To the Proud


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No man can farm more than the ground he is given.  No man can perceive past what the wisdom of God has allowed.  Every man then, is subject the ownership of someone else.  But oh how lies and pride desire something else.

“I will be a free man!  I will choose my own destiny.  I will gather to myself by my own hand.  I will live a free man!”

Will you now?  If you will be free, what restrains you from being God?  Immediately go and be the Living God.  Abandon your imagination or go and be God.

Lies are all we own, if we think we are free men.  If we think we own the power to choose our own destiny, then we are blind fools.

Even if a man calls a piece of fertile ground his own.  Even if he knows how to plant and to grow, that he may sustain his body, the ground belongs to God.  The Sun, the water, the seasons, and the wheat, all belong to God.  How can you possibly be a free man, able to choose your own destiny?

“I think, therefore I am”.  Descartes is said to have fallen on the most valuable of truth.  But look how he qualifies “I am”.  In order to “be”, he must be able to think.  Is he then a free man?  Was he not also subject to death?

With a proud mouth he spoke what he considered a wonderous truth.  Where is he now?  Where is his farm?  Where is his able body and “sharp” mind?  Produce him before me and I will give him aplause.

How many men balance their worth on his “brilliant” saying?  How many men live their entire life encased in a lie? “I am able to choose my own destiny.  I think, therefore I am!  I will spit on the things of God!  I will willingly despise the word holy.”

Will you now?  Then produce from your great intellect, eternal life.  Prove to us how great you are.  Fashion your own planet on which you can live.  Spin a star to grow your plants.  Increase your self before us that we may perceive your great strength.  And do not promise me that men will accomplish this!  Do it now, if truly you are able!

You only imagine yourself as capable.  You dress yourself in lies from the time you wake up until the time you sleep.  The only thing you have is pride.  And pride is easily shaken by a single word, “Death”.

May God be merciful to you, that you may remember my words.  “You are not accountable to me.  But you will certainly be held accountable to the one who has made you.”

May those words chase you down, while you wake or while you sleep.  May your fortress of Lies be utterly  destroyed.   May sweat be your shower of cleansing day and night.  May anxiety accompany your sense of great worth.  May your filthy imagination become to you as a brood of Asps; that every time you reach out your hand to glorify yourself, your pride might bite you with fatal fangs.  May understanding become your best and dearest friend.  May humility become your daily bread.  May God force you to perceive yourself as restricted under his Holy hand.  And may he have mercy, that before you die, you will glorify and honor His Holy and Righteous Son.

And may the day come quickly, when I can refer to you as my brother in Christ Jesus.

By His Grace

The Religion of Science


The temple you have built will be torn down.  It has been built by “unholy pride of man”.  Without and within, it is full of the things that glitter among men.

The Holy One finds no praise within it.  He is, indeed, held in contempt among the supposed holy things of man.  Yet He is Glory!

Science is the name of the temple you have erected to your own “glory”.  But you have built it of the very dirt the Holy One provides for you.

You define “what is”, according to your limited understanding.  And by your defining, you consider yourselves Great.  How is that any glory to you?

A dog defines his ability, according to the things he is created to accomplish.  How is the unholy “glory” of man any different?

No.  Your temple will not ascend into Eternity.  It will become ash; pulverized beyond substance.  It will not waft on the breeze of Eternity.  Not one speck will land upon any item of God’s New Creation.  It will be sucked down to the very bowels of hell.  There it will remain forever!

The memory of man’s “glory” will not remain; memories of this unholy place you have transformed to your own likeness.  In the blink of an eye, every one of God’s elect will forget your false glory.

The Glory of the Holy One, Jesus the Christ of God, will fill their eyes, desire and eternal soul.  They will worship Him with the greatest of intensity; with an eternal joyfilled, righteous, holy, and willing heart.

The things you are doing will undo your desire to remain among them.  You and all the things you presently adore will come to NOTHING.

Let the wise among men heed these things.  Let the lesser among the worshipers of science consider the things that are pure and Holy.  Let the wicked hearts, who now yearn for trinkets, consider the eternal things of the Holy Living God.  And may this be done quickly.

His Christ will come soon, to claim all that belongs to Him.  And if He waits a while longer to send His Holy Son, your own death will propel you to His presence; even as you lay helpless in the grave, awaiting your judgment.

By His “Coming”, or by your death, your time is well too short to be reliable.  Do not mistake the mercy of God to allow this place of testing to remain another day, as if it is a weakness upon which you can continue in unholy abuse of creation and pride.  Wise of men consider these things with urgent sobriety.  The foolish go to the temple of man, day and night, to worship the work of man’s hands.

