A Lady in Waiting 11

Posted on January 26, 2013 by ehurst

Waking up in his arms, she decided she had never slept so well in her life.
Naturally, they had discussed the implications long into the night. She knew she would probably never understand all of it and didn’t care. She realized those women who accused him of being a misogynist in comments on his blog had no more idea what they were talking about than the flirty trio. Somehow the expression “in love” just fell flat before her reality.
Frankly, it was her job to know what to do next. That was the easy part. Making the changes to her personnel file would be the biggest job. The rest of the bureaucratic tangle they would play by ear. She was confident in a way her experienced cynicism could never match.
They would write their own ceremony simply as a means of crystallizing this for the people on the installation. Last night he made a tiny ceremony of adopting her as the covenant successor to his first wife, henceforth known to them as her predecessor. Then he pulled out the rings they had worn. Becky put his back on his finger, and wasn’t the least bit surprised the other fit hers well enough. Plain silver bands, but more than fancy enough for her. The man was what really mattered.
He took the time to make her understand, assured her most earnestly of all the things about her that constituted icing on the cake for him. She warned him a woman would always have doubts, always need reassurance on that point. He warned he she would need to get used to someone who couldn’t keep his hands off her.
What surprised her most that night was how little he surprised her. All the mind-numbing, virtual earthquakes in her soul had prepared her better than she could expect. She knew him. A good deal of what she dared to hope was accurate enough. He was more ordinary than the flirts ever could imagine, yet more wonderful than they could have recognized. They were on the wrong planet. She had already been halfway across the space between when he showed up, calling her to his planet. Now, she was lost at home and determined to enjoy every minute of exploring it. She was surprised to discover she hadn’t the slightest fear anyone else would interest him.
He had to leave early today, so she kissed him long and hard goodbye, leaving him to get his bike and laptop ready. Bouncing down the entire three flights of stairs, she jogged to her dorm room and grabbed her shower kit. No way would she skip the morning workout with the other women. For once, a little gloating just felt right.
Everyone said she looked so different, and not simply because she chose to leave her hair down. The gym attendant said it: She was a lady with sparkle.
end

