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learningnewways · 1 year

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Church Visit

This week there was another public holiday... Two in one week?! Yep, it’s a bit crazy... It feels like we just start building momentum with joining the team and then there’s another day off or it’s the weekend... It’s frustrating but there’s not much we can do about it. Over the weekend, I tried to join in with as much as I could, so on Saturday I went to a university Bible study that one of the Destiny Rescue team volunteers for, and on Sunday we did a tour of the children’s ministry and community campus at ICF.

I felt honoured to join the Bible study, which is run by International Fellowship of Evangelical Christians (IFEC), which in New Zealand is called Tertiary Students Christian Fellowship (TSCF). This particular study was for a group of student leaders who lead their own small groups around campus. It was nice to be together, particularly with other young women, to worship and learn new ways of sharing the gospel. They asked me lots of questions and I was able to be an encouragement to them, which was awesome. I felt very welcomed and like I was part of the team. It’s really surprised me how open, friendly and welcoming the locals are here in Cambodia. I’ve found it so much easier to connect than in The Gambia, that’s for sure.

On Sunday morning we got up bright and early, and headed to ICF (International Christian Fellowship). They are the church we visited last Sunday, who started the Wake Park next door. We were joining their tour, which meant we got to see all parts of what they do on a Sunday morning, walk through all the facilities, join in some activities, and learn more about their work throughout the week. It was incredible! (A word you’ll see me use many times in this blog post...) The campus is absolutely stunning and it’s hard to believe they have accomplished so much in only ten years. It was a morning full of awe and inspiration.

The focus of the tour was on children’s ministry, which happens on Sunday mornings. We started our tour by jumping on their church trucks, which drive around nearby villages, picking kids up and bringing them to the church. I couldn’t believe it... They sent out around ten trucks, all in different directions, and most came back full of children. I was partnered with one of the church’s many social workers, and we stopped at about ten stops, picking up kids as young as toddlers through to intermediate age. As we approached the stop, kids would be waiting for us, some of them literally jumping up and down in anticipation! It brought tears to my eyes seeing the kids so excited for church. Others would sprint towards the truck as it tooted on arrival. Children chatted away and laughed on the trucks as we drove back to the church, where they were unloaded and signed in.

Around 350 children come to ICF on Sunday mornings, either making their own way to church or being picked up by the village trucks. That’s a lot of kids! Bigger than a lot of schools! The whole morning was so well organised and ran so smoothly, it was amazing, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Once the kids arrived, they were given a light snack of bread, fruit and a drink, then they got to have an hour of free time. All around the campus they set up numerous activities from rock climbing to football, hair washing and first aid, to musical chairs and art. So many activities for the kids to choose from and wander between. There was such a good mix of practical things like hair washing and cutting, as well as fun games and crafts.

After their hour free time, the bell rings and the kids go into the main room where they have big moveable stadium seating. The kids do worship and listen to a sermon, maybe watch a live drama or video, and have a game up front. Once the talk is over, they go out into their small groups where they chat about what they learnt in the talk and pray together. Then they all get feed lunch, which is quite the operation! It was so well organised and all went surprisingly quickly and smoothly. Incredible! After lunch the kids go inside for a bit of a wrap up, before heading home on the trucks.

While kids church is on, across the road at the Wake Park is the adults service, which is in Khmer, the local language. There is a Khmer and English service that runs at night, which we went to last week, as well as a youth service on Saturday nights. The whole operation is mainly run by volunteers, over a hundred of them! These volunteers are mainly youth aged and local. They also have all the ICF staff there, including social workers, outreach team, campus staff, educators and maintenance staff, and there’s around a hundred of them too. There is a lot of staff and volunteers, but their community reach is staggering.

While there, we got to walk around the entire campus and learn more about what they do during the week, which was again, incredible! We talked to the head of their social team, who explained the life changing work they do. If families in nearby villages meet certain conditions, such as lack of income, education, basic needs, illness, vulnerability...etc, they can become part of ICF’s program. The team of around 50 social workers, all locals, have about 25 families each that they work with in this program, which makes up 1,250 families, or between 7,000-10,000 people in total. That’s crazy! These social workers spend every day visiting families in their homes, providing support for physical, mental and spiritual needs, hosting small groups, running after school programs... All at no cost for the families. It’s mind blowing.

During the week, the church puts on a free after school program that any child can attend, but they do have to find their own way to the campus. Around 120 kids come every day. The after school program has educators that specialise in Khmer, English, Maths, Music, Art and Bible Studies, and children get to choose two classes to attend each day, which run for around an hour. I believe the children also get fed, but I’m not 100% sure on that. The facilities were epic, so well thought through, planned and executed.

It fascinated and astounded me just how many kids came every Sunday and throughout the week, it absolutely astounded me! In a country that’s over 90% Buddhist, it’s interesting that families here are so open. They are well aware that their children are going to a Christian program and that the social workers helping them are Christians. There is no pressure for the families to themselves become Christians, although of course many do over time. In all the work I’ve seen with Destiny Rescue and ICF, the local people seem overwhelming fine with Christians sharing the Gospel with their Buddhist children. I’m not sure the same could be said for the Muslim dominated Gambia... I think the success is in the way ICF provides such holistic support and is in the community so frequently. They have become a trustworthy and safe place in the community for so many years.

With staff numbers of around 120 and a community reach of close to 10,000 people, I can’t express enough how incredible and inspiring the work of ICF is. And ICF Cambodia has only been around for ten years, with the social team starting seven years ago. Yes, they are bank rolled, with mainly European donors and partner churches funding the 1.5 million NZD per year it takes to keep it running... But our churches in New Zealand spend around half a million a year, hiring only roughly ten staff and reaching maybe 1,000 people? Sure, wages and living costs are much cheaper over here, but man, their local community sure is the focus! And although I’m seeing them now in all their glory, they didn’t start out that way. They were just a normal church plant with missionaries who saw a need and filled it.For things to function so smoothly on a large scale, their systems and processes must be top notch and scalable. You can’t reach that many people effectively without good organisation and communication! They have details on every child that comes to them, files on how many social visits they’ve had, food parcels received, medical checks done...etc. They build such strong and genuine relationships that if a kid is missing for even a few days, someone notices and can quickly check in on them. I’m super organised and admin strong, and it made me say “wow” many times over!

The church has around 20 non-local staff, so foreigners who mainly raise their own funds to be there voluntarily, like most missionaries. We had a lovely American girl Amber showing us around, who’d been there for about three years. We talked about the work of Destiny Rescue and how inspired we were by ICF. Amber is also passionate about human trafficking and hopes to move into that work more specifically over time, but since being with ICF she has realised that their work in the community IS preventing human trafficking. They are so well connected with families, that they catch children who are vulnerable and at risk before they are in danger. They also run seminars that help to educate and prevent exploitation, as well as their sponsorship and after school program which supports education... It really is wrap around support.

ICF Cambodia do so much, is actually a bit overwhelming and unfathomable. I’ve travelled around the world, seen many ministries across New Zealand, and I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Honestly! They cover almost everything you could think of, and if they don’t, they’re working on it! They are extreme visionaries and problem solvers, who get stuff done! I hope and pray they plant more churches with the same community focus in countries that really need it. The Gambia perhaps?

It’s hard not to think of ideas for The Gambia constantly... But also my brain isn’t sure how realistic many things are, particularly when there’s minimal Christians to help run things, zero funding, and a strong Muslim culture who at best kicks children out of families for converting to Christianity... Some ideas are transferable and others aren’t. I wonder what my place is in all of this... As I approach my final week in Cambodia, I can’t help but think about my future. Am I the link between Destiny Rescue and The Gambia? Or even ICF and The Gambia? Am I to support an already existing ministry, or to start my own? Am I even supposed to go back to The Gambia, or stay in New Zealand, bringing new energy and fresh ideas? I don’t know... But I know all my experiences, learnings, challenges and passions can’t be for nothing. Nothing is wasted in God’s Kingdom.

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lesfeldickbiblestudy · 1 year

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Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 3 * PART 4 * BOOK 70 ISRAEL’S GLORY IS STILL AHEAD OF HER - 4 Hosea 5:1 – 9:7 Okay, glad to have everybody back, once again. This is program number four this afternoon, and then we can be heading home. For those of you joining us on television, we trust that you’re learning, and that you’re learning to study on your own. Don’t go by what I say, but search the Scriptures and see that these things are really so, because it’s an interesting Book. I had a fellow call me the other day. He’d never had any interest. Never went to church. Caught my program and now he says, “I can’t get enough of it.” And I said, “Interesting Book, isn’t it?” He said, “There’s nothing like it!” Well, that’s the way it is, if you’ll once get into it. It is so interesting that – well, that’s why I like to bring out the little tidbits, you know. I like to bring out the little things that the casual reader just goes right over. But, they’re there for a purpose. Okay, I want to mention once again that we’ve got a good supply of the one and only book we’ve ever published. It’s eighty some questions with the answers taken from our television material. We send them out postage paid for $11.00, if you are interested in them. They make good Christmas presents. Young people like them. We find that college age people really go for these question and answer books. If you’re wondering what to give that grandson or that granddaughter, it might not be such a bad idea. Okay, I think that’s all we’ve got for announcements. We’ll go right back and keep going in Hosea. I don’t know whether I’ll finish it this afternoon or not, but I always have high hopes. I’d like to get Hosea all in Book 70. Hosea chapter 9 and we’ll start right there at verse 1. Hosea 9 verse 1. Remember, the whole setting is still the same--God’s controversy with Israel because of their idolatry. He just can’t break them of it. I guess I should do this again. I haven’t done it in a long time. Just to show you how ridiculously they hooked up with idolatry, come back to Jeremiah. Keep your hand in Hosea, we’ll right back. But Jeremiah 44 says it all! Yet, it’s the Word of God. It’s inspired by the Spirit, so it’s the way it was. This was the religious or the spiritual climate in Israel at the time of these prophets. Jeremiah 44, you’ll recognize it. We’ve looked at it time and again. I always like to start at verse 15. This is exactly the way it was. Jeremiah 44:15-16 “Then all the men who knew that their wives had burned incense unto other gods, and all the women that stood by, a great multitude, even all the people that dwelt in the land of Egypt, in Pathros, answered Jeremiah, saying, 16. As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the LORD, we will not hearken unto you.” See that rebelliousness? Jeremiah, we don’t care what you’ve got to say. We don’t believe it! Jeremiah 44:17a “But we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our own mouth, to burn incense unto the queen of heaven,…” Who was the queen of heaven? The female goddess Astarte, or Isis in Egypt, I think it was, Venus in Greece. They all had different names, but it was the same corrupt, immoral female goddess around whom all the sexual impurity that you could think of would revolve. Everything you could think of in the realm of immoral sex was wrapped up in this queen of heaven. Jeremiah 44:17b “…and (we’re going) to pour out drink offerings unto her, as we have done, we, and our fathers, our kings, and our princes, (Remember what we just saw in Hosea? From the top to the bottom.) in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem: for then we had plenty of victuals, (or food) and were well, and saw no evil.” Was that the truth? Well, it was a lie! They were already feeling God’s chastising. They were already having crop failures. They were already being threatened by invading armies. It wasn’t all that good. All right, verse 18.

