#There’s something about Father Paul using God to excuse his sins

[writerswhy]

On Alicent and religion

So, I came across this Midnight Mass gifset and these two quotes:

He doesn't understand yet that guilt comes to you not from the things you've done, but from the things that others have done to you. -Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace

I would like to be found. I would like to see. Or to be seen. I wonder if, in the eye of God, it amounts to the same thing. As it says in the Bible, For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. If it is face to face, there must be two looking. -Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace

And since then, I’ve been mulling over Alicent’s relationship with religion for the past few days because if there’s one thing that irks my soul, is when (western) writers write religious women as tradcath bitchy hypocrites (as opposed to religious men who use their religion as some sort of selfless sacrifice), especially when said woman is a victim of abuse. 

Instead of exploring Alicent’s religiousness as a way to cope with the abuse she endures, as part of her socialization and the community and culture she comes from, as a way to validate her innate kindness in a world where she’s surrounded by Machiavellians and careless people who can get away with things she cannot, the show manages to victim blame her by the way they frame her religiousness. That it’s another chain in this patriarchy without ever engaging with the actual patriarchs who actively abuse her on-screen. 

Something else that I want to highlight is that these systems that Alicent faces are faceless and abstract which makes the grief and anger and helplessness nearly impossible to work through. As a result, she ends up internalizing these roles - daughter, wife, mother - and when they contradict each other, or when external forces push and pull her, she ends up blaming and sacrificing herself. (As opposed to a man in Westeros like Aegon - her mirror - who can whore and drink and fight with little consequence, he may even be praised.) 

One day I’m gonna sit down and actually take my time to write these thoughts down, but here are some quick notes that I’m trying to sort through. (Note that it’s difficult for me to reconcile some of these with the Alicent(s) we see onscreen. Cooke is one of the best actors on the show but the writing for her has not been my favorite. I feel like Carey’s Alicent was more cohesive and consistent, so some these points apply more to ep 1-5 Alicent than later on.):

1. The first instance we see of her religiousness comes from a place of love. She visits the sept to feel closer to her mother and shares this with Rhaenyra to help her grieve. She uses her religion to comfort herself and connect with loved ones - living and dead. (Aegon does the same when he hides in the sept under the mother. Did he learn this from her? Did he learn this while studying the Faith of the Seven?)

2. If this greater being meant to comfort her and guide her tells her through its teachings that the very behavior she’s punished for is actually holy and human (that’s it’s right), does it help Alicent feel less alone? And if she has someone to share this belief with, like Criston? 

3. Does she channel the gods when she needs to compromise with who she is and who she needs to be? For example, Alicent was compassionate and loyal to Rhaneyra when defending her claim early on. After Rhaenyra’s betrayal, fearing for her children and honestly, it’s okay if she was offended and felt played by Rhaenyra, when she shows up to the wedding dressed in green, as a Hightower (no longer a dutiful wife), did she draw strength from the mother and father to seek justice for her and her children and to protect her family? 

This third point is so interesting to me because that’s what many real people do in real life everyday. We have to find ways to cope with life and learn how to understand ourselves, our wants, and how we can make them fit in this world. Obviously you don’t need religion to do this, but many do and in my community, religion is what keeps us grounded yet hopeful. Some of us live lives where if it were not for their religion, they’d feel less human under the systems that dehumanize them.

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion The Real Problem With People Today

#DailyDevotion The Real Problem With People Today Psalm 53 A fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” Why is the atheist at heart a fool? Because the evidence of God stares at him right in the face every day and night. Paul writes in Romans 1, “19What can be known about God is clear to them because God has made it clear to them. 20Ever since He made the world, they have seen the unseen things of God — from the things He made they can tell He has everlasting power and is God. Then they have no excuse.” Psalm 19 says, “The heavens are telling how wonderful God is, and the sky announces what His hands have made.” The fact that the vast majority of peoples and nations in the world worship something as God to whom they are accountable to demonstrates this even if it is a false god or creation itself. However, even with this outward worship of something, in their hearts do they believe there is a God they are answerable to? They do corrupt and detestable things. No one does anything good. 2God looks at the world from heaven to see if there is anyone wise, who comes to God for help. 3They have all turned away together and become corrupt. Not one does right, not a single one. If we really believed in our hearts there was a God we were answerable to, would we do corrupt and detestable things? This psalm teaches us the very nature of original sin. There is no one who does good, no not one. Not good as God defines good. We are conceived this way and born this way. We lack faith in God. Not just not believing He exists, but we don't trust Him. So Paul says, “everything apart from faith is sin,” and Hebrews writes, “without faith it is impossible to please God.” So before we are born of God through the Word of faith, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, we are not wise for we do not come to God for help expecting help from Him. The wise person turns to God for help regularly, for everything. He recognizes his dependence on God. We can only do this through faith in Jesus Christ. But before we had faith in Jesus we had all turned away and became corrupt. As it is written in Genesis 8:21, “man's thoughts are evil from his youth.” 4Don't these who do wrong know, don't these who devour my people know that if anyone eats the bread God gives 5without calling on Him, panic will overtake them? Certainly there will be panic when God scatters the bones of those who besiege you. They will be put to shame because God will reject them. 6If only Someone would come from Zion to save Israel! When God restores His people, Jacob will be delighted and Israel will be glad. As we eat our daily bread, do we give thanks to God for it? If not, David says panic will overtake us. Giving thanks shows the state of our heart. It shows we recognize our Creator for the gift of all good things. Those who don't recognize this indeed are panic-stricken when their Maker calls on them to give an account of their lives. They will be put to shame and be rejected by God on the Last Day. Jesus Christ is the someone who comes from Zion to save Israel. Not only Israel, but all the peoples of the world He came to save by His death on the cross. Those who believe and trust Jesus' work for them He joins to His people Israel. Now on the day of the revelation of our salvation, we will be delighted and we will be glad for we trusted in God. We trusted in His Son, Jesus Christ. Panic will not overcome us on that day because Jesus' righteousness covers all our sins and wrongdoing. His blood washed away our guilt and shame. We will stand holy, righteous, blameless and without fault on that day. Heavenly Father, grant that through the Word of Faith, we may trust Your Son, Jesus Christ, so all our corruption will be put away on the day of His revelation. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 259

John 1:4

CULTURE & TRADITION 25: WHOM SHALL WE SEND 6?

1Pe 1:18 Forasmuch as ye know that YE WERE NOT REDEEMED WITH CORRUPTIBLE THINGS, as silver and gold, FROM YOUR VAIN CONVERSATION RECEIVED BY TRADITION FROM YOUR FATHERS; KJV

Please follow the points carefully and with your eyes fully on scriptures as we dig further: Elijah is a “mouthful” beloved, and we all should patiently take good time to read him and learn plenty lessons.

We should ask: when Elijah “closed the heavens,” did he have to pray with his head between knees?

1Ki 17:1 A prophet named Elijah, from Tishbe in Gilead, said to King Ahab, "IN THE NAME OF THE LORD, THE LIVING GOD OF ISRAEL, WHOM I SERVE, I TELL YOU THAT THERE WILL BE NO DEW OR RAIN FOR THE NEXT TWO OR THREE YEARS UNTIL I SAY SO." GNB

All he did was make DECREE, and he categorically said that the rains will again return by another decree.

So why [for crying out loud] did he have to spend that much energy to bring back the rain?

We must recall that the rains was not his “making” but God’s, and what was God’s instruction please?

1Ki 18:1 Sometime later, in the third year of the famine, THE LORD’S MESSAGE CAME TO ELIJAH, “GO, MAKE AN APPEARANCE BEFORE AHAB, SO I MAY SEND RAIN ON THE SURFACE OF THE GROUND.” NET

God simply said: “Go and confront Ahab and Israel over their sins and I will send the rains after that.”

These are the problems we have in Church today: men of God put their heads between their knees to pray for benefits and bountiful blessings for the people but overlook the salient issues of their souls.

Mat 6:31-33 “SO THEN, FORSAKE YOUR WORRIES! Why would you say, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘WHAT WILL WE DRINK?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For That Is What The Unbelievers Chase After. Doesn’t your heavenly Father already know the things your bodies require? “SO ABOVE ALL, CONSTANTLY CHASE AFTER THE REALM OF GOD’S KINGDOM AND THE RIGHTEOUSNESS THAT PROCEEDS FROM HIM. THEN ALL THESE LESS IMPORTANT THINGS WILL BE GIVEN TO YOU ABUNDANTLY. TPT

Beloved, this is the DIVINE EQUATION the church is “mixing up” that is making us sweat profusely before we get so little of vanity: go for heaven and Righteousness first, and you don’t have to go for the vain things you need; it would come automatically.

Many of us don’t agree, so we suffer grievously.

Mat 6:25-26 I tell you not to worry about your life. Don't worry about having something to eat, drink, or wear. ISN'T LIFE MORE THAN FOOD OR CLOTHING? Look at the birds in the sky! They don't plant or harvest. They don't even store grain in barns. Yet your Father in heaven takes care of them. AREN'T YOU WORTH MORE THAN BIRDS? CEV

The Church is expending stupendous energies in pursuit of “goodies” of life, at the expense of the character that sustains the life itself.

We have concluded that life is all about merriment and pleasure.

Ecc 8:15-16 SO I DECIDED IT WAS MORE IMPORTANT TO ENJOY LIFE BECAUSE THE BEST THING PEOPLE CAN DO IN THIS LIFE IS TO EAT, DRINK, AND ENJOY LIFE. At least that will help people enjoy the hard work God gave them to do during their life on earth. I carefully studied the things people do in this life. I SAW HOW BUSY PEOPLE ARE. THEY WORK DAY AND NIGHT, AND THEY ALMOST NEVER SLEEP. ERV

Some may quote this scripture as excuse for such decision, but this is what happens when you don’t understand the Word.

Solomon was talking here from a viewpoint of someone who may have given up on taking life seriously, based on a concept that it seemed useless to be righteous.

Read Vs 14 pls. take note that Solomon said in vs 15 – according to this version – that “…he decided…”, not “God said”.

Ecc 8:14 HERE IS ANOTHER ENIGMA THAT OCCURS ON EARTH: Sometimes there are righteous people who get what the wicked deserve, and SOMETIMES THERE ARE WICKED PEOPLE WHO GET WHAT THE RIGHTEOUS DESERVE. I said, “This also is an enigma.” NET

Paul quoted Isaiah when he said something close to Eccl 8:15, being a vague concept of humanity.

1Co 15:32-33 IF FROM A HUMAN POINT OF VIEW I fought with wild beasts at Ephesus, what did it benefit me? If the dead are not raised, LET US EAT AND DRINK, FOR TOMORROW WE DIE. DO NOT BE DECEIVED: “BAD COMPANY CORRUPTS GOOD MORALS.” NET

If you think life is about just living to enjoy, you’ve been misguided and thinking as a lost human soul.

1Co 15:19 If our hope in Christ is only for this life here on earth, THEN PEOPLE SHOULD FEEL MORE SORRY FOR US THAN FOR ANYONE ELSE. ERV

So when people receive conviction and you think it is the Rain that is most important, you’re myopic.

They get the goodies, you see, but SIN “drains” it all and sends them all back to sq. 1.

They come back and repent only because they lost all and want more, and so you have the “vicious cycle” of vanity.

1Ki 19:14 He answered, " LORD God Almighty, I HAVE ALWAYS SERVED YOU—YOU ALONE. BUT THE PEOPLE OF ISRAEL HAVE BROKEN THEIR COVENANT WITH YOU, TORN DOWN YOUR ALTARS, AND KILLED ALL YOUR PROPHETS. I am the only one left—and they are trying to kill me." GNB

Let’s not dwell on the “lie”: blaming Israel for Jezebel’s misdeeds. Let’s just say that he meant that Jezebel worked with people in killing those prophets.

Did God not know what he was really afraid of?

The main point here is that all 3yrs of drought and the Mount Carmel fire was now evidently wasted.

Elijah was frustrated because he thought he had done his best. Well, this is what he should have done:

Mat 3:12 He comes with a winnowing fork in his hands and COMES TO HIS THRESHING FLOOR TO SIFT WHAT IS WORTHLESS FROM WHAT IS PURE. And he is ready to sweep out his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his granary, but the straw he will burn up with a fire that can’t be extinguished!” TPT

We will look further into the SIFTING when we get back next week, as I pray seriously for us all, that our lives will not harbor anything that God will condemn in His coming, in Jesus name, Amen.

Come back on Monday for more digging into this intriguing subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, October 7, 2022

08055125517; 08023904307

[jae-daddy]

Duff (11)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, mature, smut  plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: it’s been a while, my bad. but the next chapter is going to spicyyyyyyyy. not edited, hope yall enjoy it <3 stay safe out there <3

Your jaw dropped as the driver drove through the gates and up the long driveway to Park Jinyoung’s mansion. You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was this rich. But even more than the vast wealth the Parks had, you were more taken by the decorations that started from the gate all the way up to the main entrance. 

You turned towards Jaebum who was watching you already. You felt the golden glow of the lights outside flow into the unlit car, and somehow you could see something glint in his dark eyes. 

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it Mr Kim?” you looked out the window again, to see the sparkling lights making a rendition of Van Gough’s starry night. You smiled to yourself a bit, “It might be a bit cliche and basic, but starry night is my favourite piece of artwork.” 

The driver hummed in reply, saying something about taking a picture for his daughter.

Jaebum didn’t reply, and you didn’t mind. Him and you weren’t exactly on friendly speaking terms, well at least not in your books. 

Since that day in the office, Jaebum had tried to talk to you numerous of times, but you avoided him. You didn’t want to hear his empty apologies or empty excuses or empty flirty, or whatever meaningless, empty words he wanted to say to you because he was feeling bored. 

You didn’t even think he would pick you up today, but when you called up your driver, Jaebum had pulled up in his sleek black car. It was a moment that you seen in movies, where the male lead sees the female lead with her makeover for the first time, and he’s blown away. 

