#that was the age I stopped going to church because Christianity didn’t align with my emerging feelings and views on the world

[stagefoureddiediaz]

23 years!! So Eddie hasn’t been to confession since he was around 10?!

Well if that isn’t interesting!!! That feels so pointed because that is a very young age to stop going to confession - unless you’ve started to realise you’re different - that the church as been teaching you the things you’re feeling and realising about yourself are not ok according to their teachings and beliefs and the best and easiest way to avoid religious wrath, not look at yourself too closely and bury your feelings is to just stop going to confession (assuming he was still going to church with his parents as I can’t imagine they’d not have him go to church every Sunday at 10!)

[stfxculturalpsych]

The Gospel Hall

Growing up I was burdened by many alternative points of view. As a young child, I was introduced to Christian religion which meant I was required to attend ‘meetings’ at least once a week. However, the Christian religion that my family subscribed to was highly unusual, and in my opinion — as well as many others— fairly cult-like. The gospel hall is unlike any other Christian-based faith I have ever witnessed. Referencing only the Bible and no other texts, many of the rules or lifestyles you must follow are directly derived from the canon of the New Testament. Women have their place, they must dress modestly and in nice clothing—but not too fancy— women must cover their heads while in meetings, and they must sit quietly in respect for their husbands and god. Women are not allowed to speak during prayer and cannot preach during ministry meetings. I was taught that I could not have sex until marriage, women must obey their husbands, women must have long hair, no tattoos/piercings, no swearing, no drinking/drugs, no parties that are not church-sanctioned, and that I must auspiciously adhere to the 10 commandments. On top of this during the meeting, there is a square of chairs which is spaced and facing the offerings of the blood and body of Christ, however, if you have not been baptized by the elders of the church after giving testimony of belief, and subsequently accepted into the assembly by the elders, then you must sit outside of the square and simply listen and watch. This is what I experienced every Sunday from the ages of 3-12. My parents, and grandparents were in the assembly but my sister and I were not, therefore, we sat alone. After my mother passed everything changed, my father stopped attending but our grandparents encouraged us to attend. From the ages of 8-12 after my mother passed I continued to go. Furthermore, I believed what they told me and wanted to live my Christian life as best I could. However, the pressure of this lifestyle greatly impacted me, as I was scared I would go to hell and never see my mother again if I didn’t go. As I aged the rules of the gospel hall made me question if what I was taught was realistic. I cried at night because I couldn’t blindly believe in everything I was being told and therefore, I was going to hell. I told my father how I felt, he told me ‘you do not have to attend the hall if you do not want to’. he also expressed to me that my belief system did not have to align with his, my grandparent’s or anyone else’s. After this, I stopped going and to this day my grandparents tell me I need to prepare myself for judgment. This is what I was taught growing up, and for so long I judged others because they did not believe in the same ideals. This has shaped the person I am today, from this I have become accepting and understanding of others belief systems. Why force something on another individual simply because it is what you believe to be true? The judgment from my family and individuals around me compelled me to act in ways that for many years I did not completely agree with. It wasn’t until my father told me what he did that I began to act freely and as I wanted to. If this had never happened I would’ve been stuck as I was for years to come, for all I know nothing may have changed. I am so glad I was able to form my own belief systems and live my life as I do today. Many people are forced to conform, never truly living their life as they please and never feeling like they had a way out. My father encourages me to this day to form my own opinions and disregard others if they only have their own best interest at heart. I wish everyone had this experience in life but the sad reality is I was lucky to have such support.

[beshert-bh]

My journey to/with Judaism

***This is a super long post, it’s the FULL story, not a brief overview, but it would mean the WORLD to me if you read it***

Upbringing: very much Not Jewish™️

I was born into a Catholic family. I have a goyish last name. I was baptized as an infant, and my parents took me to church each week as a kid.

In kindergarten — back when I still went to a secular private school — one of my best friends was Jewish. He told me all about the traditions his family did...told me all about the kippahs they wear, and how they had their own game called dreidel for this holiday they celebrated, called Hanukkah. (Of course this convo was at a basic-kindergarten-level of knowledge.) When I came home from school I was fascinated with Hanukkah, (this is cringey to admit but my 5-year-old self tried to integrate the traditions together and so in order to do this I drew up a “Christmas dreidel” complete with Santa Claus’ face on one side, a present on another side...you get it)

And that is when I was promptly put in “parochial” schools. I went to Catholic school from 1st grade to 12th grade. I went through Holy Communion and Confirmation like all the other kids did. My elementary soccer team’s mascot was an Angel. My high school’s mascot was a Crusader. Our high school was located on Rome Avenue. I went to a Catholic youth conference. I considered becoming a nun because I was single all throughout high school.

Growing up, around Christmastime we would always travel to visit my grandma, and she would always say we’re “German Jewish” — but I would write her off. In my mind, I was like, Yeah ok like 1%? .....It felt like my grandma was acting like one of those white people who takes a DNA test and says, “Look! We’re 1% African!” So I would dismiss her and remind her how we’re Catholics and she would drop the subject.

Falling away from Xtianity: my first 2 years of college

My freshman year I changed — politically — as I was only conservative in high school because of the ‘pro-life’ agenda being shoved down my throat. I really aligned more with liberal and leftist policies and views, though. Once I became open to new political ideology, I began to question my theological beliefs.

I always had a strong connection to God. My whole life. But I struggled with connecting to Jesus, Mary, the saints, and so on. So obviously my freshman year of college I began to fall away from Catholicism.

You see, Catholics are “bad at the Bible” as I like to say. Other Christians do a better job of teaching and analyzing the writings. They actually require school-aged children to memorize Scripture passages. Catholics mostly just teach the same stuff over and over. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, blah blah blah. Catechism, liturgical calendar, blah blah blah. Parts of the mass, fruits of the spirit, blah blah blah.

So since I was already doubting Catholicism, its corrupt leadership, and its mindless traditions.... I thought maaaaybeeee I would find purpose, truth, clarity, etc. in plain-old Christianity. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The other Christian churches I went to baptized people (which is a BIG LIFE DECISION) on the spot. For example if a newcomer felt on a whim that they wanted to be baptized, the church would do it right then & there. No learning, no planning or preparing, that was it. They promoted blind faith and circular thinking. I began to realize these were both normal attitudes and cognitive patterns within any and every Christian community that I encountered.

Even the Christians who exhibited curiosity mostly just asked questions in order to be able to understand, and then accept, the doctrine as truth. Questions never ever challenged anything.

Oh and let’s throw in the fact that I’m bisexual. Homophobia, transphobia, biphobia (and more) are rampant in the church. So needless to say, with all my observations about the lack of logical thinking in the church (and considering my sexual orientation) I fell away. I stopped going to church unless my family made me when I was home from college.

Enter stage right: Judaism

In retrospect I happened to have a lot of friends in my sorority and my favorite fraternity on campus who were Jewish (the frat happened to be a traditionally-Jewish one). Thought nothing of it at the time. Fast forward to junior year when I met this cute guy on Tinder. He’s now my boyfriend and we’ve been dating for over a year. He didn’t tell me this on Tinder, but when we went on our first date, he revealed that he’s Jewish and wanted to make sure that’s something I was ok with. Clearly I had no problem with that. I wasn’t too into Christianity anymore but I still identified as one (and I was still surrounded by Christian friends in my sorority) so I told him I was Christian/raised Catholic and asked hypothetically if he would be comfortable with a “both” family. He said yes.

We started dating during an October, so of course Hanukkah came up soon. There was a mega challah bake at our local Chabad, which he took me to, and we had a blast. From then on I decided I wanted to show him how supportive I was of his Jewishness. (The last girl he dated dumped him after 3 months BECAUSE he was Jewish... so I felt that I needed to be supportive)

We started going to shabbat services and dinner every week. We did Hanukkah together (we bought our first menorah together, he taught me how to spin a dreidel, his mom bought me Hanukkah socks...lol). At some point in our relationship I told him I may have Jewish ancestry from my grandma but it’s distant and my whole extended family is Christian so it really wouldn’t even matter. I don’t remember when I had that conversation with him.

Eventually, after another few months of Shabbat services and Shabbat dinners, Pesach came around.

We went to the first seder together. The second seder is what changed everything.

Deciding to convert

At first I wasn’t sure if I belonged at this second seder. My boyfriend had always brought me to every event. I had never attended anything alone at Chabad before. But I went anyway. Throughout the night I felt increasingly comfortable. I had never felt more like I was a *part of something* than I did at this seder.

I sat near a friend who I recognized. (He knows I’m raised Catholic.) Then he & his friends welcomed me. We all took turns reading from the Haggadah, we drank the four cups of wine together, and we laughed together as I had maror for the first time.

Then the familiar faces left to go home, and one of them even went to another table to sit with his other friends whom he hadn’t had a chance to see yet that night. Naturally I thought I was alone again. I almost left, but something tugged at my heart to stay until the very end of the second seder. Something told me to keep going and keep taking in this wonderful experience.

The rest of the night consisted of many songs (most likely prayers, in retrospect) I did not know. Everyone stood to sing and we all clapped to the rhythm. I knew none of the words but I still clapped along, alone at my own table. Then one of the boys — the one who had been sitting with my friends and I earlier — motioned at me to come over and join his other friends. I approached this new table full of people I’d never met, feeling awkward as ever, and they not only hoisted me up to stand on the table with them as they chanted, but they also included me in their dance circle. (no, I don’t think it was the Hora, we just spun around over and over. lol.)

This was the first night I felt at home with Judaism. Going through the Jewish history with the Haggadah, remembering the important occurrences and symbolizing them with various foods, ending the night by being welcomed into the community... it was transformative. After attending shabbat services for months and learning about Jewish values, it changed something in me when I observed Pesach for the first time last year. I knew this path would be right for me. I felt as if my soul had found where it belonged. The Jewish history, traditions, beliefs, and customs resonated with me. It all just... made sense.

I told my boyfriend I wanted to convert. I wrote three pages of reasons. But I sat on the idea of converting and did nothing for a while. I did do some more research on Judaism, though, as I continued to attend services each week.

The exploration stage

I began to actually research on my own time. If converting was something I was genuinely considering, it was high time I began actively learning as much as I could possibly learn. It was time to dive deeper than just attending the weekly services and googling the proper greetings for Jewish holidays.

I started digging deeper into Judaism and Christianity so I could compare and contrast the two. I needed to understand the similarities and differences. And BOY are they different. That was surprising at first, but the more I learned about Judaism, the more I loved how different it was from the Christianity I was indoctrinated into.

Not only are the values and teachings of each religion vastly different, but the Tanakh (which is “The Old Testsment” in Christian Bibles) actually contradicts:

The entire “New Testament”

The gospel books specifically

The Pauline letters specifically

How did I realize this? Some bible study of my own, but mostly through online research. And, of course, I would have gotten nowhere without the help of Rabbi Tovia Singer and his YouTube videos. He debunks everything there is to debunk about Christianity.

Here were some things I came across when researching:

It confused me how the four Gospels didn’t align (like, major parts of the story did not align at all...and supposedly they’re divinely inspired...but they don’t even corroborate one another?)

It confused me how the psalms we sang in church were worded completely different from the true wording in the Bible (essentially the Christian church is taking tehillim and altering it to benefit Christian dogma and Christian rhetoric.)

It confused me how we read in the Bible that Jews are ‘God’s chosen people’ and yet in every Catholic Church, every Sunday, there is a Pauline letter being read which depicts proselytization of Jews, as if Jews are lost and need Christians to save them. As if Jews would go to hell if they fail to accept Jesus.

It confused me why we would pray to Mary and the saints, because praying is worship, and worshipping anyone but God themself is idolatry.

It confused me why Christians make, sell, and use graven images. Idolatry. Again.

It confused me why Christians give absolute power to humans. For example, if you crawl up the same steps (Scala Santa) that Jesus supposedly crawled up before he died, you automatically get “saved” because *some old men who have no divine power* said so (they have a term for this and it’s called “plenary indulgence” lol).

It confused me why Jesus was believed to be the messiah considering he had to have biologically been from the line of Joseph. Wasn’t Jesus supposedly conceived without any help from Joseph? Wouldn’t that render Jesus, uh, not messiah by default? Even if he was from Joseph’s blood, he still did not complete all the tasks moshiach is supposed to fulfill. And even if he DID fulfill all the tasks required of moshiach... we still would not worship a messiah as he is human and not GOD.

These were all new thoughts I developed this past year between Pesach and Yom Kippur. New questions that challenged everything I thought I knew. It was like teaching a child 2+2≠22 but rather 2+2=4.

Hillel

This fall, after the High Holy Days, my boyfriend began attending shabbat dinners at a rabbi’s home. His new rav lives in the community and it’s exclusive to be invited, so I never imposed. We do Shabbos separately now (with some exceptions, we do it together sometimes).

I continued to go to Chabad with one of my friends who knew I wanted to convert. But one month, she couldn’t come at all, and I felt a little judged there anyway.

So I began going to Hillel a few months ago. And I honestly have found a home there.

From Hillel’s Springboard Fellow reaching out to me and taking me out for coffee to get to know me... to running into my sorority & fraternity friends at every Hillel event (shabbat or otherwise)... From getting included in various clubs like the women empowerment group and the mental health inclusivity group... to being the only college student to participate in Mitzvah Day (hosted by Hillel) with the elderly and the local Girl Scout troop... I feel truly welcome. I’ve started to attend every week. I even talked briefly with the rabbi about having Jewish lineage and wanting to convert.

Discovering new information

I went home to be with family during Thanksgiving break. My grandma flew in so she was there when I got home. She stayed with us from then until New Years (and she’s actually moving in with us next year.)