By His Grace, these things testify strongly against man.  By His Grace, these words testify of the Glory that is the Gospel of Christ Jesus.  By His Grace alone, shall any man ascend to the Holy Temple of God.

Amen.

May the Holy Will of the Living God be done forever!

Piggishly Stupid


Is it too harsh to refer to men as they are?  As I consider the Glory of God, and His righteousness and love.  I look around me at chaos that is man.

With all my vocabulary I try to form a name for what I see.  In myself, there is an animal.  And by display, I see he lives in most men too.  I will write here the words that seem to fit.

“Stupid pigs; rooting through the mud of humanity to find a tasty morsel.  Not one of you would cry if you were not bitten.  Forced into abject stupidity by ungodly desire.  A worthless horde of foraging filthy pigs.”

What right do I have to speak of my fellow man in such terms?  I have a right, for the pig lives in me too.

My question is, how do others not proclaim the same thing?

Pride glorifies filth.  The Truth glorifies humility.

By His Grace

Stings and Bites


I sit here this morning, marveling at the nature of the things of God.

His Holy Law is like a spiny reptile; those who desire to tame it will be stung by some unseen outcropping.

His Holy Gospel is like a wily snake; those who desire to manipulate one part will be bitten by the Truth, or stung by their pride.

All day long, the Lord makes straight those who desire to turn His Holy Way.  In one sense, he draws them into the Way.  In another, he seals their fate along the broad path.

He who desires to be presentable to the Most High God, by means of obedience to the whole Holy law, will also find himself dismayed at the Judgment.

And those who turn to God with humble heart will be like a tiny child rescued from the hands of a murderous thug.

Beware the Wisdom of the Most High God to save.  It is written, “Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way, for his wrath is quickly kindled. Blessed are all who take refuge in him.” (Psalm 2: 12)

Van Gogh in US All


Van Gogh’s work is held in high esteem.  But he himself was a drunken, shiftless man.  He was violent because no one would give him fame, and he despised humility.

The world is full, in its history, of men who were forced to obscurity, all the while desiring to be first.  It is the way of men.  And it plays out strong even today.

Van Gogh desired to be considered a great man.  But what did he own that was admirable?  And I write the words I do, desiring to change the scheme of things.  But I will not desire what I cannot have.

I am with man.  I am of man’s things.  And one might think, that by the words I write, I am a very violent man.  If that is so, then my end should be like Van Gogh’s; to dismember some part of my body in a drunken and violent  protest.

But no such thing shall happen.  And I am no longer a violent man.  The Lord himself will sustain me in joy.  He will place humility on my forehead and keep it there with great pressure. 

This is no personal boast.  If the Lord does not build the house, the builder build in vain.  But if it is the Lord that builds the house, nothing can shake it.

It is like man to see the wicked things around him and explode in violence.  But it is like Christ to see the wicked things around him and respond with truth.

He was not touched by our filthy ways.  And those who submit themselves to his leadership will not be touched by it either.  Yet they will proclaim in truth.  Yet suspicion and gossip will abound in regard to their tendency toward violence.

Rest easy my fellow men.  I do not desire your demise.  I speak the things I do by the will of the Living God himself; that all men may be wakened to the reality of their own violence, appealing to the Christ to heal them.

By His Grace

Cut to the Heart


Ah, the drunken bravado;

Drunk, and pride darkened mind.

Filled with strength,

And overflowing!

Either bolstered by

Drink, or his pride.

He spits in the face of fear.

And all his friends greatly cheer.

“I am not afraid of death or hell.

For all my friends are there!”
—————
Will you come apart,

And reason with me?

Will you put down

Your weapons of pride?

What you have spoken

Need not be recalled.

But let us speak of

The nature of dying.

What is sin?

Have you thought of the din,

That reaches the ears of God?

You perceive yourself slighted,

Freedom taken away.

I propose that,

That’s really quite odd.

Were you there in the place,

Where his loving embrace

Was so full of Life,

Tender and sweet?

Do you know what it’s like

When your best of intent

Is so callously

Thrown at your feet?

Have you purposed great good,

Then perceived that what should

Be received with great joy,

Is rejected?

Your love sent them best,

With great hopes of sweet rest.

Still, they spit in your face,

Unmolested!

“Bravado, bravado,

Bravado!”  They yell.

As if there is something to gain.

But dear friend, when you die,

When death closes your eyes,

In death you forever remain.

The one who is chiefly injured,

Is not the freedom of man.

My friend.

The one who is cut to the heart,

Is the glorious Son of Man.

By His Grace