The Dancer

So quickly the hands of time spin around
like the lone dancer twirling violently on a granite ground.
A dancer creating visions like the impressionists.
But to me, the watcher, the uncharted desert of desire, the captivist,
I understand this dance like a river.

A river with the gentle ebb and flow through smooth and smoothing stones,
carrying life from hidden bends and forests to the delta filled with holy bones.
The quiet bubbling on the shallow rapids, and the rushing water over falls,
the sound of rain from the waving trees, the rubbing away of the riverbed's walls.

I listen.
I listen until my eyes can see. See the sounds and breath of the dancer.

This river so fixed and so dependent upon
The breath of the air,
The breath of the sun,
The breath of the earth.

So seemingly boundless within itself, yet so plainly controlled by the spinning dancer.
The wind of his movements.
The colors in his eyes.
His voice from the ground.

Only a stones throw from the rushing waters, my scarred feet are on an ancient dry lair,
My lips chapped by the breath of the sun, the breath of the earth, and the breath of the air.
And there is a thirst in my soul.

I hear the river call, the dancer bids me to dive.
To abandon sand, cage and floor, to the river of unknown direction, unknown tide.

I have no idea where the river takes me, but I know the Dancer will be there.

Sylvia

We drove across the Brooklyn Bridge in solace. The roads were quite somehow, only a few late drivers sauntering passively over the water. The roof of our convertible was down, and the gentle sounds of piano, a telecaster, and a simple drummer made the Manhattan Skyline all the more vivid to my eyes.

I tilted my head up. The stars I saw were like diamonds in the sky and the moon was a faceless ghost. I closed my eyes and let my body elevate me out of the car and into the sky. I released my mind to be at rest, and circled this tranquil moment over and over so that it wouldn’t pass. I was brought back into the car when I felt a soft touch on my fingers. You looked at me as I turned towards you, and squeezed me hand gently a few times the way you do. And then you smiled.

It didn’t matter where we were headed anymore, or when we would get there. I just wanted to continue the wander with you.

Mental Medicine

The ocean seemed so distant from the dance floor and the sound of tapping of rubber soles on the wood trampled the heeding and receding waves on the shore. The summer moon had elevated over the pavilion with half a dozen clouds and a few stars. The moon illuminated the beach and guided flirtatious youthful meetings. Women felt safer in the light, and the men felt romantic.

     Rose crossed her legs and felt for the Virginia Slim lying next to a small box in her skirt pocket. She very delicately placed one on her lips as the man in the grey suit sitting at the bar stood up and began to walk towards her. She paused lighting her cigarette, and the man noticed it. She did not hesitate more than a moment so as to give. She watched his purposeful and driven stride out of the corner of her eye and tried with difficulty to remain focused on the light at the end of her Virginia Slim.

     "Senora," the man said. With this proper address, Rose took the opportunity to fully examine the speaker. He had dark hair neatly combed to one side. His eyes had a distinct saturated grey color. They were cloudy and empty, but strong and resolute like the moon overhead. His lips did not smile but sort of were buried under from any expression. His face was shaded by a few days passed unshaven. So noticeable was the density of his facial hair, Rose was a little surprised at misjudging his age. He was not an elder or a gentleman, but he was no youth either.

"Señora, if you please, I would rather speak to you in English as I understand it is your native tongue." He had fluency and diction in his use of English and a light, flavored accent.

Rose placed her thumb and index finger on her chin, "And how do you know this?" Rose had not heard English spoken in several weeks.

"I am a very observant individual" he replied. His lips were still flat and his eyes expressionless. He spoke as if he were reading to himself.

"I haven't spoken a word of English nor have I given any indication that I am a foreigner."

"Only a native can make that judgment." he interrupted. She used the pause to take a drag from her cigarette. She placed her hand back in her pocket and felt the box.

She released her grip on it and said, "What can I do for you?" To her surprise, the man smiled and sat down on the chair across from her.

"What brought you here tonight?" he asked.

"I'm meeting someone."

"Are you? How do you know that someone is not me?"

"What makes you think I haven't meet this person already?"

"This is a man, correct?"