Of course, now I have a Jewish boyfriend, Jewish friends, and I’ve done extensive research on Judaism. So this time I had background knowledge when she inevitably said... “You know, we’re German Jewish!”

I inquired a little. I asked her what she meant. How is she Jewish? I know my uncle took a DNA test this year and came back part Ashkenazi. But I needed a deeper explanation than DNA.

She revealed to me that her mom’s mom was Jewish. We believe she married a Christian man. Together they had my great-grandmother, who I believe was Christian. She had my grandma, who had my dad, who had me.

And I immediately felt like that changed things. At first I was (internally) like, Now I definitely need to convert! But then I was like, Wait, does this make me Jewish? Am I Jewish-ish? ...Can you be considered Jewish if you’re only ethnically Jewish but not raised Jewishly? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad is your only Jewish parent? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad never had a bris or a bar mitzvah?

I joined a bunch of Jewbook groups, began learning the Hebrew calendar & holiday schedule, and found some folks who assist with Jewish genealogy. They did some digging for me and apparently I descend from the Rothschild family. THE Rothschild family.

Who is a Jew? Who “counts”?

This is something I’ve been muddling over.

At Hillel, at my school at least, most people are pretty Reform. They’re very liberal with their definitions of Judaism (they believe in patrilineal descent and not only matrilineal descent).

They accept me and see me as actually Jewish ...and the ones who don’t... they at least see me as Jewish-adjacent, an “honorary Jew” or an “ally to the Jewish people”.

My boyfriend, however, still sees me as Not Jewish.™️ (For context he’s Reform but he’s trying to become as observant as possible) I know he only thinks this was because of how we began our relationship and because of how I was raised. But I’m very confused here.

Do I count?

Do I not?

Do I count *enough* but still need to go through a formal conversion process?

So...now what?

I don’t know how to navigate this odd journey but I have felt for a while that I have a Jewish neshama and I feel a strong need to affirm it. I just don’t know how or what is appropriate. Do I learn Hebrew? Sign up for a trip to Israel/Germany/Poland? Put up a mezuzah? Or go toward the other end of the scale, and head down a path of a formal conversion/reaffirmation process?

Thank you in advance for your responses and thanks for reading. 🤎

[mortuarybees]

hello, i hope you don't mind me coming for advice. i was raised a southern baptist christian and growing up really struggled with coming to terms with my lgbt identity. when i finally felt secure enough to accept me for who i was, my faith suffered- most likely due to the lack of acceptance from my family and religious community. i don't want to lose my faith, but i don't know if i have faith in the church anymore. i look up to you loads, and iwas wondering if i could hear about your experience

I don’t mind at all, my friend! I’m always happy to help if I can. I’m so sorry to about your situation with your family and community. That’s a terrible thing to endure, and I hope you have a support system. I’m sorry I took a few days to respond, it just dredged up some difficult memories and I needed to take a step back for a bit.

For me, I left the church about the time I started questioning my identity, years and years ago. There were also a few other things around that time happening with my specific church and beyond that, personal things I’d rather not go into, and all of that sort of came together around the same time, and I just decided it wasn’t for me, I couldn’t be in a religion with views like that. It was easier because the issues with my specific church had led my family to stop attending regularly, being a bit disillusioned, so I was able to keep it mostly to myself for a while until I’d fully…mourned it, I suppose? I passed into a sort of classic agnostic phase, and then fully atheist for a while. Once I got a bit older and more comfortable with my identity, it was a little easier to think about God? And I became sort of agnostic again for a long time.

About a year and a half or two years ago, though, I had a very tense Thanksgiving break due to family drama and I started binging all the videos of this youtuber Jessica Kellgren-Fozard, an amazing disabled lesbian Quaker who makes very lovely, positive videos that are just really beautiful to watch. At some point, she made a video talking about what it was like to grow up Quaker, and that was the first time I realized she was Christian. Hearing her talk about her faith, the core beliefs of her denomination, the great diversity and flexibility of it, I just kind of…really realized for the first time that it’s not an either/or thing? Like I would talk a lot about how it’s possible to be lgbt+ and a Christian, I knew it and believed it for other people, but I guess I just didn’t really apply that to myself, it felt completely irreconcilable to me. I didn’t feel like I could be part of something I knew didn’t want me, I guess, but the way Jessica talked, it wasn’t in any kind of apologetic terms, or trying to make sense of why God tolerates her, it was really just a statement of fact, a certainty that God made her the way she is and loves her for it, and that really, really touched a nerve with me.

In the same vein, although it sounds silly, I was raised Southern Baptist and while I knew that Christianity is a massive and diverse religion with a million different denominations, I just kind of. held in my mind the version of Christianity I was brought up with, as I couldn’t adhere to a different belief system, as if my only options were Southern Baptist, Methodist, or nothing, and watching her talk about her faith, I really realized that like. I could just...convert to a different denomination? Like if you too were raised Southern Baptist, I’m sure you can relate to the stigma of conversion even just to a different denomination fskdjf like I have a great aunt who converted to Pentecostalism and she’s passed away yet people still talk about it (or maybe that’s just my family; if that’s the case, I apologize for assuming jdkslf) so I guess somewhere in the back of my mind was still that assumption that converting just wasn’t something I could do, and I never even realized it.

I started reading a lot, about Christianity generally, but mostly Quakerism and queer theology and liberation theology (and also, just listening to a lot of Sufjan Stevens and reading a lot of poetry and doing a lot of thinking and writing jskfldsj). There is a long, long history of religious lgbt+ people making sense of our identities in the context of religion, and that helped a lot. So did the stories of Jesus and John, and Ruth and Naomi, and David and Jonathan. I’m hoping to start attending a Quaker meeting somewhat near me in the future, and after I’ve attended for a while, if I feel like it’s right for me, I’ll become a member. Since I can’t attend a meeting right now, I sort of started meditating regularly, in a sense, as my form of worship and connection. It sounds very New Age jklsfdjs but really it’s very peaceful and I did start to feel very settled and a lot more secure in my growing belief.

In the course of all that, I sort of just stopped viewing God and Christ as inextricable from the church, and more of the church as an earthly and very human institution, the same as any government or organization. For the first time, I started to really feel like I had a direct relationship with God and especially with Christ, in kind of a like. “Fuck you this is my business” kind of way? I really don’t know how to explain it, just a sort of peace and confidence and security. My relationship with God and my religion exists entirely outside of anyone else at this point, and it has certainly changed dramatically from where I was at when I left the church. I still don’t know that I necessarily feel much of a connection with mainstream Christians, not more than I do anyone else, both because I don’t feel I have a need to align myself with them to properly worship, and because I don’t see a lot of similarity between my beliefs and theirs.

Religious beliefs are very personal, and I don’t know what yours are. Mine are fairly…hands off? To summarize them jfkldsfj it’s contained very briefly in John 4:12-13, “No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. This is how we know that we live in him and he in us: He has given us of his Spirit.” Love is really all there is, it’s the most important thing, it’s the surest and only evidence of divinity, the closest there is to holiness. God isn’t really here, running things day to day, God isn’t holding your hand when you’re scared or lonely, it’s other people, people who love you and care about you. I believe in the light within, in a spark of divinity in every living thing, and I think love is that divinity. Loving someone, caring for them, is the same as loving God, it’s the same as prayer and worship. It seems to me that God is very hands off; as Christ says, the birds in the sky don’t worry where their meal will come from because God will provide, but God doesn’t just have it appear in their bellies, they have to go and get the food. He made us hungry and alone, and he made food and other people. We have to reach out for both, and that is our purpose. It’s all well and good to believe in God and say your prayers, but “as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.” I know that loving others is what we were made to do. I don’t really care what a priest or theologian has to say about it, and in fact, I really don’t trust organized religion much at all. No one really knows more about God than anyone else, and I’m not really interested in pretending otherwise.

So my advice, you can understand, is based primarily on decoupling your relationship with God and your relationship with the church. Get in touch with other lgbt+ Christians (not necessarily directly, but God that does feel good), just seeing other lgbt+ people who aren’t trying to apologize for who they are can be a great comfort. Read, or listen or watch, however you best absorb information, whatever you can get your hands on. Think a lot, write if that helps you, or talk it out with a friend. Whatever you think will make you feel like you have a more intimate relationship with God will help. Truthfully, I don’t think you need anyone to act as a translator for God, or a go-between. You can get to know God and Christ on your own terms, and you should. I don’t have much advice for remaining a Southern Baptist, because I pretty well ran from that years ago, and you couldn’t pay me to go back. I won’t recommend that you leave the church, because that’s such a personal decision, but. I don’t personally have a high opinion of it. If you do leave it, and being part of a church is important to you, once you’re on more level-footing in your relationship with God, you'll likely be able to find a denomination that aligns much better with your beliefs.

I hope this was helpful at all❣️ And I’m very sorry if it wasn’t, but I can only speak from my own experiences.

[tcencounter]

An open letter to Christians who seek to dominate.

I have made an effort to remain silent on what has been happening recently as a way to keep from controversy. I have lost this inner battle. I think of my position-the quiet life I have here in my rural town and how people might view me as some sort of agitator.  Silence can often be responsible but then there are times like these when silence is cowardly. There are so many things to write about today but one strikes at the heart of what I feel is happening in our country.  I see the christians I love and care about succumb to the seduction of power over love, domination over devotion. This is not the way.  While not advocating anarchy or violence I do see a place for peaceful protesting.  I hope to appeal to those who can’t empathize with the masses of people in the streets. Perhaps we’ve been insulated for so long we have never really been without a voice, never really been the oppressed, never been the broken.  What we see happening today is a chance to see the gospel lived out. But we must be vigilant because what we are witnessing now from the halls of power has very little in common with the message of Christ.

Christ just after his temptation in the wilderness as He returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit…

Luke 4:16-21

He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,    because he has anointed me    to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners    and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free,

 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

I should define what I mean by a protest. When I talk of a protest, I am recalling the right we all have to peacefully assemble as MLK did. When the dominating force of culture shuts it’s ears to the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized, often the only voice one has left is to march in the streets. The courage and conviction it takes to do this is immense and so before we cast stones we should take a moment to empathize with someone who feels so compelled as this. I am not advocating looting, or vandalism. Let us not fall prey to the psychological warfare of condemning the whole idea of a protest because of the failure of the few.

The Christian message calls us to die for our enemies, not to dominate them. If we can’t see that then we’re not seeing the work of Christ. Yesterday the world watched as our president made a speech about of the rule of law. Just after this a group of peaceful demonstrators calling for justice were fired upon with tear gas and rubber bullets to make to make room for Trump’s photo opportunity in front of St. John’s Church. Is the irony lost on us all? Shouldn’t the poetry in this be obvious for us all to see? For those who have eyes to see let them see. This is the epitome of the callous Pharisees of Christ’s time.

Luke 20:46- 47

“Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and love greetings in the marketplaces and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, who devour widows' houses and for a pretense make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

The heart of the Bible can be utterly ignored while you hold it up for the world to see. God desires justice for all people, not dominance from a few.

Amos 5:22-24

Even though you offer Me burnt offerings and grain offerings,

I will not accept them;

for your peace offerings of fattened cattle

I will have no regard.

Take away from Me the noise of your songs!

I will not listen to the music of your harps.

But let justice roll on like a river,

and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

To quote McKay Coppins

“Moments earlier, he had stood in the Rose Garden and threatened to unleash the military on unruly protesters. He used terms such as anarchy and domestic terror, and vowed to “dominate the streets.” To clear the way for his planned post-speech trip to St. John’s Church, police fired tear gas and rubber bullets into a crowd of peaceful demonstrators.”

Coppins also points out

“He wielded the Bible like a foreign object, awkwardly adjusting his grip as though trying to get comfortable. He examined its cover. He held it up over his right shoulder like a crossing guard presenting a stop sign. He did not open it.”

“He didn’t open the Bible he was brandishing for the cameras, because he had no use for its text. He didn’t go inside the church he was using as a backdrop, because he had no interest in a sermon.”

“To Trump, the Bible and the church are not symbols of faith; they are weapons of culture war. And to many of his Christian supporters watching at home, the pandering wasn’t an act of inauthenticity; it was a sign of allegiance—and shared dominance.”

Trump is not the problem, I am not for or against Him. He is insignificant. Our “war” is not with people but with ourselves and with unseen forces of evil. He is the symptom of a larger problem. We should be careful not to make this into a conversation about one man. It’s much larger than that. It seems to me this is the age old story of the human heart seeking to inflict violence. Both sides are guilty of violence in these recent riots. I’m not saying that the looting and violence is okay. I’m calling out the Christians who seem to be sanctioning structures of violence.  Unfortunately a large part of right wing believers are falling prey to the idea that their violence is okay because it’s being done by people with state sanctioned power. And in the same way some feel that violence is okay when done for a good cause during a riot. The myth of redemptive violence was laid to rest when Christ rose from the dead. Let’s not align themselves with those who have a clear affinity for dominance or turn a blind eye to the voices of the oppressed. My hope is that we can do better. This is not a time to choose political sides, this is a time to live out the gospel.  Holy scripture is not a prop for those in power.  Let Justice roll on like a river.

-Danny Brewer

[cannabis4oregon-blog]

In the video, which has been viewed more than 200,000 times, Wallis breaks down in tears in his boyfriend's arms as he describes being told that he either had to pretend to be straight or leave his school.