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A Lady in Waiting 10

Posted on January 25, 2013 by ehurst

She smiled because she could afford it. This time, she had been able to consider the shape of her questions and didn’t lose them in her own discomfort, so she skipped the introductory chatter. “I read parts of your old blog. You made reference to the ‘manosphere.’ On the one hand, you seem to agree with the basic ideas. At the same time, you seemed to renounce most of it as too selfish. I know you hold some underlying logic, but I can’t follow it.”
He actually grinned this time, showing her something she had not yet seen. Shifting his weight, he held out his hands. “The facts of human nature are visible to anyone who is willing to set aside cultural mythology. What you do with that is a separate question. Most of those writers are still stuck in their own Western biases, so they use the facts of human nature in a Western fashion. They are trading one package of mythology for a different one which is only slightly better. They still want what shallow and materialistic men have always wanted, but now they are simply better at getting it.”
She gazed at her hands for a moment, folded together in her lap. She looked up. “A half-truth is still a lie. So these guys are standing taller while still stuck in the mud.”
He almost laughed. “Very well put!”
She interrupted with, “I stole that from a friend who is very literate.”
“Sounds like he can afford to throw a lot of such treasures around. How fortunate for you; I’d like to meet this friend some day.”
“He works in Finance. I’ll introduce you sometime. Right now, I still want to catch the vision you were trying to promote. I don’t feature myself a feminist, but some of your blog posts almost sounded offensive.”
His smile hardly faded. “It’s only insulting if you cling to the myths. Frankly, I’d be surprised if you could escape them easily, they’re so ubiquitous and overwhelming. Much as we might wish to wipe away the curse of the Fall, modern feminist assumptions can’t change what we are and what makes us tick. It serves no purpose to demand rights and fairness that God says are not possible. There is joy and wonder aplenty left over once we get used to reality.”
She crossed her arms. “I remember that. On the one hand we are wired in ways our world refuses to understand, but then you seem to suggest there are ways to fight the curse.”
He didn’t hesitate. “The curse is not our human fallibility, but our blindness to it. Talking about the facts of our broken nature is not meant to discourage us, to have us wallowing in our sin, but to recognize the real options for escaping the worst effects. Fighting all the huge social disasters that arise from sexual ignorance is not about better sex, though it will surely bring that. It’s about putting sex in its proper place. It’s not a goal in itself, but a celebration of something much more important between two people. The manosphere virtually ignores the meaning of a lifetime partnership in mission, and chatters endlessly about how to have a hot sex life. Despite lip service to meaningful relationships, they never cease talking about women as complex toys. I want no part of that.”
She turned her head to one side. “I remember seeing that ‘mission’ business. Nothing else matters, you said. So when you promised your wife you would heed her advice and try to find a successor, did you know then what kind of woman you were looking for? I gather looks really weren’t much of an issue.”
His eyes had drifted down to his hands on the back of the chair. “Among the many conversations we had during her lifetime, we agreed I would never make it alone. Not in the sense I couldn’t live as a bachelor, but that I couldn’t keep the mission alive without a partner, someone who could at least understand some of what drives me. I need someone who catches the loose ends that fall free when I find myself wrapped up in something that consumes so very much of my limited human resources. With a partner, the mission doesn’t suffer quite so much as it would if I stumbled along alone.”
He looked up at her. “No, I don’t care what she looks like. Sure, I have tastes; every man does. Having those satisfied is mere icing on the cake. What matters most is someone who has a clue to what drives me. I learned long ago, before my first marriage, when two people spend time together sharing something so much bigger than themselves, genuine love and passion are sure to follow. That’s another of those facts about our wiring.”
It was now or never. Becky rose from her chair, walked to the door. Resting one hand on the handle, she paused. Then she closed it. Turning back, she put her hands on her hips. “Am I stupid for asking if there is any cake here at all, and do you see enough icing?”
She was in arm’s reach, just barely, from where he sat. He leaned out and took her hand. “It had to come from you or it would never work. I had no idea it would be this quick, but I was more worried you’d never ask. Yes, there’s cake and plenty of icing.”

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Open Access Advocacy

Posted on January 25, 2013 by ehurst

I am a public advocate of Open Access (OA). I’ve already established my position on the morals of digital information:

So it would surprise no one that I take common cause with The Open Access Guerrilla Cookbook and the campaign behind it. No, I am not going to get involved in the activities described, in the sense I play by the rules as they exist. All my stuff is legitimate in that I comply with the system and I handle all my stuff so it stays that way. However, that does not mean I agree with the system, because I most vociferously oppose it.

Whether the people involved in the guerrilla operations ever use my help directly or indirectly makes no difference to me, either. The rules are wrong for almost everything in Western Civilization and I make no secret of my desire to see it all destroyed. I’ll play by the rules, but I advocate things I know will help to bring it down. The West is dying because of its own internal rot, but if people pay any attention at all to what I teach, it will speed things up a bit. This is my ulterior motive for supporting OA.

If my writing speaks to your soul about God’s perspective on all these things, thank Him, not me. Enjoy.