But Im Jaebum wasn’t blown away. He wasn’t even fazed, if anything he found you so unappealing that he couldn’t bear to look at you for more than two seconds without looking away in pain. 

Was he always such an asshole?

He probably was, but back then he was trying to charm you with his sweet words. Maybe, he was a sicko who liked girls who weren’t into him, and as soon as you showed him any interest he vanished into the night. 

The car stopped at the red carpet laid out at the entrance, and you began to check your outfit and lipstick for the last time before reaching for the door. Your hand was reaching for the handle when the door swung open, and a hand reached in for you. 

You placed your hand in theirs, and carefully got out of the car. 

You stepped out to find yourself chest to chest with Jaebum. His fingers gripping onto your fingers as you stared up at him. 

You cleared your throat and began taking a step away from him, when he reached out and pulled your body against his by your waist. Your hands laid flat against his chest, the black material feeling rich on your skin. HIs dark eyes drifted to your lips, before they looked away purposefully. 

You turned around to find the car driving off behind you that you were about to bump into. You looked up at Jaebum, your cheeks tainting pink, “Thanks.” 

“Watch where you’re going,” was all he replied, as he let you go. 

Your heart once again sank at the lack of endearment, but you ignored it and adjusted the dress before you began following Jaebum into the mansion. 

Jaebum was instantly surrounded by people. People lining up around him, trying to play it off as they waited for their turns for introductions. You were right next to Jaebum, introducing him to everyone. 

The first hour was spent just like that, making introductions and standing next to Jaebum and pretending like you were invisible. The other important people only gave you a passing glance before looking away, no one stared for too long. You weren’t worth their time. 

You didn’t mind though. 

You enjoyed the architecture of the building and the artworks hanging around the hall. This must have really been a castle at some point you concluded after an hour of staring at the walls. You wondered which kind of ruler lived here before, but you knew for certain whoever it was wasn’t a good person; no in power ever is. 

Jaebum and you had drifted away about fifteen minutes ago, but you kept an eye out for him. He was currently taking to Paul from work, so you thought he was in safe hands. You took another mini-sausage roll before washing it down with another glass of expensive champagne. 

You didn’t like that taste even though it was exquisite. All it did was remind you of the night Jinyoung engaged to that woman in front of you, after telling you he loved you a few hours ago. 

“I finally found you,” a deep voice spoke behind you. His voice fell over you like velvet, and you struggled to breath. 

You turned around, already annoyed, “What are you doing here, Jinyoung?”

“You’re casual and feisty today,” he chucked, moving to stand next to you. He picked up a mini-sausage and popped it into his mouth, before waving a hand around, “This is my party, incase you’ve forgotten, y/n.” 

You snorted, “How can I forget with this champagne? Tell me, was this your favourite before you chose her or did it happen after?” 

“Woah,” Jinyoung tried to take the glass from you, but you moved it out of his reach, “How many of those have you had?”

“None of your business,” you gave him a straight smile. “None of these people are drinking anything anyway. And I needed a drink, it’s just been so hard lately.” 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, but straightened your spine right away, “I’m not drunk, Jinyoung. I just don’t have the energy to fight or pretend, at least not with you, not tonight.” 

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or not,” Jinyoung clicked his tongue, playfully. “I kind of like it when you fight with me.” 

“God, you’re such a perv, Jinyoung,” you groaned, and he laughed. 

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand and gesturing to the dance floor. “Dance with me?” 

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?” 

“Are you sure you want to dance with me?” You asked him, with a knowing look. “I know this is a party, but I am still just an assistant here. Are you sure your reputation won’t hurt from dancing with someone like me? I’m not made of money like you, Jinyoung.” 

“Beauty and wealth are both welcomed here, y/n,” Jinyoung took your hand in his, “And you have a wealth of beauty, my dear.” 

He brought your hand to his face, his lips brushing over your knuckles. 

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, your heart sinking slightly. “You think I am pretty.”

Your gaze went to Im Jaebum who didn’t spare you a single glance. Your eyes fell on the girl he was talking to, and you couldn’t help but notice how different she was to you. You couldn’t but notice how different Jaebum looked talking to her; kind and well-mannered. 

“I’ve always found you beautiful, y/n,” Jinyoung said, drawing your attention back to him. “That’s why I was drawn to you in the beginning, and when I got to know you... well, I guess that was the end of me.” 

You laughed lightly as you placed your hand on his shoulder, and the other in his hand. His hands rested on the curve of your clothed hip. 

“But today,” he smiled at you, “You looked absolutely gorgeous.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Jinyoung. If you were so taken by me,” you laughed, teasingly, giving him a look. You continued your words turning sour, “You would’ve chosen me.” 

“You know how things were back then, y/n,” Jinyoung sighed, he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. He opened them to stare into yours with so much emotion, you couldn’t breathe. 

“I looked for you, you know,” he spoke over the music. You couldn’t blink or breath as you stared at Jinyoung. His brows creased as if he was rethinking a painful event. “After I decided to end the engagement... after I broke it off, I looked for you. I searched for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

“I- I went back home,” you whispered. You saw yourself laying in a pool of your vomit and urine, and your mother and father crying around your limp body. “I couldn’t stay here. Everyone was talking about you... it was too much.” 

“Y/n,” Jinyoung said, softly. You looked up to meet his gaze. “It’s nice to have you back. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

“Jinyoung-” 

“May I cut in?” 

“Always interrupting us, isn’t he, y/n?” 

You turned to find Jaebum glaring holes into Jinyoung’s head. 

“What if I say no?” Jinyoung pouted, teasingly. Jaebum sighed, his patience running thin. You looked around to see people already turning this way. 

“Stop it,” you gritted through your teeth at the both of the them, your lips holding a smile. “People are starting to look.” 

“I’ll dance with him for a bit,” you smiled at Jinyoung, “Thank you Jinyoung.” 

Jinyoung smiled back at you before giving you a cheeky wink. You chuckled watching him walk away. 

“You both seem closer than last time,” Jaebum said from behind you. You shrugged stepping closer to him placing a hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. You were holding Jinyoung the same way a few moments ago, but somehow this felt different. 

The soft velvet of his jacket, the heat of his skin, the short hair tickling your fingertips at the nape of his neck. It was all somehow more intense, more intimate. 

Jaebum’s warm hands wrapped around yours as he took another step closer towards you. HIs other hand rested on your waist, pulling you in closer as it rested on the small of your back. His thumb caressed the exposed skin from your dress and you drew in a sharp breath. 

You didn’t say anything as you looked up at him. His dark eyes bore into yours, his lips drawn and tight. His jaw clenched and sharp, his black eyelashes gently fluttering across his cheekbones. 

He was beautiful. 

He was a sin in this all black suit made to precision for him. His hair was styled in-between completely swept back and lazy natural. His lips were rosy pink, and even without his lip-ring you wanted to taste them between your lips. 

You leaned closer to him. HIs thumb gently caressing your back, electricity dancing up your spine making your head spin. You welcomed his minty breath falling over your lips, as your eyes fell to his lips. And to his neck, watching as he swallowed nervously. Your gaze fluttered up to meet his eyes fixed on your face. 

You looked away from him feeling your cheeks flush, “Are you having a good time tonight, sir?” 

Jaebum only hummed in reply, his dark eyes still trained on you. 

Your eyes met his intense gaze for a moment before looking away instantly, “It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it is,” Jaebum said. You didn’t say anything more and bit your lip wondering if you should continue to dance with him or excuse yourself. 

You looked up at Jaebum, your hands letting go off him. 

Jaebum’s hand held yours tighter as he pulled you in closer by your waist. Your front was completely pressed against him now, and your body shivered as he leaned his lips close to your ear. 

You felt his warm breath caress the slope of your neck, and you closed your eyes letting the feeling sink deep within your bones. 

Jaebum drew his lips higher, his softness brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Thank you for everything, y/n.” 

You remained like that for a moment. Soaking in his presence, his heat, his touch, his breath, him somewhere deep inside your heart, and then you leaned back. 

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr Im,” you smiled up at him. 

Jaebum stared at you with an unreadable expression as his lips parted. 

“You must be glad you’ll be getting a proper secretary now,” you laughed, but there was no humour between you two. 

“I might not stay.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But if you do, I think it’ll be the biggest win for the company.”

Jaebum might be an asshole, a player; a complete fuckboy. But he was also hardworking, intelligent and gave his all into his work and accomplished a lot within the last three months you were working with him. 

“Loosing you is probably the biggest loss,” he said, pausing for a moment. “For me.” 

“I’m sure there are more qualified then me for this job.” 

“But I only want you, y/n.” 

You breath got caught at his words. Your wide eyes met his that stared at you as if you were the stars and the moon. As if once again you were presented to him as impossible puzzle, and he wanted to get lost in trying to solve you. 

He moved in closer, and lowered your gaze to avoid his heated ones. 

Jaebum lifted his hand from your waist. His fingertips brushed your cheeks with the slightest touch as he whispered, “You look beautiful, y/n.”

“Jaebum, stop it.” You began moving out of his arms, but he pulled you back in. His fingers digging into your waist as he held you steady in front of him. 

“Why?” His fevered breath fell over your face as you looked up at him. His eyes were wild with darkness, but it didn’t scare you. It only made you mad, so terribly horribly mad. 

“Why?” You spat, quietly. Your chest was heaving as you tried to control the anger that had been swelling inside you over the past month. 

“Don’t you think we’re past these little games of yours?” You sneered up at him. Your hand on his shoulder tightened as you tried to control yourself. “We already know I fell for it. Do you wanna see if I’ll fall for it again after being rejected once?” 

Jaebum didn’t say anything so you snorted. The sneer on your dark lips growing as you looked down your nose at him, “I won’t let you lead me on again, only to make a fool of me like that. I’m not going to play this sick game of yours.” 

Jaebum’s fingers bit harder into your waist making you gasp as he pulled you flush against him. HIs nose almost brushed against yours, as he breathed harshly, “A game? You think all of this was a game for me?” 

“What else could it be?” You snickered at him, both your hands flattening on his shoulder, trying to push him away with attracting any attention. But he wouldn’t budge a centimetre. You gritted through your teeth as you glared up at him, “Why else would you pretend to be into me? Play with me like that?”

Play with my feelings like that?

Jaebum’s hands rested on your exposed back as he held you steady against him. His jaw clenched, his eyes furious as he tried to control his breathing. 

“It wasn’t a game for me.” 

You ignored his words. 

“Then what was it?” You bit back. “You made it seem like you felt the same way only to reject me when I-”

“I didn’t reject you,” Jaebum cut you off. 

You began laughing mockingly, and Jaebum shook you slightly to make you look at him.  

You didn’t say anything and looked up at him, your lips parted in surprise. 

“Do you,” Jaebum whispered, leaning in closer to you as he leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes stirring golden as they stared into yours, his fingertips softly dancing on your back, causing fire to dance through your vines. “have any idea how crazy you make me, y/n?” 

Suddenly it was all too much. His touch, the way he was looking at you, the things he was saying. The lights shining down upon you two, the chattering of people around you. It all became to loud too much. Your heart beat loudly in your ear as you took a step away from him. 

Jaebum looked at you, expectantly. You stared him, unable to hear a single bought. The only thing you could hear was your heart beating thumping loudly in your ear. 

Your lips parted, you were going to say something. You weren’t sure what. Jaebum’s gaze fell to your lips, waiting for you to the say the words. You took another step back, not saying a single word. 

The smile on Jaebum’s lips dropped as your brows creased as a sudden panic before settling in your chest. You needed to get away.

“I-” you began. 

“Y/n!” You turned to saw a fury of red first, and then her smiling face as she jumped in front of you. “I didn’t know you were coming here.” 

Heather turned to Jaebum, placing a kiss on his cheek. His eyes remained on you, his face void of any emotions. 

Heather smiled at you, “Go away, JB. I won't let you steal my best friend.” 

// 

You were next to Heather the rest of the night, but your eyes still followed the man in the black suit. His sharp eyes met yours throughout the night, but every time you looked away. 

You were looking at him once again. There was something pleasant about his lips when he talked, and the way those whiskers appeared on his cheeks when he would smile or laugh brightly. You couldn’t look away from him no matter how hard you tried. 

You watched him talk to Park Jinyoung with a frown on his face, that deepened when Jinyoung looked your way and winked. His hard glaze travelled to you, as his lips drew into a straight line. 

You looked away once again, your cheeks on fire. 

“Are you okay?” Heather asked. You looked towards her to find her following your gaze to the pair of males. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded, taking a sip of the champagne.

You watched Heather take a sip too, but you noticed that knowing smile on her lips. 

This was all too dangerous.

[justfanficccc]

Blessed are the meek

Father Paul X reader X ofc

Fluff/talk of mental illness/Catholic guilt

III

Shepard Of The Flock

“be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care, watching over them—not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not pursuing dishonest gain, but eager to serve;”

Dim fluorescent lights tickle your eyelashes as you pick up and examine the only sheets they have available at this small convenience store. They don’t feel comfortable at all, flannel, much too warm for this time of year but they will do. You cannot imagine sleeping on the ones you have now, after what you did this morning they would still be soaked in your sin. Feeling your blood rush to your face in embarrassment you walk to the register and pay without looking up from your shoes. The midday air is cool as you leave the store, it gets much colder at night than in most places since the ocean is so close. You zip up your hoodie and head towards the house. Rushing to get inside you nearly trip but catch yourself on the first step with the palm of your hand. A sting wells up from the flat of your palm, it isn’t too bad of a cut, instinctively you pull it to your mouth and lick the small wound. Pushing yourself up you walk to the door and twist the knob, before you can open it you hear a familiar smooth voice and freeze in your tracks. She didn’t. Did she? You push it open and horror pools in your stomach. “Hey! I hope you don’t mind, I invited Father Hill over for some dinner, I thought I would be “ you cut her off “Cool just let me put this stuff in my room” you walk past into the living room and then to your room without even glancing in their direction. Shutting the door behind you the horror bubbling in your stomach turns to anxiety and guilt. Today has not been the best, lusting over a priest, then a panic attack, and now this. You throw the new sheets on the bed and check your reflection before taking a long slow breath and collecting yourself.