"...Yes" The dance floor emptied half of its participants after the song. The one that followed was slow and melodic, and the youths made their way towards the ocean.

"Karina! Dos cervesas!" said the man as he waved an arm.

"Do you come here often?"

"Yes, but only out of obligation."

The waitress arrived with two chilled and dressed bottles of beer. As he answered he rested an elbow on the table and leaned back in his chair.

"You see, I own this place. This and a few others. I make it a point to visit my cattle to ensure they are well fed and grazing in the right pastures, which is how I know you have not met this man. A foreigner would not arrive here alone to meet a man she already knows. This is not that sort of place. I assume he was the one who planned the meeting." He leaned forward and lowered his voice just a fraction to infer his meaning, "You are not the first he has met here, I promise you."

"You harbor quite a number of assumptions, Señor..."

"Miguel, just Miguel."

"Miguel," she strained her voice to control a deep subtle quiver at the bottom of her throat, "is there something you would like to ask me?"

Expression again depleted from his face.

"Miss...?"

"Rose"

"Miss Rose," his voice turned jovial and light, "what do you know about decency?"

"I suppose as much as anyone." she said after a brief moment.

"There is no need to be anything but honest now, Rose. The question I asked was, what do you know about decency?" She studied his face, his direct gaze into her eyes.

Without a flinch, she answered, "I don't believe it exists. His eyes emptied out and became transparent.

He didn't leave a moment untouched, "Well of course it exists! After all, the most moral men swear by it."

"It is real, but it is man-made. It was made to avert our eyes from the..."

"The what?" The music had built a great deal of tension like to struggle of a painting of a lamenting widow, but Rose could hear none of it.

"The filth it is."

"...filth to you?"

"like a plague of lies."

Miguel finished his beer. "You have given me no reason to extend it to you." "Live behind it." A few moments passed. Then Miguel reached into his pocket and drew a jade stone.

"Do you recognize this?” The slow song began again to swell in volume and harmony with compound melodies with additional stringed instruments and thundering drums, yet an un-phased steady shake of a tambourine still remained. Rose felt the ocean breeze grip her neck and thigh. Again she felt for the small cardboard box in her skirt pocket. She ashed her cigarette in the tray and covered her mouth with her hand and whispered something to herself. From behind him, Miguel could hear the escalation of spirits being poured and the hopes of youth rising. At the end of the song, to the cheers of his clients, Miguel heard a steady strong rhythm revive the cantina. The pulse was steady and real. He felt his chest swell and the soft linen stretch across it. He was searching in her eyes, searching for a hidden room.

Rose finally spoke, "Yes. That belongs to Quinn."

"Yes it did. Do you understand what this means?"

She looked up at him, "Yes."

"Then, I believe you have something to give me."

Rent

I remember the tightness of my stomach when I pulled into the driveway of 1200 Hamilton Drive. Outside the car next to the carport were two men sitting on stairs leading up to the upstairs unit of the duplex.  They wore loose clothes and unwelcoming faces. One was wearing an undershirt and the other a buttoned shirt open exposing his copper chest. They sat smoking cigarettes.Their worn and dry eyes glared at me as I parked next to them. Their muscles were tense and their heads held slightly tilted back as if giving me an overall inspection. I could feel my throat dry up and my skin flare. I looked at them and then at my watch. With masked boldness, I rolled down the window and opened the car door from the outside (reminding myself again to replace the inside handle).

The leasing agent was running late.

They continued to watch me as I walked from the car to the brick wall which stood adjacent to the stairs. I averted their gaze in an apathetic manner. It was my only defense, apathy. I felt out of my element. I felt right at home. To pass time (among other things), I lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall.
The minute I did, " Oye guero. You looking for somebody?"
The sun was shining in my eyes. I followed their movements, sun exposed just as mine. I looked directly at the speaker. "Yes. I am." That was all I gave him.
Before I let any ideas muster in their minds (or mine) I decided to not continue to act suspiciously. I forced a smile and said, walking towards him, "La dueña. She is going to show me the downstairs unit." I lifted my pasty white hand and pointed my behind them at the door then pocketed my hands. "I'm Cooper." I said. I felt the sunlight warm my body to a sweat. The coolness of the AC now evaporated. The speaker, the man with the open shirt, reached into his back pocket and removed his crushed pack of discounted smokes and placed one in his mouth.