"I was called to the principal, and he said that he had found out that I was gay, and that I was openly gay, and basically he said that, you know, 'I'm gonna call your parents, they're gonna get involved.' ... So the next day, my mom came in with me, and he basically told me that ... I had to go back into the closet ... to stay at the school. And I could never be involved in another video, or do anything that mattered, which is really hard for me, because this YouTube channel means the world to me."

Although Wallis doesn't identify the school, saying that he doesn't want to negatively impact the teachers and students who did support him, the Texas Observer learned that Wallis attended Lutheran High North in Houston. Upon being contacted by members of the press, Dallas Lusk, head of the school, released a statement written by Wayne Kramer, executive director of the Lutheran Education Association of Houston.

"Lutheran High North welcomes all students and their families to the LHN community," the statement reads. "We profess and proclaim our Christian beliefs with the foundations and authority taught in the Bible, all within the teachings of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. We respectfully require students to adhere to these accepted values and moral beliefs. Sometimes, as in this case, students have to make choices and decide whether their beliefs align with our community, and we respect their choices. We also respect student privacy and do not comment on any individual student or their actions."

Lusk indicated in an email to the Texas Observer that students at LHN are forbidden from promoting "anything sinful," referring to a so-called "morals clause" in the student handbook:

Immediately below the "morals clause" is the school's alleged non-discrimination policy, in which sexual orientation and gender identity are conspicuously missing.

This is horrendous. Although Wallis has found a new school to attend, saying that he didn't want to attend a school that considered him immoral, he was shocked that his sexual orientation ever became an issue with the school's administration in the first place. "I think it's ridiculous that, in this day and age, you can be excluded from your own school for being gay," he said. "When I came out, I knew I was going to have bullies. ... But I never expected it to be from the people who are supposed to protect you from the bullies, who are supposed to try to stop that."

The school's distinctly un-Christian actions haven't shaken Wallis' faith. "I am a Christian and I love my God, and I don't feel like this is what he would have wanted."

https://www.lutheranhighnorth.org/

Lutheran High North

1130 W 34th St.,

Houston, TX 77018

(713) 880-3131

Fax: (713) 880-5447

[bibleteachingbyolga]

If seeing and embracing the sovereignty of God causes us to pray less, we have not yet understood his sovereignty, or prayer. Providence does not make prayer optional or incidental, but vital and indispensable. Not because God couldn’t do it another way — God does all that he pleases however he pleases — but because the sovereign God has chosen, precisely and wisely, to hang many of his plans on the prayers of his people.

Did anyone love and herald the absolute sovereignty of God like the apostle Paul? And yet he says in 2 Corinthians 1:11, “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.” He also calls believers to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17), and to pray “at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication” (Ephesians 6:18).

The pages of Scripture, and of history, are filled with the power and necessity of prayer, because the all-powerful God has chosen to hear and answer prayer.

Pray Because God Is Sovereign

The early church certainly didn’t feel any tension between the sovereignty of God and prayer. His sovereignty, in fact, became the great foundation and incentive for prayer. When they lifted their voices together in the midst of persecution, they laid themselves in the sovereign hands of God: “Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and everything in them . . .” (Acts 4:24). And they didn’t stop at creation, but relished his sovereignty even in the worst horror and injustice of history:

Truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place. (Acts 4:27–28)

And the fact that God sovereignly made, predestined, and orchestrated all things did not keep them from asking him to do something new in their lives. In the very next breath, they pray,

And now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus. (Acts 4:29–30)

They did not take his plan (or their own boldness) for granted. They didn’t wait around for God to heal. They didn’t presume their prayers made no difference in his providence. No, they prayed because they knew that prayer is a vital part of his sovereign plans. They knew that prayer really changes things, that the sovereign God had always planned to answer prayer.

Notice what God does in answer to their prayers. “And when they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness” (Acts 4:23–31). First, he answers their specific request. They spoke the truth with the boldness they had prayed for. But beyond answering their immediate prayer, God shook the building in which they had prayed. Why did he do that?

It seems the sovereign God wanted to tell them how much he loved to hear them pray, and just how eager he was to answer.

Six Benefits of Praying to a Sovereign God

“Here then is the design of prayer,” A.W. Pink writes, “not that God’s will may be altered, but that it may be accomplished in his own good time and way” (The Sovereignty of God, 172). We do not pray as if God needed anything from us, “since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath” — including our prayers — “and everything” (Acts 17:25). We pray because God meets real, deep, desperate needs in the world through our prayers. And because he meets real, deep, desperate needs in us when we pray.

John Calvin, in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, briefly highlights six great benefits of praying to a sovereign God (3.20.3). These are not reasons that we pray, but simply the happy fruit of a lifetime of bowing before the throne of providence. Why might God decide to run so much of the world and history through prayer? In part, because he longs to bless his needy, finite, chosen children — and to bless us far beyond our meager expectations and imaginations.

So, besides the realities that God really does answer prayer and that he commands us to pray, what other blessed reasons do we have to pray to our sovereign God?

1. That our hearts might be more united to his.

First, that our hearts may be fired with a zealous and burning desire ever to seek, love, and serve him, while we become accustomed in every need to flee to him as to a sacred anchor.

Few things will fuel our desire and love for God like prayer. And few things will deplete our spiritual resolve and passion like prayerlessness. Notice the mingling of joy and prayer in Psalm 37:4–7:

Delight yourself in the Lord,      and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord;      trust in him, and he will act. . . . Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.

Delight in God spills over in prayer to God — being still in his presence, committing our way to him, and laying out the desires of our heart before him (the psalm itself is a prayer). And prayer in God increases our delight in and desire for him. Prayer also consistently reminds us that, in Christ, we have “a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul” (Hebrews 6:19).

Jesus says, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you” (John 15:7). Greater communion with Jesus increases the effectiveness of our prayers, often simply by aligning our hearts and requests with his. And when our hearts are aligned with his — when we are most satisfied with God and his glory — we will seek, receive, and enjoy more of him, especially in prayer.

2. That our desires might be purified.

That there may enter our hearts no desire and no wish at all of which we should be ashamed to make him a witness, while we learn to set all our wishes before his eyes, and even to pour out our whole hearts.

Faithful prayer exposes shortsighted, selfish, or earthly desires in us. When we bare our heart before God, we often feel just how misplaced our longings can be. James warns us about the danger of these wayward impulses:

What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? . . . You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions.” (James 4:1–3)

How do we make war on these rebel desires? James continues, “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. . . . Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you” (James 4:7–8, 10). And how better to humble ourselves (acknowledging how wayward our desires can be), submit ourselves (recommitting all we are and have to God’s desires), and draw near to him, than to pray?

Praying to a sovereign God also reminds us that even our noblest and purest desires and requests may go unanswered. His providence assures us that if he does not answer, whether immediately or ever, it is because he has a better plan. As painful as unanswered prayers can be, they are far more bearable (even strangely precious) when we know that the God who loves us is pervasively and meticulously in control of all things, working them for our good.

3. That we might be better prepared to give thanks.

That we be prepared to receive his benefits with true gratitude of heart and thanksgiving, benefits that our prayer reminds us come from his hand.

Prayer can make us all the more aware of all that God is doing for us and around us. And that awareness multiplies our reasons for thanksgiving. The apostle Paul makes this connection explicit: “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Corinthians 1:11).

Every good and perfect gift comes from God (James 1:17). He gives to all mankind life and breath and everything (Acts 17:25). Prayer opens our eyes wider and wider to all that he gives — specifically to what he gives in answer to prayer, but then far beyond our prayers to all the unasked-for blessings he showers on us.

4. That we might feel the weight of his kindness.

That, having obtained what we were seeking, and being convinced that he has answered our prayers, we should be led to meditate upon his kindness more ardently.

When was the last time God clearly answered one of your prayers? Can you remember a time when something you prayed for actually happened, and the circumstances left you concluding that it happened because you prayed? For that moment, heaven peeks through the clouds of all that we suffer and endure to remind us that we have an almighty and attentive Father. My wife and I just experienced a moment like that, after months of praying for a particular breakthrough in our family.

For anyone in Christ, the kindness of God is not a marginal or occasional experience. It is the entire atmosphere of our experience — all of our experience. And it will always be so. God saved us “so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:7). Answered prayers are brilliant flashes, like bolts of lightning, announcing the ever-present, never-exhausted kindness of God.

Every time we pray, we invite another glimpse, another sensation of his surprising gentleness and affection, another occasion to awaken our selfish, impatient, grumbling hearts to his kindness.

5. That we might confirm his sovereign promises.

That use and experience may, according to the measure of our feebleness, confirm his providence, while we understand not only that he promises never to fail us, and of his own will opens the way to call upon him at the very point of necessity, but also that he ever extends his hand to help his own.

When we pray, we take God at his word — that he will listen, that he will answer, that he will never fail us or send us anything that is not ultimately good for us, that he will fulfill all of his promises, including his promises about prayer. Jesus says to his disciples,

I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. (Luke 11:9–10)

When we pray, we take each of those promises seriously. We expect our heavenly Father to give us good gifts (Luke 11:11–13), either what we asked for or whatever would be better for us.

So, prayer proves the faithfulness of God as he answers our specific prayers (in his wisdom and timing) like he said he would. Prayer also allows us, however, to prove every other promise of God. Calvin says, “To us nothing is promised to be expected from the Lord, which we are not also bidden to ask of him in prayers” (3.20.2). One way prayer serves the providence of God and our joy in him is by inviting us to plead with him to do all that he has promised in Scripture.

If you want to start praying the promises of God, John Piper has modeled this kind of prayer well, and shared the promises he has leaned on most over decades of faith and ministry.

6. That we might be more satisfied in God.

That at the same time we embrace with greater delight those things which we acknowledge to have been obtained by prayers.

God has made prayer to serve and magnify joy. Jesus says precisely this when he tells his disciples, “Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full” (John 16:23–24). Prayer not only exposes the kindness of God and inspires greater gratitude to God, but it also kindles our joy in the gifts God gives, which then inflames an even greater joy in God as the Giver. Answered prayers are kindling for inflaming true and lasting happiness.

And as our joy in God grows, his glory rises higher and higher in our life. We believe that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him. So, if prayer kindles a warmer, more intense satisfaction in our souls, it also exalts the wisdom, power, and worth of God. As we ask, receive, and rejoice, he gets more and more glory, which is the one grand purpose of history and each of our roles in it.

So, if God is sovereign, why would we pray? The more we explore the dynamic and vibrant marriage between providence and prayer, the more we will ask instead: How could we not pray?

[things2mustdo]

When I first started learning about this thing called “Game”, it was all about getting the lay.  The all important f-close is the reason most men undertake the the arts of seduction.

Since we live in a culture which is hostile to male heterosexuality, most grow up with a drug induced haze of images from faggot made movies like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and other assorted dog shit which indoctrinates a young boy’s mind into a form of psychological slavery.  This form of bondage is collectively known as white knighting or male thirst.

Growing into young adulthood I seemed to have this idea that a girl who loved me dearly, fanatically devoted to my every need was the end all-be all of life’s journey.  As a young brainwashed fucktard I romanticized endlessly about how that scenario would play out or just how amazing I would feel with my very own pretty pretty princess.  This only served to raise that pedestal up even higher in my mind, putting women in the clouds while I gazed up worshipful from the unclean floor where all sinful males have to be.

Just a pathetic, unworthy chump who somehow deserves a miracle because I’m such a good guy at heart.  I would see girls at school with other guys and think, “He doesn’t deserve her.  I could treat her so much better”.

At some point I’m not sure when, this idea took over my entire thought process.  Converting to Christianity at age 21 after being a manic depressive for years was the nail in the coffin for me.  Now my beta bitch boy mentality received a monster steroid dose of delusion.  Attending churches and hearing all the spineless pastors praise women constantly was a lethal injection of poison into my highly contaminated mind and spirit.  What modern culture did to me was only exacerbated tenfold by embracing Christianity and the weak males who proliferate it’s fagged out congregations.

It was a constant struggle to wrest my mind and spirit from Medusa’s gaze.  The whole time I sensed this internal battle going on within me.  I couldn’t quite articulate it then but the struggle was between sincere belief in the paper thin facade of lies and the primal instinct in my gut screaming DANGER DANGER!

Enough is Enough

After 6 long years of spiritual slavery and cognitive dissonance I’d had enough.  I finally grabbed my nuts and said a big fuck you to the church and every fag within it.  I finally stopped believing in the lies which only caused me to bash my head against a wall constantly while every weak bitch around insisted I was on the oh so righteous path.  These “godly” men would always say things like “God has a special plan for you and He has the right woman already picked out and just around the corner” as the church tried to pawn off single mothers and used up whores as some kind of “blessing” to its lovesick, piss weak males.

I had all this pent up frustration for so long and I was so angry that I went in the complete opposite direction.  I became the biggest shitlord I could possibly imagine in a very short period of time.

So what does this have to do with having women on your own terms you ask?

Well the answer is very simple.  To have women on your own terms you simply must not care about them anymore. You must lay to rest in a shallow and forgotten grave the entire notion of romantic love. Now I know this is easier said than done but there is a plan of action to achieve these results but only if you are willing to go all the way and not hold back one bit.

Are you truly ready for that?

Find Your Nuts Again

In order to regain control of your mind, your life and become the tantalizing delight of the female hindbrain one must completely abandon all pretensions of care towards women and act in 100% complete and total selfishness.

“But Jack, I’m just not that kind of person.”

Well if a female’s petty love is something you truly want you had better change yourself and do it goddamn quick.  One of the best ways to become a master of pussy is having the inner power to turn down a piece of ass even when you have no other options.

“WTF Jack! Isn’t the purpose of learning game to get laid?”