“I thought I scared you away.” He smiles a small gentle smile. You jump a bit at the sound of his warm voice. You pull out the chair and sit down as lady-like as you can. You can’t bring yourself to look up at him, worried his godliness may set you ablaze. Instead, you glare coldly at your sister. “I saw you at mass this morning, I was so pleased to see a new member of the flock.” You almost choke on your drink at the word. “Yes I um, you can thank her for that.” You say as you shoot her a dirty look again.”I noticed you didn’t join us in holy communion today, any particular reason?” His voice is so sweet and pure you want to melt into the ground and slither away from this whole situation. Your eyes dart up and finally meet his rich honey-brown irises reflecting the light from the window and as soon as you do you frantically look away focusing on pushing the food around your plate with your fork. “She’s been away from the church for a few years father, she was probably just trying to be respectful.” Your sister answers for you. Scoffing and with raised brows, you nod. He hasn’t taken his dark eyes off of you since he asked the question. “Well, that is something we can work on.” You look up to be polite and nod again… Lustful thoughts, masturbation, and now lying to a priest. You would be going to hell if it was real. “So enough about the church, what about you, any interests or hobbies?” He says as he takes a bite,

“I um I write.”

“What kind of writing?’ He asks without hesitation

“I write short stories and some poetry mostly.”

“You know I always have been envious of people who are skilled with words. I have to rack my brain to write my homilies, the word of god is easier to read than to preach.” You look up at him in confusion, was this an invitation? Was he asking for your help or are you just being much too optimistic? No, he is just being kind.

A buzz comes from his pocket and his long slender fingers fumble around to grab the small old flip phone in his jeans. God those hands, you can see them so easily wrapped around your neck his nose nuzzled into your hair as he- “Oh please excuse me.” You breathe deeply as you are once again pulled back to reality. He rushes out of the room to take the call. After a moment your sister leans closer to the table “He's nice right?” She whispers to you enthusiastically. You smile a bit, a genuine one. “Yes, he seems very kind.” She shifts a little in her chair her face twisting now a bit concerned “So please don’t kill me, I know you are adamantly against organized religion in all aspects but..” You stare at her holding up a finger telling her to wait and put the glass of wine to your lips taking a big gulp before letting her finish. “I may or may not have told Father you’d help with the fundraiser this week.” She says quickly and grins slightly apologetically, before you can answer Father Paul comes back into the room. He sits down swiftly apologizing for the interruption. “Unlike most work mine doesn’t allow me to clock out,” he says chuckling. “Id loves to stay and finish but I have some priestly duties that need to be addressed.” You can almost feel a sense of yearning in yourself as he stands back up to leave. “Well thank you for the meal it was wonderful” he points to your sister “I will see you in church on Sunday,” He says enthusiastically, then looks to you again almost hopeful “and you, how about the rec center tomorrow around noon?” You bob your head yes trying not to look too excited. Picking up the Bible he had sat on the table he brushes your shoulder with his fingers sending a shock of heat up to your head. He heads towards the door he gives one last look at you and waves goodbye. You hope he didn’t see the red burning from your cheeks.



[antihumanism]

When I type everything out as a single run-on sentence I want you to imagine me cornering you off-guard in a crowded room, my empty brown cow eyes staring straight at you and reflecting you--nopony home here, she checked out and hopped away forever ago on the toxic chemical trains and clacking cattle cars years ago--and just, for no reason, I’m here and you’re there pocketed in the corner of a crowded room, and I’m channeling my alternate history past-self who was a preacher that got kicked out of the church for delivering sermons about the impossibility of sin and just ran off to Point Sur with my harem of distractions since I could never stop blessing my congregation saying “Go forth and know that you cannot sin, in the beautiful eyes of God and in my beautiful eyes there can be no wrong or evil” which backfired on me when they started setting fires and it all went to Hell, but I’ve won out over them because the world honored my wishes when I sighed “I should like to start again,” and so I’m here with you and you’re hear with me and I’m saying some insane shit like: “Looking back on Emily’s early works it is easy to see where her later reactionary turn comes from, because, from the start, Alfred Alfer was a story about the fear of castration, I mean, the first video was literally about Alfred getting neutered and escaping into a violent fantasy where he is loved and praised for his violence and the ‘punchline’ establishes the general theme of ‘reality by despair,’ which is to say that Alfred’s clearly dissociative episode is ‘verified’ by his destruction and it is this self-destruction that establishes ‘reality,’ like ‘pinch me i might be dreaming,’ but the pinch is violent and unfair self-destruction as hope is still ripped away, but hope remains, because it is a hope to die rather than be changed by the world, and this theme remains throughout her most famous work (the Alfred’s Playhouse trilogy which cements in canon the jokes of her previous Rise of Alfred cartoon) where Alfred is possessed by the spirits of Stalin and Hitler--a false equivalency made by the authoritarians that have passed for liberals for years--in Rise of Alfred, one would be remiss not to mention the phallic imagery in both the title and the video itself, Alfred is cut loose upon the world by the absence of a Near God or little other by the orders of a Distant God or big Other (in this video played by a droning and irrelevant corporate figure that can offer nothing more than a wall without lead paint that one can lick), and this is the essence of reactionary thought, the idea of a big Other who is totally incompetent yet all powerful and somehow worth respecting and suffering for (King Henry II saying ‘will no one rid me of this troublesome priest’ or the departed Daiymo of the 47 Ronin), the reactionary sees the big Other as a master who can only set the dogs off the chain, the police chief who needs to get out of the way so McBain or Dirty Harry or Paul Kersey (especially in Death Wish III) can do what needs to be done and purge away all the filth and make the world right again (no different than Rambo--even the first movie, which for all of it’s goods part still is  reactionary propaganda bullshit pushing the fascist lies about a ‘fifth column’ that was rude to poor little meow meow war criminals--or modern day fantasies about nuking all of MENA until it glows green (fantasies delivered to raucous applause at Republican presidential conventions); the reactionary is perpetually trapped in this fantasy of destroying the world and escaping into the void of space, freed of the ground where the riff-raff are so they don’t have to negotiate life with their neighbors, and this is true, yes, even of people who spout bullshit about Fully Automated Luxury Communism who only want the right to consume as much as possible free of guilt--a condition they think is inflicting upon them by the big Other--as the Champagne of Shame Socialists of the 60s), and the righting of the world for the reactionary is just that, that the world must be Righted and the reactionary must be loved for all of their violence and because of their violence, for the reactionary finds themselves ever needing new excuses as they open new fronts in their fake, phony Culture War, and that is all they need (excuses), which is why Emily is so obsessed with justifying her edgy shit based on some Trauma (which is handy excuse to do Anything, even Things that Cannot Be Excused like war or self-harm or wanting to be seen), and so here you should already be able to hear so much madness, so many plaintive cries, all aligning around the same point (the trannies in the ‘wrong’ bathroom, the refugees in the ‘wrong’ country, the people in the ‘wrong’ neighborhood, the Jewish Question, etc), and, anyway, so in Rise of Alfred, Emily’s OC directly addresses the audience and tells them that they must love him/her--the castrated bitch desperate to be let off the leash--and in Alfred’s Playhouse she/he simultaneously affirms and denies the nature of a trauma that justifies everything (one is constantly reminded of The Act of Killing where one of the mass murderers imagines how, depending on the editing of the final film, he could be either a woobie or a war criminal) as the Trauma is simultaneously a joke--’sodomized with a popsicle!’--and the alleged real event that motivates her self-mutilation as we’re expected to believe Emily is processing something, but what is she is processing, hmmmm, isn’t that the true spice,” I rail and rave against your poor ear drums as my empty, dead cow’s eyes capture your entire body and reflect it back at you and the ice cubes in my drink pop and shatter and dissolve and as my fist clenches tighter and tighter around the glass containing them and I continue: she’s processing a fear of castration, which is shown clearly in Alfred’s Playhouse where Alfred’s “sodomy” is demonstrated by the sight of his crotch covered in blood (a scene that will be repeated in The Alfred Alfer Movie) but “what is castration,” one might ask, and one can respond “it is the removal of power by the Father,” and this is how we wrap back around to our root in the nature of Emily the Reactionary who believes herself to be deprived of the power she holds by The Bolshevik Jew that has inserted itself between her and the Father and this is the cause of the big Other’s ineffectiveness, and this is also the core of the reactionary as a whole, the reactionary doesn’t want a daddy to control them, but a Master to set them off the chain because they hate the Father who has castrated them, this is the nature of the mumbling corporate manager in Rise of Alfred, but it is also the nature of Alfred herself--and now you may ask if Emily is trans and the answer is I literally couldn’t fucking care less about any question left forever unanswered on God’s Green Earth and you shouldn’t care either--but Alfred the Castrated is also the Father/Mother of Alfred the Dictator, the murderous inner-self that is immune to consequences of the onrushing future (The Alfred Alfer Movie) but not immune to the justifications of the imagined past (Alfred’s Playhouse trilogy), and therefore free to inflict whatever violence that Emily the Reactionary desires, and it is in pursuit of this freedom that the reactionaries set off in the name of New Sincerity (two things to be noted here: (1) the Death of Irony was proclaimed at the birth of the 21st century police state and the new Forever War with all of its genocidal objectives, that is to say, 9/11, and (2) the broken necked coward who complained of American Psycho that it’s author provided no easy outs for easy survival was the one who offed himself while Bateman’s father still lives) and the Talking Cure (i miss who we used to be), and at this you should see me slugging back the whole lukewarm glass in between two syllables and continuing on without pause (as if this dog still has legs on which to receive them in any case), “Emily, like Alex Jones, is so desperate for an excuse because neither of them can accept that they have to be the one that pulls the trigger, like all liars they don’t understand that they have to define reality by action, the answer to what one might do is found in the difference between the types of irony, one type is constantly desperate for excuses (such as the broken necked coward found one day) for violence, and the other irony, the true spice, is the irony that releases from excuses into violence and energy, one must seek not to know or endure but to inflict, knowing that this inflicting was always inevitable, no searching for justifications, instead the answer is to realize that there was never a chain there connecting you to the Master or the present to the past, and the Father/Mother never had the power of castration (the past, after all, is a foreign country bombed and blasted to ruins already and better forgotten), and you can just be fucked up and terrible and do whatever amuses you right now without needing an excuse, and to the extent that anyone should, one should, because that is what fascism needs, fascism needs the need for an excuse and that is the irony of fascism--where the falling angel (the superego) meets the rising ape (the id) in an ego of ultimate violence which seeks only release from both of its creations in an instinctually and totally misunderstood caricature of dialectics--which opposes its opposite irony (the irony without fascism which is the id’s violence against purpose and reason rising free of anything else to obstruct it), and if you let go of that, if you just, ya know, if you just, you just have to cut loose and go and no one can stop you until it is too late, because there’s no Jew sitting over your shoulder to justify everything in terms of opposition or support, not even The Nazarene is real, but do you understand that you’ve always been free to just go? You’re free to go. You’ve been free to go all this time. You never needed permission for this or anything else. You’ve been free to go all this time. You’re free to go. A whole day off. Just mind the mo(u)rning and get on with it.”

[justforbooks]

The many lives of John le Carré, in his own words.

An exclusive extract from his new memoir, The Pigeon Tunnel.

How I write

If you’re ever lucky enough to score an early success as a writer, as happened to me with The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, for the rest of your life there’s a before-the-fall and an after-the-fall. You look back at the books you wrote before the searchlight picked you out and they read like the books of your innocence; and the books after it, in your low moments, like the strivings of a man on trial. ‘Trying too hard’ the critics cry. I never thought I was trying too hard. I reckoned I owed it to my success to get the best out of myself, and by and large, however good or bad the best was, that was what I did.

And I love writing. I love doing what I’m doing at this moment, scribbling away like a man in hiding at a poky desk on a black clouded early morning in May, with the mountain rain scuttling down the window and no excuse for tramping down to the railway station under an umbrella because the International New York Times doesn’t arrive until lunchtime.

I love writing on the hoof, in notebooks on walks, in trains and cafés, then scurrying home to pick over my booty. When I am in Hampstead there is a bench I favour on the Heath, tucked under a spreading tree and set apart from its companions, and that’s where I like to scribble. I have only ever written by hand. Arrogantly perhaps, I prefer to remain with the centuries-old tradition of unmechanized writing. The lapsed graphic artist in me actually enjoys drawing the words.

I love best the privacy of writing. On research trips, I am partially protected by having a different name in real life. I can sign into hotels without anxiously wondering whether my name will be recognised, then, when it isn’t, anxiously wondering why not. When I’m obliged to come clean with the people whose experience I want to tap, results vary. One person refuses to trust me another inch, the next promotes me to chief of the secret service and, over my protestations that I was only ever the lowest form of secret life, replies that I would say that, wouldn’t I? There are many things I am disinclined to write about ever, just as there are in anyone’s life. I have been neither a model husband nor a model father, and am not interested in appearing that way. Love came to me late, after many missteps. I owe my ethical education to my four sons. Of my work for British intelligence, performed mostly in Germany, I wish to add nothing to what is already reported by others, inaccurately, elsewhere. In this I am bound by vestiges of old-fashioned loyalty to my former services, but also by undertakings I gave to the men and women who agreed to collaborate with me. It was understood between us that the promise of confidentiality would be subject to no time limit, but extend to their children and beyond. The work we engaged in was neither perilous nor dramatic, but it involved painful soul-searching on the part of those who signed up to it. Whether today these people are alive or dead, the promise of confidentiality holds.

Spying was forced on me from birth much in the way, I suppose, that the sea was forced on CS Forester or India on Paul Scott. Out of the secret world I once knew, I have tried to make a theatre for the larger worlds we inhabit. First comes the imagining, then the search for the reality. Then back to the imagining, and to the desk where I’m sitting now.