"I'm Ramon." He said and then lit up.
I ashed mine on my shoe.
"This is Jorge." Jorge kept silent but nodded to me. Before another word spoken, I heard a car engine behind me and turned to see an aged sedan parking next to mine. I could feel their eyes behind me shift from the back of my head to each other in some communicative way.
In tan colored and style-dated power suit, the landlady exited the car. She was just over fifty, it seemed, and was heavy with a wrinkling face and battered hands. The sunlight hides no one, I thought.She gave a glance to the men and then called to me, "Sorry I'm late." She wiped the sweat of her brow and swiftly passed by us chatting the entire way, "So your unit would be over here. Like I said it's a one bedroom. Simple, but nice." I departed the men, and they sat down and returned to their original discussion.

When I reached the woman, she was passing through keys on her key ring until she found a worn copper one. It was similar to the others, yet distinctively older and shapeless.

Only seconds after we entered, I didn't think about Ramon and Jorge. I was inspecting what would be my next habitat.

The unit was indeed small, but I was surprised at its purposed design to appear otherwise. Large glass sliding doors leading to the backyard poured sunlight on the linoleum floor. The light nearly covered half the living room. The kitchen had a bar which was chest high and wide, expanded the view from the front door to the back wall behind the cabinets. A small dining section was sanctioned at the far corner near the large glass doors. The landlady walked around and showed the place. I listened to almost nothing she said but nodded at the expected moments. I turned down the hall into the bedroom which was a standard square room with a large window facing the street.

I had seen all I needed to see. This was all there was to see.

Ramon and Jorge we no longer outside when I returned. But I would see them again very soon.
I got in my car and after turning the key several times, the engine started, and I drove to get lunch.

I called the lady after my food arrived and told her I wanted to move in.
"Seems like my kind of place." I said.

Nova Lox - A clothing tale by William and Sylvia

It was the way she entered the building that amazed him.

She entered wearing only one she. And it was pouring outside. It had been all morning. I didn't see her step out of a car or out of a bus. She must have been walking like this for some time. "Where is she coming from?" I thought. Our small gossiping town would have known who this girl is. I would have heard about her by now. She must be new.

She picked up her pace through the lobby and passed by the bench on which I sat.
Dripping the entire way. She walked straight and took long strides. She wasn't walking fast, but she seemed to have renown in each step.
And she didn't notice me at all.

She crossed the hall and stopped right in front of the building directory. Her brunette head bobbed with its short above the shoulder hair cut.With her short, thin finger she ran through the lists of names and finally stopped on one highlighted in green. "Green" I thought, "that's one of the architects." It was at that moment exactly that a man on the second floor walked to the edge of the balcony and drop a box.

A shoe box.
There was a slam, and the he called out, "Kora!"

The woman stopped, turned her head gently, and found the shoe box that sat on the floor between us. I remained opposite of her near the front doors and she alongside the red oak doors on the western wall. She looked at the box and then lifted her eyes and looked at me. For a moment, it frightened me. That was, until she smiled and said, "Hi. I'm Kora." "Uh..um..hi" I stammered. "I noticed you've been eyeing me. Can I help you?" "Sorry no." I felt incredibly uncomfortable. "I just saw you walk in here, wet, and with one shoe." She was quick and returned with, "My mom always told me to make a grande entrance." She made a gesture with her hands to demonstrate "grande" and by doing this sprinkled more of the outside rain on the tile.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I asked. "What do you do here, Kora?" She walked rather dramatically towards the box. One might even say her walk was flirtatious. She swung her hips slightly and her movement ebbed and flowed as if to a Miles tune.

To be truthful, she looked childish.

She wore one show, was dripping water, and doing a strange dance with her walk. "Why," she answered, "I have given you my name and I don't know yours. That's kind of rude." And then gave me a raised eyebrow and half a smile. "I'm John Kritz Fraiser." "Wow, so formal. Fraiser, what is that? German?" "Dutch, actually." And then she said, "Ah, well. Oui oui!" I don't think she had any clue of what Europe looked like.