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A Lady in Waiting 9

Posted on January 25, 2013 by ehurst

Absently, she checked her email. Rod had replied from wherever it was he had gone that day.
Becky, Thanks for the affirmation. I’ll be glad to meet with you whenever and wherever you feel comfortable, if you can catch me.
There wasn’t that much housing close to the installation, so most people assigned here took one of the rooms that facilities management had converted to living space. In the typical fashion of government planning and multiple changing missions, none of which were actually any different, just an excuse for someone to make a name by shuffling things around, all of the buildings remained in use. You could guess how some offices had been turned into residential space and vice versa. Some buildings probably were both and neither, maybe some sort of equipment maintenance or class space. Right now, it was all office and housing with a cafeteria, gym and motor pool.
Becky had accepted one of the rooms in the women’s dorm, next door to the gym. Rod’s room was at the top of the tallest building on one end of the odd-shaped fence line surrounding the installation. The two floors below were offices. The other rooms on his floor were used for storage and some infamous liaisons. Eventually there was a game room and TV room, thanks in part to her. Some half-dozen rooms on the far end from Rod’s were used as guest accommodations.
From almost any place on the installation, once darkness fell, she could turn a look at the building and see if his lights were on. While the frantic spinning in her mind had now turned into a manageable resolve to make whatever changes were already written in the sand of time ahead of her, it didn’t calm her sense of urgency to see him ASAP. So she kept visually checking while she went about her routine.
The lights did come on in that end room at some point. She waited as long as she could, hoping he could catch his breath or whatever. With her hair still damp from the evening aerobics session in the gym, and flowing in the evening breeze, she walked to the stairway entrance under his quarters. The few people who crossed her path on the way recognized her, of course. That was her job. A few greeted her, but most were absorbed in their own affairs, just like her.
It was cool this time of year, but this place as seldom cold. Yet, it was almost always dampish. Her long dark hair cooled, but kept the air off her neck. They were moderately thick tresses. During the day, she usually had it rolled up behind her head, and quite often the same after hours. With it down, flowing free, she got a compliment from the old security guard she passed. He had told her long ago, and repeatedly, that she should let it fall more often because it made the most of her natural looks. Suddenly, she believed it, didn’t dismiss it as mere flirtation of one kind or another. For the first time in ages, it mattered.
Without hesitation, she opened the door and began climbing the stairs. The pleasant thrum of her leg muscles from the workout actually became a bit sore by the third floor.
She looked down the hall. Light was flickering from the TV room, but it wasn’t too loud. The game room was dark. Two other rooms were lit farther down. She turned and knocked on the door of Rod’s room. Holding her hands behind her back, she tilted her head to one side and slouched ever so slightly. There was the sound of a chair sliding, light footsteps and the door opened.
She smiled. Some part of her hoped it was her best look, because there was no turning back now.
“Becky. What a nice surprise. Please, come in.”
He left the door standing open, pulled up a chair for her on one side of the opening, and then grabbed his own and slid it over to face her, but backward. He then straddled it, facing her over the back of the chair. There was more than enough symbolism in talking to her in front of an open door. She decided not to worry over any possible meaning in his posture as he rested his hands on the back of the chair and offered a half smile. “What’s up?”

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Children as Political Weapons