My Father: conman and inspiration

It took me a long while to get on writing terms with Ronnie, conman, fantasist, occasional jailbird, and my father. From the day I made my first faltering attempts at a novel, he was the one I wanted to get to grips with, but I was light years away from being up to the job. My earliest drafts of what eventually became A Perfect Spy dripped with self-pity: cast your eye, gentle reader, upon this emotionally crippled boy, crushed underfoot by his tyrannical father. It was only when he was safely dead and I took up the novel again that I did what I should have done at the beginning, and made the sins of the son a whole lot more reprehensible than the sins of the father.

With that settled, I was able to honour the legacy of his tempestuous life: a cast of characters to make the most blasé writer’s mouth water, from eminent legal brains of the day and stars of sport and screen to the finest of London’s criminal underworld and the beautiful creatures who trailed in their wake. Wherever Ronnie went, the unpredictable went with him. Are we up or down? Can we fill up the car on tick at the local garage? Has he fled the country or will he be proudly parking the Bentley in the drive tonight? Or is he enjoying the safety and comfort of one of his alternative wives?

Of Ronnie’s dealings with organised crime, if any, I know lamentably little. Yes, he rubbed shoulders with the notorious Kray twins, but that may just have been celebrity-hunting. And yes, he did business of a sort with London’s worst-ever landlord, Peter Rachman, and my best guess would be that when Rachman’s thugs had got rid of Ronnie’s tenants for him, he sold off the houses and gave Rachman a piece. But a full‑on criminal partnership? Not the Ronnie I knew. Conmen are aesthetes. They wear nice suits, have clean fingernails and are well spoken at all times. Policemen in Ronnie’s book were first-rate fellows who were open to negotiation. The same could not be said of “the boys”, as he called them, and you messed with the boys at your peril.

Ronnie’s entire life was spent walking on the thinnest, slipperiest layer of ice you can imagine. He saw no paradox between being on the wanted list for fraud and sporting a grey topper in the owners’ enclosure at Ascot. A reception at Claridge’s to celebrate his second marriage was interrupted while he persuaded two Scotland Yard detectives to put off arresting him until the party was over – and, meanwhile, come in and join the fun, which they duly did.  But I don’t think Ronnie could have lived any other way. I don’t think he wanted to. He was a crisis addict, a performance addict, a shameless pulpit orator and a scene-grabber. He was a delusional enchanter and a persuader who saw himself as God’s golden boy, and he wrecked a lot of people’s lives.

Graham Greene tells us that childhood is the credit balance of the writer. By that measure at least, I was born a millionaire.

Sixty-something years back, I asked my mother, Olive, how prison changed Ronnie. Olive was a tap you couldn’t turn off. From the moment of our reunion at Ipswich railway station, she talked about Ronnie nonstop. She talked about his sexuality long before I had sorted out mine, and for ease of reference gave me a tattered hardback copy of Krafft-Ebing’s Psychopathia Sexualis as a map to guide me through her husband’s appetites before and after jail.

“Changed, dear? In prison? Not a bit of it! You were totally unchanged. You’d lost weight, of course – well, you would. Prison food isn’t meant to be nice.” And then the image that will never leave me, not least because she seemed unaware of what she was saying: “And you did have this silly habit of stopping in front of doors and waiting at attention with your head down till I opened them for you. They were perfectly ordinary doors, not locked or anything, but you obviously weren’t expecting to be able to open them for yourself.” Why did Olive refer to Ronnie as you? You meaning he, but subconsciously recruiting me to be his surrogate, which by the time of her death was what I had become.

There is an audiotape that Olive made for my brother Tony, all about her life with Ronnie. I still can’t bear to play it, so all I’ve ever heard is scraps. On the tape she describes how Ronnie used to beat her up, which, according to Olive, was what prompted her to bolt. Ronnie’s violence was not news to me, because he had made a habit of beating up his second wife as well: so often and so purposefully and coming home at such odd hours of the night to do it that, seized by a chivalrous impulse, I appointed myself her ridiculous protector, sleeping on a mattress in front of her bedroom door and clutching a golf iron so that Ronnie would have to reckon with me before he got at her.

Ronnie beat me up, too, but only a few times and not with much conviction. It was the shaping up that was the scary part: the lowering and readying of the shoulders, the resetting of the jaw. And when I was grown up, Ronnie tried to sue me, which I suppose is violence in disguise. He had watched a television documentary of my life and decided there was an implicit slander in my failure to mention that I owed everything to him.

For the last third of Ronnie’s life – he died suddenly at the age of 69 – we were estranged or at loggerheads. Almost by mutual consent, there were terrible obligatory scenes, and when we buried the hatchet, we always remembered where we’d put it. Do I feel more kindly towards him today than I did then? Sometimes I walk round him, sometimes he’s the mountain I still have to climb. Either way, he’s always there, which I can’t say for my mother, because to this day I have no idea what sort of person she was. I ran her to earth when I was 21, and thereafter broadly attended to her needs, not always with good grace. But from the day of our reunion until she died, the frozen child in me showed not the smallest sign of thawing out. Did she love animals? Landscape? The sea that she lived beside? Music? Painting? Me? Did she read books? Certainly she had no high opinion of mine, but what about other people’s?

In the nursing home where she stayed during her last years, we spent much of our time deploring or laughing at my father’s misdeeds. As my visits continued, I came to realise that she had created for herself – and for me – an idyllic mother–son relationship that had flowed uninterrupted from my birth till now.

Today, I don’t remember feeling any affection in childhood except for my elder brother, who for a time was my only parent. I remember a constant tension in myself that even in great age has not relaxed. I remember little of being very young. I remember the dissembling as we grew up, and the need to cobble together an identity for myself and how, in order to do this, I filched from the manners and lifestyle of my peers and betters, even to the extent of pretending I had a settled home life with real parents and ponies. Listening to myself today, watching myself when I have to, I can still detect traces of the lost originals, chief among them obviously my father.

All this no doubt made me an ideal recruit to the secret flag. But nothing lasted: not the Eton schoolmaster, not the MI5 man, not the MI6 man. Only the writer in me stuck the course. If I look over my life from here, I see it as a succession of engagements and escapes, and I thank goodness that the writing kept me relatively straight and largely sane. My father’s refusal to accept the simplest truth about himself set me on a path of enquiry from which I never returned. In the absence of a mother or sisters, I learned women late, if ever, and we all paid a price for that.

A trip to Panama

In 1885, France’s gargantuan efforts to build a sea-level canal across the Darien ended in disaster. Small and large investors of every stamp were ruined. In consequence there arose across the country the pained cry of “Quel Panama!” Whether the expression has endured in the French language is doubtful, but it speaks well for my own association with that beautiful country, which began in 1947 when my father, Ronnie, dispatched me to Paris to collect £500 from the Panamanian ambassador to France, one Count Mario da Bernaschina, who occupied a sweet house in one of those elegant side roads off the Elysées that smell permanently of women’s scent.

It was evening when I arrived by appointment on the ambassadorial doorstep wearing my grey school suit, my hair brushed and parted. I was 16 years old. The ambassador, my father had advised me, was a first-class fellow and would be happy to settle a longstanding debt of honour. I wanted very much to believe him.

The front door to the elegant house was opened by the most desirable woman I had ever seen. I must have been standing one step beneath her, because in my memory she is smiling down on me like my angel redeemer. She was bare-shouldered, black-haired and wore a flimsy dress in layer after layer of chiffon that failed to disguise her shape. When you are 16, desirable women come in all ages. From today’s vantage point, I would put her at a blossoming thirtysomething.

“You are Ronnie’s son?” she asked incredulously. She stood back to let me brush past her. Laying a hand on each of my shoulders, she scrutinised me playfully from head to toe under the hall light and seemed to find everything to her satisfaction.

“And you have come to see Mario?” she said.

If that’s all right, I said.

Her hands remained on my shoulders while her eyes of many colours continued to study me. “And you are still a boy,” she remarked, as a kind of memo to herself.

The count stood in his drawing room with his back to the fireplace, like every ambassador in every movie of the time: corpulent, in a velvet jacket, hands behind him and that perfect head of greying hair they all had – marcelled, we used to call it – and the curved handshake, man to man, although I’m still a boy. The countess – for so I have cast her – doesn’t ask me whether I drink alcohol, let alone whether I like daiquiri. My answer to both questions would anyway have been a truthless “yes”. She hands me a frosted glass with a speared cherry in it, and we all sit down in soft chairs and do a bit of ambassadorial small talk. Am I enjoying the city? Do I have many friends in Paris? A girlfriend, perhaps? Mischievous wink. To which I no doubt give compelling and mendacious answers that make no mention of golf clubs or concierges, until a pause in the conversation tells me it’s time for me to broach the purpose of my visit which, as experience has already taught me, is best done from the side rather than head on.

“And my father mentioned that you and he had a small matter of business to complete, sir,” I suggest, hearing myself from a distance on account of the daiquiri.

I should here explain the nature of that small matter of business which, unlike so many of Ronnie’s deals, was simplicity itself. As a diplomat and a top ambassador, son – I am echoing the enthusiasm with which Ronnie had briefed me for my mission – the count was immune from such tedious irritations as taxation and import duty. The count could import what he wished, he could export what he wished. If someone, for instance, chose to send the count a cask of unmatured, unbranded Scotch whisky at a couple of pence a pint under diplomatic immunity, and the count were to bottle that whisky and ship it to Panama, or wherever else he chose to ship it under diplomatic immunity, that was nobody’s business but his.

Equally, if the count chose to export the said unmatured, unbranded whisky in bottles of a certain design – akin, let us imagine, to Dimple Haig, a popular brand of the day – that, too, was his good right, as was the choice of label and the description of the bottle’s contents. All that need concern me was that the count should pay up – cash, son, no monkey business. Thus provided, I should treat myself to a nice mixed grill at Ronnie’s expense, keep the receipt, catch the first ferry next morning and come straight to his grand offices in the West End of London with the balance.

“A matter of business, David?” the count repeated in the tone of my school housemaster. “What business can that be?”

“The £500 you owe him, sir.”

I remember his puzzled smile, so forbearing. I remember the richly draped sofas and silky cushions, old mirrors and gold glint, and my countess with her long legs crossed inside the layers of chiffon. The count continued to survey me with a mixture of puzzlement and concern. So did my countess. Then they surveyed each other as if to compare notes about what they’d surveyed.

“Well, that’s a pity, David. Because when I heard you were coming to see me, I rather hoped you might be bringing me a portion of the large sum of money I have invested in your dear father’s enterprises.”

I still don’t know how I responded to this startling reply, or whether I was as startled as I should have been. I remember briefly losing my sense of time and place, and I suppose this was partly induced by the daiquiri, and partly by the recognition that I had nothing to say and no right to be sitting in their drawing room, and that the best thing I could do was make my excuses and get out. Then I realised that I was alone in the room. After a while, my host and hostess returned.

The count’s smile was genial and relaxed. The countess looked particularly pleased. “So, David,” said the count, as if all were forgiven. “Why don’t we go and have dinner and talk about something more pleasant?”

They had a favourite Russian restaurant 50 yards from the house. In my memory, it is a tiny place and we are the only three people in it, save for a man in a baggy white shirt who plucked at a balalaika. Over dinner, while the count talked about something more pleasant, the countess kicked off a shoe and caressed my leg with her stockinged toe. On the tiny dance floor she sang Dark Eyes to me, holding the length of me against her and nibbling my earlobe while she flirted with the balalaika man and the count looked indulgently on. On our return to the table, the count decided that we were ready for bed. The countess, by a squeeze of my hand, seconded the motion.

My memory has spared me the excuses I made, but somehow I made them. Somehow I found myself a bench in a park, and somehow I contrived to remain the boy she had declared me to be. Decades later, finding myself alone in Paris, I tried to seek out the very street, the house, the restaurant. But by then no reality would have done them justice.

Now I am not pretending that it was the magnetic force of the count and countess that half a century later drew me to Panama for the space of two novels and one movie; merely that the recollection of that sensuous, unfulfilled night remained lodged in my memory, if only as one of the near-misses of interminable adolescence. Within days of my arrival in Panama City, I was enquiring after the name. Bernaschina? Nobody had heard of the fellow. A count? From Panama? It seemed most improbable. Maybe I had dreamed the whole thing? I hadn’t.

I had come to Panama to research a novel. Unusually, it already had a title: The Night Manager. I was looking for the sort of crooks, smooth talkers and dirty deals that would brighten the life of an amoral English arms seller named Richard Onslow Roper. Roper would be a high-flyer where my father, Ronnie, had been a low one who frequently crashed. Ronnie had tried selling arms in Indonesia and gone to jail for it. Roper was too big to fail, until he met his destiny in the shape of a former special forces soldier turned hotel night manager named Jonathan Pine.

Working with Sir Alec Guinness

“We are definitely not as our host here describes us,” says Sir Maurice Oldfield severely to Sir Alec Guinness over lunch. Oldfield is a former chief of the secret service who was later hung out to dry by Margaret Thatcher, but at the time of our meeting, he is just another old spy in retirement. “I’ve always wanted to meet Sir Alec,” he told me in his homey, north country voice when I invited him. “Ever since I sat opposite him on the train going up from Winchester. I’d have got into conversation with him if I’d had the nerve.”

Guinness is about to play my secret agent George Smiley in the BBC’s television adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and wishes to savour the company of a real old spy. But the lunch does not proceed as smoothly as I had hoped. Over the hors d’oeuvres, Oldfield extols the ethical standards of his old service and implies, in the nicest way, that “young David here” has besmirched its good name.