While that may be the impetus which spurred you down this path, the destination is much much greater.  Now a lot of playa playa’s and guys in the manosphere might disagree with me here but the purpose of learning game isn’t just to get pussy.

The purpose of game and self improvement is to become a SUPERIOR man.  One whose thoughts, words and deeds are in a frightening, mystical alignment.

Pussy is simply a side effect of becoming a superior man.  When you the reach the point of total ZFG, women will find you irresistibly arousing.  Having been on the wrong side of those tracks for so long you will feel like you now have magical powers and your relationships with women will seem like one big hilarious joke which you entertain yourself with.  If you are like me you will maniacally laugh inside every time you see some retard female’s eyes light up with attraction when you are an arrogant, uncaring prick.

That is the point when your life will become something you live just for you.  Whether that be for your own entertainment or something more, all that matters is that your life and your destiny are now in your hands alone.

Violently Destroy Your Barriers

If you have never turned pussy away you should force yourself to do it on a regular basis until you don’t give a fuck.

Shortly after I made my exodus from fagged out Cucktianity I ran through sluts like a freight train and I got addicted to the momentum and the action.  For me getting the f-close was cool and all but the hilarious shit I said and did to get me there was the juice I began to crave.  Every time I did some crazy asshole shit I would tell myself

“Alright Jack, this time you gotta one up yourself.”

From making out with girls in front of their boyfriends, choking girls within 20 secs of meeting them and grabbing sluts out of groups of chodes to take them to the dance floor make out and finger them while the chumps stood by completely bewildered.  I was on a fucking rampage.

I remember this one blond I fucked and she must have thought that I really liked her or something because I enjoyed the sex.  She told a friend of mine that I was in love with her.  So the next time she called I made it a point to plan a meetup in which I stood her up.  After a bunch of missed calls and texts I finally simply told her, “Guess what babe?  No dick for you!”

Even though I didn’t have any other options for pussy that night I felt like a fucking boss telling some whore to get fucked (by someone else).  If you’ve never done this before, the mental and spiritual power it will give you cannot be understated.

Make women obey your commands rather than vice versa

Feed The Fire

When you get momentum like this it is essential to go harder and harder pushing yourself into the stratosphere.

**DISCLAIMER**

Not for the faint of heart!

This is the path to forge a man out of steel.  Ironically my entire attitude and ZFG mentality ended up attracting a girl 10yrs younger than me who ticked off a majority of all indicators to be girlfriend material.  She quickly fell madly in love with me and honestly it was fucking funny to watch.

All this time I had been led to believe what I now had was the absolute pinnacle of a male’s existence.  I remember thinking after a lengthy period with this girl, “Fuck. This is it? Goddamn. I was happier single!”

Serious relationships in my experience just bring a man down, kill his ZFG attitude and obliterate his freedom.  The path of a superior man is one of climbing ever upward.  The only caveat is this.

When you ascend to the heights no one else dares go, you might find yourself all alone.  This is not a bad thing however.

Just takes some serious introspection and honesty with oneself to assess whether or not you have the fucking cajones to handle it.

[depthsoftheriches]

Hertiage or Hate

Now-a-days, here in the south we have this mantra of “Heritage, not Hate”. In the next few paragraphs, as Christians, I will argue that this situation with the statues of various Civil War “Heroes” has oppressions, hate, racism, sexism, and if you want to claim it, Heritage? What makes “Heritage” of the Civil War so great to the people of the South? Why would anyone want to align with the ugly truth that slavery was on the agenda, among other things, of the Civil War?

I grew up in an area where you get mixed reviews on the topic. We have extreme liberals that are offended and terrified of anyone that has a strong sense of mind. Everything in their eyes is raciest or too religious. Anything you want to do to better your life you better think twice because you’re going to be just adding worth to “The Man”. Also, we have extreme conservatives who will fly the Rebel Battle Flag and argue the history behind it, and do whatever they have to feel better about it. These people are terrified that some “queer” is going to bust in their bathrooms and attack their little boy. Since we know that ALL openly gay men just love little boys. Also, if you’re a Muslim you better get the hell out of my country because you’re not welcome here. Both are terribly wrong and I wish would just hurry and leave this place so we can all get along. Am I right? Come on both sides I know you hate the other…..I digress…..no I don’t.

This is my Blog and you will sit here and read EVERY WORD I HAVE TO SAY!

So what is hate? Feel intense or passionate dislike for someone. This is the definition of hate. I know, I know, some of you feel like “Hey I don’t feel that way so I’m good.” But let’s take a deeper look into our hearts. Where does our motivations come from? Let’s ask some deeper questions to see if I can pull the hate out of you. Do you have that feeling of unease when you are at the fair or amusement park and a collection of African-Americans come close? Have you ever felt annoyed of the conversations that publicly take place between a groups of people of the opposite race? Have you found yourself making presuppositions about another race? I believe that this is something deep within us that we are raised in. I believe that we have been predisposed to racism from our parents, families, and friends. Natural segregation happens in School cafeterias, recreational sports, workplace, even our churches. In my own family there are stories about my great-grandmother saying “Let the little n-word put the groceries up”. Language like this is sickening. That was 100 years after the Civil War. Now do I think that some Statues made my Nanny say those things, no? But what I am saying is that they were never forced to stop being racist. We are never told to just stop and regardless of history or not, keeping statues, flags and other racist artifacts in the public eye placed on a pedestal tells us that we don’t have to evolve from that mindset. What if in Germany it wasn’t illegal to hang Nazi flags? We would all be disgusted. Instead, a few decades ago they made it illegal to have anything Nazi visible. They took a stance and eliminated any chance of holding onto that history. Things like this do nothing to help our society and do everything to hurt it. Can’t we just enjoy your civil agenda in our outdated and poorly wrote history books? We have to become, as a Christian community, without a doubt a loving culture. We have to be as David Platt says “Counter Culture”.

Why, oh why, do we have to be so unchristlike? This past week/2 years has been the demise of our country. So much hate and violence has been spread throughout our country. We have to get it together, especially as Christians. So, what does it mean to be Christ-like?  In the Bible we see several references of this on how we treat others. Jesus spoke in his beautiful “Sermon on the Mount” Matt Ch. 5-7 that we should treat others how we would want to be treated. You know, the little thing called the Golden Rule. Jesus preached full acceptance of everyone totally and completely. I hate to beat a dead horse but are we missing something. Is there a reason that we are making things so complicated, it seems pretty simple to me. Christ sat with sinners, prayed for tax collectors, hung with prostitutes, and healed those that weren’t even going to join him…. Sometimes I step back and think….”Are we missing the mark?” the modern Christian is so disheartening. When did we go wrong… when did we start becoming the problem…when did we decide we had all the answers? Jesus has become our Idol not our God.

When is that last time you spoke to someone and they said they like the little baby Jesus the best. Not really but you know what I mean. Jesus has been molded into this deity of hate mongering and slander. Jesus that the majority of the church portray has become this clay mold of the best Jesus that fits their agenda. “We must baptize as many people in a year as possible because that is what Jesus says to do.” “We should set goals on how many people we can baptize per month”. Then we will just throw some lousy doctrine at them that is partly bible based but most likely completely ripped out of context. We will completely abandon the rest of the “Great Commission”. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold I am with you always, to the end of the age”. Make Disciples….that doesn’t mean just tell people about Jesus and baptize them even though they don’t understand what they are doing. Disciples comes first in the passage….live with and show them Jesus. Speak truth into people. LOVE people. Tell them the beauty of Christ. Then when they fully understand the Gospel and know who he is then baptize them into the family….rant over…

When you say the name Jesus in conversation it’s so sad how much disgust you receive in looks or verbally. That is a reflection on us as Christians. And yes I said “us” because I’m in there with you. Being a Christian is the hardest thing in this world. We are called to be counter culture when the world is full of anger, greed, hate, and “Heritage”. Our God has been terribly portrayed by both bible thumping Baptist and prosperity gospel preachers. All ends of the spectrum have got it wrong. Sure, they are bringing in “converts” by the thousands but what are they doing for the Kingdom of God. When is that last time you cried for or got down on your knees for the lost? When is the last time you got down on your knees and cried for your leaders? When is the last time you got down on your knees and prayed for your church? When is the last time you got down on your knees and wept for your community? If you have no answer for that maybe that’s the problem.

We have gotten so locked into politics, doctrine, what grows the church, what looks bad, and what looks weird. We have neglected that Jesus, Our God, is the exact imprint of the nature of God (Heb 1:3). When we look back on Jesus life, we see that everything we do will be for the glory of God. Glory of God for either our punishment because he is a just and righteous God, or for the Grace extended to us when we absolutely do not deserve it. Have you looked back and reflected on yourself lately or just too busy sitting on your high horse. Jesus didn’t say we have to understand why some people do things, but he did ask that we love them unconditionally. Christ did the most beautiful thing he could have. He took on human form, loved on people, did miraculous things, saved sinners, deconstructed lives, built people up, empowered a people, went counter culture, walked thru the heart of Samaria, extended love to the woman at the well, fed the hungry, hydrated the thirsty, healed the lame, Died for our Sins, Conquered Death, was Victor over sin, Walked out of the Grave, forgave Peter, had fish with his brother, walked up a mountain, ascended to Heaven, and sat down at the right hand of God. He is the nature of God, He is God, and He is the second God-head of the Trinity.

 Love and Peace to you, my church family

 God Bless

[seriouscuttervoice]

Apotheosis

Chapter 2 | I

Fandom: Mystic Messenger/Death Note (Crossover)

Characters: Rem, V, OCs (V’s family), Jumin Han

Links: AO3 | FF | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Notes: This chapter is long, long, long overdue, initially because of writer's block and then because of the stages of grief that came with realizing V route was going to (and did) redact a lot of my fic into firm AU territory. I've decided that instead of changing my plans for this fic to align with the information provided by V route, I'm going to continue with what I originally had planned for the fic. I'm not complaining about having additional canon information-- it's fantastic-- but I fear my motivation to finish this will dwindle into nothing if I have to go off my original course too much. I started writing this chapter before V route and finished it after, and it's probably the first time I make a major divergence from canon (other than, you know, having V be the reincarnation of a shinigami from an entirely different series) on purpose. I really hope you enjoy this and I apologize for taking so long to get it out!

It's not her first week or even her first month at school when another student, not by his actions or anything he's said but by his mere presence, strikes Rem breathless. She's seen him before, in church, in class, but she never realized until now that she isn't the only person who spends their recesses outside alone. As if pushed away by some invisible force filling the air, he stands at the edge of the school courtyard; perhaps it's the same force that compelled Rem to wander off here in the first place. The tall and empty walls that should have diminished him with their size are inferior to the look in his eyes, ice and fire all at once, passionate scrutiny, and with a start this young boy reminds Rem not of her own downfall but of Misa's, the man she loved who used love like a weapon and turned a god to ash. It's too much memory for a boy so young, and when he turns that gaze on Rem in this soft, child's body and asks, "Why do you look at me that way?," Rem has spent enough time as a human to know that he is art.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asks, uncertain if she's disturbed him. He's a little shorter than Jihyun is, but it doesn't feel that way. The boy's eyes survey her up and down, appraising her with eyebrows arched, lips twisted for a moment in thought, before he shrugs and turns his face away.

"Do as you like," he tells her, and for a moment the command stupefies her, desperately searching in her mind for what exactly it is that she'd like to do so she can comply. Her eyes find her shoes, black and freshly shined the night before by Yunseo. The other boy wears similar ones of a slightly different style, his pointed at the front where Jihyun's are square, standard footwear for the compulsory school uniform. Rem hesitates, then raises her head again to look at his face.

"What's your name?" she asks, and the question feels too personal, a few characters on a page that could be the difference between life and death, a secret to be closely guarded yet is so easily taken away.

"You don't know it?" the boy questions, an overly critical crease in his forehead for someone his age. "We've been in the same class for two months and twelve days, we attend the same church, and we've visited each other's houses before, but you don't know my name?"

He speaks like he spends his free time reading the dictionary, a pastime Rem can't deny she's participated in herself before out of boredom, selective of his words in a way that's unnatural for his stature. She stares wide-eyed at him for his harshness. Human names and even faces are difficult, slipping in and out of her mind without a trace no matter how hard she tries, and she's tempted to ask how he can remember her name before she realizes he's not given any particular indication that he does.

"I suppose I've forgotten," she mumbles, allowing her language to slip back into the stiff formalness she was accustomed to as a shinigami to match the other's speech. She's surprised to find how unforced it feels, realizing for the first time that her quietness around most humans might be due to the amount of effort it takes to vocalize as they expect Jihyun to.

The other blinks, scowling but apparently unable to look away from her, and after a moment of contemplative silence he slowly utters, "My name is Jumin Han."

Jumin Han.

It's a name she's heard before, the Han part certainly is, in her parents' dinner conversations and dripping with bitter spite from Yunseo's lips. His family doesn't live far from where Jihyun's does, a large house with black panels that's more modern than most others in the neighbourhood, though the inside is more traditional than one might expect.

She repeats the name several times in her head, Jumin Han, Jumin Han, the words more precious than the other boy could realize, and somehow she knows that this time she won't forget.

"The conventional thing to do, at this point," the other says, startling Rem out of her thoughts, "would be to introduce yourself, but there's no need as I already know who you are."