Kora held the box in her hands and walked towards the bench, box in her hands. I could see whoever dropped the box was still waiting for her to open it. His shadow lingered behind his red curtained office. She reached the bench and planted herself in it.

When she opened the box, I felt a great rift in our conversation. She was now sharing a moment with the man upstairs and not with me. There was a ruffle of the red curtains in his office.

He was watching her.

In the shoe box was indeed one red high heel shoe; identical to the one she was wearing. As she placed it on her foot we returned to our conversation.


FIN

The truer version of heaven and that other place

In Revelations 4, we see John getting a picture of heaven before his death. He witnesses the magnificence of the Center of all Life. All Life flows out from this Center and without this entity there is only death.

When people think about hell for the first time, most imagine a scene like this.
A man lives a relatively good life, but not perfect. He tries to treat others as he would treat himself. He has a lingering sense of guilt over some things he has done and is sorry he has hurt some people and not lived up to the standard of "perfection".

He dies and stands before God.
God looks at him and says, "Well, you were pretty good overall but we can't excuse these few sins here. I am perfect and require perfection, but because you couldn't attain it (even though you may have tried), your judgement is hell."

Then we see the man on his hands and knees,
"Oh please, Lord! Please forgive me! I didn't mean to do those things! I don't want to go to that nasty burning fire place when there is a beautiful city with gold and pleasure and happiness up there! Please forgive me!"
And God says to him, "Sorry, you had your chance." Then he hits a gavel, and the trap door the man had been standing on gives way, and he falls into that terrible place we all fear.

This is not at all what the real story looks like.
Let's look at this analogy and dissect it.

First, the man.

We sympathize with him because we all are aware that we cannot be perfect. There is no human that lives a life of no mistakes. We thus have a view of God that he is unjust.
"He meant well!" - we may say
But see, this man had no interest in God. He just wanted to be kind and caring to other people. He wanted to be in heaven because the gold was there, because happiness was there. This life is difficult enough, can't we receive even just a bit of happiness after we die?
See, he had no interest in God. He had interest in his reputation with other people and his reputation with himself.

Second, the God.

Everybody knows God has a perfect standard. That is why people think they are "better" than others when they do a "perfect" job. They believe they are closer to the center of what is true, what is right, and what is lovely. They believe they are more "godly".
But the God of this story has no room for mercy. This God treats man worse than we would treat man. If we think God is unjust and we are the one's just, then he wouldn't be God. We would. He would not be "godly", we would be godly. His way would be wrong and our way would be right. Thus this idea of God collapses on itself. He can't be God if we are more right than he is. He would be a tyrant who doesn't get what life is all about (even thought he created it).

Thirdly, heaven and hell.

The reward of heaven is not gold and jewels and gourmet food and the best wine and sunny days et. The reward of heaven is Jesus Christ. The whole doctrine of Christianity is based on that. The idea that we go to heaven to get "things" is not Christian based at all. It's pagan based. Frankly, it's American based. Very few cultures are vain enough to think happiness forever more are in physical tangible objects. (Perhaps happiness for you would be seeing your relatives, but even then your chief interest is in people and not in Jesus). Being with Jesus is the reward of heaven. If you despise and think so flippantly of Jesus now, what makes you think you will enjoy heaven? Heaven for you will not be happiness, it will be terrible!
Hell therefore is not a place where you lack any pleasures, it is a place where you can be everything you wanted to be in this life. Your own god.
But you cannot be your own god and have happiness and joy. Life is only found with the life-source.

So what is the real story?

When we stand before God, we will either be welcomed into heaven or sent to that other place not based on what we have done (because Christians come to Christ as messed up [more frequently even more messed up] as non christians), but based on what we have done with Jesus.

What have you done with the Jesus of the Bible?
Is your heart inclined to him? If so, you will see glimpses or full demonstration of this inclination. You will follow him. You will make mistakes, but there is repentance and forgiveness.
If you have no thoughts of him or want nothing to do with him, what does that say?