Jeremiah 44:18a “But since we left off to burn incense to the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink offerings unto her, we have wanted all things,…” You see that? That wasn’t their problem. Their problem was they were rejecting Jehovah. How could God bless the Nation when they turned their back on him and went to a female goddess? Now listen, they were just as human as we are. There was no difference. The human race hasn’t changed. My goodness, our materialism today isn’t much different. My, they go to these mega churches and they get entertained. You know, I don’t like to criticize, and I’ve told people I’m not going to name names, but I had one of our listeners go as a guest to one of these humongous places and she said, “Les, for a solid hour I never once heard the name of Jesus Christ.” Never heard the name. But, oh, it was church. Well, that’s what I have to think of in the back of my mind when I look at Israel. They were no different. Not one whit. All right, verse 18 again. Jeremiah 44:18 “But since we left off burning incense to the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink offerings unto her, we have wanted all things, and have been consumed by the sword and by the famine.” But they weren’t putting it where it belonged. They were suffering because they’d turned their back on Jehovah. Not because they’d quite offering sacrifices to the queen of heaven, for goodness sakes! Verse 20 Jeremiah 44:20-21 “Then Jeremiah said unto all the people, to the men, and to the women, and to all the people which had given him that answer, saying, 21. The incense that ye burned in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem, ye, and your fathers, your kings, and your princes, and the people of the land, did not the LORD remember them, and came it not into his mind?” You think God didn’t know what you were doing? Now, have you got the picture? Okay, come back to Hosea chapter 9. Hosea 9:1-3 “Rejoice not, O Israel, for joy, as other people: for thou hast gone a whoring from thy God, (Now remember, I’ve been stressing for the last eight programs that we’re not talking about physical immorality. We’re talking about spiritual. They are adulterating their relationship with God by going whole-hog over to idolatry.) thou hast loved a reward upon every corn floor. 2. The floor and the winepress shall not feed them, and the new wine shall fail in her. 3. They shall not dwell in the LORD’S land; but Ephraim shall return to Egypt, and they shall eat unclean things in Assyria.” Now, that’s another reference to what we saw in the last program. Instead of going to God for their help, instead of going back in repentance and asking God to restore them to a place of blessing, what did they do? They go to Gentile nations. They went up north to Assyria. They went down south to Egypt. Hey, we need help! But they didn’t take God into their thinking. Now look, is America any different today? We’ve kicked God out of everything. You know, I think there’s a sign in Muskogee, if I’m not mistaken. I think it’s still there that says, “How can we expect God to bless when we’ve kicked Him out of everything?” That’s so true. God isn’t in our national life anymore. We’re no different than these Israelites. Materialism has become our idolatry. Hosea 9:4 “They shall not offer wine offerings to the LORD, neither shall they be pleasing unto him: their sacrifices shall be unto them as the bread of mourners; all that eat thereof shall be polluted: for their bread for their soul shall not come into the house of the LORD.” I’m looking for a place when we can come down to one of these references now to the grapevine. I had it all picked out last night, when I was ready for this, but come down to verse 16. We have Ephraim, again that nation of the Ten Tribes. Hosea 9:16-17a “Ephraim is smitten, (with idolatry) their root is dried up, (so far as their worship of Jehovah) they shall bear no fruit: yea, though they bring forth, yet will I slay even the beloved fruit of their womb.

(even their children) 17. My God will cast them away,…” Well, as I was looking at this last night, I have to bring you up to the New Testament, because I want to use it as much as possible. That’s what I try to do when I prepare all of this. I don’t want to just stay back here. Now we’ve got to come up and get the New Testament approach, as well. Come up with me to John’s Gospel chapter 15, which is a portion that you all know. Yet I think it fits so appropriately with what we’re seeing back in Hosea and all the prophets, as far as that goes. The vine and the branches, you all know it. I haven’t taught it, I don’t think, ever on television. I teach it other places, but I don’t think I’ve ever done it on television. So, this is probably a good time to do it. During the Lord’s earthly ministry and He’s speaking. Remember, whatever Jesus spoke, it was to what people? It was to Israel--under their Judaistic system and with reference to all these Old Testament things. John 15:1-2 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. 2. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit he purgeth it, (Or prunes it, we call it today.) that it may bring forth more fruit.” In other words, we’re speaking in terms of a great vineyard. John 15:3-4 “Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you. (Now of course, He’s talking to the Twelve in particular, but the Nation of Israel in general. Now verse 4, here comes the promise.) 4. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch (on which the fruit will appear) cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye except ye abide in me.” Now of course, it’s no different for us as a believer in Paul’s teachings. We are members of the Body of Christ and as such we feed on the Head. And as soon as we lose that relationship, we’re worthless. All right, verse 5 and He repeats it. John 15:5 “I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit:…” Now, here we come from one level of bearing to another. We go from bearing fruit to much fruit. Then I think we’re going to come to more fruit. John 15:5b-6 “…for without me ye can do nothing. 6. If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; (And a withered branch doesn’t produce grapes.) and men gather them and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.” All right, now this is not speaking of someone saved and lost and needs to be resaved. This is totally a reference to the Twelve as members of the Nation of Israel, and they’re placing their trust in Him as their Redeemer, their Messiah, the Son of God, and all the rest of it. And without a relationship with Him, they were as nothing. Of course, that was again the vast majority of the Jews in Christ’s day. It was only a small percentage that truly believed who He was. A small percentage. The vast majority of Israel just continued on in their religion, but in unbelief. But for those few, this was their relationship. Like the vine and the branch and the fruit. John 15:7 “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.” Now, of course, that’s a promise that was intrinsic to Israel, and I always maintain in view of the coming Kingdom. When they would come into the Kingdom, there would be no such thing as unanswered prayer. I’ll repeat what I said earlier. Don’t tell me it works today. Because you do not pray and get everything you pray for. If you do, I’ve never heard of it. But these people had that, because they were in view of the earthly Kingdom over which Christ would rule and reign. Satan would be off the scene. That’s a whole different scenario than what we’re in today. But nevertheless, we can, just like the Old Testament, glean from this. Now verse 8: John 15:8-9 “Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; (not just more, not just the average, but much fruit) so shall ye be my disciples.

9. As the Father hath loved me, as have I loved you: continue ye in my love.” Then here comes the legalist part. John 15:10 “If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my Father’s commandments, and abide in his love.” But the point I wanted to show was Israel was like a grapevine whose branches had what? Withered. There was no fruit bearing. They were steeped in idolatry and unbelief and consequently the Nation was facing nothing but judgment. But always remember, as we’re going to see, even, I think, before we get to the end of the Book of Hosea, no matter how much punishment and judgment God was promising Israel, what lay beyond it? Blessings! Blessings! And all of it is pointing to that earthly Kingdom which will come after the horrors of the Tribulation, as we saw a couple of programs back. So, never think for a minute that God’s going to give up on the Nation of Israel. Never! He’s still going to fulfill the promises that were made to the Fathers. Now, back to Hosea, and let’s come on down to, oh, we’re still in chapter 9. Let’s come back a minute for some of the area that I skipped over. Verse 6 Hosea 9:6-7a “For, lo, they are gone because of destruction: Egypt shall gather them up, (They’re going to run to Egypt for help, but Egypt will become their adversary rather than a blessing.) Memphis shall bury them:(That’s a city in Egypt) the pleasant places for their silver, nettles shall possess them: thorns shall be in their tabernacles. (In other words again, it’s not blessing. It’s what Deuteronomy calls curses.) 7. The days of visitation are come, the days of recompence are come; Israel shall know it: the prophet is a fool, the spiritual man is mad,…” Now don’t forget, remember when we studied Isaiah? My goodness, how long ago has that been already? I was constantly showing that in the Book of Isaiah there were three distinct times of judgment and blessing in Israel’s future. When Isaiah was writing, the first one was the coming. It was the Babylonian invasion and they would be taken out into seventy years of captivity. When the seventy years are over, then they would come back and rebuild the Temple, and the Nation would get ready for the coming of Christ in His first advent. That was the first one. All right, the second great judgment was A.D. 70 when Rome came in and destroyed the city and the Temple and the Jews were scattered into every nation of the world. All right, now we’ve seen them coming back the last hundred years. They’re back in the land and everything is getting ready for the next great judgment – the seven years of Tribulation, which we looked at a little while ago. But following the Tribulation – what? The Glory of the Kingdom, it’s finally going to come to fruition, where Israel is going to enjoy all the blessings of the Kingdom. Now, I’m going to cover that before we quit this afternoon. Maybe we should start taking a look at them before we run out of time. The glories of the Kingdom – well, we really have to go back to Isaiah. I’m going to start with Isaiah chapter 2. That’s really the first instance that the prophecy is starting to look up, that there’s light at the end of the tunnel. Isaiah chapter 2 and here comes the beginning of the promise. Of course, Israel is going to still go through a lot of chastisement, but this will be end result. Isaiah 2:2 “And it shall come to pass in the last days, (in other words, just before the onset of eternity) that the mountain (or the Kingdom) of the LORD’S house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and (Now here’s the key statement.) all nations shall flow unto it.” Israel is going to be the apple of God’s eye. It’s going to be the greatest nation on earth. Deuteronomy says -- They’re not going to be the tail. They’re going to be the head. They’re not going to be beneath. They’re going to be above. They’re not going to borrow. They’re going to loan. They’re going to be the top, top nation of the nations. That’s their prospect.

All right, let’s jump ahead a little ways to chapter 9. These are all promises that are going to follow the final chastisement, which is the Tribulation. Then their Messiah will return in power and glory and set up a kingdom like this world has never seen before. That, of course, will usher on into eternity. Isaiah 9:6 “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government (the righteous rule) shall be upon His shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.” Those are all terms associated with God the Son. Isaiah 9:7 “Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, (It’s just going to be getting better and better on into eternity.) upon the throne of David, (Which was in Jerusalem, remember.) and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even forever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this.” It’s going to happen, Beloved, in spite of all of Israel’s failures. God hasn’t forgotten these promises. All right, let’s move on to chapter 11. Oh, I have ball. I can do this in my own sleep! My, all this is coming! Isaiah chapter 11 verse 1 Isaiah 11:1 “And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, (who was the father of David) and a Branch (Capital B, it’s one of the terms of God the Son in the Old Testament.) shall grow out of his roots:” So, out of King David’s reign will come this glorious monarch of the King of Kings. All right, verses 2 and 3. Isaiah 11:2-4a “And the spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD: 3. And shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of the LORD: and he shall not judge (or rule) after the sight of his eyes, neither reprove after the hearing of his ears: 4. But with righteousness…” With all the knowledge of the Godhead, He’ll know every person in His Kingdom. He will know every detail. Nobody’s going to have to report to Him what needs to be done. He’s going to have all the omniscience of the Godhead. Isaiah 11:4a “But with righteousness shall he judge (rule) the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth:…” In other words, nobody will be downtrodden and left without. Isaiah 11:5a “And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins,...” And then verse 6 -- you’ve seen me do this over and over. Here we come into the physical attributes of this glorious earthly kingdom, where – Isaiah 11:6-7 “The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. (My, can you picture this? Use a little imagination. Here we have these little kids out playing amongst the lions and the leopards and what have you. They’re no longer carnivorous. They’re no longer mean and wild.) 7. And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like an ox.” Isaiah 11:8-9a “And the nursing child shall play on the hole of the asp, (what used to be the poisonous snake) and the weaned child (a little older kid) shall put his hand on the cockatrice’s den. 9. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain:…” In all my kingdom there will never be as much as a bruised finger. No child will come running to Momma because they’re hurt. Nothing is going to go amiss. It’s going to be heaven on earth. Isaiah 11:9-10 “They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth (The earth! This planet!) shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea. 10. And in that day there shall be a root of Jesse, (Jesus the Christ) who shall stand for an ensign of the people; to it shall the Gentiles seek: and his rest shall be glorious.” Oh, we can’t even begin to describe it. All right, let’s come all the way up through the prophets, now.

I’m going to bring you, with the time we have left, to the little Book of Amos. That’s right after Hosea, Joel then Amos. The last chapter, chapter 9 verse 13, this is going to be beyond comprehension. No weeds. No insects. No drought. No flood. Everything is going to be perfect! Verse 13 Amos 9:13-14 “Behold, the days come, (It’s going to. God said it!) saith the LORD, that the plowman shall overtake the reaper, (In other words, the guy getting the soil ready will be waiting for them to harvest the previous crop. And it’ll be without the sweat of the face. It’s going to be pleasant.) and the treader of grapes him that soweth seed (He will be catching up with one who is sowing the seed); and the mountain shall drop sweet wine, and all the hills shall melt. 14. And I will bring again the captivity of my people of Israel, and they shall build the waste cities, and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, and drink the wine thereof; they shall also make gardens, and eat the fruitof them.” Boy, isn’t that a contrast from Hosea? After all the chastisement, after all the judgment, is going to come the glory of the blessings. But you know, what we can’t understand is that it’s going to take 2,000 years. It is actually 2,700 from the time that Hosea wrote this. But nevertheless, God’s wheel grinds slowly. It’s coming! Verse 15 Amos 9:15a “And I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be pulled up…” That’s why I’m convinced that we are close to the end time. Israel is back in the land and nothing is going to chase them out! Nothing! Now, we have to take everything into consideration. Do you think God will let a hydrogen bomb explode over Jerusalem? I don’t think so. It’s not going to happen, because Jerusalem is going to be there when Christ returns. Israel’s remnant is going to be ready to come up to the city and start enjoying the kingdom. So, I cannot see a nuclear explosion happening over Israel. Now, the rest of the world? Very likely, but I don’t think it’s going to happen to God’s city. Now, it’s going to come under all the heavy boots of the invading armies. But to be flattened and turned to ashes by a nuclear explosion? I just can’t see it happening. Israel’s glory, in spite of all of her wickedness, is still ahead of her.

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jdgo51 · 2 years

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How the Root of Insecurity Is Tied to Your Identity

Today's inspiration comes from:

Killing Comparison

by Nona Jones

""I leaped out of bed when the alarm signaled it was time to wake up and hit the pavement. Ten minutes later, I was outside pressing “start running” on my fitness app and putting in my earbuds to listen to a worship music playlist. I was excited to run because the cool, crisp mornings between winter and spring are my favorite time of year.