She nods, her lips feeling stuck together, and though the boy is stern she finds herself taking his word for it easily, something about him exuding honesty and trustworthiness even while he rebukes her with his words. She feels she's somehow unearthed something, trespassed into a space she wasn't meant to be and stuck gold, like the earrings she wore as a shinigami, like the pink paint she took from the human world. He doesn't seem bothered by her staring, though he doesn't meet her eyes, and for a moment Rem longs to stay like this, silently drinking in the details of this boy's world, a world that appears to be all his own, separate from the oversaturation and noise she's come to associate with the human realm. He doesn't interrupt her, completely still and with perfect posture, and she knows then that she was wrong in her initial assessment of him. This boy is better than Light Yagami, greater than Light Yagami, and if the gods fell for him it would only be natural, his effortless honesty making him worthy of it, with no need for deception or delicate maneuvering to make it happen. He emanates magnetism, seems almost composed of it, and it's a quality she thinks can't be taken from him, a fundamental of his being that makes him meant to walk this earth.

She tears her eyes away; too much, too much, and when she does he takes a step toward her and she finds herself breathless once more.

"Spend recess with me," he says, his right foot barely a few centimetres from hers, eyes full of intensity. She nods again, refusing to look away this time, and he remains for just a moment, holding her there in his world, before he moves back.

And then he smiles.

Muscles in his face relax, eyebrows lose their arch, his lips curve just barely upward, and he looks at her with a carefreeness she wouldn't have thought him capable of as the warm light of morning seems to envelop her from his face.

"Good," he says, motioning to a bench by one of the paths in the courtyard. "Should we sit? I think we'll like each other, Jihyun."

Rem knows he's right, and it's a strange feeling, unaccustomed to attention or her presence being wanted, and together they walk away from the towering wall.

Jumin becomes a fixture in her life with ease, occupying a place she didn't know existed and fitting perfectly into it. The two of them are silent more often than not, but it's a different sort of silence than that she shares with her family, a silence that's whole instead of hollow, a silence that's full like a sponge with water, and while she can't tell if she herself contributes anything to that completeness, she knows Jumin does with his overwhelming presence. They don't speak because there's no need for words, and when the words do come they are easy, unedited in their clunkiness, too big for either of them and their children's bodies. She's half-tempted to tell him her history, to ask if he was a god once too, but otherworldly as he seems Rem knows there's something irrevocably human about him, the very thing that drew the likes of herself and Gelus to this world in the first place.

Rem's searches for gods who'd become humans are mostly fruitless, references to human descent almost invariably linked to Christianity. Typing in Gelus's name does nothing either, the other apparently uninterested in making himself known to other former shinigami, if he's even here at all. It's possible that if he too became human then he's in a completely different time period than Rem is, or a different timeline altogether. And there's also a chance he didn't become a human in the first place.

It's much easier to find references to the opposite, the concept of humans that become gods, deification or apotheosis as the process is called. Humans appear to be fascinated by the idea, and Rem supposes she can understand what the allure of power and eternity could be to people who never had them within their grasp. She too might find it enthralling, were the power she had not the power of death, and were the eternity she had not dependent on it. Her parents never ask what she's searching for, so she never has to hide it, though she likely could if she wanted to because Jihyun apparently inherited her talent for going unnoticed, though not through any ability to be literally invisible. He slips in an out of places almost without a sound, and those just realizing he's entered the room remark that he surprises them with his quiet. She doesn't broach the subjects she searches for with Jumin, either, though he'd undoubtedly be interested in the concept of descent from godhood, but he's too sharp and too perceptive for Rem to fully trust he wouldn't put the entire picture together.

He starts inviting her to his house, and though Jihyun is allowed to invite over anyone he wants, he's also allowed to go any place he wishes, and Rem prefers to be at Jumin's. The other boy's house is full of invisible people; kitchen staff and housekeepers that Rem rarely sees, going about their obligations to maintain the orderliness of the place. Jumin doesn't think twice about it, and soon neither does Rem, the novelty of being seen both unnerving and difficult not to enjoy. Jumin listens to her, and Rem knows that if she ever asked him to make her a promise he wouldn't break it, possessing a degree of respect for her that's totally foreign to her life.

Jumin's father is rarely home, though his mother always is, and Jumin makes a point to correct Jihyun when he refers to her as such, firmly informing her that the woman living in his house is not his mother. Rem gives him a questioning look, less aware of human customs than she expected, and Jumin says he'll explain it another time.

Jumin's insistence that he and Jihyun be alone most of the time is no discomfort to her, used to adults taking little interest in her life. Even when their parents get together for dinner, Jumin prefers that the two of them take off on their own as soon as the meal is finished, circling the perimeter of his garden or sitting on the rug in his bedroom.

"I thought you were looking forward to having dinner together with your father," Rem comments, purposely not phrasing it as a question so the other doesn't feel obliged to respond. Jumin leans back against the footboard of his bed, so large it could probably swallow him.

"I was," he says, tracing circles on his kneecap. Even outside of school, Jumin dresses as if in uniform. Jihyun wears a t-shirt and jeans, though Rem isn't sure whether or not they're expensive. "But his girlfriend is with him, and I don't like her."

"Oh," Rem says, and suddenly everything makes sense. She wondered why the woman who appeared to be Mr. Han's wife was so young, but time spent with Kyosuke Higuchi should've told her that this was normal for businessmen. Jumin's father seems so kind, though, she wouldn't have thought to connect the two even in spite of them having the same occupation.

"Mm," Jumin acknowledges. She watches him for a moment, wondering if he wants to elaborate, but he says nothing more so she doesn't press him. Jumin's bedroom is nice, a bit oversized but so is Jihyun's. Everything from the wooden floors to the bed to the armchairs on either side of the table in the middle of the room are white, the only exception provided by a fish tank that sits on top of the table, the fish swimming inside reflecting the sunlight with vibrant colours.

It's quiet for a long time, and Rem wonders for a moment why Jumin sits on the floor when his room has armchairs and a window seat, and she's trying to decide if that's too impolite to ask when she feels a weight press against her arm, eyes widening as she realizes Jumin has shifted to lean on her, just slightly, his dark hair falling on Jihyun's shoulder. The touch is unexpected, accustomed to her only contact being Yunseo's hand firmly grasping Jihyun's when crossing the street or in a crowded place.

"Jumin?"

Jumin stiffens, and Rem regrets it for a moment as he raises his head ever so slightly, then seems to change his mind and leans on Jihyun again.

"You know," he says softly. Jihyun waits. "I've never had a friend before."

This isn't surprising. Jumin is young, has hardly had enough time in the world for it to be confusing that he hasn't made friends before, but the word puts Rem on alert.

"Friend?" she echoes, and Jumin shifts off of her shoulder to engage her in a serious look.

"That's what we are, right?" he asks, and though his voice is steely the question is sincere, searching her face with his silver eyes for answers. "Friends?"

Rem returns his eye contact and for once wonders if Jumin feels her presence as strongly as she feels his, because he averts his gaze slightly to look at her nose instead of her eyes. It's a word Rem hadn't considered for them before. Friends… the weight with which Jumin spoke the word makes sense now, though Jumin himself wouldn't be able to understand it. He's a young boy with the body of a delicate child, only a few short years into school. Rem is ancient, lived for centuries without ever having a single friend, the closest perhaps being Gelus, but even then it was she who was fascinated by him, the other shinigami sharing no similar interest in Rem or anyone other than the human girl he watched. That, of course, was natural. And Misa could hardly be called a friend, care for her as much as Rem did.

But him… Jumin Han. He seeks out Jihyun's presence, remembers things about him that Jihyun doesn't remember about himself, hangs onto his every word even when they're clumsily put together and say nothing of importance. He's unselfish, doesn't only care for Jihyun to the extent that Jihyun can be useful to him, whether as a willing sacrifice or a soundboard. Jumin is considerate of Rem, gives her special attention that even her parents don't give her. His eyes are the only place that Rem holds any significance—that Rem ever held any significance.

"Yes," she breathes, and Jumin watches her, unwavering. "I suppose we are."

Jumin slowly nods, then shifts again, replacing his head against her shoulder once more. Silence overtakes the air, the distant sound of parents' voices downstairs drifting into the room from behind the closed door.

"Let's stay this way," Jumin murmurs, and Rem can hear in his voice that this time it's not a command.

It's a plea.

"We will," she says.

She hopes he can hear in Jihyun's voice that it's a vow.

[letters-to-dearest-somedays]

What do I pray for?

Like for me. I’ve spent most of my legal age hoping for people. Praying for them. Healing the world in the tiniest way I could. I barely stopped to think about me.

What do I want for myself? Few years from now?

Well. That’s tough. I’m 21 and perfectly spoiled baby. Babiest baby that acts so grown. And yet here I am asking myself because as the journey gets more intense. I want to be able to remember.

And for the record. I’m not a “take what life throws at you woman.” Or “when life gives you lemon: make lemonades woman”. I’d ship your lemons back to you and make my fruit mixed

Early 20s to mid 20s

I want to work as a young computer engineer..obviously tho. (After changing from 2nd year civil engineering to computer engineering and throwing everyone on a spin that it’s my journey, my life. My call.)

4 years of uni. I don’t know what it’d be like. I’m going to leave a mark. A mark that I’d build stairs on and climb to the top. No one literally knows me right now at uni. They don’t even think I’m Nigerian. But I’m certain before the end of this first year, I’m going to spook my future and set it in motion from here.

Enjoying my youthful days? Definitely. The things that I like to do. I’d definitely be doing the craziest safest stuff on my bucket list. Having my family and boyfriend watch me grow into a beautiful young woman and make progress. I’m curious as to who’d be able to call me their girlfriend and what it’d be like.

Of course I’m going to get married. I wonder who’s going to look at me and see what I am and imagine living without me. More like who’s going to sweep me off my feet and win my heart. I’m literally so hard to impress and as I write this. I’m clueless.

After my union?

Union is putting 1&1. A whole new level of responsibility. Why do people make it seem like a chore? I think it’s a way to run up the stairs after a while of walking (in our purpose). I know my reality, my destination and some paths and I really pray for someone who’s journey’s perfectly aligned with mine. I’m going to marry that person and life doesn’t end, it begins.

I need to have my seat in the Nigerian Cabinet. Late 20s mission and early 30s success (Minister of science and technology/power works and housing/ budget and national planning/whatever. ) The way my country is, I won’t be surprised the fields I’d fit in. Have you heard me speak or seen how my brain works and thinks? Feels as tho I’m just talking. But let’s see. How’d I get there? I’m starting now. I’m clueless but I know ME. Being a computer engineer or cyber IT expert doesn’t mean I don’t get to engage in the things I love. International and National relations. Global peace. They’re going to ask for me. I’m not going to apply. They just need to keep their eyes and ears opened on the children of the nation making impacts. I give myself two months to get caught up in things related to that. I sound so cynical. But I would and then walking in that purpose continues. .

It’s No doubt I’d fit into a lot. Comes with being a black Woman and my type of Woman. I don’t want to relate with anyone’s goals. I want the goals of the women in the world not just those on Forbes lists(oh yeah because I’d make money and that’s not even negotiable or debatable. It’s a constant) but those on the verge of making huge impacts on the world to be relating with my own level of success. Money multiplies and divides but legacies remain till eternity.

As a mom and wife.

I want my kids as well. 2 as planned. Plus as many unplanned ones who follow.

I want to be able to make break fast everyday and dinner as often as I can without the help of a cook. It’s not as a result of tradition, it’s just me doing what I’d love to do. Just like how.. as a Christian wife and mom,

I want to be up 12am prophesying into the life of my kids and husband. at 5am praising God for all he’d done in my life since birth.

I want the kids ready for school at 7am and bounce off to be at work by 8am or whenever work resumes. Can I do that tho? Yup we’d find a way. We’re going to nurture these kids minimum of as much as we nurtured our dreams.

I want to have a beautiful fruitful day making huge moves and deals , leaving my mark as the female in power. I know it’d be long days sometimes.

Some days,

I want my husband and I to have 5mins conversation in the middle of our busy day, planning to meet for lunch with that impossible schedule or picking lunch over the phone without linking up..or just a text including an unprofessional pose of my husband having a snack lunch while trynna work. It’s no doubt that we’re both going to be busy individual but we’d be fully aware of the magic we bring when our two worlds collide.

Other days,

I want to show up at his office for a quickie, brush my skirt / pants while I have my beautiful legs walk out the door in them heels like I didn’t just have a bomb as time with the love of my life while we’ve got a shit load of work to do. Yes a girl is freaky and would embrace her sexuality.

Eventually,

I want to be home at 6pm, earlier when possible. Cos on the way home I want to FaceTime my folks as usual, catch up, would never really be able to be without speaking to them yk.

Having my babies talk about their day while I make dinner or rest, and/or wait for my husband to be back from work.

I want to respect every part of him and opinions he gives about our family getting stronger regardless the powerful positions I might hold. It’s no doubt that he’d be such a great man and even be Power himself.

I want to watch him try be the coolest of us while he tries to throw me under the bus as the mean mom. The Yoruba in new won’t let me win that however I remain the sweetest.

I want to wake up in the middle of the night to screw his brains out.

I want to know what’s on his mind. I want to support him. I want to learn him everyday because I read that in love, we don’t just feel. We make a choice to love and to love means to learn.

I want to drop the kids with their 4 grand parents while we take vacations on some weekends. I hope they don’t bounce us sometimes because modern day grandparents be living the life.

I know our kids are blessed, they’d have the best aunties and uncles.

I want surprise visits during conferences i’d hold. From my family.

I want to be grateful on sundays for the lives God has used me to change.

I want to be able to stand at the altar to share knowledge because it comes with the woman in me. I want to be consistent with week day services in church as well.

I want my babies to have their special bible character.

Oh and when we fight? I’m taking the covers of him. Rolling and tossing till he’s almost on the floor because I made him move farther and farther away with my butt just So I’d come down to tend his wounds and act like that wasn’t my intention.