The Richest 85 People Own as Much as the Poorer Half of the World (3.5billion people)

Rich and Poor
What is your reaction to this? 

I'm sure many, if not all of you felt a deep sense of injustice. But I would not be surprised if some felt nothing at all. It is the kind of world we live in today that finds getting behind some agenda or act of justice rather... embarrassing. 

I don't know anyone that is "ok" with this article, but it would surprise me if people took action. Persuasion and rhetoric these days is cheap and lifeless. Everyone is afraid of being manipulated.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that misguided passion has caused immense trouble for the human race. Postmodernism truly mocks passionate antagonism. "Justice" seems as fruitless. Primarily this is because our avenue of Justice has been through politics, but the fractured nature of government has left such a bad taste in our mouths that we refuse to place hope in them.

Who can we turn to when justice is not carried out?
Secularism complicates justice because our reasoning capacities are in conflict with our understanding of human rights and value. If objective truth doesn't exist, on what grounds could we call some people in the wrong and some in the right? Secularism calls us bigots if we assert our opinions on one another. True, many people in hindsight change their minds about things and interpret wars and conflict and injustice differently, but nobody truly thinks justice is 100% subjective.

But back to the article.

Who then will stand for injustice? What is going to be done about this? 

God is not apathetic. So neither should we be.

If God controls everything, why doesn't He take money from the rich and give it to the poor? 

Now we are asking the real questions.

I always looked at this argument as puzzling. Our culture wants absolutely nothing to do with God, but if he can help us then why hasn't he? We "deserve" his help, but we don't want anything to do with his authority. 
This of course doesn't work.
Parents are the providers of children, but also their authority. 
Calling God unjust or unfair is nothing new to him,

Matthew
26 Jesus answered them, I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, you have been searching for Me, not because you saw the miracles and signs but because you were fed with the loaves and were filled and satisfied.

27 Stop toiling and doing and producing for the food that perishes and decomposes [in the using], but strive and work and produce rather for the [lasting] food which endures [continually] unto life eternal; the Son of Man will give (furnish) you that, for God the Father has authorized and certified Him and put His seal of endorsement upon Him.

28 They then said, What are we to do, that we may [habitually] be working the works of God? [What are we to do to carry out what God requires?]

29 Jesus replied, This is the work (service) that God asks of you: that you believe in the One Whom He has sent [that you cleave to, trust, rely on, and have faith in His Messenger]

The Purpose of God is not to feed people, but to save people. This is why christian charity devoid of talking about Jesus is pointless. If what we believe is actually true, then giving people eternal salvation trumps temporary food and comfort by... infinity.

This being said, it is time for the Church to stop spending thousands upon millions of dollars on bigger buildings, softer pews, and nicer suits. 

We are not Americans, we are Christians. We are never ever to be in the top 95%. We are the justice of God allotted to America. What does that look like?

Let us go to the poorest of poor and give our lives to them. Feeding the hungry and clothing the naked and meeting with prisoners is feeding and clothing and visiting Jesus. 

  

Sylvia

If sin was legit, where are the judgements?

This question came up during a conversation I was having with Zack.
It stemmed from abortion. 

I learned that at 8 weeks the OBGYN will take a sample of the baby's skin tissue and the child will flinch from the pain. I also learned that in 38 states a woman can be driving to get an abortion and be involved in a car wreck with kills the child. The driver of the other vehicle will be charged with Fetal Manslaughter - he will be charged with the murder of the child.

Talk about a double standard. 

This is not about abortion. 

I am not here to tell you about abortion. The question is, if abortion and other sins are rampant in our country and very prosperous countries like those in Europe, why are they not "burning" in hell? Or having flaming stones fall on them like Sodom and Gomorrah? 

This is a great question. 

One thing I love about the scriptures is that the answers remain the same. It never changes to be relevant. It is not swayed by culture and changing tides. 

Romans 1:

 24Therefore sGod gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to tthe dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, 25 because they exchanged the truth about God for ua lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, vwho is blessed forever! Amen.

26 For this reason wGod gave them up to xdishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; 27 and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, ymen committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error.

