continues, softer still. “About you. I care a lot.”

Josiah pauses. Despite the knife through his chest, he manages to keep breathing. How dare he? How absolute dare he?

He doesn’t want to eat anymore fucking soup. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to run away. He takes another mouthful.

Everything feels horrible. Everything feels like a cruel injustice and a demand he can’t bare. But he does. And so does Cass.

And they’re both surviving.

And Josiah hasn’t hit anything.

And Cass is eating.

And for now, for today, that’s enough. 

[faithnotes-blog]

The Principles behind Full-Time Ministry

One of the barriers to full-time ministry is the guilt that comes from earning money from a church. Acquiring any kind of benefit for working in a church seems almost sinful to many traditional Christians. A guilty feeling that you are living off the gifts that people bring to God can be overwhelming.

Many well-meaning Christians find it virtually impossible to cross this barrier and to work for the Lord in full-time ministry. This guilty feeling is not unfounded. Even though a bank is a heartless, money-grabbing institution, earning or getting some of that money for yourself by working there is seen as legitimate.

Somehow, earning money through the church seems immoral. It is therefore a struggle for professionals to subject themselves to earning money from a charity, which they once contributed to.

Generally, coming into full-time ministry is a humbling experience. It must be embraced by all who love the Lord. The apostle Paul throws much light on what happens when you earn money through the ministry. 137

He teaches powerful principles which every full-time minister must understand. Even lay people must understand these principles. They help put everything in context.

These principles are fulfilled by being in full-time ministry, that is, a ministry which pays you or from which you benefit financially. These principles are not fulfilled by lay ministry.

You must not feel guilty about receiving pay or benefits through ministry work. All these ten principles are in favour of you receiving money and other benefits from your work.

Ten Guilt Removing Principles

1. The principle of fighting a war whilst someone else pays the bills.

Who at any time serves as a soldier at his own expense?

1 Corinthians 9:7, NASB

Paul likens ministry to going to war. Indeed, it is a battle on many fronts. After being in full-time ministry for more than ten years, I would describe ministry as a series of battles, struggles and fights.

If I am at war through the ministry, who is going to pay for the war? Certainly not the soldiers who are fighting on the battle front!

If you are in full-time ministry, you can expect to be paid for going to war. Actually, you should expect to be paid well! You are in a danger zone and have taken many risks.

2. The principle of being the first to drink the wine of your vineyard.

...Who plants a vineyard and does not eat the fruit of it?

1 Corinthians 9:7, NASB

In this verse, the work of the ministry is likened to the planting and tilling of a vineyard. This principle gives the planter of the vineyard the right to enjoy the wine that comes from his vineyard. The next time you are offered a cup of wine from the ministry vineyard, do not feel guilty to drink it. Drink deeply, brother. You deserve the wine from the vineyard.

3. The principle of not muzzling the ox that treads out the corn.

For it is written in the Law of Moses, “You shall not muzzle the ox while he is threshing...”

1 Corinthians 9:9, NASB

In this principle, the mouth of the ox, which is treading the corn, must not be gagged! The ox spends the whole day mashing the corn for its master. The mouth of this ox must not be tied. The ox must be allowed to eat some of the corn he is stamping on. How much corn can this poor animal eat in a day?

Now, God does not use this principle because He cares about oxen! He cares about His full-time priests.

A full-time pastor is an ox who spends all day crushing the corn for the farmer. He is entitled to a few mouthfuls to give him enough energy to continue happily in his work.

Dear Minister, you are also entitled to enjoy a few mouthfuls personally. Don’t feel bad because you have to eat. It is God’s blessing for you.

4. The principle of feeding a flock and being the first to drink the milk.

...Or who tends a flock and does not use the milk of the flock?

1 Corinthians 9:7, NASB

Once again, a full-time minister feeds the flock as he ministers the Word of God. These sheep are definitely going to get fatter. They will be blessed and increased in size and number. Soon milk will start coming out of those teats. 

Who should be the first to drink this milk? You are abnormal when you do not drink the milk from your sheep.

Feel free from today and enjoy the milk! Put it in the fridge if you want. Have a cup of tea with this God-given milk. You may turn the milk into cheese, butter, yoghurt, ice cream and all the other nice things. I know you never thought that God would bless you so much in full-time ministry.