Guinness, a former naval officer, who from the moment of meeting Oldfield has appointed himself to the upper echelons of the secret service, can only shake his head sagely and agree. Over the Dover sole, Oldfield takes his thesis a step further: “It’s young David and his like,” he declares across the table to Guinness while ignoring me sitting beside him, “that make it that much harder for the service to recruit decent officers and sources. They read his books and they’re put off. It’s only natural.” To which Guinness lowers his eyelids and shakes his head in a deploring sort of way, while I pay the bill.

“You should join the Athenaeum, David,” Oldfield says kindly, implying that the Athenaeum will somehow make a better person of me. “I’ll sponsor you myself. There. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” And to Guinness, as the three of us stand on the threshold of the restaurant: “A pleasure indeed, Alec. An honour, I must say. We shall be in touch very shortly, I’m sure.”

“We shall indeed,” Guinness replies devoutly, as the two old spies shake hands.

Unable apparently to get enough of our departing guest, Guinness gazes fondly after him as he pounds off down the pavement: a small, vigorous gentleman of purpose, striding along with his umbrella thrust ahead of him as he disappears into the crowd. “How about another cognac for the road?” Guinness suggests, and we have hardly resumed our places before the interrogation begins: “Those very vulgar cufflinks. Do all our spies wear them?” No, Alec, I think Maurice just likes vulgar cufflinks.

“And those loud orange suede boots with crepe soles. Are they for stealth?” I think they’re just for comfort actually, Alec. Crepe squeaks. “Then tell me this.” He has grabbed an empty tumbler. Tipping it to an angle, he flicks at it with his thick fingertip. “I’ve seen people do this before” – making a show of peering meditatively into the tumbler while he continues to flick it – “and I’ve seen people do this” – now rotating the finger round the rim in the same contemplative vein.

“But I’ve never seen people do this before” – inserting his finger into the tumbler and passing it round the inside. “Do you think he’s looking for dregs of poison?”

Is he being serious? The child in Guinness has never been more serious in its life. Well, I suppose if it was dregs he was looking for, he’d have drunk the poison by then, I suggest. But he prefers to ignore me.

It is a matter of entertainment history that Oldfield’s suede boots, crepe-soled or other, and his rolled umbrella thrust forward to feel out the path ahead, became essential properties for Guinness’s portrayal of George Smiley, old spy in a hurry. I haven’t checked on the cufflinks recently, but I have a memory that our director thought them a little overdone and persuaded Guinness to trade them in for something less flashy.

The other legacy of our lunch was less enjoyable, if artistically more creative. Oldfield’s distaste for my work – and, I suspect, for myself – struck deep root in Guinness’s thespian soul, and he was not above reminding me of it when he felt the need to rack up George Smiley’s sense of personal guilt; or, as he liked to imply, mine.

Lunch with Rupert Murdoch

One morning in the autumn of 1991, I opened my Times newspaper to be greeted by my own face glowering up at me. From my sour expression, I could tell at once that the text around it wasn’t going to be friendly. A struggling Warsaw theatre, I read, was celebrating its post-communist freedom by putting on a stage version of The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. But the rapacious le Carré [see photograph] wanted a whacking £150 per performance: “The price of freedom, we suppose.”

I took another look at the photograph and saw exactly the sort of fellow who does indeed go round preying on struggling Polish theatres. Grasping. Unsavoury appetites. Just look at those eyebrows. I had by now ceased to enjoy my breakfast. Keep calm and call your agent. I fail on the first count, succeed on the second. My literary agent’s name is Rainer. In what the novelists call a quavering voice, I read the article aloud to him. Has he, I suggest delicately – might he possibly, just this once, is it at all conceivable? – on this occasion been a tad too zealous on my behalf? Rainer is emphatic. Quite the reverse. Since the Poles are still in the recovery ward after the collapse of communism, he has been a total pussycat. We are not charging the theatre £150 per performance, he assures me, but a measly £26, the minimum standard rate. In addition to which, we’ve thrown in the rights for free. In short, a sweetheart deal, David, a deliberate helping hand to a Polish theatre in time of need. Great, I say, bewildered and inwardly seething.

Keep calm and fax the editor of the Times. His response is lofty. Not to put too fine an edge on it, it is infuriating. He sees no great harm in the piece, he says. He suggests that a man in my fortunate position should take the rough with the smooth. This is not advice I am prepared to accept. But who to turn to?

Why, of course: the man who owns the newspaper, Rupert Murdoch, my old buddy!

Well, not exactly buddy. I had met Murdoch socially on a couple of occasions, though I doubted whether he remembered them. I have three conditions, I say: number one, a generous apology prominently printed in the Times; number two, a handsome donation to the struggling Polish theatre. And number three, lunch. Next morning his reply was lying on the floor beneath my fax machine: “Your terms accepted. Rupert.”

The Savoy Grill in those days had a kind of upper level for moguls: red-plush, horseshoe-shaped affairs where in more colourful days gentlemen of money might have entertained their ladies. I breathe the name Murdoch to the maître d’hôtel and am shown to one of the privés. I am early. Murdoch is bang on time. He is smaller than I remember him, but more pugnacious, and has acquired that hasty waddle and little buck of the pelvis with which great men of affairs advance on one another, hand outstretched, for the cameras. The slant of the head in relation to the body is more pronounced than I remember, and when he wrinkles up his eyes to give me his sunny smile, I have the odd feeling he’s taking aim at me. We sit down, we face each other. I notice – how can I not? – the unsettling collection of rings on his left hand. We order our food and exchange a couple of banalities. Rupert says he’s sorry about that stuff they wrote about me. Brits, he says, are great penmen, but they don’t always get things right. I say, not at all, and thanks for your sporting response. But enough of small talk. He is staring straight at me and the sunny smile has vanished.

“Who killed Bob Maxwell?” he demands.

Robert Maxwell, for those lucky enough not to remember him, was a Czech-born media baron, British parliamentarian and the alleged spy of several nations, including Israel, the Soviet Union and Britain. As a young Czech freedom fighter, he had taken part in the Normandy landings and later earned himself a British army commission and a gallantry medal. After the war, he worked for the Foreign Office in Berlin. He was also a flamboyant liar and rogue of gargantuan proportions and appetites who plundered the pension fund of his own companies to the tune of £440m, owed around £4bn that he had no way of repaying and in November 1991 was found dead in the seas off Tenerife, having apparently fallen from the deck of a lavish private yacht named after his daughter. Conspiracy theories abounded. To some, it was a clear case of suicide by a man ensnared by his own crimes; to others, murder by one of the several intelligence agencies he had supposedly worked for. But which one? Why Murdoch should imagine I know the  answer to this question is beyond me, but I do my best to give satisfaction. Well, Rupert, if we’re really saying it’s not suicide, then probably, for my money, it was the Israelis, I suggest.

“Why?”

I’ve read the rumours that are flying around, as we all have. I regurgitate them: Maxwell, the long-term agent of Israeli intelligence, blackmailing his former paymasters; Maxwell, who had traded with the Shining Path in Peru, offering Israeli weapons in exchange for strategic cobalt; Maxwell, threatening to go public unless the Israelis paid up. But Rupert Murdoch is already on his feet, shaking my hand and saying it was great to meet me again. And maybe he’s as embarrassed as I am, or just bored, because already he’s powering his way out of the room, and great men don’t sign bills, they leave them to their people. Estimated duration of lunch: 25 minutes.

A meeting with Margaret Thatcher

The prime minister’s office wished to recommend me for a medal, and I had declined. I had not voted for her, but that fact had nothing to do with my decision. I felt, as I feel today, that I was not cut out for our honours system, that it represents much of what I most dislike about our country. In my letter of reply, I took care to assure the prime minister’s office that my churlishness did not spring from any personal or political animosity, offered my thanks and compliments to the prime minister, and assumed I would hear no more.

I was wrong. In a second letter, her office struck a more intimate note. Lest I was regretting a decision taken in heat, the writer wished me to know that the door to an honour was still open. I replied, equally courteously I hope, that as far as I was concerned the door was firmly shut, and would remain so in any similar contingency. Again, my thanks. Again, my compliments to the prime minister. And again I assumed the matter was closed, until a third letter arrived, inviting me to lunch. There were six tables set in the dining room of 10 Downing Street that day, but I only remember ours, which had Mrs Thatcher at its head and the Dutch prime minister Ruud Lubbers on her  right, and myself in a tight new grey suit on her left. The year must have been 1982. I was just back from the Middle East, Lubbers had just been appointed. Our other three guests remain a pink blob to me. I assumed, for reasons that today escape me, that they were industrialists from the north. Neither do I remember any opening exchanges between the six of us, but perhaps they had happened over cocktails before we sat down. But I do remember Mrs Thatcher turning to the Dutch prime minister and acquainting him with my distinction. “Now, Mr Lubbers,” she announced in a tone to prepare him for a nice surprise, “this is Mr Cornwell, but you will know him better as the writer John le Carré.”

Leaning forward, Mr Lubbers took a close look at me. He had a youthful face, almost a playful one. He smiled, I smiled: really friendly smiles. “No,” he said. And sat back in his chair, still smiling. But Mrs Thatcher, it is well known, did not lightly take no for an answer.

“Oh, come, Mr Lubbers. You’ve heard of John le Carré. He wrote The Spy Who Came In From The Cold and…” – fumbling slightly – “… other wonderful books.”

Lubbers, nothing if not a politician, reconsidered his position. Again he leaned forward and took another, longer look at me, as amiable as the first, but more considered, more statesmanlike.

“No,” he repeated.

Now it was Mrs Thatcher’s turn to take a long look at me, and I underwent something of what her all-male cabinet must have experienced when they, too, incurred her displeasure. “Well, Mr Cornwell,” she said, as to an errant schoolboy who had been brought to account, “since you’re here” – implying that I had somehow talked my way in – “have  you anything you wish to say to me?”

Belatedly, it occurred to me that I had indeed something to say to her, if badly. Having recently returned from South Lebanon, I felt obliged to plead the cause of stateless Palestinians. Lubbers listened. The gentlemen from the industrial north listened. But Mrs Thatcher listened more attentively than all of them, and with no sign of the impatience of which she was frequently accused. Even when I had stumbled to the end of my aria, she went on listening before delivering herself of her response. “Don’t give me sob stories,” she ordered me with sudden vehemence, striking the key words for emphasis. “Every day people appeal to my emotions. You can’t govern that way. It simply isn’t fair.”

Whereupon, appealing to my emotions, she reminded me that it was the Palestinians who had trained the IRA bombers who had murdered her friend Airey Neave, the British war hero and politician, and her close adviser. After that, I don’t believe we spoke to each other much. Occasionally I do ask myself whether Mrs Thatcher nevertheless had an ulterior motive in inviting me. Was she, for instance, sizing me up for one of her quangos – those strange quasi-official public bodies that have authority but no power, or is it the other way round? But I found it hard to imagine what possible use she could have for me – unless, of course, she wanted guidance from the horse’s mouth on how to sort out her squabbling spies.

• This is an edited extract from The Pigeon Tunnel: Stories From My Life, by John le Carré, published next week by Viking at £20. Order a copy for £15 from the Guardian bookshop.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[lawrenceop]

HOMILY for 5th Sun after Pentecost (Dominican rite)

1 Pt 3:8-15; Matt 5:20-24

“Love the brethren”, or “be lovers of the brotherhood”, says St Peter in today’s epistle. Hence the Gospel today condemns anyone who is angry with a brother, calling him raca, meaning someone who is inferior or stupid. Doing so would violate, it seems to me, the fundamental equality of brothers. Indeed, mindful perhaps of the tense history of brothers in the Old Testament, Jesus points out in the Gospel that at the root of such anger between brothers is a hatred of the other that could potentially lead to murder. For it was between the first pair of brothers that the first murder in history was committed; and the sons of Jacob would gang up in an attempt to kill off their brother Joseph, and they eventually sold him as a slave, an inferior, mere chattel. So, the propensity to hate one’s brother, and to dehumanise him, and to even kill him is as old as sin.

Christ, therefore, comes to redeem this fallen and divided world, and to heal with his grace these wounded and fractured relationships. Indeed, Christ wills not only to heal that which nature provides; to heal not only our blood relationships, but he goes beyond that: his supernatural grace elevates our relationships making us, sinful men, to become spiritual brothers to one another, bound together by his Precious Blood which has been shed for us and freed us from sin; making us, indeed, through baptism, to become his ‘blood brothers’, so to speak, through the adoption of grace into the household of God our common Father. Hence St Paul says: “those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the first-born among many brethren.” (Rom 8:29)

So, when St Peter speaks of the brotherhood, and when Our Lord speaks to his disciples and tells them to be reconciled with their brothers, he is speaking of the Christian family, of all who have been baptised into Christ, and who are thus to become conformed to his image – all who, by grace, are to become sons of God in and through and with the Son of God. The effect of holy baptism, therefore, is to make us truly children of God the Father, and therefore, just as truly make us brothers and sisters to one another. And so we are bound to God and to one another, united through charity.

Thus Jesus teaches us, his disciples, to pray to God and to address him with these words: Πάτερ ἡμῶν, it begins. Or Pater noster, our Father. Much attention is paid to the fact that Christ the Son confers upon us the privilege of adopted sonship so that we have the grace to call God Abba, Father, just as he, by his divine nature, being consubstantial with the Father, is entitled to do. However, Benedict XVI rightly observes that we could benefit from paying more attention to the fact that God is our Father because the Fatherhood of God is not communicated to us individually but only through the Body of Christ, which is his Church. So Benedict XVI says: “The Christian prayer to the Father… is bound to the community of our brothers, together with whom we make up the one Christ”. That phrase ‘one Christ’ is redolent of St Augustine’s beautiful term for the Church, which he called the totus Christus, ie., the entire Christ: Jesus the Head together with us the members. So, the Lord’s Prayer opens by reminding us of our communion with one another which is a principal fruit of holy baptism.