I want to be 30. And thankful Asf.

To the Man of my lifetime, I want to be 70 with you. With grand babies, so I can tell them how we was the coolest. Watch you make BBQ with friends and family trynna act like you’re twenty something again.

How we beat all odds. Because I know it won’t be easy. I know we’d find a way around every mountain. If we can’t get around it. We get over it. I hope we talk about How we are happy with how we had lived.

And If spirits do hang around.

I want to be with you in spirit world a billion years from now, pointing at our descendants on earth. Smiling. Do you think there’d be flying cars?

Well  this is my own purpose. On a minimum like I said.

[thedreadvampy]

Last long one I think: my own relationship with my Quakerism

My mum grew up Church of England, but converted to Quakerism when we were babies. She says she was drawn there for a moment of peace and quiet while lone parenting three small children, but she found in it a freedom to question and to get out from under the ‘because I said so’ structure of the Church and develop a personal relationship with her faith that could be questioned and interrogated without her feeling like a Bad Christian.

So I grew up running around in the Meeting House - I’d sit in Meeting for Worship for as long as I could sit still as a like 4 year old, then go and play in the graveyard or in the kitchen or just sit in the meeting room and read quietly. But my mum was always very clear that I wasn’t a Quaker by default - I was expected to go out into the world and find out what religion (or none) suited me (this is also why she persistently refused to have me baptised despite my very Anglican grandparents’ protests). So for my childhood and adolescence I considered myself culturally Quaker, but explored my options on religion and politics.

Politically, the Iraq War was at around the time I was getting politically aware (10 or 11) and I started getting involved in peace activism, and through there into other social justice work, and I found that I was increasingly finding myself back in alignment with Quakerism in that I was bolshy, radical, anti-war, anti-hierarchy, and anti-dogmatic. So I began to consider Quakerism a political affiliation, but religiously I was still very unhappy with it. I passed through experiments with Wicca, I explored Hinduism, Buddhism and Judaism, and I fairly quickly settled on a position of Explicit Agnosticism (not “I don’t know” but “We Can’t Know”)

Anyway as a Teen I went to a lot of Quaker residential events - a coalition of Area Meetings in Scotland and the North of England ran a residential summer camp for 11-16 year olds and I went every year (they did some Quaker education, some general Fun Activities, and sort of mini Meeting for Worships every night) and that was a good way to meet people and try new things (that’s actually where I met my current housemate!) It was explicitly Quaker but there wasn’t a Wrong Answer - you didn’t have to be Quaker to go and the message wasn’t “These are the Correct Religion Facts” but more “this is an introduction to What Quakerism Is”. There were only like...2 other people our age in the local meeting and like 8 in the area meeting so it was nice to be around other teenagers who you could talk religion and politics with as standard.

From 16-18 I went to Junior Yearly Meeting, which. the first one I went to was in 2009 and If You Have Read The Previous Miles of Text you may notice that year has Significance. 

2009 was the first year that Junior Yearly Meeting was integrated into Britain Yearly Meeting - historically it had been an entirely separate event, but JYM had successfully lobbied for the Youth to be allowed to join some of the main business meetings and discussion groups at BYM, although the expectation was that we’d be quiet and listen politely (ha, fat chance). Young Quakers are, in general, a much more explicitly political and energetic force than the older, more centrist, more traditionally Christian Quakers, and if I’m honest I think a lot of the older Quakers thought of us as children (for context, the average age of British Quakers is around the 65 mark and I have been in plenty of meetings where 50 year olds are considered The Young People) - we were regularly met with surprise at being eloquent, well informed and opinionated.

AND. 2009 was the year that the Minute on Equal Marriage was laid out. and BOY HOWDY did the bunch of largely queer lefty teenagers who made up JYM have Opinions on that one. I stood up and gave ministry to 3,000 people which stopped a minute going through after 4 hours of debate, and it was simultaneously the proudest and most terrifying thing I have ever done. Because when I stood up, the minute was about to pass saying, effectively, “We agree that Something Ought To Be Done” and (and this was in fact the first time I’d ever been moved to speak) I stood up and said ‘ok but it kind of maybe doesn’t sound to me like we’ve agreed on any action, we’ve just agreed that there ought to be an action?’ and people were telling me to sit down and stop making a scene, but then people much less tremulous and much more eloquent than me carried the point on, and then the minute passed with a concrete commitment to a marriage strike and to lobby parliament and I think I was born as an activist that day. because what I had done was small and stupid and terrifying but it meant something even though it didn’t feel changeable, it gave space for other people to speak similar thoughts. and holy shit I’ve never felt so small or so much like an important part of something huge. especially come 2011 when the Equal Marriage Bill passed, I cried like a FUCKING BABY because you can make one tiny thing a tiny bit different and if lots of tiny people make tiny changes something momentous happens.

so after that I considered myself Quaker as a major point of identity, but I was still a committed agnostic. But Meeting and Quakers were a community and an anchor point, and I leant on them for support more often than not.

Then in 2014, I was a witness in a rape case from a few years prior (I had been assaulted by the accused but never reported it so when they went to court for another rape I put myself forward as a witness). and it was hard, I was handling that trauma but also unpacking about a decade of trauma I had refused to ever process; I was profoundly depressed and chronically unemployed; I had attempted suicide. I was STRUGGLING. and in the midst of that, I went to a Quaker residential.

A collection of area meetings in the North East book out a hotel on the coast every year and do a long weekend of workshops, Meeting for Worship and discussion groups, and I had volunteered to come along and run some art classes (Mum thought it would be good for me to get out of Edinburgh for a bit and she was right). And I sat there in Meeting for Worship in the silence surrounded by community and unexpectedly I just...cracked open. Not to steal cliche words, but

there is a crack, a crack in everything. that’s where the Light comes in

and for a moment I felt like I had a sense of...I don’t know. My friend told me never to try to describe religious experiences, because putting them into words lessens them. but I felt not like I understood everything, but like there was something to understand. Like there was this wholeness and this force underlying everything from growth to love to community to death and nothingness and time and decay and birth. And I thought you might call that force God or the Light, if you wanted to. it felt...animate and animating but not like a being, like a force or maybe a symbiosis.

I don’t know if that means I believe in God, and maybe it was just me cracking up and tripping on my own sadness, but it wasn’t a sad feeling, it was overwhelming and euphoric. And I was just sat there openly weeping, not even sobbing, just tears streaming down my face. and I think then I stopped identifying as agnostic, because that might not be what other people mean by God but it’s what I mean by God, or at least by a divine experience.

So anyway I’m much more comfortable identifying as Quaker than Christian, because I think the plurality of Quakerism leaves space for that to be ambiguously God or Not God but either way be the pillar of my faith. but I also kind of think that being a theistic person of faith who works in an explicitly Biblically-founded framework and tradition like Quakerism...probably makes me a Christian. I just think Christian and Quaker have very different connotations and of the two I’m far more Quaker than Christian - I’m only Christian through Quakerism, if that makes sense, there isn’t a non-Quaker aspect to my Christianity.

Would you mind talking more about being Quaker? I dont really know anything about the modern community but historically they are so interesting! Im sorry if this is disrespectful or anything! It is not my intention to be!

Ok I have no idea where to start with this (not in an I AM OFFENDED way just in a WOW THAT’S A BIG QUESTION way) so hang fire for a series of very longwinded reblogs of this post where I try to pull out some sense.

[hymnrevival]

THE DANGERS OF HALLOWEEN - PART 10 I Was Abused In A Satanic Halloween Ritual

https://plus.google.com/115555888016056562361/posts/RjzTDRXicgu

SRA Victim, Ex-Witch, Redeemed by Jesus Christ

Sister Beth

Two years ago, as a brand new Christian, I came to the realization I had to let go of Halloween. As a non-Christian I absolutely loved Halloween. Obsessed really. I loved all things horror and gore, as a matter of fact. Zombies, witches, vampires, you name it. I was fascinated by all of it. We had quite the collection of Halloween decorations sitting in our garage that we had been working on for years. Costumes, skull lights, a severed head, tombstones, body parts, etc. All to make our yard look nice and festive for the Halloween season.

It was actually very easy for me to let go of Halloween that first year. I had come into this new relationship with Christ and experienced His love immeasurable. All I wanted was to give myself to God and receive more of Him in return. The love and the guidance of my beautiful Savior was something that I had longed for my entire life. And as I gave myself over to Christ, I found myself wanting to leave behind my old life of pain and death and despair.

Walking away from my old life meant leaving behind all of my associations with witchcraft and the occult. That meant my books on witchcraft, gods and goddesses, my Buddha statues, crystals, tarot cards, and much more. I knew that witchcraft was not something to trifle with, because it was dangerous. It was allowing darkness into my life and my home, and I was done with the darkness. Done. The darkness had done nothing good for me ever, but Jesus had given me life and hope.

For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. Colossians 1:13-14 So that year we took that entire box of Halloween decorations and dumped it all in the trash where it belonged. I knew Halloween was a high holy day for witches and Satanists, because I had celebrated it many times as a witch myself. I had even done spells and rituals on this holy of holy nights. Halloween is when witches see the veil between the world at its thinnest, and they do rituals to contact the dead. They also use this time to celebrate death, because in the pagan culture, death is not the end of life, but the beginning of life in another world.

The next year on Halloween, I began to speak out about my testimony of how I broke free from witchcraft and that Halloween ia actually a pagan celebration. I was so passionate about sharing the truth with the world, because I didn’t want to see people getting sucked into the lies of the devil. So many people, Christians and non Christians alike, love Halloween. They get caught up in the season of Halloween, which is full of dressing up, parties, goodies, and other fun things. Little do they know that they are actually being a party to witchcraft in the process.

I remember last year speaking to a woman who was a satanic ritual abuse survivor and being so worried for her as she told me how difficult October is for her every year. I couldn’t quite understand why, but I knew that the increase of witchcraft activity must have a part to play in it. I learned more about the Satanic aspect of Halloween and the sacrificial murders that happen on this night. Yet it still seemed so far away from my own reality.

‘You shall not give any of your offspring to offer them to Molech, nor shall you profane the name of your God; I am the LORD. Leviticus 18:21

It was just about that time last year that I began to have my own memories of being abused and tortured in satanic rituals as a child. I was barely coming to terms with it even being real for me as the memories slowly came in every week. It has taken me an entire year to process and understand and come to grips with some pretty intense truths about myself and this world we live in. One of those being that Halloween is far more than just a pagan holiday where witchcraft is prevalent. It was only recently that God took me into a memory of being in a satanic ritual on Halloween. I cannot even say how many Halloweens I was forced to be involved in rituals on Halloween, as I am taking my time going through as the Holy Spirit wills. What the Holy Spirit has shown me was being taken into a satanic ritual at the tender age of 3. I don’t think any person can truly fathom the reality and the evil of a satanic ritual, and I do not intend to ever go into great detail about them, but I am going to explain enough so that you can have a better understanding.

Satanic rituals are not new to our world. They have been around for thousands of years, and they are talked about in the Bible, when people were sacrificing their children to the god Molech. Molech is the god of human sacrifice, and he is highly worshiped in satanic cults, along with many other gods and goddesses. Molech is a demon, not a god, and he is controlled by Satan himself. In ancient times satanic rituals were done out in the open where anyone could see. They were not hidden. But times have changed and the rituals have not stopped, they just had to be moved into places where it would not be detected.

And he burned his son as an offering and used fortune-telling and omens and dealt with mediums and with necromancers. He did much evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking him to anger. 2 Kings 21:6

All satanic rituals have one main purpose: to align people with the kingdom of darkness, so they can be filled with evil and be used to carry out the works of the devil. The devil has to do this, because what else does he have to gain power? No one would openly align themselves with the devil over darkness, when they know the Truth of the goodness of God. No, the devil always resorts to lies and deceptions in order to steal away God’s people, and he targets the most innocent first.

I remember quite clearly on this particular Halloween night getting dressed up and going to my Grandmother’s house with my parents. I was excited to show her my costume and go trick or treating. I had a Donnie Osmond doll with me. On my own I can recall nothing more. Yet here is what the Holy Spirit revealed to me. My parents told me before we went around the neighborhood we were going to go by the church (Mormon Church) to get some candy there. The church was very close to my grandmother’s house, and I knew so from going often.

We went to the church and what happened next made my blood curdle. I was given candy, but that was just a preclude to the sexual abuse that would happen in a satanic ritual. On Halloween Satanists use young children, such as myself, as sexual idols to worship. Other children receive a far worse fate. Death. I know for some this is more than you can even think to believe, but it is true. I can barely write these words because the pain of the truth is almost more than I can bear. If it wasn’t for the grace and love of Jesus Christ, I would not even be here writing this at all. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, 7 in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace,expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. Ephesians 2:6-7

Why would anyone do such sick things to a child? There are a lot of reasons really. Most likely they are acting from what they know; their own sadistic abuse. Satanism doesn’t just all of a sudden show up. It gets implanted and takes roots and grows over time. It starts off small and infects everyone around it who isn’t grounded in Christ and able to see the truth of the evil around them. That is why Satan starts with children. If he can do this to small children, then they will grow up and do it to children themselves. That is what Satan’s plan was for me.

There are many churches that are going to have just the same type of rituals on Halloween night. Christian churches, Catholic churches, and more. Satan does not care what your religious beliefs are, he only cares that he can get a door in. Once he gets that door open, he is in for good, because the deception is just so deep. If we as a society cannot see that this happens, or refuse to believe it could be true, then no wonder Satan is in so deeply.