I made it home just in time to give my seven-and ten-year-old sons sweaty hugs and my husband a sweaty kiss before they left for the day. Then I started my post-run routine of showering, stretching, making a pot of tea, and having some quiet time with the Lord. I was looking forward to my Bible study time because the cancelation of many of my speaking engagements allowed me to study for the fun of it without the pressure of preparing to give a message.

The Holy Spirit had led me to take an interest in the life of Jonathan, King Saul’s son. A lot was written about his father, and even more was written about his best friend, David, but I had never looked closely at Jonathan.

I started reading in 1 Samuel 14, which tells the story of how Jonathan waged an attack on a Philistine outpost with only his young armor-bearer by his side. As Jonathan made his way to Mikmash to fight two dozen Philistines by himself, his father, the king, rested comfortably under a pomegranate tree in Gibeah with six hundred soldiers. The juxtaposition of the two scenes was striking.

When Jonathan and his young armor-bearer reached the outpost, they saw that the Philistines were positioned on a cliff. This put Jonathan and his armor-bearer at a strategic disadvantage because it robbed them of the element of surprise. The climb to the Philistines’ position would also use precious energy they needed for the battle.

Nevertheless, Jonathan turned to his armor-bearer and said,

Come, let’s go over to the outpost of those uncircumcised men. Perhaps the Lord will act in our behalf. Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few. — 1 Samuel 14:6

I repeated that last line to myself: “Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few.” Something about it resonated. When the Lord is for us, we can be outnumbered but are never unprotected.

Insecurity Exposed

I read a couple more chapters and then decided it was time to start my day. I quickly checked my Facebook page to respond to comments and messages and then did the same on Instagram. Although I normally go straight to my Instagram notifications, that day I caught a glimpse of my newsfeed first. And that’s when the downward emotional spiral started.

After scrolling for what felt like an eternity, I counted no fewer than eight friends posting the exciting news that they were joining an amazing roster of speakers for a major women’s conference that was going virtual because of the pandemic. Since I don’t follow many people on social media, it seemed like the only thing in my newsfeed was an avalanche of exciting announcements about speaking at the Full Blossom Conference.

“Why wasn’t I invited to speak?” I asked aloud. “It’s like Susie asked everyone we mutually know except me.”

With each new post, I felt what can only be described as the stab of an emotional ice pick to the heart. My mind was clouded with hurt, so I stopped scrolling, closed Instagram, and looked out my living room window into a beautiful day. The skies were blue and filled with fluffy white clouds. Birds bounded from limb to limb on the tree just outside my window. But the beauty outside couldn’t overcome the ugliness churning inside me.

An old, familiar hurt resurfaced inside — the hurt of being unwanted.

I’ve had a full speaking schedule for years, despite never once advertising myself as a speaker or asking to speak at events. And I receive more speaking invitations for business and church conferences than I can accept. I’ve been invited to speak on multiple continents and keynoted major conferences across the United States and abroad. Yet, somehow, not being invited to speak at this conference bothered me.

Comparison makes what never mattered before the thing that matters most.

I’d heard of Full Blossom before and had never desired to speak at it, but after I saw many of the people in my ministry circle invited to speak there, my exclusion catalyzed a self-worth inquisition.

Comparison makes what never mattered before the thing that matters most.

As I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop, I felt a magnetic pull back to Instagram. I had back-to-back video conferences every thirty minutes for the next seven hours, so I set my phone down and logged on for the first meeting. Within ten minutes, I had discreetly unlocked my phone, opened Instagram, and continued the scroll. An irresistible and poisonous thread tugged on my heart and distracted me from work.

I went to Susie’s profile and saw post after post of her gushing about each speaker: how incredible they were and how perfect the conference would be because of them. My chest tightened, and a lump grew in my throat as I watched a video of her enthusiastically naming several of my friends as speakers. Although she spoke about them, my heart heard her speaking to me: Nona, I know who you are. I’ve seen what you do. And you’re not good enough. You’re not what I’m looking for. You’re just average.

I had not only constructed the full-blown, play-by-play narrative for why Susie hadn’t invited me but also decided I needed to unfollow everyone she had invited to speak. My heart felt like it would shatter if I saw one more friend’s post about the awesome conference I wasn’t invited to speak at. I didn’t want to wade through endless reminders that they were speaking at the conference and I wasn’t.

“Why did she pick everyone around me but not me?” I asked aloud again. The more I thought about it, the more my hurt turned to anger. But in my anger, I heard the Holy Spirit ask a different question: “Why does it matter?”

“Why does it matter?” I responded incredulously. “Because everyone who’s anyone will be speaking there. And I’m not. This will be the largest online women’s ministry gathering of the year, and I will be absent.”

“So you think you matter only because of the speaking invitations you receive?” the Holy Spirit asked.

“No,” I said. “I know I matter to You. I just... I just...” I stammered as the weight of the truth settled on me.

“Go ahead,” the Holy Spirit prompted, “say it.”

“I just want to matter to them too,” I whispered, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

“I know, Nona. You want to matter to them because you’re insecure,” the Holy Spirit said matter-of-factly.

“Insecure?” I responded with disbelief. “I’m not insecure! Far from it. I know who I am in You. I preach about it regularly. Besides, I have everything I could ever want and more than I could ever have imagined. I’m definitely not insecure!”

The Root of Insecurity

With love and conviction, the Holy Spirit said, “Nona, you think people are insecure if they don’t like how they look or don’t like what they have or don’t like what they do. Those are expressions of insecurity, but they’re not the root of insecurity. The root of insecurity is when your identity is built on an insecure foundation.”

As I considered what the Holy Spirit said, I felt defensive. “My identity is secured to You, Lord. I know what the Word says about who I am, and I believe it. How can You say I’m insecure?”

“Yes, you know what my Word says, and you also believe it,” affirmed the Holy Spirit. “But knowledge and belief are not the same as faith. As long as you know my Word in your head and believe it in your heart but don’t practice it daily, your identity will continue to be secured to the affirmation of others. You have built your identity on people’s approval. People show their approval with likes on social media, but I demonstrated my approval through love on the cross. I approved of you before you were formed in your mother’s womb. And my approval is unchanging.”

The truth in these words hit me like a Mack truck. So much of my life had been spent trying to win people’s approval, and maybe yours has too.

The approval of others is never permanent, and it often depends on variables that are beyond our control. People use things such as height, weight, wealth, popularity, theology, position, or political affiliation as “approval filters” to determine whether we’re good enough for them. Yet God approved of us before there was anything to approve of. God created us on purpose, with purpose.

The Holy Spirit said, “Nona, the reason you’re hurt by not being invited to speak at that conference is because you measure your worth based on how much people approve of you compared to others. When you aren’t secured to the stable foundation of who I say you are, you drift with the shifting currents of others’ opinions about you. When you drift from Me, you have to secure your identity to people’s opinions to stay afloat. Your insecurity didn’t start this morning. You’ve been insecure most of your life.”

I sat in silence with my eyes closed, reflecting on what the Holy Spirit had said. Before I knew it, my eyes were brimming with tears. The Holy Spirit was right — as always.

Somewhere along the line, I had surrendered my purpose for performative applause. God had valued me before I even had the ability to perform my way into his love. Though God determined I was worth dying for at my worst (Romans 5:8), I made the mistake of conflating my eternal, intrinsic value with likes, follows, shares, and speaking invitations. And the craziest part of it all is that no one knew. Not even me. It happened subtly, over time.

With every larger platform I stepped onto, my heart had slowly detached from the secure foundation of God’s approval and attached itself to the insecure foundation of other people’s approval, creating insecurity.

“Lord, You’re right,” I said. “You say in your Word that people honor You with their lips but their hearts are far from You. I now understand what You mean. I have honored You with my lips, but I’m not honoring You with my life. Lord, I need Your help. Please deliver me from insecurity.”

“Nona, what you’re asking will require more than you expect, but if you trust Me and obey Me, I will help you get to freedom. You must no longer look to others for approval; you must look only to Me.”

“Lord, I’m ready,” I said.

“No, you’re not. But that’s what My grace is for.”

Just as Jonathan was outnumbered against the Philistines, we can feel overwhelmed by seeming to never measure up. But the same divine grace that enabled His victory is the same grace that enables our victory over insecurity too."'

Adapted with permission from Killing Comparison by Nona Jones, copyright Nona Jones. Shared with permission from biblegateway.com.

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pmcguffin · 1 year

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The women in the kitchen…

The Wednesday night Bible study was moved to Thursday nights, and we boarded the “home-groups” train that was trending in those days. Everyone was grouped according to which Elder’s house was proximal to us. Logistics, naturally -the Elders were engineers.

I was impatient for that first meeting. This Catholic girl gets a little unnerved by those Sunday services where the preacher reads a Bible verse, then fiercely expounds on it, sometimes with an intensity that yanks him out of his jacket in his frenzy over all that hellfire and damnation. Nope, all that fired-up hollering from the pulpit never edified my spirit. I longed for a calm, contemplative study where exchanging ideas and perspectives would enrich our spirits and foster closer friendships among this earnest little band of Bible scholars.

Thursday came. I stepped into a spacious living room, settled on a large floor pillow, and rested against an ottoman. The atmosphere was casual and subdued; it felt pretty good. After the initial prayer, we opened our Bibles to the chapter of focus in the study, and before I knew it, I was happily engaged in a lively discussion. One deacon leaned my way as he spoke, inviting me into a dialogue. He was erudite and eloquent, with a keen intellect and a wonderful sense of humor -I genuinely liked him. Never condescending, he offered his perspectives while validating mine as we looked to the practical applications of the scriptures at hand, and I appreciated his wisdom. It was good, to feel connected and valid. The moment was short-lived.

Once the meeting was over, the women retreated to make coffee. The men remained. I stayed until I noticed a raised brow with a directional glance toward the kitchen. Oh. I got it. I stood and slipped through the door to find the Women in the Kitchen caught up in animated chatter about diaper rash ointment and -I kid you not- whether it is worth the effort to wash and reuse plastic sandwich baggies. It was made clear that my input was irrelevant when I was told that until I have a baby, I "can’t possibly understand..." anything apparently. I understood this: the Women in the Kitchen were not my tribe.

Easing back into the living room, I sidled onto the sofa armrest. The men were discussing the current socio-political climate, the Church’s place in the world at large, practical ways we could best minister to our community, and whether to address our need for more space by expanding or moving... the big picture.

Creative ideas, some lofty goals, and a good measure of healthy debate were happening in that living room full of men, with me precariously perched on an armrest -the only woman not in the kitchen. They didn’t miss a beat. No one noticed. None of the men moved to make room for me on that sofa. Not one. Yet, there I sat like a glaring neon sign blinking in the face of their purposeful disregard. Refusing to take the hint, I remained, invisible, silently swallowing swells of rage as those men planned our future and decided our places within it without any input from us -the Women in the Kitchen, and me.

On the drive home, I was confronted with my behavior. Why couldn’t I sit quietly like the other wives, refrain from joining the discussion, and stay with the Women in the Kitchen where, I suppose, I belonged? I wanted to scream, “Why aren’t the Women in the Kitchen invited to stay and encouraged to participate in the discussion?” Instead, I tightened my jaw and muttered, “They weren’t talking about anything interesting, and since I’m not a mother, no one cares what I have to say.” He asked me to try. I bit my lip.

He doesn’t get it: no one wants me, but the exclusion by the men is more than oppressive; it is insulting. The Women in the Kitchen are their wives, the mothers of their children, and the ones who keep life going forward against all that would interfere. They are the anchors in their homes, the very hearts of their families. It will be the Women in the Kitchen, without voices, bearing the burden of the men’s decisions. Although the Women in the Kitchen are not seated at the table for discussion, they will be expected to strategize the sacrifices from their household budgets to provide the contributions that will finance the men’s plans (imagine washing and reusing disposable sandwich baggies --do the men even know their wives do that?) The Women in the Kitchen will be “holding down the fort” while the men devote their evenings away from their families to manage all the projects and ongoing church business. After preparing breakfast to ignite the morning and ushering everyone to the day’s destinations, they’ll be parenting solo until late into the evenings when the children are asleep. Finally, once the men have returned home, the Women in the Kitchen (veiling their own weariness) shall cheerfully serve their husbands a carefully reheated dinner.

Imagine. Though they are the ones who create the very propulsion that provides the momentum to move the work forward, The Women in the Kitchen have no voices.

None, because the Women in the Kitchen are not invited to that table... except to serve it.