For this is what Christ has come to effect: he has come to heal the wounds of sin, to overcome the divisions and suspicions between men, to calm the murderous hatred that would well up between brothers if they were to live without grace. Hence St Peter says: “have unity of spirit, sympathy, love of the brethren, a tender heart and a humble mind.” For these come from the Holy Spirit, and they build up the brotherhood of Christians, humbly united in love to Christ, under God the Father. However, division, arguments, quarrelling, name-calling, and gossip against a brother all comes from the Devil, the Father of Lies, whom Jesus has called a “murderer from the beginning”. (Jn 8:44)

Therefore, Benedict XVI says that “Christian belief in God the Father… necessarily involves the affirmation of our brothers, the brotherhood of all Christians”, for we have been instructed by Scripture to “love the brethren.” Thus St John says: “He who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.” (1 Jn 4:20). This connection between our love for our fellow Christians and our love for God is intrinsically connected, such that Our Lord tells us in today’s Gospel: “if you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” (Mt 5:23-24) Because the Holy Mass, this Eucharistic assembly, is where we gather as brothers and sisters. It is here that our communion with one another is meant to be expressed; here that our love for one another is made manifest to the world, so that non-believers can see that God is our Father. In the 2nd century, Tertullian thus observed that pagans looking at Christians should be able to say: “Look . . . how they love one another (for they themselves [the pagans] hate one another); and how they are ready to die for each other (for they themselves are readier to kill each other).”

My brothers and sisters: Can this be said of us today? Do we actually know one another who come together to this church to gather around God our Father? What more can I do for you to help this Eucharistic assembly become better practitioners of brotherly love? Moreover, I ask: what do people see when they look at our interactions with one another, especially online – on social media when we Christians talk about and with one another? Occasionally I do see the deep care that Catholics have for one another, praying for one another, giving support, encouragement and sound spiritual advice. But very often I see much that saddens me. As Pope Francis says in Fratelli tutti, “Even in Catholic media, limits can be overstepped, defamation and slander can become commonplace, and all ethical standards and respect for the good name of others can be abandoned”. How can this contribute to the fraternity that our common Father asks of us?” (§46)

This year, as you’ll know, the Dominican Order celebrates the 800th anniversary of the heavenly birthday of St Dominic. And one of the things that has been reiterated about St Dominic is that, according to the earliest writings about him, Dominic wished to be known as Brother Dominic. Hence, his Order is called the “Ordo Fratrum Prædicatorum”, an order of preaching brothers, and the earliest stories of the Order are compiled in a book called The Lives of the Brethren. So, you might think that we brothers have something to say to the wider Church about how to live as brothers, how to love the brethren. I don’t say I am an expert in loving my brothers, but I can say from my own experience that we Dominicans suffer as a brotherhood if we don’t talk to one another, if we don’t listen to one another, if we don’t spend time together getting to know and understand our brothers and their viewpoints. If I only talk with those whom I like and whose views I share, then the temptation to call my brother a fool, or even to hate him increases. Now, the Lord has warned us against this.

The current Master of the Order, therefore, reminds us Dominicans that we must make time and space “for mutual listening and learning, as brothers”. And this advice, I think, holds good for all of us as Catholics. Thus the Holy Father Pope Francis warned the Church against “the media’s noisy potpourri of facts and opinions [that] is often an obstacle to dialogue, since it lets everyone cling stubbornly to his or her own ideas, interests and choices, with the excuse that everyone else is wrong. It becomes easier to discredit and insult opponents from the outset than to open a respectful dialogue aimed at achieving agreement on a deeper level.” (Fratelli tutti, 201) This is the way of the world. But Christ has come to redeem the world; his grace elevates Christians so that we can become a light to the nations, showing the pagan world how we can love one another. Thus Pope Francis says: “Together, we can seek the truth in dialogue, in relaxed conversation or in passionate debate. To do so calls for perseverance; it entails moments of silence and suffering, yet it can patiently embrace the broader experience of individuals and peoples.” (Fratelli tutti, 50)

So this is the challenge laid before us today. In a noisy world full of prideful opinions, can we mortify ourselves and keep silent? Can we charitably listen and seek the good in what others say and do? Can we, as St Peter says, have “a tender heart and a humble mind… [And] do not return evil for evil or reviling for reviling; but on the contrary bless”, which means to speak well of the other. (1 Pt 3:8,9)

[ikevampeventarchive]

[ERS] Trap of Temptation ～ Leonardo & Faust

Duration: 10/25 (Fri) 04:00 PM ～ 11/1 (Fri) 09:00 PM

Called to a graveyard, the one who greets you and Leonardo is a calm and collected priest by the name of Faust. In front of a young boy who wishes for “eternal life,” the two men give completely contradictory answers...? 

Faust’s cold and pointed words sends tremors through your heart ——

Route Preview

[This is an unofficial work based on fan-translation. Copyright belongs to Cybird.]

Common Route

The story starts out with Leonardo and MC visiting the grave of Leonardo’s old friend. MC asks if it’s OK that she picked out the flowers instead of Leonardo, to which he says that his friend would much rather prefer someone young and pretty like MC to give the flowers as opposed to him. Leo then jokes that he decided that he should visit before his friend gets angry in the afterlife. They continue to converse, and MC notes that Leonardo must have many memories from all the years he’s lived. Then, they overhear the voice of a man — Faust.

Faust: Mourn not, for those who enter the land of the Lord are awarded with unending life, and shall live in unending happiness. 

He’s at the cemetery to perform a funeral, and beside him are a woman and a boy who looks to be around 14 years old. As MC looks on, she notices that Faust’s eyes are calm, eerily so, as if they’re frozen ice. Faust looks up and their eyes meet, Faust sending a simple nod at MC before turning away. Leonardo suggests to MC that the two of them leave, and they make for the exit of the graveyard. 

However, before they get too far, the 14 year-old boy from earlier runs up to them, asking if Leonardo and MC had seen his brother around; a boy around 6 years old. They agree to help, with Leonardo instructing the teen to stay with his mother. The older brother thanks them for the help, introducing himself as Kevin and his younger brother as Paul. 

Leonardo and MC leave to search for Paul, only to find him sitting on a bench outside the cemetery with a picture book. He says that he doesn’t want to go back to the grave, nor does he want to say goodbye to his deceased father. MC feels like it would be too cruel to force him to go back, and Leonardo suggests that they just stay here for now. Thus, MC and Paul sit on the bench and look at the picture book together. Paul flips to an entry with the picture of a vampire, asking what it is. MC flounders on how to explain, and just as Leonardo is about to chime in, Faust interrupts. 

Leonardo: Heh… Paul, a vampire is a creature of legends —

Faust: — A monster that lives by drinking the blood of humans. 

Faust introduces himself as a minister, explaining that he came to search for Paul now that the burial ceremony is complete. 

Paul: Father, are vampires scary people? 

Faust: That’s correct. It is because they target human beings, and prey upon them. 

Paul: … Prey? 

Faust: Furthermore, they neither age nor die, and live for an eternity. These are beings that are completely different from humans. 

Hearing Faust say such things, MC starts to interrupt, but Leonardo quickly gestures for her to stop. Paul latches onto the immortality aspect of being a vampire, and wistfully says that he also wants to become one. When Leonardo asks Paul why he wants to become a vampire, the young boy replies that he wants to be immortal to stay with his loved ones forever. Hearing this, MC feels sorry for Paul, as this desire clearly stemmed from the recent loss of his father.

Leonardo ruffles the boy’s hair, saying that while immortality is tempting, the longer one lives, the more sorrow there is to be found — so it’s better to just live each second the best that he could. However, Faust disagrees, saying that if one could find relief from suffering without having to die, then immortality might not be a bad choice. Then, he proceeds to ask for MC’s opinion on the topic. 

MC wavers back and forth between the two stances, both remembering the kindness of the residents of the mansion, but also unable to deny the logic in Faust’s words. In the end, Faust breaks the tension by excusing himself for saying something pointless, thanking the two of them for finding Paul before returning to the cemetery with the boy. Leo comments to MC that it’s not as if he doesn’t understand Faust’s line of thinking, and the two of them decide to head home. MC wonders about what Faust has experienced to lead him to his conclusion, his sharp eyes leaving a strong impression on her. 

A few days following the meeting at the cemetery, the scene opens with Kevin confessing to Faust that he has robbed and committed crimes to keep his family alive. They have no money nor food left, and at this rate, both his mother and Paul will soon fall ill and die. Faust eases his mind, saying that God recognizes his sin but forgives it all. Kevin is heartened by those words and bows low, but Faust’s eyes remain cold and emotionless behind his glasses as he gazes down. 

At the same time, MC is heading home from shopping when she runs into Kevin exiting the church, knocking her off balance and spilling apples everywhere. Kevin runs off, but Faust soon emerges and helps her retrieve the groceries, followed by an invitation to continue talking inside the church. MC asks if this is the church Faust works at, but he replies contrary. 

Faust: This church’s own minister has come down with an illness, and thus I came to assist after hearing it from Charlot… the town doctor. 

MC is once again struck by how still and frigid the air Faust is — almost like ice. Changing the topic, she then asks if the young man who walked out earlier was Kevin. Faust confirms that the teen had something to talk about and confess. MC then thinks about how a minister handles various tasks, seeing the different sides of life and human experiences, subsequently voicing these thoughts to the man himself. However, Faust merely sighs and grins.

Faust: Yes, you’re right. At times, a guide to lead the dead back to the Lord, and at other times, a stand-in to forgive the sins of others in place of the Lord…. Even though — I’ve never laid eyes on anything that could be called God. 

Hearing Faust say that, MC started feeling extremely uncomfortable and ended up blurting out that it seemed like Faust didn’t believe in God — an odd thing for a minister to say. Faust laughs again, commenting that she’s quite straightforward. He goes on to say that he feels like the unknown is for investigating and researching, be it humans or immortal monsters. 

Faust then grabs MC’s chin and tilts her head up, proposing she become his test subject as well. MC is shocked into silence, and Leonardo appears at this moment to intervene, telling Faust to let MC go. Faust does as told and excuses himself, taking his leave after a sarcastic comment on Leonardo’s overprotective-ness. 

Leonardo and MC exit the church and Leonardo explains that he was doing some work nearby when he spotted MC entering. Since it was somewhat unusual, Leonardo got worried and followed her in, coming onto that scene. MC apologizes for troubling him, to which Leonardo replies that it was him who was overprotective, like Faust said. Following this, a client comes up to Leonardo and requests him to repair their device, and MC and Leonardo part ways. 

As MC is walking down the path towards the mansion, a yell of “thief!” cuts through the air. She turns around and sees the young man from earlier, Kevin, barreling down the street with a pair of shoes in his arms and a small knife in his hand. Kevin heads straight for MC, and without time for Kevin to stop or MC to dodge, all she can do is shut her eyes and brace for collision. That is, until someone suddenly grabs her arm and pulls her out of the way. 

—

Sweet End

Deep in his eyes, glows an irresistible passion. 

“I’ll carve out proof that you’re my woman, cara mia.”

—

Leonardo pulls MC behind his back, telling her to take cover before turning to Kevin and tackling the boy to the ground. Faust also comes onto the scene, taking in what happened and muttering: “So forgiveness was meaningless, after all.” He then turns to MC, and points out that her arm is cut and bleeding. Leonardo procures medicine and bandages from a nearby house, which Faust uses to treat MC’s injury. 

MC: … Ouch. 

Faust: Please endure it.

Leonardo: Can’t you take it a bit easier, Father? 

Faust: … Monsieur Overprotective is, as expected, overprotective. 

Faust chuckles to himself, and MC feels a bit embarrassed hearing someone else mention it, though she appreciates that Leonardo obviously treasures her a lot. Arm wrapped, MC thanks Faust, who brushes it off. However, he also leans in to whisper to MC that her face when grimacing in pain was quite interesting is well. Faust then leaves, and Leonardo comes over, expressing that he’s glad MC wasn’t hurt too badly. 

That night, MC and Leonardo are in Leonardo’s room, where he’s explaining Kevin’s confession from the police station.

Leonardo: It seems like after Kevin’s father died, fear of his sick mother and younger brother going hungry led him to robbery. He said that even though it was to stay alive… his conscience was against it. 

MC's expression falls, and Leonardo hugs her, saying that she shouldn’t worry too much about it — their situation is not something that MC is involved in. However, MC elaborates that she feels a sense of helplessness; after all, a minister couldn’t do anything, what could she do? But she still wished there was something that could’ve been done for Kevin if they had known about his situation. Leonardo reassures her, saying that life goes on and they will find a way to continue on. MC is struck by how kind Leonardo is in his belief in human strength and hugs him back. 

Leonardo warns MC against opening her wound by moving around too much, to which MC replies that Faust did a good job bandaging the wound, so she’s fine. Leonardo frowns, and pushes MC over on the bed. He asks MC about what Faust whispered to her earlier on and MC tells him, to which it’s revealed that Leonardo got jealous at the interaction and over Faust’s handsy attitude around MC. 

MC feels a bit happy to see this side of Leonardo, and he affirms that he’s not going to hand over MC to anyone before kissing her. Leonardo sighs, saying that even though he’s being childish, he’s going to make sure everyone knows who MC’s lover is. After this, they spend the night together. 

Note: This is where the paid Epilogue starts.

—

Premium End

Bewitched by a dangerous allure, you fall into the palm of his hand  —

“Is there a certain special type of blood flowing within your veins? What an awfully alluring scent it has.”  

—

Faust gave MC’s arm a strong tug before pushing her away, wasting no time before moving to pin Kevin onto the ground. Leonardo also rushed over, prying the knife from Kevin’s hands. He remarks that Faust spares no mercy even against children, to which Faust replies that it’s standard procedure to act quickly to capture one’s quarry. 

With Kevin apprehended, Leonardo and a few of the surrounding adults escort Kevin to the police station, while Faust stays behind with MC. He asks her to show the arm where she got injured, but picks it up without waiting and starts inspecting the wound. To MC’s surprise, Faust comments that her blood looks “rather delicious,” and licks it up. MC is chilled by this action, and thinks that he’s almost like a vampire. 