5. The principle of having a farm and eating of the produce.

Yes, for our sake it was written, because the plowman ought to plow in hope, and the thresher to thresh in hope of sharing the crops.

1 Corinthians 9:10, NASB

Pastoring a church is like owning a farm. Think of all the cows, pigs, goats, chickens, wheat, barley, maize, potatoes, oranges, bananas, tomatoes, pepper and onions that are grown on your farm. Being in full-time ministry is the same as having all these at your disposal.

Is it wrong to taste spicy, grilled pork chops once a week? Is there anything wrong if you use some of the tomatoes, pepper and onions to make chicken stew for your family? What about some steak or beef with onions? How do you want your potatoes? As french fries, parsley potatoes or baked potatoes?

These are God’s blessings for his full-time ministers. It is a small compensation for the humility and service of a servant of God. No one is wiser than God. Accept God’s provision and flow fully in full-time ministry. Enjoy the fried rice that comes from the farm.

6. The principle of sowing spiritual seeds and reaping material things.

If we sowed spiritual things in you, is it too much if we reap material things from you?

If others share the right over you, do we not more? Nevertheless, we did not use this right, but we endure

all things so that we will cause no hindrance to the gospel of Christ.

1 Corinthians 9:11-12, NASB

The ministry is all about sowing spiritual seeds. I would have thought that the harvest would be equally spiritual. However, God’s Word reveals this surprise of carnal blessings as well. What are carnal blessings? They are physical things that you receive only on this earth. There is nothing carnal in Heaven. Eternal rewards await you in Heaven but carnal harvests may be reaped here and now. People should not be surprised when God blesses full-time ministers with cars, houses, clothes, food and other little carnal pleasures.

Unfortunately, there are many who want us to sow and never reap. There are lay people who cannot understand why they should pay the bills for the war which we are fighting. Well, that is God’s ordained way.

7. The principle of ministering holy things and living off these holy things.

Do you not know that those who perform sacred services eat the food of the temple…

1 Corinthians 9:13, NASB

Full-time ministry is based on the levitical priesthood. All the tribes of Israel were given land but the tribe of Levi was given nothing. Their portion was the Lord. They were to trust God for everything.

The priests the Levites, and all the tribe of Levi, shall have no part nor inheritance with Israel: THEY SHALL EAT THE OFFERINGS of the LORD made by fire, and his inheritance.

Therefore shall they have no inheritance among their brethren: the LORD is their inheritance, as he hath said unto them. And THIS SHALL BE THE PRIEST’S DUE FROM THE PEOPLE, from them that offer a sacrifice, whether it be ox or sheep; and they shall give unto the priest the shoulder, and the two cheeks, and 141

the maw. THE FIRSTFRUIT also of thy corn, of thy wine, and of thine oil, and the first of the fleece of thy sheep, SHALT THOU GIVE HIM. For the LORD thy God hath chosen him out of all thy tribes, to stand to minister in the name of the LORD, him and his sons for ever.

Deuteronomy 18:1-5

So practically, they were to receive the tithes, offerings, and gifts on behalf of the Lord. After presenting these gifts to the Lord with a wave, they were to take them home and enjoy them.

It might seem like sacrilege to you, for me to eat people’s offerings! How can someone eat and drink holy gifts that have been presented to God? How could I use money that was placed in the Sunday offering bowl? Nevertheless, it is a principle that those who minister with holy things are to eat and to drink these very holy things. Because I am in full-time ministry, I use holy money, I drink holy milk with my tea and I eat holy beef stew.

Why do I call it holy? Because I eat the offerings and tithes that people have brought. I use these offerings and tithes to buy food and drink.

Next time you see a full-time minister spending a dollar, remember that it is a holy dollar that he is spending.

All full-time ministers spend holy money and eat holy food. They drive holy cars and live in holy houses because all these were acquired with holy offerings! I am sorry I cannot change what God has ordained.

8. The principle of waiting at the altar and partaking of the altar.

…those who attend regularly to the altar have their share from the altar?

1 Corinthians 9:13, NASB

The principle of partaking of things brought to the altar is similar to the one above. God’s people bring tithes, offerings and gifts to His house. In the Old Testament, these altar sacrifices were sheep, oxen, chicken, etc. After receiving the gifts, the priests presented them on the altar.