Posted on January 24, 2013 by ehurst

This is not about family courts, nor gun control. This is about something much uglier, much more dangerous to the unwary.
Let me irritate, shock, disgust and also help you understand something so you’ll be able to defang the Devil. One of his favorite weapons is fear. You don’t walk away from fear; you get close enough to understand it and see through it to the truth. Fear is always a lie. That doesn’t mean people won’t do horrible things to you, but that you need not let that get in the way of your mission. I assume here my audience are those who follow a spiritual drive in their lives and are working through the very human limitations. I’m sharing something I have experienced first hand. I warn you: If you start understanding this well enough to talk about it, you’ll probably catch serious flack from those who like to believe they follow Christ, but don’t know Him very well.
One of the few good things to come from my years in the Military Police was seeing such a shocking array of human evil. I have scars on my soul, but that’s because those who helped me grow up didn’t do enough to prepare me for reality. They lied an awful lot about what I should expect, what was real. Not because they hated me and wanted to do evil, but someone lied to them and they simply didn’t have what it took to break out. I don’t want people going through life so crippled they are hurt by learning the truth. People can think up some of the most incredibly filthy stuff to do; none of it should surprise you. A tiny few really intend to be evil, but most simply have this one thing they can’t leave alone, and it takes them farther and farther into madness.
Here’s your first shocker: Raping a child is pretty tame compared to some of the crap I’ve seen. The biggest problem with child molestation is the panicky reaction from everyone around the child, so certain this will cause lasting horrifying psychic scars that they actually make it worse than it is. Most of the trauma is not the act itself, but the conditioning the victim experiences during the recovery. People who go nuts over this will make the child go nuts. The bigger crime is not the rape of the body, but the massive mind screwing that follows. Maybe it would take a book to make this clear enough for most people, but I assure you this is God’s truth on the matter.
The panicky reaction is fundamental to our dominant middle class materialism. We worship youth because aging means dying and death is a fearful prospect when this life is all you have. The Bible is Hebrew literature which shares none of that petty fear, but sees this life as one huge deception. So in the Bible, there really is no discussion of child sexual molestation as a really big crime. They didn’t love their kids any less than you do, but they also didn’t live in a childish fear of the unknown. Deconstruct the fear and you realize they faced this a whole lot better, with far more realism because it was God’s own viewpoint on the matter. “Primitive” my butt — our “modern” civilization denies Christ so fundamentally we can’t even comprehend His message. The whole business of pedophilia is built into our Western Civilization. Ours is the civilization which worships childhood like a heathen god.
Let’s get some definitions. Pedophilia is the desire to have sex with children. It’s a basic flaw of human nature filtered through our peculiar cultural lens. We make it a huge evil, bigger than almost everything else, when it really should surprise no one at all. What makes it honestly wrong is the child has no hope of meaningful participation. If you think kids can’t find it fun, you don’t understand anything at all, but that’s not the point. Sex has a purpose in God’s creation and sex with children avoids all the righteous obligations God put with it. Adults already have enough trouble with it; kids have no business being sucked into it. So the desire is not the issue; it’s the act. If you don’t understand how so very many great and fine men and women of God walk around fighting this urge every day of their lives, you don’t understand anything in the Bible. If you don’t understand how this is just one of a thousand other sinful urges of the flesh, that God measures them differently than we do, it’s because you have rejected God’s truth. Does it shock you to realize the character traits that give rise to pedophilia are the same ones making someone talented at teaching and showing children how to walk in Christ? Satan is a pervert; he doesn’t create, but twists what God has made. You should be more surprised to think your church children’s ministry is not loaded with pedophiles.
That they never molest shows how God works. Put this in the wider perspective of fallen nature. Restricting people from activity simply because some part of them is sinful means you stay in your bed and die, because you are no better. Without facing risks of human failure, including this risk of having your children in the company of people who suffer the fallen desires of pedophilia, means an isolation which kills your mission. It means you don’t trust God enough to obey Him and get out there in the fallen world of work with His broken people.
Already I’ve seen the mindless panic about child molestation used as a political weapon. The one thing you need to understand about things like the Franklin Scandal is this is how evil works to rule. The people who were screwing those kids are the same people working so hard to keep the hysteria going. This is how they enjoy the perks of power, by enjoying all the things they want you to fear. Once that hysteria is strong enough, it becomes a most effective weapon. It becomes the single most devastating tool for destroying someone they decide not to kill outright. The authorities can plant evidence and have you arrested — I was a cop; yes, they do that. Having you arrested for child porn or having someone accuse you of molestation is about as terrorizing as it gets. It can silence a whole raft of whistle-blowing. It’s effective in part because our culture has made such a demigod out of children.
Look for more of this. If you are the least bit effective for the Kingdom of God, stuff like this will be used against you. Sometimes the Lord takes you through that for His glory, but more often it is likely He will protect you. Participate in that protection by understanding how it works; know His Laws and how obedience reaps power and glory in this fallen world. Participate actively in His glory and power by being aware. Look at your own kids, grandkids, etc., and realize the real problem is not their vulnerability, which God knows how to handle, but your own vulnerability about them. God can heal anything anyone does to you and to them. Trust Him, not any human construct designed to protect them. People will fail you; expect it.
The real problem is that you aren’t cynical enough, because cynicism about fallen men is the wisdom of God.

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Ancient Truth: Old Testament History Published

Posted on January 24, 2013 by ehurst

AT-OT-Hist-cover-smThe cover art is called “The Window Dry Fall” and the photographer says it was taken from the western shore of the Dead Sea. This one is a pretty fat book, with over 100 lessons. This is derived from the first book I tried to write a dozen years ago. You can get your free copy here. The online version on my static site is here (site gone).