#leavingchurch #findingmyvoice #silentnomore #a woman's place #ex-evangelical

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little-diable · 3 years

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A Preacher's Punishment - Preacher James Barnes (smut)

Here we go again, another super filthy Preacher imagine. Hell's awaiting us. Remember that your feedback and your comments are very much appreciated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has always been rebellious and even months after first joining the convent the reader is still a trouble maker. Her case calls for Preacher James Barnes, hopefully his punishment will put her back in her place.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (m), degrading, dom!Bucky, sex with a preacher, wrong use of a bible, religious connotations

Pairing: Preacher!James Barnes x nun!reader (around 3k)

„Don’t you dare look away from me now.” Sister Jane cried out as (y/n) rolled her eyes, trying to shift her weight back onto her toes, away from her aching knees. She had been forced to kneel in front of her, having to apologise for her reckless behaviour, her careless ways.

For months she had been part of the convent, dressed in black and white attires, with a big cross around her neck. (Y/n) detested each morning and evening, having to follow rules she couldn’t care less about, speaking prayers she felt burning on her tongue.

“What shall I do with you?” The sister circled the still kneeling girl, trying to fight against the urge to slap the young woman’s face. But just as her eyes found hers once again, a smile began to tug on her lips, arms falling to her sides.

“I will send you to Preacher Barnes, he will know how to put you back in line.” (Y/n)‘s breath hitched in her throat, saliva pooling in her mouth as she thought of the Preacher she was helplessly crushing on. If anything sister Jane was doing her a favour, allowing her to spend some time alone with him.

With aching knees (y/n) rose from the floor, tugging on her habit. Her mind raced, her palms were getting sweatier, heart jumping in accelerating beats. Would he punish her? Or would he just sit down with her and talk about her wrongdoings?

Her parents had always struggled to keep her in line, forcing her to stay at home, away from alcohol and young boys that could lure her in. But a locked door had never managed to stop her from sneaking out of her home. She had been a regular at parties of her friends, drinking till the morning would bleed red, telling her that it was time to go home.

Though the second police officers had dragged her home with her hands bound together, her parents had snapped. The next morning she had been forced to pack her bags, driving across the country to join a convent of nuns that lived in celibacy.

As (y/n) stepped back into the room she shared with sister May, her eyes fell upon her bag, the one she had tried to hide. Her fingers ached for her to unzip it, to thumb through the lacy panties and bras she had taken with her, not knowing where her parents were driving her to. How naive she had been, bringing her finest clothes to a home filled with women that only dressed in black and white.

Slowly she walked closer, studying the black fabric of her bag, the silvery zipper she wanted to tug on. Before she could stop herself she had opened her bag, smiling at the red lace panties her eyes fell upon. Maybe tonight she could finally wear them, maybe tonight would be her only chance to break free, turning back into the woman she once had been.

Hours later, after a shower and some tea to calm her stomach, she walked behind sister Jane. The red lace she wore stuck to her skin, wrapping itself around her like a warm embrace to keep her warm. She felt adventurous, a rebel nobody could stop from breaking out and running away.

“You will only speak if he allows it, you won’t look at him and you won’t roll your eyes at me. Do you understand?” The sister grasped (y/n)’s chin, waiting for the girl to nod her head, piercing her fingernails into her palm - a simple habit she lived with to stop herself from talking back.

“Please come in.” His soft voice ripped the two women out of their staring contest, eyes meeting his tall frame, the body hidden behind his black suit. Preacher Barnes was undeniably handsome, every nun would dream about him, even the ones that would punish the younger girls for crushing on a man twice their age.

(Y/n) stepped into his office with wobbly knees, she had never seen the room before, had only walked past his office once or twice, wondering what he was doing behind closed doors. She jumped as he placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the chair vis-a-vis his.

Sister Jane left the two after shooting another hateful glance (y/n)’s way, hoping that the girl wouldn’t embarrass her and the other nuns.

“Don’t worry about Jane, she has always been a bit harsh. Tea? Coffee?” The preacher turned away from her, giving (y/n) an opportunity to let her eyes wander down his frame, the long legs that carried his broad frame. On instinct her thighs pressed themselves tightly together, trying to stop herself from moaning out in pleasure as her mind began to paint a picture of her laying on his table, legs spread for him to nestle in between.

“Coffee, please.” Heat clashed through her, she would melt away like ice cream on a summer morning, like a burning candle in the heat of the desert. He placed their cups down on the table, settling next to her with a smile on his lips. For a few seconds he studied her with interlaced fingers placed in his lap.

“Tell me something about you, (y/n).” The way he spoke her name left her sweating, low and raspy, though soft and sweet, a written poem in the words only he knew.

“Uhm,” she had to clear her throat, eyes wandering around his room. “I joined the convent in August, I guess my parents couldn’t stay around me any longer.” A pained chuckle left her lips, eyes shamefully sticking to her hands, waiting for the Preacher to speak his mind.

“Do you believe in God?” He took a sip off his coffee, cleaning his lips with his tongue as his gaze burned into her soul. (Y/n) could only shake her head, her mouth felt dry, tongue not able to wet her lips.

“Let me tell you something, doll.” Preacher Barnes leaned back in his chair, combing one hand through his hair. “I have seen more prisons from inside than churches, my rebellious ways have pushed me into misery, just like you. But then I found God and I knew that something better was waiting for me, something worth fighting for.”

The moment felt like a déjà-vu, she had heard those words too many times before, and could swear that they had all studied them, knowing them by heart. Sister Jane’s words rang in her ears as she rolled her eyes in frustration, biting her lip to stop herself from talking back.

His chuckles filled the room, head thrown back. “Just as bratty as sister Jane has told me. Maybe words won’t do the job, stand up for me.”

She followed his command, standing on her feet with quivering limbs. Slowly he rose from his chair, fronts about to touch, (y/n) could smell his cologne, the musky scent that reminded her of the most sinful days she has lived through. His dark eyes ran up and down her body, leaving her waiting for his following order.

“Unbutton your habit.” She didn’t move, hands sticking to her sides, not daring to move even close to the buttons that kept her red underwear hidden. Now she cursed herself for being that stupid, not even a shirt had found its way beneath her habit, too confident and cocky for her own good.

“Do I need to do it for you? Are you that dumb, can’t even unbutton her own clothes.” His breath crashed against her lips, tingling on her skin. She felt her arousal dripping into her panties, wetting the skin with every word he spoke. Preacher Barnes placed a hand on her waist, pulling her even closer to reach the black buttons.

One button after another popped open, exposing more of her red lace, the tits she had pushed together with her tight bra. He clicked his tongue, eyes admiring the view. Since the day he had met her, there had been something simmering deep inside of him, threatening to spill, to fill his every vein and vessel. God was testing him, he was sending the most sinful woman his way, wondering if he would give into the devil’s calling.

“Onto your knees, open on page 225.” He placed the bible down in front of her, falling back in his chair once again. (Y/n), now dressed in only her bra and panties, dropped to her knees, opening the holy book with trembling fingers.

She couldn’t find the page, fingers too sweaty, eyes too glassy to concentrate on the bible. But the Preacher didn’t move, he waited and waited, a sadistic man that found pleasure in her struggling.

“First your habit and now the bible? I guess Jane was right, we need to find something else to shut you up with.” Her eyes followed his hand, down to his trousers, the silvery zip that twinkled in the faint light. It took three long breaths for him to undo his trousers, bulge clearly pressed against his underwear.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure whether to run away and hide or to open her mouth like the greedy girl she was. Her lips parted, exposing her tongue to the chuckling man, ready to swallow him all. But James wasn’t ready to give in just yet, he palmed his cock, stared at her face, the mouth she had opened for his heavy length.

Her eyes screamed at him to fuck her, to fuck her bratty ways right out of her, right on his table. Perhaps he could battle the devil in the dance he’d lure her into, how he would sway her with his cock sitting between her walls, perfectly ripping her in half. She was doing him a favour, was a figure in his play to find redemption.

“You know what you’re doing, that much I have to give you.” James panted, eyes fighting to stay open, holding onto the feeling of his calloused fingers pumping his velvety skin. (Y/n) used his short moment of distraction, pushing the bible closer to his frame, using it as a pillow for her aching knees.

Her hand met his, carefully pushing his fingers away to replace them with her own. For a second she felt lost with his hard length in her grasp, wondering what the hell she was doing on her knees for a preacher, but the moan that spilled from his lips pushed her back into her headspace, lowering her head to run her tongue across his tip.

James’ head rolled back, exposing his neck to her hungry eyes. Slowly she pushed herself down on his cock, trying not to choke around him. He twitched, she panted. (Y/n) hallowed her cheeks for him, pumping what she couldn’t reach with her trembling hands, using his thighs to keep her balance.

“You’re such a needy slut, choking on my dick while kneeling on a bible, there’s nothing I can do for you. You’re lost.” She didn’t pay any attention to his words, kept pushing herself to her limits, trying to swallow around him. Her tongue traced his veins, danced around his girth, trying to tease him for as long as humanly possible.

“And since you’re already lost, I won’t have any problems with doing this.” The tip of his shoe met her chest, pushing her onto her back with a cry falling from her lips. James grasped her hair, tugging on her roots to force her gaze upon his, grinning down on the shuddering girl.

He grasped his cock and kept on pumping his length, growling her name with sweat pearling on his forehead. She could tell that he was close, about to cum with her cowering away on the floor. No dignity was left in her body, not one single drop of confidence, just a puppet thrown away after its owner got bored with her.

His cum met her cheeks and the floor, making a mess on the holy ground, the office he would lock himself into as the devil was calling his name. She opened her mouth, desperate to catch some drops of his release, moaning at the taste.

“Clean the floor for me and then I want you out of my office, our time is over. I will see you next week.”

----

Each following day he would make sure that she would stumble across him, smiling at her with a dark look laced in his gaze. He was testing her, waiting for her to snap, but she didn’t.

(Y/n) kept to herself, not once did she dare talk back, wondering if the other girls had received a similar treatment from him. She even had called out the almighty father’s name, begging him for his guidance, a sign that would tell her what to do.

But the nights stayed dark and the days stayed calm, nothing that could push her onto the right path. She was lost and desperate to be found, no longer could she worry about sneaking out and finding places to explore, she was cowering away in her room, not daring to lift her gaze.

Seven days after their last meeting she found herself in front of him again. Naked without any fabrics hiding her skin from his eyes. James didn’t speak to her, not opening his mouth once as he watched her undress, placing herself on her knees.

He didn’t let go of her head as he pulled her towards his table, tugging her across the floor like a bag he didn’t care about. (Y/n) got pushed down on the table, watching him step out of his black trousers, pumping his already hard cock as he moved closer.

As she called out his name, hoping that he would snap into motion, James spat onto her exposed cunt, watching his saliva run down her folds, pooling on the wooden ground between her legs. Things you would only see in the movies the sisters would blush at naming seemed to be set in motion, primitive things you could only dream of.

“I-” she wanted to ask him for a second to breathe, her head was spinning, lungs burning from her rapid breathing. But the look he shot her seemed to shut (y/n) up, body tingling in anticipation, wondering how a man of God could be that dark and twisted.

“You won’t say a word, I promise if you go against me I won’t let you cum. Sluts like you don’t deserve to have their own will.” Her eyes rolled into her head, she gasped at the feeling of his cock stretching her walls, pounding into her like she was already used to his size.

She whimpered, she cried, she struggled to keep on breathing. James couldn’t help but admire her, looking fucked out, ready to drown in his embrace. With each stroke he managed to push deeper into her tightness, fucking her like she deserved to be fucked, ruthless and rough. (Y/n) wouldn't have a chance to stop him, could cry for help, though nobody would ever help her, they all knew better than to interrupt a preacher’s punishment.

“Only a sinner like you could take my cock, after tonight you will respect your sisters and you will thank God for each day he lets you live.” He pushed his fingers into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue, forcing her to swallow down the cry that threatened to claw through her.

Her back rubbed against the wooden table, skin scratched open, bleeding onto the surface. James cradled her head in his hands, softening each blow against the table, making sure that she’d stay conscious.

But (y/n) felt herself slipping into another dimension, away from the convent, from the preacher that fucked her like she was a regular coming to visit on a Friday afternoon. He was getting his fill, using her for his satanic pleasure and lust. And she didn’t mind.

“Tell me, how does it feel to be fucked by your Preacher?” Tears ran down her cheeks, swollen lips parted to let her words flow from them.

“So good, feels so good. I’m so close, can I cum? Please let me cum.” (Y/n) cried out, making sure that every nun could hear her begging. He replied with another ferocious thrust, tip meeting her swollen spot, pushing her further into the burning flames of hell.

“Cum on my cock, scream my name. God won’t help you this time.” And she came so powerful that the angels fell from their comfortable seats on the clouds above. Her cunt fluttered around his length, squeezing him tightly as if he would push her away any moment now.