After church, we take these gifts to our homes and share them. Sometimes there are larger portions of beef and this is good for khebab! Sometimes there are many chickens and that can be used for chicken soup, grilled chicken and other delicacies that the Levitical children love!

Things presented on the altar are sacred and belong to God. We do not eat these sacrifices with presumption. We see it as an honour from the Lord. It is His way of looking after His priests.

It is truly humbling to own nothing except that which comes from people’s gifts. Everyone can point to your house and say that it is not earned by “honest work”.

But God sees His priests as hard-working men and women who deserve to be rewarded. The work they do is more than “honest work”. It is God’s work!!

9. The principle of eating and drinking as you work.

Do we not have a right to eat and drink?

1 Corinthians 9:4, NASB

It is important to eat and drink as you work. When people do not eat and drink as they work, they grow weary and give up. Can you imagine having to fast every day of your life just because you work at a particular place? Why should full-time ministers not eat whilst they work?

10. The principle of taking a break from work.

Or do only Barnabas and I not have a right to refrain from working?

1 Corinthians 9:6, NASB

How can someone work without ever resting? Rest is part of God’s plan for His cherished ministers. God wants full-time ministers to have vacations, days off and times of rest. It is their right. Please do not feel bad to have a day off. In my church we have Mondays off. It is our resting day and it is our little time of leisure and family respite from our work.

Shouldn’t I Play Golf?

One Monday, I was on the golf course with some other pastors. A gentleman who did not know that my associate pastor was tying his shoe laces behind him, began to criticize me.

He said, “If that guy was working as a doctor, would he be playing golf here today?”

My pastor reacted to his comments and challenged him about what he was saying.

He told him, “We are all gentlemen on the course. What do you mean by what you are saying? Respect yourself!”

“You are a grown up!” he was told sharply.

We asked the man whether he was paying for us to play golf. The man sputtered out a lame response, claiming to enjoy my radio programs. Quite irritated, we decided to ignore this fellow and to carry on with our game.

But this is the question Paul was asking. “Or I only and Barnabas, have not we power to forbear working?” (1 Corinthians 9:6).

People feel that they have the right “to forbear working” and to have days off, vacations, and times of relaxation. But they see no reason why a priest should have the same privileges.

The Response of Apostle Paul

This is my answer to those who question my rights.

Or don’t I have any rights at all? Can’t I claim the same privilege the other apostles have of being a guest in your homes?

If I had a wife, and if she were a believer, couldn’t I bring her along on these trips just as the other disciples

do, and as the Lord’s brothers do, and as Peter does?

And must Barnabas and I alone keep working for our living while you supply these others?

What soldier in the army has to pay his own expenses? And have you ever heard of a farmer who harvests his crop and doesn’t have the right to eat some of it? What shepherd takes care of a flock of sheep and goats and isn’t allowed to drink some of the milk?

And I’m not merely quoting the opinions of men as to what is right. I’m telling you what God’s law says.

For in the law God gave to Moses he said that you must not put a muzzle on an ox to keep it from eating when it is treading out the wheat. Do you suppose God was thinking only about oxen when he said this?

Wasn’t he also thinking about us? Of course he was. He said this to show us that Christian workers should be paid by those they help. Those who do the plowing and threshing should expect some share of the harvest.

We have planted good spiritual seed in your souls. Is it too much to ask, in return, for mere food and clothing?

You give them to others who preach to you, and you should. But shouldn’t we have an even greater right to them? Yet we have never used this right but supply our own needs without your help. We have never demanded payment of any kind for fear that, if we did, you might be less interested in our message to you from Christ.

Don’t you realize that God told those working in his temple to take for their own needs some of the food brought there as gifts to him? And those who work at the altar of God get a share of the food that is brought by those offering it to the Lord.

In the same way the Lord has given orders that those who preach the Gospel should be supported by those who accept it.

1 Corinthians 9:3-14, TLB

by Dag Heward-Mills

[spiderfan22]

DAY TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-TWO - 7/25/17

“SCENES FROM THE NEW BATMAN” by DJS

And this is coming from a guy who actually LIKES Batman!!!