I’m going to take a break but the next project is Isaiah.

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A Lady in Waiting 8

Posted on January 24, 2013 by ehurst

Back at her office, she dug into her paperwork. Perhaps it was some element of desperation, but that was fine, because whatever it was had given her the energy to catch up and even get ahead prepping some other bureaucratic junk. In the back of her mind, she had tried at least a dozen times to balance out the most obvious two warring halves of her and write Rod an email.
Finally, something new reared its head. She called it “resolve” and simply wrote what should have been obvious: Rod, I appreciate the time you take helping me understand your writing. As you suggest, it really is helping me understand myself. For that reason, you need not fear I am faking any interest in our conversations. Don’t stop now.
Whether her resolve was simply the backside of desperation no longer mattered. Whatever it was, it was worth making a fool of herself. She would take whatever Rod was pleased to offer of himself. At her age, it was wholly unlikely she would permanently lose her grip. Some part of her would eventually snap back to reality as it had in the past. Or, she’d go off the deep end and it really didn’t matter any more.
Digging into the storage closet, she pulled opened a few of the game boxes supplied by the system for community holiday gatherings. From one game she grabbed a single standard die, and from a trivia game she got a pair of calendar dice. She brought these back to her desk.
She found an inactive blog Rod had left standing. Six years of posting at least once daily. The volume was massive and she wanted a feel for his less formal writing. Using the collection of dice, she selected random dates and read however many posts he made that day. She got lost until lunch time, but somehow seemed in better control of herself. At least, it seemed so. She got up and caught Sam on the way down to the cafeteria.
It was too late to pretend she was going to return to her self. If this was madness, it was fine. She discussed with Sam some of the oddball mix of stuff Rod revealed in the less focused writing for which most people kept a blog. It had become more apparent to her how Rod got his job. He knew how to state some issues with frightening clarity. The thread of logic was obviously self-consistent, but the underlying pattern was as alien as Sam had suggested. Still, while Rod’s books were focused on thinking itself, his blog posts addressed a full range of social commentary. She knew Rod would be gone all day and chatted comfortably with Sam.
Her primary question had to do with Rod’s comments about romantic mythology. Lacking Sam’s background, she was at a loss to make sense of it. Becky had never felt she was any part of feminism, but found Rod castigating things she had always thought were common sense. Some times it could be pretty harsh, almost offensive to her eyes. She wasn’t put off by it, just wholly surprised by it. He clearly cared about people and was rather gentle with human weakness, never seeming to deny his own.
Sam shook his head sagely. “I take it you’ve heard of the various forms of Men’s Rights movements, fighting to regain what they claim is an unjust bias in the family courts against them.”
No, not news to Becky. She figured there must have been some truth to it, but was cynical about the courts in the first place. She figured kids were getting the worst of it either way, but most people had no clue about marriage and family in the first place.
Sam half-smiled. “We agree on that much. The Men’s Rights bunch often say the same sort of thing. An extension of the same men thinking about things in general gave birth to a more deeply philosophical consideration of the social structure of romantic relationships. They convinced themselves, with some validity perhaps, women were mostly self-deceived about their own wiring. Further, women have projected this self-deception into society in general. The whole study goes in depth into human sexual response, some of it written at a genuine scholarly level. All too much of it is drivel on how to pick up women. They show some success, so it attracts a growing audience.”
Becky decided she needed to zero in on this aspect of Rod’s blog posts. Might as well know what to expect if she was committed to finding out if Rod had, or was in any way likely to have, any real interest in her. So after lunch, it was the first thing she attacked in the Internet search engines.
That’s when she discovered Rod was a widower.
Of course. Any man worth having was probably married at some time or other. Any man worth keeping usually stayed married, but this explained why Rod seemed single. His personnel folder said “single,” but everyone knew that meant whatever the subject told some human resource bureaucrat. All it meant was not claiming any benefits from being married, none of which applied to Rod’s contract in the first place. Becky noticed he had worn a ring once on his left hand, with that unmistakable imprint in the flesh.
But there, in all its glory, was an epitaph he wrote for his wife. How could Becky describe something so short, yet so full of meaning; something so deep and emotional, yet so full of life and quiet, dry-eyed resolve? How do people write such things? There were no pictures and Becky wasn’t sure they would mean anything to her if there were.
And unless she was more hopelessly lost than ever, she finally understood. Unless Rod was the ultimate deceiver, he loved and cared for his first wife like no one else on this earth. But he always thought of her as a loan from God, the most valuable tangible element in this world useful to him. She was his best friend and partner in searching for truth, but whatever it was that took her life placed her far closer to that truth than he could ever hope to see in this life. He missed her, but she was better off where she was. He longed to see her again, but had to finish his mission.
Then, at the very end, he seemed to say he would keep his promise to her and not try to finish the mission alone, but someday find a successor for her.
Rod was an alien, though it had nothing to do with silly science fiction stories. Whatever he was, Becky wanted to be that. She decided didn’t much care about this world either, wasn’t too awfully thrilled about her experience with it so far. She knew instinctively there had to be something better, but all the answers thrown at her so far were manifestly false, in one way or another. Rod didn’t pretend to have any answers, just a plan to pass on through to some other place, some other kind of place. Madness or not, it made better sense than anything she had seen. It wasn’t religion, but so obviously, self-consciously spiritual, she had to know more.