28 And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, zGod gave them up to aa debased mind to do bwhat ought not to be done. 29 They were filled with all manner of unrighteousness, evil, covetousness, malice. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips,30 slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, 31 foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless. 32 Though they know cGod's righteous decree that those who practice such thingsddeserve to die, they not only do them but egive approval to those who practice them..

So have these nations, culture, and people who do not repent suffer judgement? Yes.

The judgement they suffer is the hot steaming iron burning dry their conscious. Their hearts grow cold and minds grow dark. Is it any surprise that the rise of sin has partnered with the rise of existentialism and postmodernism? Utter confusion in the midst of the highest elevation of self. Everything is left to the interpretation of the individual, and nobody knows how to fix their lives. All under a vague blanket of "here take this". 

This isn't some new dilemma, if anything this gives the Bible more credit as truth! And the true judgement is that these removing of conscious result in an inability for someone to repent. How can someone repent and be saved if they feel they have done nothing wrong?
Only if the Holy Spirit does His work. And He works when we pray and intercede. 

So take heart!
For where sin abounds, grace abounds even more.

5 Picture of what happened in 2013

Married my best friend

Endured crowds

Felt new feelings

Dressed up

Saw this a lot

Feel insignificant and at the same time fully alive.

Here is a video to give you a perspective of space.

It is quite regular to feel insignificant in this world. The more we learn about the people on the planet as well as the universe and natural realm therein, we wonder how important are we, really. Our cultre would tell us we are "special" and each one of us is immensely important. The world is the way it is because of me. I can (and do) make a difference.

Are we really that important?
People who are deemed "important" and have many eyes on them are trainwrecks. 
Look at millionaires, people in entertainment, politicians. They more attention concentrated on oneself, the more unhappiness. 

I think feeling insignificant is not a bad thing. I think we need to keep in mind our vulnerability. When we stand on the top of a mountain, or the Grand Canyon and literally are breathless, we are touching something truly eternal within ourselves. - "You've never felt more insignificant, you've never felt more alive." When the attention is off of us and is on something so beautiful, vast, immense, and worth so much more attention than ourselves, that is what we call worship.

Even the hill country was breathtaking. And this is Texas!

And that is what worshiping God is. In light of all the facts, of who we are, and what Jesus has done, we direct every gaze we have towards Him. And that is when we are happiest. Everything else is sub-par. Even earth will pass away. We are already seeing this happen with global warming and pollution. This would not bother us if we were not longing for this breathtaking natural world to go on forever. Indeed at some point the view or experience looses its "special effect" it initially had on us. What more evidence is needed to explain our eternal nature?

Skeptics bring up how insignificant people are quite often, and they do so to refute this idea that God cares about us. Instead, knowing this is true (not because the universe is about us, but because of the nature of God Himself) let's think about this-
If space and all its grandeur is smaller than God (because He has created it), what does that tell us about God's grandeur ?

Temporal and Permanent

Youth is an age of polarization.

I remember as a teenager, being very zealous and legalistic in my Christianity. Whether or not I was "doing well" or "being a christian" was completely based on whether I was
1. Reading the Bible
2. Praying
3. Evangelizing
4. NOT sinning
5. etc etc.

It wasn't until much later that I realized that all these factors were based on me.
On what I was doing.
My eternal salvation, and my sanctification (looking less like the world and looking more like Jesus) was 100% dependent on my doing.
When God reveals to us He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, we need to throw our lives on those words. If I am only as good a christian as I am a well disciplined human being, then why would I need Christ other than to give me a little "boost"?

First, let me point out that religion is much more antagonized in our day than say, a cavalier spirit. Jesus himself was in direct opposition with the religious leaders of his day and spent His time with the sinners and tax collectors of His social group.* 

This morning,  I read a portion of Colossians 2.

"After all, the legal decrees against us and the passions of the flesh controlling us have been nailed to the cross along with us and Christ. He has disarmed the rulers and authorities that held us, therefore, Let no one pass judgement on you in food or drink or regarding the festivals or the Sabbath."

Why?
Why shouldn't we continue to keep the Sabbath as in the old law? Why shouldn't we abstain from certain foods or drink? If God gave it as Law to the Jews, isn't God's law permanent? They are shadows, but the substance is Christ.