However, Faust quickly returns to normal, and excuses the action by saying that it was a stopgap in the absence of antiseptic. He then quickly tears off a few shreds of MC’s sleeve and bandages the wound.  Leonardo returns to the scene and Faust hands MC’s care to him, leaving without another glance. 

As MC and Leonardo are heading home, Leonardo explains to MC the story he heard from Kevin at the police station similar to Leonardo’s end. Hearing this, MC thinks back to what Faust muttered earlier when he saved her, concluding that after all, those words were like arctic ice. 

Faust: … As expected; God saves none.

The scene then cuts to after the situation settled down, with MC opening the doors of a beautiful church in the woods. 

It turns out that MC is here to give Faust a basket of pastries as thanks for his aid the other day, having found out the location of this church from the one they were at earlier. Instead of accepting the gift, Faust remarks that MC seems to be someone with lots of free time, only taking the basket after MC got irritated by his words and pushed it towards him. She then gives a report on the situation of Kevin’s family, saying that the younger brother Paul is currently being looked after by the orphanage and their mother’s condition being managed by some neighbors. However, Faust’s only comment is that the neighbors are quite generous. MC is puzzled by this lack of concern, wondering if Faust didn’t care about Kevin or his family at all. 

They then have a conversation about whether Kevin could’ve been helped, had they knew of the circumstances beforehand. MC poses the question, while Faust mentions that there are many people like Kevin in Paris, and just because he forgives their sins and listens to their confessions day, doesn’t mean he can give them bread tomorrow. MC feels disheartened over his words, but cannot deny the truth they contain. She thinks that it’s almost as if Faust does not believe in a single thing in this world. 

Watching MC think, Faust starts chuckling and brings back the conversation about vampires from earlier, asking her what she would do if he was an actual vampire. He lays his hand over the wound on MC’s arm, and she suddenly remembers the feeling of his tongue with vivid clarity. 

Faust: I haven’t forgotten about it… the taste of your blood. Ha… I wonder if there’s a special type of blood flowing in your veins? What an awfully alluring scent it has. 

MC: You’re… a real vampire? 

Faust: It would be quite interesting to perform some research on vampire ecology with your blood and my fangs, as well. 

The two of them stand in silence, the tension stretching thin — before Faust starts laughing. He teases MC, saying that he already mentioned that there’s no way vampires exist and remarks that he understands why Leonardo is so overprotective when MC just walks into an isolated place with another man. MC gets flustered, embarrassed that she had fallen for such a joke, and thinks to herself that Faust is quite sadistic. Faust bids her goodbye after telling her to be careful on the trip home. 

That night, Vlad inquires about the girl that paid Faust a visit and Faust admonished him for watching, calling him an “ill-humoured old man.” Charles then chimes in with interest, and Vlad said that MC is quite a nice young lady, bringing sweets for Faust. The three banter back and for and both of them Vlad and Charles express surprise that Faust let MC get away. Faust ends up saying that while it would be simple to catch prey, MC could prove to be quite an interesting guinea pig. And thus, their conversations fade into the night.

—

Epilogue Preview ～ Leonardo

Drown in his body heat,  dripping with possessiveness —— 

MC: Leonardo... ah....

Leonardo throws his coat to the floor below, moving right to ravishing my mouth.

Entwining with the tongue that slips between my teeth, our sighs mix together in the space between our lips. 

Leonardo: MC....

Leonardo: Love of you is driving me crazy.... 

MC: — Nhn, ah...! 

Leonardo’s fingers slip under my skirt and gently rubs against my most sensitive place. 

His eyes narrow when a high voice slips leaks from me. 

Leonardo: The face you make while you can feel nothing else but me is... so lewdly admirable I can’t get enough of it.

MC: S-saying it like that is... ah....

Leonardo: I’m praising you. You’re adorable. 

—

Event Info | Napoleon/Vlad Route | Arthur/Charles Route

[capo-cedes]

I Love You, I Do

INVOLVED: Mercedes D'onofrio and Nicholas D’onofrio (and Company) TIME FRAME: Saturday, April 4th, 2020 LOCATION: St. Patrick’s Cathedral; Manhattan, New York NOTES: After months of preparation Nicholas and Mercedes finally marry in front of a crowd of their peers; though the couple was already married months in the past. Despite, previous emotions the day pans out great and Mercedes even reveals a gem to her father.

Mercedes ignored all the gawking the women were doing over her and her gown. She was in a massive room filled with bridesmaids, his sister, his mother, her mother, and sister. She was already married so subconsciously she could use that as an excuse as to why her mood was so shifty today but honestly it was not. Leading up to this moment so many times she beamed with joy at the thought, at the sheer delight it brought her knowing she walked down the aisle and into his arms, but she was filled with grief now. The dress was everything she wanted it to be, it hid her bump from the World and Al. It was over the top and it screamed her, it wouldn’t have screamed Red any louder if that were the actual color of the dress. She stood in front of a mirror as they placed the 20-foot-long veil and train in place on her head of hair. She licked her red painted lips and she dropped her head a bit, her eyes moved from her bare feet to the top of her head, taking in her reflection. Where had the love gone? The glow? The peace? The serenity? She thought she would be overcome with the same blissful joy she felt when he asked her to marry him, Fiji would flood her mind as she placed the diamonds she sported around her neck. But it hadn’t. Now she was left trying to understand why the vows she’d written 3 months ago didn't carry their same weight today. 

 Two solid lines of groomsmen waited outside the confessional, Nicholas blinked in the darkness, in no way wishing to confess any of his innumerable sins. Instead, he sat, the sharp click of him opening and closing the velvet red ring box the only sound the attending priest received. “Son… your wedding will begin soon, is there anything you want to say. You know whatever you say in here stays with God.” Nicholas clicked the box closed once more, his sharp green eye staring at the grate that separated him and the man of the cloth. “I know whatever I say would stay between me and God. Because if another one of your order told my fucking business, I’d cut your tongue out and make you eat it.” He said, matter-of-factly to the man. The priest coughed but knew this man was most likely not bluffing. After another five minutes with the box clicking, Nicholas took a deep breath, “You want to do something father. Pray for my wife and my unborn child.” He said softly.  “Pray that a marriage between killers doesn’t end in death itself.” 

 Mercedes looked herself over again before she shifted on her feet allowing them to work in unison to place her feet in the red bottom shoes. She put them on one by one before she turned to the side looking at the back of the dress a bit, when she was done, she stepped down with the help of others, her eyes had looked in Rebecca’s direction not once today. She could only imagine the gloat on her and the smirk on her face upon the reading of the energy Mercedes was giving right now. Rebecca was her maid-of-honor, she’d hold her written vows and their rings, the woman who casted a dark cloud on their marriage would be the one to deliver the most important things to outline it before a group of hundreds. It was twisted and sick, but this happened to be her very real and disgusting life.

 Donna looked to Mercedes, she shifted in the seat the most talked about wedding of the year was starting to have a very, very gloomy fete. She stood up and moved towards her, she was beyond beautiful in her eyes and she couldn’t have pictured a barbie in any other form. Donna fixed Mercedes' veil gently and she said “smile, this is a huge day. It is supposed to be filled with hope, love, faith” she listed gently. “Is there something wrong? Are you not feeling well?” she said softly. Mercedes looked to her mother and she shook her head “I think I am just nervous” she lied to her outright and without thought. “But I will be fine once everything starts…” 

 The mask of care, for her sister, wasn’t as hard to put on as most people thought. Rebecca did in fact have a certain affection for Mercedes. If it hadn’t been for Mercedes usurping Rebecca’s place in her Al’s eyes it might even be considered love. The Mercedes however was making things difficult as always. She could never play along. She had followed protocol and made Rebecca her maid of honor, but the lack of interaction between them now was making for some rather awkward stares. People knew they weren’t exactly best friends, but weddings and funerals were supposed to bring families together. She was walking across the room when her mother approached her sister. Playing the part of a doting mother with the best of them. Rebecca walked up behind her mother, slipping her arm around Mercedes as the woman’s waist at the same time. “I’d say you look like a picture, but you’d only think it some sort of backhanded compliment.” She said her ice blue eyes on Mercedes. She broke her deep gaze and looked down at her feet. “But it’s true.” She exhaled, shoulder falling forward. 

 Nicholas’ shoe had been polished to a high shine, that caught every ounce of light as Nicholas stepped from the booth. To his right, his oldest brother Antonio and to his left Paul, his second oldest brother and new second. The others were an assortment of old friends and boy guards. 

 Antonio smirked, “You weren’t this green around the edges last time around.” He told his brother leaning in close. “This one must be the real thing.” He said, slapping his brother on the back.

 Nicholas actually chuckled at his brother’s words. “We aren’t supposed to speak about that.” Nicholas reminded the man, trying for an authoritative tone.

 “Yeah, well,” Antonio said glancing over at his brother. “That’s a rule for people who didn’t change your diapers. Seriously, you’ll feel better when you see her.” Antonio said, finding his own wife in the crowd with a fond smile. “Remember how I tried to jump out the window before I got married? Once I saw Juliet all that fear vanished.”  

 “If you say so… If you say so.” Nicholas breathed, as the priest took to the dais. 

 Mercedes looked at her mother and then at Rebecca. She couldn’t tell if the girl was faking care for her or really showing some type of affection. Her eyes were on the floor again as the girl complimented her, she offered her a smile that never reached her eyes and said “thank you” to her easily.

 Donna smirked at Rebecca’s kindness and she looked at Mercedes again “all that nervousness is normal, I was shaking in my boots the day I married Al” she said with a grin “but now as I think about it, I can’t tell you what I was nervous about” she shrugged. “I knew he was the only man I’d ever want to spend my life with” she offered. “I know you feel the same about Nicky” she said using the boy's pet name. “Just take a deep breath” she told her easily. As if on cue the wedding coordinator entered the large room happily, beaming from ear to ear as if she were the one to be getting married today. She got the divine privilege to work the biggest wedding of the year in New York City. She had a reason to smile. “Okay, it’s about that time!” She said happily moving over to Mercedes and she said “you look every bit of a princess darling; Al will be in awe” she complimented. “So, we are going to start now. We have a schedule and you have 3 changes” she reminded. “Are you ready?” She asked the somber girl who she’d worked to no end to make happy and bubbly all day, she could only assume she was nervous shitless and wasn’t telling them all.

 Mercedes nodded her head and never said a word or looked at the woman.

 The coordinator looked at both mothers and said “we should all start gathering in our orders right outside, I’ll bring Al to her when it’s time for her to walk down” with a smile. “Otherwise she’ll be seen” she told them as she opened the double doors and fanned the women to her “come on, come on. Everyone should have a bouquet” she reminded them all. “Flower girl” she called out to Nicholas' niece sweetly and when they did clear the room leaving Mercedes all alone, she sat down as best she could in the large gown. 

 Rebecca looked up, a small smile at the corner of her lips. She nodded and squeezed both her mother and Mercedes just a little. She watched her mother tell her own wedding story, with a grin, only partially faked. As her mother finished speaking, Rebecca said, not looking in her sister’s eyes. “He loves you. Nicholas. “ She did look at her then, blue eyes meeting brown.  “He’d do anything to make you happy. Anything.” Her lips twitched, and she looked off in the wedding planner’s direction. “I better get going.” She said, waving Mercedes vows and ring in her direction, as she stepped away from her family. “Duty awaits.” 

 Nicholas checked his watch. “It’s time I suppose.” He moved down the circle isle. In a sky of white Nicholas moved down the aisle. A lone figure in perfectly polished black. There wasn’t a single empty pew in the whole cathedral. He stepped up on the dais, adjusting the white of his cuffs, and turned to face the room. Instantly, a wave of nausea took him, overwhelmed by the crowd. He much preferred shadows, but this wasn’t really about him. He swallowed and raised his chin. Trying to focus on something other than the people. The groomsmen were too far away. Stand at the back waiting for their escorts. Luckily, Samuel Jr. was there, squirming in the third pew to get his attention. The boy was a little monster. Nicholas smirked, glad to see him. He raised one finger to quiet the boy in his seat, then winked. 

 The wedding coordinator made quick time escorting the crowd of red towards the men, who seemed to be lined up in their order already. Nicholas was already down the aisle and where he should be, great, her body of staff where on one accord. She cleared her throat and said “ladies and gentlemen, please find your partners” loudly. The view of them was cut off by closed doors now “shortest to tallest” she reminded them. She handed the flower girl her basket, handed the ring bearer's pillow over to him and she smiled at the children. “Mother’s” she said, moving to pull the women forward with her, she put them in the front of the line, grabbed their escorts and sent them on their merry way down the aisle next. Once the women were escorted, handed a single rose, bowed to and helped to their seats she looked to the wedding party. “Okay, on the count of three we are going to walk down the aisle,'' she said winking at Rebecca who in fact was walking alone. “We are smiling for pictures, we are standing according to how we practiced” she said as she allowed Rebecca to walk down before everyone, leading the pack after a 4-count the next person went and so forth as the party began to empty the halls. “Send for Al and Mercedes” she said in her earpiece as she watched her great work display before the massive body of people.

 Al moved to the large room Mercedes sat in, he knocked twice before entering taking her in, she was a dream come to life. It almost made him emotional, almost. “Mercedes” he breathed; his breath taken. He took her in and said “such a happy day for that face” softly.

 Mercedes held her bouquet in her hand, sitting there in silence as a million things ran through her head. When Al entered, she looked up and tried to hide her true feelings, Rebecca’s words swirled in her head but that was only because she didn’t know if she were to believe them or not. She sighed at her father and said, “I am just nervous,” offering yet another person she loved a lie.

Al smirked at her and said “Nicholas loves you” easily and without thought “I still can’t forget the day he came to me about you. Boy I could imagine having wanted to kill him in another life but I don’t think he’s ever told me anything truer than the love he has for you” he said easily as he offered her his hand “come on” he said softly still in awe. “A dress like this should never be sat on” he said sweetly. Hearing a knock, he watched a coordinator walk in and usher them to come. “That’s our call time” he said happily.