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A Lady in Waiting 7

Posted on January 23, 2013 by ehurst

Miss Community Coordinator peeped out from behind the corner of her mind. “I forgot to ask, Rod, just how old are you?”
“Well, my orders say I was born in 1960. So far as I know, that’s accurate.” Not a shred of smart-aleck, just gentle ribbing.
She doubted she was the only one who would have thought him much younger. She was almost back in control of herself again. “They definitely belong to a later generation than you, but I agree that’s really not the point.”
“Not at all like you, eh Becky?”
She paused, but decided it simply couldn’t be avoided forever. She had to say something or lose it completely. “I find myself watching almost everything in this community pass by me on a different track entirely. It’s part of my position to be all things to all people, at least within the bureaucratic limits, but I can’t afford to really get personally involved. I’m even more detached than the people in Finance.” It was a favorite speech she had rehearsed and used often enough.
He offered a half-smile. “Professionally, at least, my contract requires pretty much the same perspective. I couldn’t possibly muster the sort of external schizophrenia of a spy or anything, pretending with deep cover to be something else, but I also can’t simply come here and jump into the hot-tub and party with wild abandon. Besides, if that were my style, I’d never have gotten this job. I’m pretty sure I was hired because I’m nothing like the people I encounter.” Again, that pause. “That’s why I’m so delighted to find someone like you here. If nothing else, there is at least someone I can talk to.”
A part of her kept a claw’s grip on her normal public persona, hoping she wasn’t going to leave too much blood to clean up later. Forcing it to stand to the fore, she stabbed to death the words, “Glad I could help.” Instead, she said, “I hope I’m up to it. Your books leave my head spinning.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Then you do understand, because that neatly describes what it’s like to write them. I won’t flatter myself by suggesting it takes some special courage to confront such ideas, but if you read much at all, you know I emphasize how important it is we become comfortable with that dissonance. I’m not offering answers, just suggesting we have been asking the wrong questions. At least, wrong for a few of us. What others take as chaos is my home.”
He pushed back from the table a bit. “I have to go. I do hope I’m not reading too much into your response to my work. Whatever you do, don’t let me bore you like some overeager boy telling his wild fantasies to the first listening ear.”
Holding her gaze just for a moment, he gave her a full gentle smile, then walked away, shouldering his laptop bag as he headed for the exit. His bicycle helmet swung merrily off one side.
“As if,” she said out loud with her eyes following him. She smiled and turned back to the remains of her breakfast. Her appetite for his company was even bigger.