                       Scene one: an alley

 In which Batman beats the shit of a middle-aged white politician.  Robin enters. He is shocked at Batman’s brutality. And all that blood.

 BATMAN

           (yelling in politician’s face)

TELL ME!!!!!

                         POLITICIAN

           (whimpering)

But I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Batman!  I don’t know about any bribes!  I’m clean -- I swear I’m clean!

                         BATMAN

UN. LIKELY!!!!!!

 Batman is about to punch the politician in the face again, when Robin steps in:

 ROBIN

Batman -- Jesus Christ!! Stop!!  You can’t just, I mean it’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re talking about or he’d have told you already -- confessed.  But look at him.  You’ve knocked like a bunch of his teeth out and his eyes are swollen shut. He can’t even see anymore, Batman!

                         BATMAN

You’re the one who’s blind, Robin. This piece of shit knows the truth! And I’m getting it out of him.

                         ROBIN

But you beat him up anymore, Batman, and you might kill him!  I mean he’s gotta have suffered brain damage already.  Look he’s practically unconscious!  His tongue’s hanging out and, and… oh God.   I mean the blood alone!

                         BATMAN

Fine!

           (He releases the politician)

We’ll let Gordon and his men take the next crack at him.  But I’d bet my life -- and yours, “Boy Wonder” -- that we’ve only scratched the surface with this sonuvabitch.  

                         ROBIN

Okay.  Fine.  Just -- please?  Can we go now?

                         BATMAN

Yeah, bring the Batmobile around.

                         ROBIN

I’m 14.  I can’t drive yet.  

                         BATMAN

Oh.

 Batman considers that.  Then he slowly walks away.  Robin stands there shaking his head for a moment.  Looks down at the bloody and beaten politician.  Then he follows.

   Scene two: the Batcave

 In which Batman cyber-stalks his ex-girlfriends. Alfred arrives with a bowl of hot soup on a tray.

 ALFRED

           (seeing the computer screen)

Aw, Master Bruce.  Is that wise now, taking a trip down memory lane? Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

                         BATMAN

But this is Silver St. Cloud, Alfred.

                         ALFRED

Yes sir, I remember Miss St Cloud quite vividly.  Beautiful, charming, the life of the party.  But then she could never reconcile the man with the bat, so you quite humanely called things off, letting the young woman go on with her life.

                         BATMAN

She’s dating some politician now.

                         ALFRED

Yes, I have read the same in the society pages.

                         BATMAN

He doesn’t deserve her.  

                         ALFRED

           (he hesitates)

Perhaps -- and if I am out of line, sir, I apologize in advance -- but just perhaps, Master Bruce, that is your own jealousy speaking.

                         BATMAN

It’s not.

                         ALFRED

           (slowly)

Alright, sir.

           (pause)

Well, I’ve brought you some hot soup. Beef consommé.

                         BATMAN

I’m not hungry.

                         ALFRED

But you haven’t eaten a solid meal in over a week, sir.

                         BATMAN

And what’s beef consommé now, a “solid meal?”

                         ALFRED No sir, but it does possess the necessary vitamins--

                         BATMAN

I said I’m not hungry, Alfred.  

                         ALFRED

Yes, Master Bruce.

                         BATMAN

You should learn to listen the first time.

                         ALFRED

Of course.  I’m sorry.  Sir.

                         BATMAN

Good.  You’re excused.

 Alfred leaves with the bowl of soup.  Batman obsesses on the screen in front of him, fixating on a closeup of a smiling Silver St. Cloud in the arms of the politician from the previous scene.  He zooms in until it’s just a closeup of her cleavage.

   Scene three: the rooftop of the Gotham Police Department

 In which Batman argues with Commissioner Gordon. The Batsignal is present but not lit.

 GORDON

I can’t do it, Batman.

                         BATMAN

           (grunts)

WHY. NOT.

                         GORDON

Because it breaks about a dozen laws -- not to mention it’s completely unconstitutional.

                         BATMAN

Question: would you be throwing the Constitution in my face if this was the Joker we were talking about?

                         GORDON

Look, Batman: we’ve done some digging and as far as we’ve been able to tell so far, there’s just no immediate threat. On the contrary, in the eye of the law, the Senator is a hundred percent clean.