Christ is the substance. The laws of food and drink and Sabbath are signals, pointing to a person - Christ. 

 Paul tells us, that the Law and customs of the Jewish people bring no salvation nor sanctification. If they did, God would be obligated to give us salvation and sanctification -


Romans 4: "4 Now to the one who works, wages are not credited as a gift but as an obligation. 5 However, to the one who does not work but trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness."



Our actions bear the fruit of our hearts, they do not bear fruit in and of themselves.

 The Pharisees did everything right, but "tax collectors and prostitutes entered the kingdom before they (Matthew 21:31). They are part of the kingdom because they "repented and believed". Both of which are heart issues.

Paul says those who continue and hope in these traditions puff up their self-made religion, and belittling Christ. They are futile in controlling our eager indulgence in the flesh. It must be through Christ and not external regulations that we are sanctified. 

20 Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: 21 “Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!”?22 These rules, which have to do with things that are all destined to perish with use, are based on merely human commands and teachings. 23 Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.


So then how are we made pure?

That will be another post.

*We should, however, recognize the obvious motivation to extinguish religion and spirituality comes from our culture. Since the modern(1900+) and postmodern(1945+) world, Western society has latched on to numerous "cavalier" ideas, from a French/Neo Enlightenment Romanticism to Nietzsche. These values and ideals, as all worldly inclinations, makes their way into the Church. So I encourage you to read this post out of a desire to love Christ and serve the body (and also putting to death the world within you-Colossians 3). Also, I encourage your position as, "Better to err on this side of the pendulum than that." Remember, we are not called to be relevant to this culture. 

Stories of the Prosperity Gospel in the 1600s

Same Story, Different Year

It was my under standing that the Prosperity Gospel was a recent development to skew us from the true gospel. But in fact, nothing under the sun is truly new.
Here's an excerpt from the highest sold book written in English, Pilgrim's Progress (1657). The speaker who makes the opening statement is named Mr. Holds-The-World 

      Mr. Holds-The-World-  for for my part I can count him but a Fool, that having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as Serpents; ’tis best to make hay when the Sun shines; you see how the Bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can have Profit with Pleasure. God sends sometimes Rain, and sometimes Sun-shine; if they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather along with us. 

He goes on the say, "I like Religion best when it shows the security of God’s good blessings to us...Since God has given us all these good things in life, wouldn't he want us to keep and enjoy them for his sake?" Don't these assumptions sound familiar? I am not talking about particular people on television, I am talking about the conversation happening all around us. More than just a all the of TV preachers, this is a position of the heart.

This man is with  three companions. One whose name is, Mr. By-Ends poses a question. A very reasonable question if we were all honest with ourselves. He asks Mr Holds (I paraphrase), "What if a man comes to a sort of christian faith or other to increase himself?" To which his friend answers, 

     Suppose a Minister, a worthy man, possess’d but of a very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far; he has also now an opportunity of getting of it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching more frequently and zealously and because the temper of the people requires it, by altering of some of his principles; for my part I see no reason but a man may do this, (provided he has a Call) ay, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man. 

"Besides," he continues, "if his desire for benefits makes him more studies and educated in the bible, it improves his preaching. Making him a better man."

Christian's Answer...

It is interesting too that these three talk about how to approach Christian (the book's main character) and to convince him that they are in the right for believing this way. Doesn't our conscious bear witness to this? Aren't we apt to justify through Reason our disagreements with Christianity?

But Christian's response is perfect. First he says,

     For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is John 6. how much more abominable is it to make of him and Religion a Stalking-horse, to get and enjoy the world. 

Jesus would not even be used by men and women to be the solution to world hunger. If his primary purpose is not this, why would it be to add cushion to an already privileged life?

My favorite line is when Christian says, "if a person takes up Jesus to gain the world, they will throw away Jesus for it also." 

Let us be watchful and full of repentance when this desire arises in us. There is abounding mercy for us, but we must see it for what it is and renounce it. 

John Bunyan (1628–1688).  The Pilgrim’s Progress.
The Harvard Classics.  1909–14.