We have to be willing to open our eyes to the world around us. Satan has come to steal, kill and destroy, and he is doing it by masking it as peace, love and light. Yet the Bible makes it clear Satan will come in disguise as an angel of light. As long as we keep deciding to turn our backs to these sort of truths, we are going to continue to be held captive in this world. I am not alone in this abuse. Hundreds of thousands of others are just like me, and have been subjected to torment on Halloween night. And many more will also be tortured and murdered on Halloween as every year passes. The only difference between myself and most other victims is, I chose to allow God to bring me healing and remember it. I could not have done it without Jesus. It would be impossible.

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. 1 Peter 2:24

Halloween night is a night full of rituals, but also witchcraft. Witches and Satanists of all kinds get together in groups and perform rituals and also do spells and astral travel. This means that Halloween night is so full of witchcraft that it is basically impossible not to feel the effects of it. Most people do not understand what witchcraft feels like, so they have no idea. There is literally so much witchcraft going on that night that it is overtaking the world. That means that every single person that is participating in any type of Halloween activity on Halloween night is actually in agreement with all the rituals and witchcraft.

That means when we take our kids out to trick or treat, or to a fall festival or even to a costume party, we are coming into agreement with Halloween and what it is. We are not only teaching our children that Halloween is good and safe, but we are inadvertently allowing them to be aligned with darkness. In the laws of the spiritual realm, that is all it takes to make an agreement, or covenant. It is very important we stop looking at the world for just the physical nature of it, and start realizing that there is a spiritual side that encompasses every aspect of everything. Do we want to come into agreement with ritual abuse of children or witchcraft? I know, I do not.

Halloween is still a very difficult time for me, as I am faced with constant reminders about my abuse as I drive through the neighborhood or go to any stores. They are all filled with Halloween decorations, especially decorations of skulls, witches and other such things, that are directly related to satanic abuse for me. I used to love Halloween because so much of me was aligned with darkness. Now I am finding incredible levels of freedom, and Halloween can never hold anything fun or good to me ever again.

See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. Colossians 2:8

Jesus has been absolutely central in my finding freedom, redemption and healing from my pain and my own personal hell. He has shown me a love like I have never known before in my entire life. He has shown me that His love is something that is pure and untainted, and that I am indeed special and valuable to God. Even more so, that I am wanted and precious in God’s eyes. How amazing is that. Once I had a taste of that love, I had to have more. That is what has led me to healing. Wanting more of Jesus Christ and His all-consuming love.

There may be evil in this world, but nothing is bigger than the power of the Almighty. The devil may have infiltrated churches, or taken over an entire night to align people unwittingly with darkness, but that can never change the truth of who God is. He is the King, and in the end He will wear the Victor’s Crown. The devil can try as he might to corrupt God’s people, but behind the scenes God is working relentlessly to save us all. If it hadn’t been for Jesus, I would have been completely corrupted, and on my way to hell. Jesus protected my spirit, which is eternal, so it could be with Him forever. As hard as knowing all this abuse has happened to me, and even reliving it through flashbacks, I am thankful for it all. If it hadn’t been for this abuse, I could not be here right now telling about it. Which means so many others who have endured this life of hell and had no idea why, would never see the hope that lies in their own freedom. It also means that so many people who have been held captive to the lies of the devil would never be awakened to the truth. And it also means that there is a hope that children can start to be saved from this horrible abuse that is happening to them, and lives can be saved. All of this is because of the hope and the love of Jesus Christ. I am so very thankful for that.

Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. Ephesians 5:11

I pray for each person reading this that you are absolutely burdened with the truth, but absolutely freed with complete hope in restoration. We have to start now to work together, to love each other and build each other up in order to spread God’s message of love. The devil wants to spread fear and hate, but we need to remember it was love that saved us. God’s love did not stop on the cross. God’s love is so powerful that it will redeem more hearts and minds than the devil can ever hope to corrupt. He is good, and the devil cannot stop that goodness from spreading like a wildfire throughout this world, not matter how bad things look. We just have to learn who to focus on. Jesus. He is the giver of life and hope and truth. We need to turn our eyes to Him and see where He is asking us to go, and then surrender ourselves just enough so we can begin to follow Him. No matter how hard it is.

Jesus is safe. He is trustworthy. He is patient and steadfast in abounding love. If He weren’t then I would be dead. Yet I am alive! I am alive in Christ and hopeful in salvation to the utmost ends of this earth. God is willing that none should perish, not even one. He is working my loves! He is working for you, and everyone you know, to bring them into the rightness of a relationship with the Father. He is working at drawing you near and offering you hope from your affliction. It is only through Jesus that we as people can begin to make drastic changes in this world and tear down every stronghold the devil has made. And it all starts with love.

Love yourself enough to allow God to speak into your heart right now, no matter how hard it seems, and let Him bring you the truth. He will never bring you to a place that is more than you can bear, and He will never violate you, ever. He is good. Open up to Him now, and hear His truth. Receive His love. Bask in His goodness. He is worthy it. All of it. I love you all.

For I desire loyalty and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings. Hosea 6:6

Read More Here <a href="http://www.theothersideofdarkness.com/?s=halloween" rel="noreferrer nofollow">www.theothersideofdarkness.com/?s=halloween</a>

Sister Beth's Youtube channel here <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUus4aARWSIn7vlrShV4oLQ/videos" rel="noreferrer nofollow">www.youtube.com/channel/UCUus4aARWSIn7vlrShV4oLQ/videos</a>

[liam--molina]

Justice | Self-Para

At the age of twelve, Mrs. Ramirez from the Rosewood Home for Boys had sat Devon down and given him a lecture on how to behave appropriately. She had been one of the few latinas who worked there and had taken a special interest in Devon. She had been the one who helped him practice his Spanish, who taught him to cook and who had told him that there was a darkness inside of him that only the love of God could help him get out. “If you surrender yourself to the lord, he will take care of you, all you have to do is trust,” she used to say to him. As a child he would pretend to take it in and as he got older he would laugh to himself, wondering if she actually believed what she was saying. He had only stepped foot in a church once and while there were times when he made the sign of the cross and sent up random prayers, he was no man of God and he was sure that he would never surrender himself. There was a darkness inside of him but he didn’t want it to be put out. 

When he had run into Colette he hadn’t planned on getting drunk with her, it had just happen. The same way it had just happened that she had started talking more and more about her case and he had started filing away little details. He knew that when she said it would be easier if he was dead she hadn’t really meant but she did and in a away Devon knew that it was his one way to actually help her.  So he took the burden from her shoulders and threw it on his own. There was a twisted sense of pride that he had over the fact that in the whole world around them, he was the one who was going to save her, he was the one who was going to make something right. 

It hadn’t been that hard to learn about the guy causing her hell. He was some rich white guy, divorced and “living the life,” taking advantage of girls like Colette so he could use them until he found something he deemed better. If someone were to ask Mini she would say that Devon’s morals were exactly aligned with this guys but the boy would fight and fight in his own defense. Sure he threatened and sure he harmed but never in the way that this man had, he would have never pushed that far, not even with someone like Mini, a certain fact that he was sure he hadn’t made clear. 

These were all thoughts running through his mind in the weeks that he did research and asked around before he came to find the man’s drug of choice and even easier to find out that he bought from a dealer that was supplied by the same man who supplied him and Luka. The hardest part had been getting his hands on some fentanyl and making sure that it got into the bags that were going to be sold only to the record label executive. But if there was a will, there was a way. Devon had stolen the fentanyl from the hospital after hooking up with one of the nurses and he had volunteered himself to help with shipments in order to get the wrong drugs into the right hands. It had taken a sort of patience that he was surprised he even had but he had planned it right down to the type of bags he had used, making sure they were specific for the right person. 

The next step had been tracking the delivery. He made sure it had gotten to the dealer and he watched with binoculars from someone’s apartment he had broken into as the supply was handed off to someone representing the executive, all the way to the man’s house that Devon now stood in, masked by the darkness of the night and the fortunate fact that the man kept very little lights on. 

Devon wasn’t sure how long he had been there, holding tightly onto his gun, watching and waiting until the man sat at his kitchen counter, cutting up lines and drinking, listening to shitty music and thinking that the whole world was ahead of him. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched the man snort three lines and hang his head back as he got ready for the high and just as he did, Devon stepped out of the darkness, gun by his side, laughing as the man jumped up and went to reach for his gun that wasn’t there. Devon had made sure of it. 

“Who are you?! I’m calling the cops!”

Devon let out a laugh, his face covered by a mask and his body clad in black. “Oh really? And are you going to put the drugs away before or after they come?”

“W-what do you want? Money? Fuck, I’ll give you money.”

Devon shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. “I don’t want your money. What I want, I already have. You see, I want justice and you just snorted three lines of it.” 

The guys eyes widened as he looked down at the table and then touched his nose, “What are you talking about?”

Devon moved behind him, pressing the gun to his neck as he spoke. “Well you see, Sir, pretty soon that high is going to feel a lot like your brain is tightening and your heart very well may beat out of your chest, causing you to have a heart attack that no one will be able to save you from. Why? Because if you try to call or notify anyone, I will put a bullet into your head before you can even say a word. So, instead you’re going to let nature take it’s course and you’re going to watch as your world slips away little by little.”

“What are you doing this?! Who are you?!”

Devon shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You’re asking all the wrong questions, Jefe. What you should be asking is what did I do to deserve this and if you do then you’ll find the answer. You will never, and I mean never, lay your hands on another woman, you will never again make her have sex with you, make her touch you, make her do some ungodly shit to you because you can’t get a woman on your own you piece of shit. And people think I’m bad I mean shit, if a girl doesn’t want to have sex then go find one who does, it’s not that hard. But to have to force someone? Your game must be so bad, not that I blame the girls, I mean look at you. Looking like Christian Bale and Clint Eastwood had a baby.” Devon was cracking himself up as the guy was shaking, his hands going up to try and take Devon’s gun away but Devon was faster and pulled the gun away, taking both of the mans hands and pressing them against his back as he pressed his head against the counter. He knew that in order to do this right there could be no sign of struggle, no sign of him ever being there. 

So he backed away and when the man got up to lunge at him, he moved to the side and watched as he stumbled, watched as he clutched his chest and his eyes widened. He ignored him as he begged him to help him, promised to stop and give him money. And Devon just watched, no emotion showing or stirring within him. He watched until the man took his final breath and then he left, sticking the gun in the waistband of his jeans and sneaking out the same way he came in. 

He had parked his car almost a mile away and braced himself against the cold as he walked, feeling himself come down from the adrenaline rush as he had watched the life leave the man’s eyes. He thought about Mrs. Ramirez, about the darkness she saw in him and how he never wanted it to go away. He smiled to himself as he got in his car finally and thought about what he had said to her at the age of sixteen. 

“The darkness is my friend, Señora, it’s what keeps me alive.” 

[adanaknowsbest]

Spiritual Influences

If you read my post addressing my plans for the upcoming year, you’ll remember that I want to be more active within the pagan tumblr community.  Well, this is the first step!  

I thought that before I post stuff out of my BoS, I would go over some of my biggest influences, so that you guys can get a feel of where I come from and the sort of energy I align myself with.  The only reason I’m sharing this without a BoS page is that I don’t have one addressing this... it’s something that has happened organically over the years, and can be found scattered throughout several of my journals.  

Christianity & Atheism

My introduction to spirituality was not part of my upbringing.  My parents didn’t practice any specific religion (though my Mom said we were Protestants and my Dad’s side were Southern Baptists).  My Mom in particular grew up in a very strict household and had memories of being forced to go to church, whether or not the kids in her family wanted to or believed in their faith.  She decided that her own children should have the freedom to choose.  

My sister, for example, became involved in a local Christian church, and my Mom had no problems whatsoever with sending her (with a friend and her friend’s family) to church.  She did this starting in junior high school (around 11/12 or so) and continued this on through most of high school (up until the latter half of junior year, when she started to get a bit rebellious and wild on the weekends).  

When we were young, my great-aunt (who raised my father after his parents died and acted very much like a grandmother to us) would take my sister and I on vacations to Virginia and Tennessee to visit extended family.  While she didn’t attend church up in Ohio (where we live), she did attend - and loved it! - down south.  Maybe it’s because there aren’t a lot of Baptists where she lived.  Maybe it’s because she was born in raised in Virginia and felt a connection there that was absent in Ohio.  I’m not sure.  But what I do remember is being forced to wear uncomfortable shoes, a dress I hated (all floral and hand-made by my cousin), and forced to sit for hours on an uncomfortable pew and being bored to tears.  Then we were all banished to the basement for more preaching, but this time in in uncomfortable plastic chairs.  

Sure, we were given Precious Moments bibles - which were, admittedly, adorable.  And yes, I even read the bible a time or two (or at least Genesis).  But I never felt that connection.  I didn’t feel drawn to Christianity.  It felt stifling to me, strict, and close-minded.  It squashed individuality and forced everyone to conform to a single world view.  If you were any different, you were welcoming the Devil into your life, arms wide open.  Everything bad was the Devil.  Everything good was the Devil.  My experience was all fear-based and highly misogynistic.  I was to marry and serve my husband, because that’s what God wanted.  I’ll have to go through the pain of childbirth because that’s the result of Eve’s sin.  I just didn’t get what drew people in.  It wasn’t for me.  

Because I felt nothing, I became convinced there was nothing to feel.  I was an atheist for all of a few months to a year.  

Wicca

When I was 13-ish, I pretty much lived at the library after school.  I devoured comics, read like crazy, and engaged in InvisionFree forums (because I didn’t have a computer at my own house).  The day I wandered around my library and found a section on religion was a profound day, because I found Scott Cunningham’s Wicca.  