                         BATMAN

Impossible.

                         GORDON

NO.  The guy’s a pillar of his community.  Gives back, gives to charity.  Never even the whiff of a scandal around him.  His wife passed away a couple years back -- cervical cancer.  The incredible thing was it was an election year; he was up for reelection at the time.  But he effectively suspended his campaign so he could be at her bedside the last few months. And get this: when the story gets out that that’s what he’s been doing, his constituents come out anyway and vote the guy back into office.  For Christ sake it was a landslide, with him getting over 90 percent of the vote. Which I don’t care who you are, is unheard of.  So he’s basically a revered kind of figure.  The local boy made good.

                         BATMAN

I don’t believe it.  You need to bring him in for further questioning. Only this time I’ll be in the room too, for a little… extra intimidation.

                         GORDON

Definitely not, Batman.  

           (hesitant)

And speaking of which, while we’re on the subject:  the Senator seems to have recently suffered a number of bumps and bruises, scrapes… Hell, I don’t know why I’m mincing words here.  He’s got cracked ribs, his left arm’s busted in two places and his face looks like someone took a baseball bat to Goddamn pomegranate.

                         BATMAN

I told you, he’s connected to the mob. Which means the senator’s injuries could only be attributed to Carmine Falcone, probably some form of retaliation or warning.  I suggest the GCPD bring him in for questioning as well.  We can play them off each other.  Give new meaning to the term “hot box”.

                         GORDON

Yeah, well.  I got CCTV footage of an alley up in The Narrows that shows you quite clearly beating the Senator half to death.  That’s until Robin has the good sense to pull you away.

                         Small beat.

                         BATMAN

Enough!  There are too many people interfering in my investigation now, it’s becoming clouded.  Obviously I have to go this one alone.

                         GORDON

Yeah, uh, Batman…?  I can’t let you do that.

                         BATMAN

What?!

                         GORDON

Bruce Wayne--

                         BATMAN

How did you--?

                         GORDON

Mr. Wayne I’m placing you under arrest for the assault of Senator Martin Graham.

                         BATMAN

Preposterous!  Jim, how far back do we--

 Through a door on the roof, a bunch of police officers in Kevlar and helmets emerge and surround Batman.  Guns drawn.

 GORDON

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law--

                         BATMAN

JIM!  THIS IS INSANE.  

                         GORDON

--if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you--

                         BATMAN

Are you--?  Of course I can afford an attorney!  I’M BATMAN!!

 Batman struggles but the officers overpower him. He is forced to his knees and his hands are cuffed behind his back.  

   Scene four: Prison cell

 In which Batman has been denied bail due to being an extreme flight risk.  He shares a cell with a serial rapist.  A hulking brute of a guy covered head to toe in tattoos.  Batman is dressed in a prison orange jumpsuit, but still wears his cowl.

 RAPIST

So this is what essentially is going to happen.  This is how it’s gonna go down.    I’m horny. I mean I get horny.  And since because there ain’t no available chicks around to pound their fucking pussies, I’m forced to go with the most immediate and available wet hole.  That means your ass, Butt Man.  And I ain’t gonna be gentle neither.  What, you think we got anything nice as lube up in this bitch?  Man, you in Rikers Island!  So I’m not gonna lie, it’s going to hurt.  Bad.  So bad you probly gonna bleed.  But am I gonna give a shit?  Izzat going to make me stop?  Shit – am I gonna even pause in my stroke to check on your delicate, sensitive little lady feelings?  Fuck no. I’ma just keep ramming it home, ramming it home, till Daddy gets his nut.  Now how’s that sound, Mister Caped Crusader?

                         BATMAN

Please… don’t hurt me.  I’ll… I’ll pay you.  Whatever.  Anything. A million dollars… two million.   All you have to do is take care of me, don’t let anyone else harm me or… just while I’m in here, just until I get out.  I’ll wire the money to your account.  As much as you want.  Only please--

                         RAPIST

My account, huh?  And what account would that be?  My one in Switzerland or down in the Caymans?  You are seriously divorced from reality, you know that Batman?

                         BATMAN

I’m beginning to see that, yes.