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The Failure of American Churches

Posted on January 23, 2013 by ehurst

(To my subscribers, my human side apologizes for the excessive posting of the past few days. You can always unsubscribe, but I cannot simply disconnect from the driving spiritual force which calls me to prophesy.)
During the ministries of Isaiah and Jeremiah, the leading minds of the Judean people were convinced they had God over a barrel. He couldn’t allow attackers to harm the Holy City because He would lose His house. They reckoned He wouldn’t allow that. Instead, He sent Babylon to dismantle the house and burn the whole city down. His prophets warned the people, but they refused to listen.
So we find Western Christianity, and American churches in particular, in the same place. It’s Babylon and the Exile all over again and it’s just getting started. The wrath of Almighty God is falling even now on the various organizations of mainstream Christian religion in the West. They’ll be convinced it’s religious persecution and make themselves out to be martyrs, but that’s an arrogant self-deception. It makes more money for their profligate expense accounts and buys them more fame. As with Judah and her leadership, the Lord has empowered the enemies of the church to crush the organization because the people have gone after other gods.
Naturally, all of this is parabolic expression. By the time Jesus made His debut in public ministry, His own nation had ceased to understand God, to the point they had made a deity of their corrupted understanding of Him and His revelation. If He were to come today, He would find the same situation in respect to those who claim His name. Today’s churches would not recognize Him as the Savior, because they would reject His message, asserting they have it all figured out.
By no means do I suggest He can’t use Christians to get His message out. People are still finding spiritual birth, still confessing Christ as their Savior, and most of it comes in connection with the activities of professing Christians. However, the souls being reborn in Christ do so today in spite of mainstream Christianity. God will not allow the lies to bury His truth completely. Satan can’t touch your reborn soul, but he can destroy your witness. God won’t allow His call to salvation to disappear, but He also won’t prevent Satan robbing Christians of their divine heritage on this earth, if they choose to let him take it. That part of the package is what we fight for and it is what Western Christianity has surrendered long ago.
So we have two major flaws braided together. First, the churches are utterly mistaken about how grace works, imagining somehow it requires their activity for God to save souls. Second, the churches somehow imagine the point of all this is to change this world, when Christ said in no uncertain terms He had no such intention.
God does not need us. He breathes spiritual life into dead spirits at His whim, making it a point not to even try explaining it to us. We have attempted to package this with our very badly broken human intellect and there is a vast lore of false understanding which has crept into the message of the church. It’s not the words, but the pool of meaning, the baggage which comes with those words. That the church cannot see this as a problem is a part of the problem. It’s a catch-22. Had not Christ Himself invaded the churches as a non-member, they would have been utterly useless to Him. As it now stands, the church is aiding and comforting the Enemy, betraying everything Christ came to do. So God saves souls because that’s what He does, despite the churches.
The resources to track down the details and name names are not in my reach, but I do see the trail of damage and recognize something of how we got here. This crap started before Christ came, so no one should be surprised to see it’s still around today. Fundamentally, the error of Western Christianity is the same error as the Pharisees and their ilk. It’s the same thing the Judaizers and Gnostics were doing during the ministry of the last Apostles, shredding the very fabric of what allows humans to cling to the grace of God and live Christ’s message. The evil motives which fired those ancient threats to the churches Paul and his friends planted are the same ones in action today. Someone somewhere knew they were keeping Western Christians off track and did so with a will.
Yet, in every generation people have been called to the truth. Some of them serve in academia, some in other forms of leadership, but all of them have seen the truth. If they speak it, the evil schemers find ways to silence the message. The barrier of silence is huge and thick. But the truth is available, painfully obvious to anyone who chooses to listen to the Spirit of Christ. Today’s Christian leadership remains fully culpable. If they wanted to know, they could. The most I can do is point that out. I have no leverage, no means to backing people into a corner and forcing them to make a conscious choice. That part belongs to God.
However, my part in this is to warn, to ensure there is no excuse when God’s wrath falls on those who claim His Son today, particularly here in America. You, Christians and leaders, you do know, or could know, and there will be no excuse for you in the coming days. Many of you will be crushed and you will never understand why. Worse, you will bear in your conscience the guilt of having denied those less able to understand, not called to understand anything you don’t tell them. As shepherds of souls, your guilt is multiplied.
Turn away from the sins of Western Civilization and the intellectual foundations built on sand. Return to the Ancient Hebrew way of thinking and understanding this fallen world. If you do not, you guarantee an ocean of wrath which may well destroy the faith of countless millions.