Everything in that book just felt... right.  It featured very simple explanations (over-simplified in my current view, and some explanations completely lacking in depth) on the basics of Wicca.  The balance and duality felt right.  The fact that you relied on yourself - and not a clergy member - to connect with the divine felt right.  I loved that there was equality among genders, and that it felt so free.  It just hit home for me.  

After that, I identified as Wiccan, though it took many years for me to practice regularly.  

YouTube

But it wasn’t until about 7 years that I discovered the YouTube pagan community.  Once I did, my practice suddenly flourished in leaps and bounds.  People shared experiences, how-to videos, different methods and techniques, correspondences, rituals - even Book of Shadows flip throughs.  I was able to look up videos on different paths within Wicca specifically, and paganism as a whole.  It was wonderful.  I even made a few videos, although the quality was really horrid.  But from that moment on, YouTube claimed a very special place in my heart for sharing spiritual experiences.  

This is when I realized that I aligned far more with the old school thoughts on Wicca than many of the new.  If there was a traditional Wiccan group in my area, you can bet that I would have spent no time in making contact and considering whether or not I would be a good fit for their group.  

Don’t get me wrong; my path is rather eclectic, and I do take ideas from new age and modern Wicca/paganism, as well as a few things I pick up here and there from other magickal systems and paths.  But the core basis of my spirituality always comes back to Wicca, specifically Traditional Wicca (or as much as I can be traditional without formal training through a coven).  

I began doing (very light) research on Celtic and Norse systems, and touched on some Native American practices (mostly stuff like medicine wheels and smudging).  Watching YT videos of those who followed a path more aligned to Voudoun, Hoodoo and Voodoo were interesting - I picked up stuff like Hot Foot Powder and different methods of petitioning.  

When I started following LadyGravedancer, this part of my path opened up wide.  

Paganism (In General)

Back when I first discovered Wicca, it wasn’t as widely discussed or known as it is today (but far better than in the 70s, 80s and 90s).  It was right around the time that Charmed came out (maybe a few years before).  There was a lot of crap on the internet, so there wasn’t really a reliable source of research.  My local library had a very limited selection of books on the subject (other than Scott Cunningham’s Wicca and Living Wicca, and maybe a few mythology books; the rest was all aimed toward Judaism and Christianity), and since I had to go to the counter to request books not in the library, I was too shy and self-conscious to do it.  

But over time, I discovered small pocket communities of pagans that openly shared prayers, invocations, and methods of spellcrafting.  Once I realized that there were more options than just Wicca, it opened a whole new door for me.  

I began doing (very light) research on Celtic and Norse systems, and touched on some Native American practices (mostly stuff like medicine wheels and smudging).  Watching YT videos of those who followed a path more aligned to Voudoun, Hoodoo and Voodoo were interesting - I picked up stuff like Hot Foot Powder and different methods of petitioning.  

When I started following LadyGravedancer (now known as TheLadyGravedancer), among many others, this part of my path opened up wide.  

Hellenic Reconstruction/Hellenismos

This is something of a new influence for me.  I’ve always felt drawn to Ancient Greece.  I loved the mythology of it - I had several books of world and Greek mythology when I was young, and we covered several myths when I was in high school.  Something about the nature of Greek culture and religion really sparked something within.  

But following - or at least researching this path - really began when I found Elani Temperance on YouTube.  From there, I followed a link to her blog, and from there, links to other blogs with a Greek recon or revivalist bent.  I discovered theoi.com, which had TONS of historically accurate information about the culture and cults of various deities.  

I’m the sort of person who doesn’t enter into a new path lightly.  I do a ton of research, and preferably have the opportunity to talk to others who are already on that path about their experiences and practices.  While everything I’ve found thus far rings true to me - except, perhaps, the extensive idea miasma, which I’m still on the fence about, and the fact that Hellenes don’t practice witchcraft/magick - I have yet to actively practice this on a daily basis.  This is due mostly because the books I want that explore Ancient Greek culture and modern worship practices of Hellenismos tend to be a little on the more expensive side.  I have to take financial priorities into consideration before investing money into some of the books on my wishlist.  While $30 (including shipping and handling) may not seem a lot to some people, it’s a lot to me.  Many of the books that I’ve seen recommended as incredibly useful are out of print - some range in the $100s, especially when it’s dry research-based (which, as far as I can tell, tend to be the best resources). 

I have found an incredible Hellenic community on tumblr that offers a range of free information, though!  I’m at a point where I’ve spent the better part of a year reading and mulling over this path - it’s time I just stop with the excuses and dive in.  

Buddhism

Right around the time that I discovered how expensive Hellenismos would be, I decided to look into a path that had always interested me, but one that I had yet to really learn about:  Buddhism.  

It was mentioned as a formative part of CharmingPixieFlora’s channel (now Flora Sage), Kat Taylor’s channel (which I don’t remember the name of now, but it had a fair amount of discussion of how Buddhism was a formative part of her own practice) and a lot of more experienced pagans seemed to cross paths with Buddhism at some point in their spiritual exploration.  I downloaded a few free ebooks and began listening to lectures by Buddhist Monks on YouTube.  

What I found was a beautiful spiritual path, and one that would be compatible with virtually any religion I chose to follow, since it was more of a lifestyle than a religious system.  Ethics and morals - subjects already important and prevalent in my spiritual path - were emphasized and aligned with everything I already believed.  Many tenents of this path were already things that I had worked on, or things I acknowledged that I needed to continue working on (like not gossiping - I can’t help it, my family is crazy, and they’re always up to some hilariously scandalous stuff).  

What are your own personal influences on your spiritual path?  I’d love to know more about it!  Also, feel free to ask me anything - I’m an open book! 

[torreygazette]

My Lament

It’s been a year and two weeks. Fifty-four weeks ago I said goodbye to my church home of twenty years. After the service, we came back home with those friends who understood the depth of pain, relief, and joy that leaving this church was to us. We fellowshipped, lamented, and celebrated. Looking back, that day is a swirl of surreal. It’s also the last day I felt I had community.

We quickly settled into another church of like faith and practice. We chose it because our two teenage boys, who had suffered incalculable pain and loss over the last two years, needed friends. This church had a few boys their age whom they knew through our annual church camp in the Black Hills. It felt like the right choice. Week after week we have gone—morning, evening, and Sunday School. We began to invite people over. When the piano player left, I volunteered to play every other week. I attended a women’s Bible study. We offered our home to begin a youth group. And then COVID-19 happened.

The resulting “couch church” allowed us more flexibility and we began to listen to sermons by one of my favorite pastors (Dale VanDyke at Harvest OPC in Grand Rapids, MI). We continued to listen to our church’s morning service but chose VanDyke’s sermons on Job for our evening “church.” These sermons were like the balm of Gilead to my cracked, fractured, and taped-together soul. But it wasn’t just me; the kids listened raptly, the sermons spoke directly to my husband’s deep wound, and we drank it in.

Then George Floyd was murdered. The country screamed at each other like rabid, frothy-mouthed dogs from their two poles. I broke with grief. These systemic and racial issues are not a new awareness for me (my brother and my daughter are both African American). I have long lamented how most of America sees them and I have seen these very real slights first-hand over and over again. But now—the country “awakening” to what has always been true—brought a mixture of joy (finally!), frustration (where have you all been?), and anger.

My anger, prompted by what I saw on social media from fellow church members and friends in our small OPC and PCA circles, undid me a little bit more. They claimed to care about racism yet denied the truth of history and its effects on the present and—even more acutely painful—they denied the countless stories of their black brothers and sisters. Still nursing my own deep wounds of betrayal and hidden trauma, I felt the rejection and dismissal afresh as my fellow Presbyterians explained away their complaints. I began to feel a queasiness settle in my gut and I fought the urge to flee. These people are not safe. 

Eventually, I decided I needed to quit social media. My anger was troubling my conscience. I needed more patience and forbearance with my fellow Christians, as Christ had infinite patience with me and my own blind spots. I had all but made up my mind when I got a voicemail from an old friend from my time at a children’s charter school (this school is 30% white, the rest mostly African American with a large immigrant population from Africa). I was on the board there and worked hard to recruit Black voices for the board as well as other committee work in order to best represent our students and take advantage of such beautiful diversity. I started a monthly culture club where we celebrated different countries and learned about their customs, food, and dress. Sadly, I had to leave the school two years ago when we were forced to begin home-schooling our girls, a situation directly related to our leaving our church home.

And so the voicemail. I haven’t heard from this friend since we left the school. She was a strong Black voice in the community and had joined the board, doing much to help the other (white) board members understand the unique needs and gifts of her particular community. She was compassionate, loving, and didn’t mind educating others. In her message, she thanked me for my voice on Facebook and for communicating love to her and those who looked like her without further polarizing the divide. She said that my posts gave her and her husband “hope,” and they wanted to let me know how much it meant to them. I cried. My feelings of frustration and even guilt over my frustration faded and they were washed away with a needed reminder that these things matter. 

It was the next week that Aimee Byrd was kicked off one of my favorite podcasts. Having read three of her books and listened to Mortification of Spin for years, I had been watching from a distance as the patriarchy club of the OPC (and PCA) became more and more agitated by her. I admired Aimee and her cool and leveled reasoning, her clear Biblical exegesis, her refusing to stoop to low blows, and her continued presence and speaking the truth in love. Though not a fan of Twitter (fewer pictures of cute kids and kittens, I guess), I started reading, mouth agape, the things people were saying about her. So many false things. My gut churned and stirred again. 

The Earthly Body of Christ

After all of this, I was left with questions. What is going on? Has it always been this way? Is the OPC changing or am I just waking up? It has been a while since I aligned with one political group or the other. The evil that is abortion tends to push me into one camp by necessity, but with so many other issues growing in importance, I have been “at sea” politically for quite a while. But now, one’s political stance and all that encapsulated seemed to be creeping into the church. Identity politics and virtue-signaling impacted a new set of “issues,” but underneath it all, the same. The arrogance of those with power. Ignoring the voices of those who have been oppressed. Not believing those stories of abuse because the accused abusers are “people we know and we know what we know.” Such arrogance and blind eyes to fellow believers’ pain!

“Mourn with those who mourn.” Where are the fellow lamenters? Where is the outcry? Why do we need to temper our outrage over injustices in order that we don’t appear to be on that other side? Why are our pulpits filled more with beseeching God to “restore law and order in the land” than to “restore justice and equity”? Where is the cry of agony over how the church and its people have been complicit, albeit inadvertently, to the sufferings of others? Why is that not the first stop, the first response, the loudest wail? Why the rush to defend our own policies and innocence? It is not just good secular psychological practice to listen and hear the stories of those who have been traumatized as a first step toward healing—it is Christ’s example to us! He came to rescue the down-trodden and the broken-hearted, his mercy toward the weak and abused ended in his literal self-sacrifice—how much more ought we just listen and mourn.

Coincidentally (yes, I know, “providentially”), my husband was asked to preach at other churches in May and June. I decided to do a three-week road trip with the kids to visit friends and family in several states. Leaving home without him, I was trepidatious and not enthusiastic. Yet as the miles slipped by, I enjoyed the company of my children (especially my oldest boy who was my co-driver for the first time), listened to more excellent preaching, and attended three different churches. I began to acknowledge just how very adrift we were.

I was alone. My family and I are alone. We are aliens in this land and we are in pain. We have been betrayed by those close to us and it hurts very much. We have a story we cannot share. We know first-hand what it is to be forced into silence while those in power flourish. Our unwavering faith in a God (who loves us personally and has a plan of goodness I don’t need to understand for it to be true) has kept us steady. But here I was, unmoored from the “have-to’s” of daily life, enjoying those relationships that matter most in my life, not being daily bombarded with reminders of our recent past and the present political climate, and it left a small space for my own loss to begin to wash over me.

Jogging with my brother in the humid and sticky air of Wisconsin, he asked how we were holding up. I said, “We’re doing all right, but just under the surface I am sad. And I am sad all the time.” I didn’t realize this was true until I said it out loud to him. Typing this now makes me cry. It’s true: I am sad all the time. 

I don’t know how to heal without community. I am reading Philip Ryken’s commentary on Jeremiah and Lamentations for my daily devotions (it is rich and wonderful). I am listening to the sermons that remind me of God’s character and his infinite love for me and my family. I am reciting my gratitude list and making “Christ is everything and I have Christ!” my daily mantra. But yet the wound has begun throbbing more acutely than it did a year ago and I am just so sad.

This is my lament. It ends not in despair but in clinging to the only thing that is not sad: Christ and his resurrection. But God calls us to more in this earthly life: eventually, I need to learn to love His people again. No, not love (for I do love them). But to trust them.

I realized last night that my problems with my current church begin and end with me. I have been there long enough that I can see people’s flaws—and their flaws scare me. I am a wounded animal, watching with hyper-vigilance from a corner of the room, unsure where my escape route is, not trusting anyone enough to receive their help. It is easier to find reasons to dislike and dismiss than it is to admit I simply don’t feel safe enough to stay.

But how long, O Lord? How long until I can stand in front of a congregation and profess my commitment to that local body of believers and begin serving and making myself vulnerable and working toward intimacy? How long until I am not afraid of each and every person and their capacity to rip the rug out from under me and my family? How long until I can feel safe? 

Pray for me. Pray for us. Pray for all those who are lamenting in private because they do not feel safe enough to do so publicly in Christ’s church surrounded by reassuring arms, hands, and hearts of non-judgmental love and unconditional acceptance. Feeling stuck in the former, my heart longs for the latter. 

I miss my church community.