                         RAPIST

I tell you what, let’s make us a deal. Because I gotta get my rocks off, there’s no getting around that.  But I’ll spare you ass – and protect your ass too round here – long as you keep me satisfied in the general sense.

                         BATMAN

What do you [mean] --?

                         RAPIST

Suck-jobs and handies.  That’s it.  That’s all.

 Beat.  Batman looks around the tiny cell, nowhere else to turn.

 BATMAN

What other choice do I have?

                         RAPIST

None.  And that attitude of accepting your fate and just going with the flow will serve you well behind bars.  Believe me.

 They sit there a moment, in silence, the Rapist waiting.

 RAPIST

Uh, well??

                         BATMAN

Well what?

                         RAPIST

What do you think, Dork Knight? Get to fucking sucking or the deal’s off.  

                         BATMAN

Oh.  Right now?  It has to be right now?

                         RAPIST

Right now and every evening round this time.  I like to keep my schedule regular.

                         BATMAN

Oh… okay.

(The rapist pulls down his pants.)

Uh, how should I--?

                         RAPIST

Start with the head.  But word of advice: I wouldn’t try and shove too much in your mouth to begin with, though I understand the impulse, you want to come on all professional, do a pleasing job, but for the moment just focus on the head and let your hand do the rest of the heavy lifting.  Then you can work up to deepthroating me.  

                         BATMAN

Oh my God.  I think I’m going to be sick.

                         RAPIST

Understandable.  But wait to after.  ‘Cause so help me, you get any puke on me, we gonna have a real problem.

 The rapist lies back on his bunk.  Batman stares, open mouthed, until the rapist gently pulls Batman’s head down towards his crotch.

  Scene five: Wayne Manor, several years later

 In which Batman has retired after spending a couple years locked up.  He is severely overweight now, with chronic diabetes.  He is blind and his right leg has been amputated below the knee.  In a wheelchair.  He drinks and takes pills to excess.  

 Selina Kyle has come to pay him a visit.  She is older but still quite attractive.

 BATMAN

           (sniffing the air)

Selina.

                         SELINA

Hello Bruce.

                         BATMAN

The Catwoman.

                         SELINA

It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.

                         BATMAN

Well, it suited you.  You’ve always been curious.

                         SELINA

Not to mention flexible.

                         BATMAN

Heh.

                         Pause.

                         SELINA

I must say, you don’t look too good Bruce.

                         BATMAN

I’d imagine not.  

                         SELINA

When was the, the--?

                         BATMAN

When did they amputate my leg? God it must have been… what, four years ago?

                         SELINA

I meant to come see you in the hospital.

                         BATMAN

I won’t hold it against you.

                         SELINA

Suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here now.

                         BATMAN

Well, a healthy curiosity is something I like to think we shared.

 Selina sighs.  Pulls a gun from her purse.  Points it at Batman in his wheelchair.  Cocks it just to be sure he’s gotten the message.  Beat.

  BATMAN

I see.

                         SELINA

And I’m sorry, Bruce, but this is the only way he said I could ever be free.

                         BATMAN

Who said?  No, wait, let me guess.  Joker.

                         SELINA

‘Fraid so, Bruce.  It’s the end of the line.

                         BATMAN

It hasn’t occurred to you that I still might have a trick or two up my sleeve?

                         SELINA

It has.

                         BATMAN

And that doesn’t give you pause?

                         SELINA

I don’t know.  Maybe?  

                         BATMAN

Selina please now, we can discuss this. With our history.  There was love there once, if not a mutual respect. And--

 But Selina is already crossing the room, moving behind Batman.  She puts the gun to the back of his head.  He feels the muzzle against his scalp and freaks:

 BATMAN

Wait!  No!  Selina!! SELINA DON’T NN--

 She pulls the trigger.  The gun goes off with a loud bang.  Blood and brains and bone explode out of the front of Batman’s head and he slumps forward, falling out of his wheelchair.  Smoke wafts in the air.  Selina places the gun in the dead Batman’s hand, making it look like a suicide. It’s only now we notice she’s been wearing gloves this whole time.  She looks down at the body for another moment.  Then she goes.  

We hear her high-heeled footsteps receding through the front hall.  Then the door creaking way off and slamming shut, quietly.

 The Dark Knight Has Fallen.

 End of play.