James fucked her through her high, cupping her burning cheeks with his big hand. It took him three more thrusts to relieve himself into her tightness, forcing her to take every single drop of his cum.

“Tonight you will apologise to sister Jane and you will thank her for bringing you to me.” He pulled out of her with a groan rumbling through him, throwing her habit down onto her frame, making sure that she would dress herself. James didn’t give (y/n) any time to wipe away her smudged mascara nor could she untangle her hair.

Embarrassment flooded through her as she walked through the church with his cum dripping down her legs. But perhaps she still hadn’t learned her lesson yet, because with a smile on her face she ran her thumb up her thigh, licking her skin clean.

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#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan

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nerdygaymormon · 3 years

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(1/2) hi david! ok i have a quick thing abt women and the priesthood: its so frustrating to me, and it used to be 1/12 months we would study the priesthood and honestly they don't teach us anything really other than what kind of stuff they do (vaguely). i always try to bring up the talks about womens priesthood power (only if endowed lol) but they always get brushed off. when i said how unfair it was when i turned 12 that i couldn't get the priesthood my mom took me aside and talked to me about

(2/2) she said to think of it like a wheelchair for men, to help them to be able to do good and help others and give them motivation because if women had the priesthood they would want to help everyone (i cant even with that metaphor its so wrong) and honestly, why can't women hold the priesthood? has that ever been said? why? because we live in a man/father led society? im just really tired of all the barely hidden sexism in lessons + calling the guys 'the priesthood' i hate it so much. thanks!

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Yes, I remember those lessons. I thought for the young women and Relief Society the focus should be on how they can access the priesthood, why it matters there is priesthood and so on, not learning the young men can pass the sacrament (which btw, preparing or passing the sacrament doesn’t require the priesthood and we used to allow females to do this).

And how come the people in priesthood quorums didn’t need to spend a month learning about women’s contributions, or motherhood, or a way to provide some equity for women having to put up with learning of the men’s roles for a month

Yes, I’ve heard the excuse that men need priesthood in order to train them to be as good as the women naturally are. I don’t buy it. If priesthood service boosts a person’s goodness, why would we not want women to participate?

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I feel like our Church doesn’t do a good job explaining it’s priesthood restrictions. That’s probably because there isn’t a good justification for them.

We had the disastrous ban of people of African descent not being eligible to hold the priesthood and also not allowed to receive temple blessings. Fortunately, in 1978 the temple blessings and allowing men of African descent to be part of the priesthood was restored. Now no one is banned based on race, ethnicity or national origin.

In early church history, the revelations mention men and the priesthood. I think that’s the basis for the current ban on women.

Was this absence of women intentional?

Could this be a case of the word “man” being used to mean “mankind” and wasn’t supposed to exclude women?

Maybe “men” is all the culture was able to accept at the time. Women didn’t have constitutional rights and weren’t allowed to vote, and were thought of as people who remain in the house while their husbands dealt with things in the broader world.

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For a long time, our church taught that women can “receive all the blessings of the priesthood” even if they don’t hold it themselves.

Today, President Nelson has indicated that something unique happens in the LDS temple ceremony — something that imparts priesthood power to women. In the temple, there are certain ordinances that women perform for other women, which indicates they have the priesthood even though they haven’t been formally ordained to the priesthood.

Unfortunately, this isn’t very well defined.

Do women who’ve been through the endowment ceremony hold priesthood power, even though they aren’t ordained, and are only authorized to use this priesthood in the temple?

Could they be authorized to use this priesthood outside of the temple?

Why are they only authorized to use their priesthood for other women and not men?

Is this the Aaronic or Melchizedek priesthood, or is it some other branch of the priesthood?

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I think it’s clear women can hold priesthood and wield its authority. There’s many examples from the Bible and early Church history.

Judges 4-5 - Deborah was a judge of Israel, acting as a prophet and military leader at a time when women were treated like property and valued by the number of children they could bear. She didn’t follow the gender role expected of her, and showed God is willing to have women as leaders, women as prophetesses. Perhaps patriarchy isn’t God’s will but a cultural trait of the ancient Israelites which we now read in the Bible and think is of God.

Acts 2:17 - “And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams”

Is priesthood required to prophesy?

Romans 16 - powerful scripture for equality and inclusion--so many names of women in positions of authority and influence listed. There’s not enough details to know the exact roles of the women. Is a “fellow servant” an apostle? Is a woman who travels & teaches as Paul does, an apostle? What about the women who are leaders together with their husband? Some women sound like heads of the congregation, are they equivalent to bishops and pastors?

There’s an address from Joseph Smith to the Relief Society on March 30, 1842 that many believe indicates he intended for women to hold the priesthood. “the Society should move according to the ancient Priesthood, hence there should be a select Society separate from all the evils of the world, choice, virtuou[s] and holy— Said he was going to make of this Society a kingdom of priests an in Enoch’s day— as in Paul’s day”

Healing by the laying on of hands was a practice that was common for Mormon women in the 19th century, although it was said to be done by faith, not priesthood. There’s even a famous example of Mary Fielding Smith blessing an ox to health on the trek west to Utah. This practice was stopped because it was too similar to the priesthood.

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What our church has allowed women to do has varied, and needing priesthood authority was often the excuse for why women couldn’t do these things.

Women were barred from praying in Sacrament meeting from 1967 until 1978.

In 1984, a woman spoke in general conference for the first time since 1930. Since then, women have spoken in every general conference.

Women were once permitted to join in or stand as an observer at the blessing of her baby, but today it’s priesthood only

In 2013, the first time a woman prays at General Conference.

In 2013, the "sister training leader" position is created, a leadership position for women who are missionaries.

In 2015, the church appointed women to its executive councils for the first time.

2021, positions for women were created at the Area level of leadership in Europe, they’ll participate in leadership councils, and train Relief Society, Young Women and Primary Leaders.

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Can women hold the priesthood? I think the evidence points to yes. I believe we’re in the same situation as the priesthood ban of Black men where it’s now our tradition and belief and will take a revelation to undo. The question is, are the apostles and prophet seeking such a revelation?

If we extended the priesthood to all worthy members regardless of gender, that would solve several issues. For example, we have areas with many more women as active members, and the men in those congregations must shoulder several callings that require the priesthood. Their burden would be much lighter if women could share in the responsibilities

The disparity that women see in their everyday lives would be eliminated. They may be in a position of authority at work, but then on Sundays, for the most part they’re limited to working with women & children, and excluded from top leadership positions. I wrote a thing where I switched gender roles at church and I think it makes clear the messages we are sending to our members, particularly our impressionable children and teensagers.

Then there’s the case of trans & intersex people. Is priesthood for men given according to their spirit or to their body? How do we know what gender is the spirit of an intersex person? If everyone were eligible for the priesthood, it would save us from having to answer what is perhaps an unanswerable question about whether the body & spirit of trans people got mismatched.

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We currently are not accessing the talents and capabilities of 1/2 the population. You’d think a church that has Heavenly Mother as part of its theology would be anxious to recognize the contributions that women can make and let them have leadership roles at all levels of the Church.

#long post

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excatholicatheistace · 3 years

Text

My Story Part One: A Cult within a Cult

TW: Spiritual Abuse, Homophobia, Eating Disorder Mentioned, Cults

I was once in a cult. I don't say that lightly. It was a legitimate cult.

It started when I went to a Conservative Catholic University. The kind that has men studying to be priests on campus, orientation skits about women getting their, "M.R.S. degrees," jokes about wanting dozens of kids with that cute boy from Math class, etc.

It had a really intense culture: if you didn't ever "discern" whether or not God wanted you to be a nun or priest you weren't holy enough, people called you out if you weren't at your mass or rosary commitments (Not even Mass on Sunday, Mass during the week, which the Church has long considered optional), doubts were considered spiritual attacks and there was a deliverance ministry that gathered right next to your classroom (and they prayed over people for deliverance from evil spirits while you were in class). Boys weren't allowed in Girl's dorm rooms except during "visiting hours" and the door had to be open. If you talked to the men discerning priesthood too often people called you a, "Chalice Chipper."

But, even worse than that, Many Professors taught horrible things. A Biblical Studies professor once said that Breast Cancer is a punishment for lesbians and that's why they get breast cancer more often than heterosexual women (What the actual fuck, that's not even accurate!?). They made excuses for the horrible stories in the Bible, like God commanding the murder of innocent women and children. They blamed it on the victims by saying that their paganism was so vile, that it would have tempted the people of God too much to let them live.

The School and the culture was messed up. But, there were also groups that thrived in there. And so, one day, I met a man who claimed to have a special relationship with God and promised me many blessings.

Fr. Brad followed an alleged visionary/locutionist out of Canada who claimed that you could pray for the "anointing" and that the Holy Spirit would come upon you for the day and guide everything you do. When you messed up, via sinning or just not following the Holy Spirit closely enough, you lost the "anointing" and had to pray for it again.

The teachings centered heavily on the supernatural gift of healing, praying in tongues, and "claiming" things over your life.

I accidentally became involved. I was away from my support system/family for the first time and became very close with my roommate in the dorms. She found this group and I tagged along.

I always got the feeling that I wasn't their favorite, even though I was one of the first people to join. I would go every morning with my roommate. At first, it was just the two of us and our spiritual leader, a Franciscan Friar who was studying under Fr. Brad. We would go in the mornings and pray for the anointing, then we would listen to him teach while sitting in his living room. We were like Padawans learning under a Jedi. He gave us books teaching us about healing and had us practice commanding different conditions to leave in Jesus' name.

But, I didn't buy everything they were trying to sell me. When I asked questions I could see our leaders start to shift uncomfortably. They were much harder on me than my roommate, always challenging me to pray more, to be "less sensitive," and to learn to trust authority, "God anointed us. Trust the anointing or you will miss out on blessings! There is a wall in your heart getting in your way."

Things really took a turn when Fr. Brad came to visit at the end of my Freshman year. We went out to eat with him and he told me not to go home for the summer. He said he can tell I am "already struggling" with demonic oppression, and that the demons would be much worse if I went home. It somehow came up that my parents like Star Wars and my Mom collects Barbies. He told me demons are attached to Star Wars and that Barbies can give people, "The Spirit of Anorexia."

He also told me that I would be "blessed" if I stayed. They were all going to go to Canada to visit another follower of the visionary and I would be missing out. They were going to have a "great outpouring of the Holy Spirit" and that I could possibly receive the gift of healing of I stayed.

In hindsight (now that I know more about how this leader abused other people), I know he was trying to isolate me.

To be continued

#religious trauma #ex christian #ex catholic #ex cult #tw cults #atheist #my story

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ursie · 3 years

Note

Spare any Catholic Nico headcanons? I remember you made a post about it some time ago and you had some good ideas

Ok so I was not raised Catholic but my parents and grandparents were. So I can’t get too much into it as my religious experience is different. That said :

Nico has his moms rosary beads and prays with them (I said this before I just feel strongly about this)

He helps at Sunday school and Bible study!! He’s really helpful and reads to the younger kids and stuff

He’s very good at arts and crafts and spent a couple weekends updating the Christmas pageant costumes and decorations

Unironically loves veggie tales it was one of the few things he was allowed to watch by Bianca and the Catholic school-he says he’s putting it on for the kids-he’s not

Has such intense and truly interesting theological debates and discussions with the Church staff during or after Bible study and genuinely loves discussing this stuff will do so with any willing individual

Had a weird kid Bible phase special interest this is a thing that happens I promise every class has like one kid who’s like actually read it front to back and likes the angels. That was Nico

Loves debate and Bible study but absolutely hates it when people imply their interpretation is the right one or better than his like. Nico voice : bitch I’ve been doing Bible study longer than the popes been alive

Will infodump on changes to the Catholic Church and the different popes

Remember when I said he had a special interest?? That’s where it came up he learned all about the old popes and crusades ect and because he loves history and the undeniable religious influence here complicated and compelled by the fact he’s Arab and Catholic-he set to read like everything involved and that meant like. Every pope and saint ever

Actually devout practices all the lil days, prays before meals, bed, for patience..