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Change and Limits

Posted on January 23, 2013 by ehurst

Most people aren’t really paying attention.

It’s not possible to disengage entirely, but we shouldn’t want that, anyway. The human soul is capable of operating on multiple levels simultaneously, and being a dozen different people for the rest of the world is unavoidable. Complexity is what we were designed for, so the real problem is when the system in which we live tries to reduce things which cannot be simplified, and complicates things which are not. The difference between genius and delusion is imaginary, so all we have left is simply what makes a difference tomorrow. Even if you get it all wrong, the simple attempt to pay attention and evaluate makes you a rare element in this world.

For example, we have Hollywood. Not the place — I’ve been there and it’s nothing, really — but the powerful presence in the marketplace for human attention. They have built themselves a nest on the ground. Not only did they meet the market where it was, but got deeply involved in making the market. They gave shape to the Lust of the Eyes, dominating human imagination for at least three generations. Sometime during that second generation, Hollywood took control of far more of the system than she should have. The revolution became the establishment, and struggles now mightily to stay in control. The forward edge of what she made is far, far away, and can’t be brought back.

Yes, Hollywood still provides entertainment people will buy, but it’s a very fragile position. It takes everything she has and the results are decreasingly satisfying to the latest generation. The moment has passed her by and she fights it tooth and nail. She will lose. Because she cannot retire gracefully and enjoy the ride, because she takes herself far too seriously, it will be an ugly death.

Some things change. You can steer parts of it if you have sufficient talent, if you can happen to catch where things can go with a little push. You have to pay attention, be fully aware of what’s possible, and then catch the momentum. Try to move the wrong thing and it will roll over you.

This business of gun control is not simple politics. This is unquenchable war between mutually hostile cultures. One of the things Hollywood did was feed the imagination of people who thought they could keep control forever, could control anything they liked. This issue is not up for negotiation. Honestly, I have no dog in this fight, but it’s obvious to me which one will win. The gun control idiots are going to push into territory they can’t possibly control. When the bloodshed starts, many of them will become the targets. They don’t understand what they are provoking. Everything they fear will come true and far, far more. And they will never understand how it’s all their own fault.

It has nothing to do with intelligence, reason or what’s good and right. This is not a prophetic word except to point out to the gun controllers how they’ve been deluded from the start. The gun owners aren’t better, but definitely more realistic. They aren’t less moral either, but they do have an utterly different morality regarding those few things progressives refuse to leave alone. The difference is burned into the nature of humanity itself, and cannot be eradicated. Nothing any human can do, singly or massed together, to change the facts of this fallen realm. Neither side is right, but it’s for sure one side will win at a cost no one living can imagine.

The gun control crowd will lose, and will not do so gracefully. This is why so many of them will be killed. They are willing to break the one last thing holding back the chaos, because they refuse to understand the time is past, their value is in deficit. The government will not be able to protect them, because the government simply isn’t that big. Don’t be silly enough to believe the people are the government; it hasn’t been that way since very early in the game. It’s a nice idea, but when the will of the people actually comes out into reality, all the mythology will be forgotten. So far, the whole thing has been highly leveraged and simply appears to be the will of the people. This business of private gun ownership will be the breaking point when that lever snaps off.

I’m just an observer on this thing. There is no right answer; right answers were made impossible long before I was born. I’m not smart enough to profit from this. I can’t guess how it will turn out; I won’t pretend I can play this market. Instead, I’m doing my best to stay out of it as much as possible. It’s not fear. I’ve already kissed my butt goodbye, but until God is finished with me here, no one else can get rid of me. Part of why I’m still here is watching and reporting what I see, and maybe — just maybe — help someone else to see.

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