Hades trying to make Nico listen to him : I’m a god blah blah -Nico voice : you’re not MY god I dont pray to you 🙄 hades : -Nico : you’re the one that put me in Catholic school

Absolutely loves the theological/historical debate of Pan/Hades/Satan people make jokes about hell ect and Nico’s like OvO there’s actually a real theological argument and starts infodumping as people flee for their time

Nico voice : I’m an Angel not a saint

Has a very complex understanding of it given how his existence is almost heretical but instead finds peace because if his dad, other gods, ect exist? Of course his can

Absolute king of Catholic guilt if he didn’t suffer for something not only does he not want it he doesn’t believe in its existence

Took the phrase idle hands are the devils tool too literally is physically incapable of not always juggling a couple things-if he’s not doing 24424 at once he’s a bad Christian™️ and does feel bad

Literally can and has spent all Sunday at church

Absolute fav of old church ladies somehow joined the women’s group they all think he’s one of their grandsons and nobody has corrected anyone

Yea he’s devout yes he gossips in church he exists

#tw religion #asks #anon #nico di angelo #pjo hcs

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notbecauseofvictories · 4 years

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sarah! somehow, miraculously, in these times---I landed a new job, I'm moving to Chicago. got any advice? tips? (I'm from the twisting pothole hills west of Pennsyltucky and am already mentally preparing for flat land for miles, lol)

Congratulations! Chicago is a great city.

Also, it is so, so flat. Sometimes, the skyscrapers can distract you from how flat the land is---it’s as though Chicago knew its flatness was an abomination, and so came up artificial crags and peaks, blocky rooftops and tottering spires, towers, cranes, and apartment complexes, all as a flimsy shield against too much sky. Chicago is more land than sky, really, and the “land” we do have is more water than anything else, a floodplain studded with rivers and built up from trash heaps and stranded ships. So when you come down to it, Chicago is really just water and sky and the thin divider of the horizon.

In a more useful sense: get used to walking.

This is something I wish I’d known, when I moved to Chicago from Nowheresville, Kentucky, where you drove or died somewhere along I-75. Get used to walking, to taking public transportation, because Chicago is both big and small at once, and if all you do is drive through it you’ll never notice. I think the best things about Chicago are encountered by walking through it, in a sturdy pair of shoes. (Mine were designed for hiking, but it’s kind of the same, if you think about where concrete comes from.)

Today during my walk, I passed the large church---at the top of the steps was group of Latino women and children clustered around a fold-out table draped with a pale pink cloth. Atop it was a statue of Mary, and they were facing her, one of them reading out of what might have been a Bible or a prayer book, I’m not sure which. It’s not a special feast day, so I think it must have been familial, or maybe a Bible study.

I’ve never seen a Bible study sitting outside a church, or one with camping chairs and face masks. And I still wouldn’t have, if the only way I knew the city was zipping through it from behind a wheel or in the backseat.

Maybe try some things for no reason other than you couldn’t try them where you’re from. I’d never had Ethiopian food, heard punk music, or knew about the drag ball scene before I came to Chicago---I didn’t know what those things were. I just agreed to go places and see things because other people were going and seeing, and I might as well.

I’ve never regretted following that impulse.

If there’s no one else, go by yourself. There’s a part of you that will cringe at it but Chicago loves the friendless. You can disappear into the crowd at free concerts, wander through the city barely noticed as you hop on and off trains, step onto buses with a muttered “thank you” which is just the latest in a string of thank-yous. I’ve talked to opera-goers about their dead mothers and opera performers about their European tours, their attempts to re-learn the piano. I love talking to strangers---and the city serves up strangers like a 24/7 diner. If you like bars, there’s nothing like striking up idle conversation with the regulars at Wrigleyville dives and the young couples flocking to trendy Logan Square joints and (once!) a very nice man in Bronzeville who introduced me to each of his nephews as they came to join him at the bar. (I don’t think he’s reading this, but I hope he knows how deleteriously charming it was, for him to pat my hand and say, I’m trying to teach them manners, let me know if they shake your hand too hard.)

That whole Pratchettesque, “the city is a woman and if you let her she could engulf you” was written about Chicago. I don’t think he was thinking about Chicago when he wrote it and I’m not sure he ever actually came to Chicago, but it’s about Chicago nonetheless.

Let it engulf you.

#city of the big shoulders #the best worst mine-est place in the entire world

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khoicesbyk · 4 years

Text

The Royal Romance.

Second Chance Romance.

A/N: I’ve decided to go into my own little TRR/TRH world and create an AU. This will be fun! So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Dawkins (MC) | All Characters: names (except MC) and some plot dialogue are property of Pixelberry. | Current Word Count: 5,430 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Chapter 1.) Return

Shanelle sat at the bottom of the grand staircase of the Beaumont estate trying to wrap her head around all that had happened since the coronation.

Marquise the man she’s madly in love with; went from Crown Prince to King of Cordonia right before her eyes. Then her world came crashing down; as she was framed. The utter humiliation cost her the one thing she wanted more than anything; it cost her him. Someone set her up and she had no idea who it was. And she never got the chance to find out.

Instead she was sent back to D.C. with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. She knew she never had a chance against the ladies of the court; but her stubborn determination got her into the top 3 women for him to choose. And she just knew he’d choose her; until those photos of her and Tariq were shown. And her world came crumbling down.

When she got home she had to deal with her disappointed stepmom and VERY pissed off father. They love her dearly and never want to see her hurt. But; her father’s furious that she up and left on a whim over a man she barely knew. So for the past 2 years; she’s been under lockdown. While she tries to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and shattered life. Her daddy was gracious enough to give her the receptionist job at his surgical practice. That way he could keep an eye on her.

Life for her went back to being relatively normal and quiet. Until one Sunday morning as her daddy got ready to preach; two very familiar faces showed up. After church announcements were read; visitors were encouraged to stand and give their home church and affiliation. That’s when Maxwell and Bertrand stood up from their pews. “Good Sunday morning to you all! My name is Bertrand Beaumont; and I am the Duke of Ramsford and this is my brother Lord Maxwell Beaumont. We are delighted to be here and thank you for your hospitality!”, he explained to the congregation. “Yeah! It’s great to be here! We’re actually here to see Shanelle. But I don’t see her though. Ohhh! There she is! She’s in the choir loft Bertrand. Hiiii Shanelle!”, Maxwell quipped as he waved at her.

She was mortified and her daddy was pissed. When he turned back to face her; he mouthed the words, “Pastor’s Study! Now!” when he turned back to the congregation; his face was neutral. “Thank you Mr. Beaumont! I’m sure you, your brother and my daughter have much to discuss.” With a deep breath; she collected Maxwell and Bertrand and quickly ushered them into her dad’s office.

Once inside; she just had to hear what both of them had to say. “Maxwell as happy as I am to see you and Bertrand; WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”, she asked him while trying to keep her voice down. “A Happy Reunion? We missed you.”, he replies. “It’s been 2 years!”, she said to him. “We were hoping that you could lead us to Jesus?”, he said sheepishly. “If I didn’t love you so much; I’d hit you with a bible! Also; you didn’t answer my question.”, she told him. “It’s Marquise. He needs you.”, he said to her. “No he doesn’t. Besides he’s married. The wedding was in all the papers.”, she told him.

That’s when Bertrand spoke up. “About that. Maxwell is right. He’s miserable. Cordonia is in need of an heir. Madeleine doesn’t want children, not that he’d touch her anyway...They are in the last stages of getting a divorce.”, he said to Shanelle. “You’re joking, right? They’re getting a divorce?”, she asks Bertrand. “No jokes. Technically since they haven’t consummated the marriage, it will be annulled.”, he replied.

That statement took her breath away.

“He just doesn’t want anyone, if it’s not you.”, Maxwell told her. “This is insane. If he wants nothing to do with her; why did he marry her?”, she asks. “He felt like he had no choice.”, Maxwell replies. “Right now, Cordonia looks weak. If we don’t have an heir soon there will be an uprising.”, Bertrand explains. “So what are you asking me?”, she asks them both. After a glance between them; Maxwell spoke, “Come back to Cordonia and be the Queen he needs. We all need you.” “Come back? After all this time? After everything that happened? I can’t do that. I can’t go through the hell again. We still don’t know who set me up. I can’t. I just can’t.”, she told him. “Marquise will make everything right. We just need you to give him a chance.”, he said to her. “Maxwell I don’t think you understand what that scandal did to me. The humiliation alone has left me scarred and scared to even consider love ever being a possibility in my life.”, she told him.

That’s when Bertrand laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “1 Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” “I’m not saying to ignore your pain. But if you come back it could be a chance to heal. Just tell me you’ll think about it.”, Maxwell said to her. “If I decide to do this again; how do you know we won’t wind up right back where we started?”, she asks.

“It’s because I know in my heart that he’s been miserable since the moment you left. I also believe that the moment he lays eyes on you the part of him that died will be resurrected. He will know what it feels like to breathe again. He won’t let go of that feeling...he can’t.”, Maxwell explains. “You really believe that he’s still in love with me after being apart for 2 years?”, she asks. “I am telling you he has been holding his breath for 2 years. He is a shell of himself without you. Just the mention of your name; brings a twinkle to his eyes that we haven’t seen in years.”, he says to her.

She sighs. The thought of him being miserable without her was starting to get to her. “Oh my God. My life finally gets back to some form of normalcy; and here you two come back to flip it upside down again.”, she says with a small chuckle. “What’s life without a little plot twist?”, he teased. “Maxwell Beaumont! You’re impossible! And I mean that in the most loving way possible.”, she replies. “Right back at you, babe.”, he says to her. “Lady Shanelle. We need your answer. It’s imperative.”, Bertrand says to her. After taking a deep breath and pacing for a bit; she says to them, “I can’t believe I’m about to do this…again but gentlemen…let’s go get my king.”

Both were ecstatic. “Wonderful!”, Bertrand said to her. “Woo! My girl is back!”, Maxwell quipped. “Not so fast you two! We still have one more hurdle.”, she said to them. “What?”, they ask. “My dad. He’s not gonna let me go.”, she replies. “Let me handle that! No one can resist the Maxwell Beaumont charm!”, Maxwell said to her. “Good luck with that!”, she told him.

After service was over; her father and stepmom joined them in the study. That’s when they laid out the plan for Shanelle to return. But her daddy wasn’t trying to hear it. “No! Absolutely not! You are NOT going back! Not after everything that happened!”, he growled. “Daddy—“, she started to say before he cut her off, “Shanelle, don’t you dare! I am not about to watch you get your heart broken by that man again!” “Daddy it wasn’t his fault!”, she told him. “It might as well have been his fault! Do you think I want to deal with vultures in the media at my door again? Do you think I want them crowding my office again?!”, he asked with his voice raised. “Rodney…calm down!”, her stepmom Jackie told him. After taking a deep breath; he spoke. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want to see my baby girl get hurt again. After watching what that jackass Damon did to you; and now this so called king? No! I’m not going witness you get hurt all over again!” “Daddy please…”, she begged. “No! I’m not having this conversation with you.”, he told her.

Shanelle looked to her stepmom for help. That’s when Jackie sighed and said, “Rodney you know that you can’t stop her.” He looked at her like she had lost all sense. “Jackie! Who’s side are you on?”, he asks his wife. “As many times as RJ has come home from a failed relationship; just for him to jump into another one. You can’t be mad at our oldest daughter.”, she tells him. “But Jackie; Shanelle is—“, he started to say, “a grown woman. Just like Shana is a grown woman. Shana packed up herself and R3 just to move all the way to Seattle for her wife. And let’s not forget; RJ lives in Boston with his what, 3rd girlfriend in the last 9 months?”

He pouted. “My point to you Rodney is this: if you didn’t have anything to say to our two younger children you have nothing to say to our oldest child. She loves him. She wants to be with him. We can’t stop her. We can only love and support her. As we should.”, she told him. He looked at his wife then to his oldest daughter and says, “okay! Okay! I know when I’m beaten. Just promise me that you’re not making a mistake.” Shanelle smiles softly at her dad and says, “I promise daddy. I know what I’m doing.”

Rodney stood up from his desk then walked over to her and hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, baby…I just…I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”, he told her as he hugged her. “I know daddy. I’ll be fine; I promise you that.”, she told him. When he looked at her; he smiled softly. “I guess you should go home and get packed.”, he told her. She kissed her dad on the cheek and she said, “I love you daddy!” He kissed her on her forehead and replied, “I love you too, baby.”

He then looked to Maxwell and Bertrand and said, “you two had better take good care of my daughter! Do NOT make me come all the way over there! Do I make myself clear?” Both nodded their heads emphatically. “Good! Now go get her packed up; before I change my mind.”, he told them. With that Shanelle, Maxwell and Bertrand were off to get her packed; then they made their way back to Cordonia.

As she sat at the bottom of the steps; she couldn’t believe she was back in the country she was humiliated in. “I’m here. I’m actually here.”, she said to herself. Or so she thought. “Yep! You’re here! And I’m so happy to have you back!”, Maxwell said as he sat next to her. “Thanks Maxwell. I’m just ready to get my man back.”, she told him. “I know. But you know that it won’t be easy, right?”, he asks. “I know. Everyone will be looking at me and wondering why I’ve come back after all these years.”, she replies. “That and there will be more women vying for Marquise and his hand.”, he told her.

“Greeeeeeat! Just what I wanted: another social season!”, she said sarcastically. “But at least it won’t be like your first one.”, he said to her. “It won’t be?”, she asks. “No thankfully. You won’t have to go through all the pettiness and hosting. Instead we’re going global.”, he told her. “I don’t get it.”, she said to him. “You are one of 7 women vying for Marquise. One from each continent except Antarctica. But the good thing is; we know that they don’t stand a chance. And while you’re vying; we’ll work on finding Tariq and clearing your name.”, he told her. “Are you sure that we can?”, she asks. “Yup because you’ve got me! Ohh! And them too!”, he said as he pointed to her left.

When she turned her head; in walked Drake and Hana. “Hana! Drake! You’re here!”, she said as she ran up to hug them both. “It’s good to see you too! I’ve missed you!”, Hana told her. “I’ve missed you too! I’ve even missed you, marshmallow.”, she said as she hugged Drake. “Missed you too Dawkins. It’s been way too long.”, he said to her. “Wait! Shouldn’t you be with Marquise?”, she asked him. “He asked me to help you. And here I am.”, he replies. “When was the last time you saw him?”, she asks.

“The day Maxwell and Bertrand left to get you. We’ve had to keep our distance between each other for appearances sake. And well…I might have a girlfriend.”, he replied. “Congrats! I’m happy for you.”, she told him. “And what about you, missy? What has the incredible Hana Lee been up to?”, she asked Hana. “I returned to Shanghai but I was wasn’t happy; so I came back to Cordonia last year, and I’ve been working with Marquise as one of his advisors.”, she told her. “Good. I’m happy to have you both here.”, she said to them. “What about me?”, Maxwell asks. “Yes you too; goof.”, she said as he walked up. “It’s good to have all of you by my side. I love you all so much! Now; let’s go get ready! I have a king to win!”, she told them.

After getting dressed; the group was off to the palace for the Freedom Ball and dinner. It was Marquise’s public appearance since his divorce was finalized a few days before. As each member of court was announced Shanelle was starting to feel nervous about seeing him and the rest of court. “Introducing Lord Maxwell Beaumont, Sir Drake Walker, Lady Hana Lee and Lady Shanelle Dawkins.”, the herald said as the group entered the room together.

The room went silent as all eyes landed on Shanelle. She held onto Maxwell’s arm for dear life. “How you doing?”, he whispered to her. “Every single eye is on me. How am I supposed to be doing?”, she replies. “Just take a deep breath and smile.”, he told her. She did exactly that. “There’s a silver lining in all eyes being on you.”, he said to her. “What’s that?”, she asks. “His eyes are on you as well as everyone else’s”, Maxwell said as he looked towards Marquise.

His eyes never left her. He watched as they walked in. He stood next to his parents and his brother as the court filed in. “Good evening everyone! It is good to see you all! Although the circumstances aren’t ideal it is great to be surrounded by all of you. I do hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight.”, he said to everyone in attendance.

After dinner was served guests mingled and danced; but Shanelle had butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to run and hide; and at the same time she wanted to be alone with him. As the ball was in full swing Shanelle spent most of it dodging questions about the scandalous photos and her whereabouts for the last two years. When the evening came to a close she was exhausted and ready to crash. Thankfully she and the others were staying at the palace and she would meet the other women vying for Marquise the next day at tea.

When she got to her room; she all but collapsed onto her bed. Just as she had dozed off there was a knock at her door. “Go away!”, she groaned. When she went and opened the door; Bastien and two of the King’s Guards were standing on the other side. “Oh no! Not again…”, she said out loud. “Lady Shanelle his majesty requests your presence. Please follow us.”, Bastien said to her. “O-okay! Let me put some shoes on.”, she replied. After throwing her heels back on she followed them to a secluded courtyard within the palace. When she entered the courtyard; there he stood. He had a glass in his hand that she figured was either whiskey, rum or scotch. “Your Majesty, Lady Shanelle as requested.”, Bastien announced. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”, he told him. “Yes your majesty. Lady Shanelle.”, he said as they made their leave.

She watched them leave then turned back to face him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mouth was dry and the butterflies in her stomach went into overdrive. After finishing his drink Marquise spoke, “you look beautiful in that gown. Aquamarine is a beautiful color on you. I’m glad I had that dress made specifically for you.” Her eyes went wide. “You did what?”, she asked him in a voice just above a whisper. “I wanted you to stand out and I knew this gown would do just that.”, he told her. “Thank you.”, she told him. “You must hate me not that I blame you. You have to understand that I have regretted my decision every single day.”, he said to her. “I don’t hate you, Marquise.”, she told him. “I’ll take that as a small victory.”, he told her. “I just want to know why. I thought you loved me.”, she said to him. “I do. God knows I do. Shanelle I love you with every bit of my heart and soul.”, he told her. She screwed her eyes shut to keep tears from falling. “Then why choose her over me?”, she asked while trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Shanelle…look at me.”, he said as he tilted her chin up.

When she opened her eyes; he saw the pain she had been in; over the last two years.

“I want you to hear me when I say I had no choice, Shanelle. I wanted to pick you. I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to make you my wife and queen. For two years I have been miserable. I didn’t want to go through with the marriage to her but again I had no choice. In order to ascend to the throne I had to marry her. It was the worst mistake of my life. For two years all I’ve done is longed for you. I’ve craved you. I’ve needed you. And God knows I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to touch you. I’ve wanted to see you. I’ve wanted to taste you. You are the love of my life, Shanelle. There is no other woman for me but you. There’s only you. I only want you. Which is why when I filed for divorce I told Maxwell that you had to come back. I had to have you again. I had to feel my American Beauty in my arms again.”, he explained as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

She loved the strength of his arms, the smell of his cologne and his pretty brown eyes. “You know your other suitors would say that you aren’t being fair to them, your majesty.”, she told him. “I don’t care about being fair to them. All I care about right now is messing up your lipstick.”, he told her before he claimed her lips in his. She melted in his embrace. His tongue dueled with hers as their kiss intensified and deepened.

When their kiss finally ended; she was dizzy and thankful to have his arms around her. “Damn I’ve missed that.”, he whispered against her lips. He kissed her again; wanting to savor the taste of her lips. “I just kissed the softest lips that God has ever made.”, he sang to her. She instantly knew the song. “And I am so in love with the girl who holds the lips he gave.”, she sang back to him. “You know your songs.”, he told her. “I know my artists. And for the record I love Eric Roberson. I saw him in concert last month.”, she said to him. “I really don’t want to stop.”, he said to her. “Then don’t. Don’t stop kissing me. Don’t stop touching me.”, she whispered to him. “Shanelle…”, he said before crashing his lips into hers. When this shared kiss ended he was incensed by her. “I want you now!”, he growled. “I belong to you, my king. Take me as you see fit.”, she told him.

“Come with me.”, he told her as he led her to another door to the courtyard. After he turned on the lights she realized that they were in a bedroom. “This bedroom is beautiful.”, she said as she took in her surroundings. “Thank you. It’s one of the many spare bedrooms. I would bring you to my personal chambers but I don’t want to wait.”, he told her. “A bedroom is a bedroom to me. Although; you do owe me a future tour of yours.”, she told him. “Comme tu veux, mon amour.”, he spoke to her. “That’s French isn’t it?”, she asks. He nodded his head yes. “Thought so…I don’t speak French.”, she told him. “It means as you wish, my love.”, he said to her. She smirked at him. He placed a featherlight kiss on the inside of her right wrist. He continued kissing up her arm; sending chills running through her. “Do you like that, my love?”, he asks. “More than you know, Marquise.”, she replied. “Good. I have to make up for lost time, my love.”, he told her before he continued.

When he got to her neck; she shivered in his arms. “You’re shivering, my love.”, he whispered in her ear. “Your fault…your majesty.”, she whispered to him. “You dare accuse your future king of bringing you pleasure?”, he asks. “Yes your majesty I do.”, she told him. “Well then; it looks like I have work to do.”, he told her before kissing her again. As they kissed his left hand searched and found the zipper in the back of her gown; while his right tangled in her hair.

As his left hand slowly pulled the zipper down; his right pulled her head back gently so he could run his tongue along her neck. “Yesssssssssss…she moaned softly. She was a puddle in his arms. He nipped at her chin before saying, “I missed hearing your voice, my love. I missed hearing you moan.”, he told her. “Keep that up and I’ll be doing more than that, my king.”, she told him.

He smirked before he went back to sucking on her neck. When her gown pooled at her feet Marquise stopped long enough to marvel at her in her red lingerie. “Mon amour, tu es absolument belle.”, he told her. “You really love speaking French, don’t you?”, she asks with a giggle. “Second favorite language.”, he said with a small shrug. She smiled at him and asked him, “although you look fine as wine in that suit; it’s blocking my view so can we lose it now?” She pulled him into a searing kiss as she helped him out of his suit.

She loved running her hands up his body. His abs were a work of art to her. His shoulders are broad and beautiful. And when her hands went lower to his pants; she felt his bulging center. Which caused him to groan against her neck. “Mmmm! Someone’s happy to see me!”, she said to him. “You’ve no idea.”, he told her. “You look a little restrained, my king. Let me alleviate that for you.”, she told him with a coy smile.

He drew a sharp breath as she slid his pants and underwear down. She drooled over a very hard, very naked Marquise. “Ohhh sweet Jesus!”, she told him. “See something you like, my love?”, he asks with a wink. "Indeed I do!”, she says before biting her bottom lip. “Now why am I naked but you aren’t?”, he asks as he pulls her into his arms. “You don’t like me in lingerie?”, she replies with a question of her own. “I love it. But I think you’d look better out of it.”, he told her before picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

After laying her down on the bed; he slid on top of her and immediately went to work removing her bra and panties. He kissed her right shoulder as he slid her bra strap down and did the same to her left shoulder. With her straps down he focused on the cups.

He kissed over each cup; wanting to get to her breasts inside them. That’s when guided his hands to the clasp in the front. “Oooh! Sexy!”, he told her. “Thank you, your majesty. I was hoping you’d like it.”, she told him. “Ohhh I do! Now if you’ll excuse me, my love…”, he told her before diving straight for them. She was in heaven while he was laser focused on pleasing her breasts. Kissing, nipping, licking, sucking on and tweaking her nipples. He loved hearing her moan and feeling her body move underneath his hard body.

His mouth traveled downward to her midsection. He kissed along her ribs and stomach eliciting different sounds for her. “Don’t stop Marquise! Please don’t stop!”, she begged. He dragged his tongue along the top of her panties. “Taste me…”, she moaned. That was all he needed to hear from her. He used his teeth to pull her panties down. The heat between her thighs blazed for him. He kissed and massaged her thighs open. “Bonjour mon petit amour.”, he whispered against her thigh as he got closer to her center.

He watched her bite her bottom lip. He slid the fingers of his right hand; along her inner most folds, slowly coaxing her open for him. “Ohhh God!”, she moaned. She was wet for him; just what he wanted. “Time to eat!”, he said before sliding his tongue inside her. It caused her back to arch while she cried out from the pleasure. He repeatedly dragged his tongue from her clit to her entrance. It was enough to make her breathing stagger.

“God! Yesssssssssss!”, she moaned. She was on fire because of his mouth. She was so focused on him eating her out; that she didn’t feel him slip two fingers inside her at first. His fingers were just as magical as his mouth. He deliberately was driving her crazy. Soon her hips started to roll; as the speed of his fingers increased. She was trying to hang on for dear life as he gave her the most intense pleasure she had ever felt. Her orgasm was twisted around her blooming internal heat. Both were threatening to overtake her. “Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! I’m so close! I…Ohhh God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”, she shouted.

He gave her exactly what she asked for. It took one final swirl of his tongue to snap her orgasm; and to make her internal heat burn her alive. “YES! YES! YES!”, she screamed as she rode wave after wave of her crashing orgasm. When he let her go; she was shaking. “You’re shaking, my love.”, he said with a grin. “Gee your majesty; I wonder why.”, she replied as she tried to catch her breath. She brought his lips to hers; and tasted herself on his lips.

He pinned her hands above her head as their kiss intensified. When it broke; she was desperate for him and he craved her. “I want to devour you, my love.”, he whispered against her lips. “Thank God for birth control.”, she told him with a wink. “For now anyway. Because soon my love; you will be my wife, my queen and the mother of my future child.”, he told her. “I like the sound of that.”, she whispered softly. “Good. You’ve earned it, mon amour.”, he told her before he kissed her again. Their tongues tangled as they kissed. He wanted her and was determined; not to let her leave until he had her. “Take me, Marquise…”, she begged. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”, he told her.

He rolled onto his back and had her straddle him. With his left hand planted firmly on her ass and his right anchored to her right hip; he was in heaven. “God you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, my love.”, he told her. “Mmmmmm…Keep talking.”, she said to him. “Why talk when I can show?”, he asks her. She smirks at him and says against his lips, “show me, my king.”

He took her lips in his and savored her taste; while his hands kneaded her ass. In that moment; his hunger for her grew and drove him. He was obsessed with the touch of her skin on his. He rubbed his hardened length against her wetness. It caused her to moan against his lips. He circled her entrance which made her shiver in his arms. He broke their kiss to whisper in her ear, “mine! All mine!”

“Marquise”, was all she managed to say before he entered her. “God!”, she moaned. She was just the way he wanted her to be. “So beautiful! So wet! So tight!”, he moaned as she rode him like a pro. Feeling her bounce up and down on him was a high he had missed. “Yes! More! Give it to me! Take me!”, she moaned. “That’s it, my love! Take it! Take me!”, he shouted.

The sound of their bodies coming together; made her head spin. She was deep in a delicious delirium because of him. “Tell me how you want it, my love.”, he told her. “Harder! Give it to me! Don’t hold back!”, she said to him. He was more than happy to acquiesce her request. When he brought her down hard onto him; she let out a sound that was a half gasp, half moan. “Is this what you wanted, my love?”, he asks. “Yesssssssssss! Fuck me! Give me all of you, Marquise!”, she screamed.

He buried himself to the hilt inside her then pulled out again and again. She dug her nails into his chest; as she continued to ride him. It caused her orgasm to surge higher; and pushed her closer and closer to the edge of her climax. But she wasn’t quite there yet; not until he whispered in her ear. “Don’t hold back, my love! Let go! Let it out! Cum for me!”

“Marquise! Oh shit! I'm gonna cum! Oh fuck! Its coming! Yes! Yes! Yes! I—“, was all she could say before her orgasm erupted and took her with it. She collapsed onto his chest That was all he needed to hear her say. “Yesssssssssss! Cum for me, my love! Oh God it’s coming! Here it comes! It’s all for you!”, he said through gritted teeth as he went over his own climax. She soon collapsed on top of him; as both were covered in sweat, saliva and cum.

While his right hand skimmed her spine; she rubbed the scratches on his chest. “Sorry about that.”, she spoke softly. “Don’t be they’ll heal. Are you alright?”, he asks her. “Yes I’m fine. I just…I forgot what being in your arms felt like.”, she told him. “Well hopefully; I’ll be able to remind you throughout the competition.”, he said to her. “You do know; you’ll have to give equal time to all your suitors, right?”, she asks. He groaned in protest. “Now! Now! Be nice, Marquise!”, she warned him playfully. “I am being nice! They’ll be here won’t they?”, he asked.

She just chuckled at him. “It’s funny. You forgot what it was like to be in my arms; and truth be told, I forgot what it was like to have you in my arms.”, he told her. “I missed you Marquise…so much.”, she told him. “I missed you too, my love. I swore to myself that if you ever came back; I’d do everything that I had to; in order to keep you here with me.”, he said to her. She kissed him softly as she snuggled against his chest. “There is so much I have to make up for. So much I have to tell you; but it can wait. Right now; all I want is for you to fall asleep in my arms.”, he told her as she dozed off to a peaceful sleep.

😘

#choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #khoicesbyk #choices fanfiction #fanfic #the royal heir #the royal romance #queen of cordonia #queen shanelle #king marquise #king of cordonia

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dansedan · 4 years

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Uhhhhh I guess this is a chaaaaaapter?????? could even be called.... the first chapter. Chapter One, mayhaps. Under the cut

Father Quiffrey was small, for a man his age, and in tandem with his pallor and trim, uniform way of dress, it gave him an appearance of being almost doll-like. While the generous freckling and pink sunburn of his face and hands should be identical to those of the men Fleetfoot had worked alongside on his father’s ranch, he was nonetheless for the first few moments in his presence genuinely convinced that he might be meeting royalty, rather than picking up a penniless clergyman hired out by his family. The older man seemed to have anticipated the staring, nodding with a tight-lipped smile as he stepped past him and further into the bay, rejecting his offer to help him carry the meager luggage. His gesture was conscious, put-together in an over-serious way that only added to his oddity- the whole way from the dock to their lodgings he could picture the windup key sprouting out of his slender back. He couldn’t have ever imagined father Quiffrey, but once they’d met, he couldn’t forget him for a second after, either.

They kept rooms together but seldom spoke the first few months- taking train after train to get from New England to Colorado. Quiffrey spent most of his time nose deep in a ratty copy of the holy bible- tired from the long trip there, very likely homesick and confused- which Fleetfoot would pity if it didn’t give him so many great opportunities to look at him. The reverend seemed to be constantly conscious, every action plotted out in small and subtle ways, like a sailor’s signals. They ranged from common to bizarre- his way of walking (straight, steady) was like a soldier’s, his laugh (dry and airy, restrained) reminiscent of debutantes, and especially his look of focus (an odd frown tossed past his thin glasses, under the brim of his stiff, flat hat with his chin tucked piously into the neck of his cassock) which seemed inherited from a much larger man, fat and gaudy in the way he had imagined British priests to be. With time, he could see even himself in some of his partner’s gesture, and he would wonder who, then, these other people were to him at some point in his life. He never seemed to wonder, then, why he was so insistent on this observation, just followed the instinct unquestioningly, to the point that with the passing of time it became so constant that Quiffrey started to catch onto him. The reaction was always the same- a dry laugh, that same terse nod, and some comment or another to diffuse the tension built up in their meeting gazes.

“You are quite… observant, Mister Stevenson.” Or

“ah, are my recitations bothering you?” or

“nasty bit of weather here…” or

“well, I suppose that’s it for the night.”

Soon, the first drowsy month of their journey came to an end along with the train-trail. All these new small interactions- not just the offhand comments every so often, but humming hymns in the early morning, returning his glance now more assuredly with his own greeting gaze- were starting to accumulate in his mind, flashing inexplicably before his eyes during their brief moments apart. By the time of their entry into Colorado, Quiffrey seemed to have finally recuperated fully, and he started tagging along for more of the busywork of buying and selling, keenly observing Fleetfoot’s menial exchanges with shopkeepers and townsfolk, chatting them up in his hush, clean voice to make up for the younger man’s brevity. This was particularly useful in the matter of getting a horse, as the only coper in the station-town was oddly closed-off and avoidant, refusing to sell to the pair until the reverend talked him down into trading a horse for a sermon. And so that same night, they bathed and dressed, and left the single white-dappled mare the old man had offered them to walk back to his ranch-house and sit at his dinner table, where Fleetfoot heard for the first time his partner’s language past the point of a sentence.

“And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him- Luke, chapter seventeen, verses fifteen and sixteen. To express, in word or deed, our thanks towards those through whom the lord hands us our blessings, is one of the crowning virtues of our lives as servants of the Lord. Wise men of antiquity have said of gratitude that it is not only the greatest virtue, but also the parent of all others. The fear of God, who grants us all we have, and the humility of knowing we are dependent not only on Him but in our fellow-men…” The old man of the house was nodding in contentment, clearly feeling the flattery to be to his measure. He didn’t notice- none of them had noticed. Noticed that throughout the entire speech, past those wire-rimmed glasses and over the edge of the leatherbound bible, Quiffrey had been staring at him. Clearwater gaze trained, soft and serious on his own dark brown eyes. Fleetfoot felt frozen in place, shivering with the light breeze, almost forgetting to listen as he lost himself in questions. Soon enough, the homily was over.

“the gift of life, the air we breathe, our family gathered ‘round a table and the earth we till for work. All these, and the more precise and pointed gifts that fall upon us through our daily lives.” At this he nodded, knowingly, still staring. “To all this, show your gratitude, to people and to God. Amen.” Lightly closing the book, a sleepy chorus of replies, and they were out the door with a pat on the back each, the coper nodding solemnly as he sucked on his pipe. They stepped into the desert night in measured silence, side by side.

“So,” the reverend began. “How did you find it, Mister Stevenson?” tempered, honey-whisper voice cutting through the night and jolting him awake.

“Seemed well,” was all he could say. For all his usual curiosity, it was suddenly impossible to bring himself to look anywhere other than directly in front of him. The older man just hummed and nodded in response.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Not quite used to preaching in translations, so I’m… well, I’m glad.”

The short walk home seemed to stretch out for miles in the white-sand darkness, step by careful step. It was only at the door of their hotel he brought himself to finally stop and look at the older man- catching up to him- almost touching- from behind, a gruff whisper forced out with what felt like a herculean effort.

“Thank you, father.”

And suddenly he rushed away and climbed the stairs, shocked at why this simple action felt like it took such bravado, scared at what could come next. He kept the room dark and laid quickly down to bed.

Morning came with a new day and the smell of coffee, the reverend sitting at the table with his bible as usual, fiddling with the pages in the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He was whistling a tune- an odd, airy melody- and only stopped to nod at him once he noticed Fleetfoot was finally awake, saying nothing of the previous night’s events. Well, of course he wouldn’t say anything about it, the whole thing had been perfectly ordinary. Should have been ordinary, at least.

Father Quiffrey was small and dangerous- on a single horse, riding behind him with his breath hot on his nape, his new habit of memory conspiring to distract him with a few choice remembrances- brief glimpses of skin caught by coincidence, the occasional pleased, unfocused look that the reverend gave to the early sunlight, distorted by his mind into something that felt far more confusing. By nightfall when they stopped to camp he felt it almost unnecessary to build a fire, yet as they pulled away and stepped on solid ground again, he felt the absence of the other man’s warmth as akin to amputation, already grasping at unlikely excuses in his mind to get close again. In reality, though, they laid at a measured distance from each other, and listened to the sounds of pages being passed and the crackling fire as he fought against the fuzzy feeling at his nape.

It was confusing- this was supposed to be a solemn journey, his one brief opportunity to serve the church and redeem himself for his bastard birth, since his father had forbade him joining the local order, preferred him useful to absolved. He was to deliver the priest to Santa Clara, a piece of influence from his father’s motherland in the missions out west, see if it’d encourage small-town folk to turn to The Church. A man to serve the purpose of the icons, a face that would be, to them, more trustworthy than his own, than the ones of the Mexican priests who had been residing there for decades now, less foreign despite arriving from a greater distance. When he first saw Quiffrey he finally thought this hare-brained scheme might work, but now he could not be so certain, not when his observation seemed to stray from his control- to focus on the pink tongue flicking out the corner of the thin-lipped mouth and not the focused study even in this moment. What kind of icon could he be? - when scripture claimed that men were made in the image of god, and Fleetfoot felt sure that He had made Quiffrey in an angel’s mold.

“I looked up and there before me was a man dressed in linen, with a belt of fine gold from Uphaz around his waist. His body was like topaz, his face like lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and his voice like the sound of a multitude.”

He’d slept little and rose in the early morning, rode distracted by the desert breeze and warm return of the body behind him until they reached the next small town over and came into it, set to buy another horse and cast away these feelings from himself. A brief errand, and he came back to find Quiffrey once again preaching for the townsfolk, some small crowd of women, kids, a barkeep. He smiled, meekly, upon noticing the younger man, gestured to the plate of eggs and meat that lay untouched in front of him with a sheepish look before continuing his sermon. Fleetfoot sat down to eat and listen, watch him speak, seemingly unaware he was describing himself. These people had likely never seen topaz, and likely never would, but in their reaction to the reverend’s words, his figure and appearance, he could tell they were just as convinced. Another point for Quiffrey the Icon. He was charismatic in the way he seemed untouched by his surroundings, too innocent to care about the histories of his makeshift parish, or the West as a whole. Then again, he could tell at a glance that there were those with less than holy motives for sticking around- a point then, for Quiffrey the tempter, and company for his own concerns around it. He seemed to deal with them well- a couple pointed recommendations of Hail Mary and a tender smile ‘good-day’.

The scene repeated in the next town, and several after. And soon Fleetfoot was giving into his compulsion to attach himself to the reverend, standing at his back unquestioningly (as questions, and not apologies, were always the difficult part with religion), soaking up the warmth of him and fixing those overfamiliar strangers with a stare that seemed to punctuate the older man’s suggestions. Finally making good use of those small, haunting eyes, piped the voice of his father at the back of his mind, Although, deep down, he knew his father would be scandalized at the hypocrisy of his motive, this little voice, all the way down, knew the farce better than he did himself.

Another point for Quiffrey the tempter.

#reluctant cowboys #my art #my writing #doodle #gay cowboys #cowboy ocs #ocs #original characters

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