 Mercedes smirked a little, standing up on her feet once more with the older man’s help and she hugged him tightly squeezing her eyes shut as she did, she refused to cry. “I love you daddy” she breathed softly.

 Al chuckled “I love you too, now come on girl. The sooner this is over the quicker I can get a glass of Jack in my hand” he chuckled. 

 Rebecca took her place; she wore a perfect mask of innocence. She smiled around at the crowd, and for good measure inclined her head toward her soon to be brother-in-law.  “Good luck.” She mouthed, “you look nice.”

 Nicholas glared as Rebecca took her place on the stage with him. Why the fuck had Mercedes made the woman her maid of honor? He knew why of course, Al. Didn’t mean he had to like it. His eyes shifted, his mouth a line. Face hard with a challenge that read, if you fuck this up, I’ll kill you with my bear hands. He didn’t say a word at her little game, only stared back up the aisle as everyone else entered.  

 Once the last person was well on their way down the aisle the coordinator closed the door again, she assisted the little boy before she let him walk down the aisle with his pillow watching closely before she assisted the little girl and let her walk down, watching her toss out flowers before she closed the doors. When father and daughter showed she smiled happily, they fixed every inch of Mercedes, putting things in place and she smiled at her. “It’s your time to shine” she smiled at her happily, handing off her clipboard. She placed Al’s arm and Mercedes' hand where she wanted to rest, raised the bouquet in the girl’s hand and looked in her eyes. “Smile” she told her, she could hear the music shifting and she counted to three before the double doors were opened to reveal Al and Mercedes, there was a large gasp from the humongous standing crowd.

 Her eyes darted from person to person and her feet didn’t move even as Al tried to take a step. Nicholas was at the other end of this long road Mercedes was about to take yet she couldn’t imagine having to look in his eyes right now. “Go on” she coordinator whispered behind the door before they both began to move, she looked down at the ground, the stares and flashes were too much though she could hear Donna in her mind telling her to look up. The long veil drug behind her and the massive dress. And it wasn’t until she was a few rolls away from him did she finally pick her head up, she looked at him only for a moment as her heart beated rapidly in her chest. Once they got to the end, she clung to Al tighter, not wanting to let him go, her other hand clutched the bouquet so tight she could fill the pin holding the silk together stabbing her in her finger. She exhaled softly as Al turned to her and pecked her forehead offering her to Nicholas with a knowing look, before he joined his wife standing beside her with an overflow of pride. 

 The organs began to play the traditional bridal march, filling every corner of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Even from where Nicholas stood, he heard the audible intake of breath, that rippled up the football field length aisle. With each gasp Red drew near and what came before him wasn’t exactly the woman, he’d been married to. Gone where the apparel that fit her body like a literal second skin and in its place was a gown of immeasurable beauty. She seemed to glow, with the ethereal light of a queen, while simultaneously possessing all the vulnerability of any woman, of a mother. Nicholas stood awestruck, seeing nothing but the woman he wanted. Even as Al offered her hand, he was unmoving eyes a solid mass of glassy tears. 

 Antonio took on his best man task and nudged Nicholas in the ribs to bring him back to life.

 The trance like state broken, he took Red’s hand and leaned low and pressed his lips to it. Letting the tears, he dared not show run freely over the back of her hand. Composing himself, he finally rose and clutched her hand to his chest, “Marry me, please.” Nicholas mouthed looking into her green eyes seeing the glint of reluctance there.  

 Mercedes shifted on her heels, moving up the stairs to her rightful place as he bent down to kiss her hand, his lonely tears dropping against the back of her hand. Her eyes rose from it to his face as he clutched it to his chest, she looked at the single red heart painted on her ring fingernail and she swallowed hard. Did that single heart ringing in her ears to be ever true in this case. She parted her lips at his words, her eyes snapping back to his mouth as he mouthed something to delicate and sensitive yet unmoving for her. She tilted her head before her eyes moved slowly towards the priest, saying nothing back to him. She blinked slowly looking at the older man expectantly, this wouldn’t be much of a traditional Catholic wedding. They had done away with mass, communion, and the countless prayers, which was much to her liking if she had to be honest. The quicker this show was to end the better for her; right now, she was center stage and the tap dance she was expected to do wasn’t entertaining much after all. She looked at Rebecca as the older man’s words fell on deaths ears, her eyes left Rebecca’s and she looked over her shoulder at Al before she looked forward again. Her ears stopped ringing and she now began to listen once more. 

 Rebecca watched the little display in front of her, she pulled her lips into her mouth, holding off the river of bile that threatened to come raging from her body. There was only so much sentiment a person could stand. Then as if the God’s wished to smile on her, something cloudy slipped into the space between the couple. Something uncaring and devoid of love. As Mercedes looked to her, she smiled broadly, genuinely at her sister. All that love Mercedes once gushed for the man wasn’t showing today. Marvelous. And to think she hadn’t actually done a thing to ruin this day. 

 There was no reply. In stark silence Nicholas was a mere spectator as Red stepped up to take her place in front of the priest. He moved just quick enough to set himself, as if he and the woman were in sync. A lie of the grandest design. He held her hand lightly. He would have dropped it but thought better of it. He looked down at their hands for a moment. Thinking back to another wedding day, secret and removed. A happy marriage. The happiness had lasted, what four months? His chin rose and he rolled his shoulders back, clearing his throat. How much did he love Red? Was his next point of contemplation. Did he actually love her enough to let her go? He’d known by the end of this day that was something he was sure of. 

 Despite everything that had played out in her head today and the days leading up to his, she couldn’t help but to lace their fingers together. As the man went on talking about everything and nothing, unity and love, connections and commitments she eyed him. She blinked slowly and shifted on her feet, of which were already screaming, and the night was still young. The man let the masses know that the two would be reciting their own vows and she tensed up a bit gripping his hand. She was so nervous, knowing Nicholas he hadn’t taken the time out to really write anything. He was going to wing it and give some back handed compliment to her and the woman she was, and she’d feel like shit more. Great. Mercedes licked her lips as she looked at Rebecca and she handed her the bouquet in her hand gently holding her hand out for her vows and she finally dropped his hand. She unfolded the piece of paper and looked at it before she looked at him. Turning to face him fully now she looked in his eyes, inhaling through her nose and out through her mouth. She hoped he understood every word she had to offer him right now. “Nicholas Samuel D'onofrio,” she said softly dropping her head as she read from the piece of paper softly, she looked at the microphone being held up to her lips and she carried on. “I stand before you, a woman much different than the feisty girl who was far too big for the likes of many. Long before I knew who I was destined to be in my Father's eyes, I managed to notice a skinny big mouth kid that I would otherwise until this moment classify as family unknowing how true it was” she breathed softly. It was written for the understanding of others but mainly him.  “Unaware of what our future would hold, I watched from afar as that skinny loudmouth dominated the likes of people who would now see that there was strength in even the most unexpected people or things” she spoke factually. “Unlike those people, I never saw weight or words, I saw actions. That boy was the most determined, passionate, hard-working, diligent, calculated, and in my opinion not very loud at all. I was intrigued by what I saw not only from the eyes of an individual who could be labeled the same, but from an individual who saw a lot of her father in that boy” she paused for a moment before she carried on. “I saw someone who would use those same bases to build an empire and a family of which he'd be proud of” she said as she looked up at him for a brief moment before she looked back down at the paper. “The only thing I could picture making him prouder was whoever had the divine opportunity of becoming his wife” she said with a soft sigh. “Never did I picture that woman being myself. Yet here I am standing before a crowd of people and witnesses proclaiming my undying love to that very boy. As a child my mother often preached of dreams and how they inevitably came true. She was right” she said her voice faltering. “I as a young girl I dreamed of moments of which, I could wear the name of a man such as Nicholas Samuel D'onofrio, with unchanging pride might I add” she said looking up into his eyes again. “A man I knew would not only supply the picket fence but paint it white” she said to him knowing that very line very well, before she looked back down. “A man that I will be delighted to give children to, knowing the very passion he has for the family would reign within our own” she said looking up again, she swallowed hard and then looked back down. “A man who worked only to see me happy,” she emphasized. “Many people will never get that man, even with a bed filled by warmth” she said slyly. “I, Mercedes Renee Francis, managed to find her forever in a man she now could not imagine living a day without. Fear separated a destiny written in the stars though I do not imagine it leading us to our ending” she said emotionally, she swallowed hard again as a tear fell against the piece of paper. She looked the next lines over, and she sniffled softly before she said. “I found a love true and to pure to comprehend in my mind. And in due time all the countless hours of daydreaming will be a reality. Dreams really do come true, in a world filled by nightmares” she said looking up at him again as tears streamed down her cheeks. The ending to her statement came much later than the previous words and she knew those by heart as well. “I guess, feisty and skinny just fits in the thick of it” she recited. “I love you with my whole heart Samuel. And like today I would say I do to you over and over and over and over and over again” she admitted “until God made it his true judge to turn my do's into don'ts” she concluded as she gazed into his eyes. 

 Yet another act of kinds, the happy couple had chosen to shorten the monstrous Catholic ceremony. And here she thought God had abandoned her. She moved into action and took Mercedes rose-filled bouquet away from the woman’s hand. Then fished in her chest to retrieve the vows then hurriedly placed them in Mercedes' fingers.  Adding a little more to her performance, she adjusted Mercedes veil softly as her sister read through her vows.  So focused was she on playing the role of a good sister, she managed to hold on to her lunch as the woman delivered her syrupy vows. Nicholas had been all elbows, squawking to be seen in the midst of his older more handsome brothers. Nicholas had definitely shocked them all, in the man he’d become. Too bad he lacked true vision. They could have been a much better couple. He’d find that out in due time. Her eyes slid over Paul. The man had some real untapped potential; Rebecca would have to reintroduce herself to him at the reception. 

 Nicholas stiffened as Rebecca took the flower from Red. He followed her movements looking for any trace of sinister intention in the woman. Even her smirk seemed false to his eyes. Yet, she did nothing. And he relaxed as Red began to speak. Red had asked him to prepare vows. Which were to be given in a room full of people. The ultimate expression of love and devotion. Again, she asked him to walk out of the shadows. In this action he'd enlighten the world with words he felt were best spoken in private. A covenant between him and her only. She laced her vows with private beats, plucked from times both hard and cardinal they shared. He watched her face and took in her words. She expounded on who, she saw, whom she wished him to be.  Love she had but was that love for him or this other man. The one he wasn't sure he was or could ever be. Once she was finished, he took her hands in his, sandwiching her vow between their joined fingers. “Love is a temporary insanity," He said quietly, though his words were amplified by the microphone. "It can drive people to the edge of reason, as hot and violent as an erupting volcano and just as that molten fire hits the seas, it too can subside. And when love subsides, you have to make a decision." He looked hard at his already wife, "You have to work out whether you're bound together completely. You have to discover if you've been reforged together permanently anew. Or are you simply a brittle mixture of iron and clay. Mercedes Renee Francis today I offer you a solid rock." He made the promise he could keep. "Because this is what love is. This is the love I have for you. Breathlessness, exciting, the stuff of movies. Sometimes." He raised his eyebrow, "Tempting always. An above all timeless.  Any fool can mistake love for lust.  Yet, I always knew you were more precious, more important than any other. I pledge to protect, to love, and keep you even when the path is most dark. I don’t deserve the love you’ve given me. But understand that I cherish it. Despite what it may sometimes seem. I crave it. And if given the chance I will work the rest of my life to earn it.”

 Mercedes held his hands, and, in the moment, she looked past him he was going to do it off the top of his damn head. She licked her lips slowly, what more did she expect? She listened however, taking his words and the way he so effortlessly spoke them in a poetic appeal before her. She blinked, he’d chosen to do as she did and lace every word with cryptic messages. However, she didn’t know if she was sold on his at all. At his lasting words she raised a brow and smirked at him, he’d done good despite. And his eyes told her he wasn’t lying about any of it. She nodded slowly at him and she looked to the priest as he began to speak once more, announcing them to everyone in the crowd and offering Samuel the words most men can’t wait to hear at the end of a wedding “you may now kiss your bride” as she mouthed it along with the man with her red painted lips. 

 What needed to be said had been. A declaration that was more in line with his more sensitive nature. It was his soft underbelly, a part he’d never willingly expose to this room full of bloody jackals. Nevertheless, the shift in Mercedes’ mood from distant disdain, to active listening told him she at least appreciated the fact that he’d put pen to paper. Nicholas let her relief eclipse his dislikes for the moment, as deep red blush, burned his cheeks unbidden. Permission from the priest was granted but Nicholas had registered the words from the man. He instead followed each syllable as it came from Mercedes scarlet colored lips. He took her face in his large hands and moved his slender body in becoming enveloped by her dress. He smiled down into her face for the first time today, as his fingers brushed over the faintly covered freckles on her face. Further humbled, he kissed her softly on the lips and lingered there for a moment. Emending the kiss with the purest of love.

[secretariatess]

As a Christian, I do not like using the term “sinner” for myself.  I’m not saying I’m an amazing sinless person, but rather that, as a Christian, I am a sinner no longer.

“But Christians still sin.” Truth.  Christians can still sin.  But Christians have been freed from the bonds of sin.  Sin is no longer my master, and to call myself a sinner would mean that I am still stuck in the chains of sin.  Furthermore, if we no longer identify with our sins (liar, thief, etc. . .), why then should we continue identifying as a sinner?  As Paul states in 1 Corinthians 6:11: “And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”

Furthermore, identifying as a sinner would give me the excuse when I sin to just say, “Well, that’s just my nature.”  If I call myself a Christian, should not my goal be to be like Christ?  If I identify as a sinner, I will allow myself certain allowances because that’s what I am, after all.  But no, I am a child of God, and must act accordingly.  I am a child of God and must have accountability.

Besides, I am of the belief that at some point in our lives, we can stop sinning.

“But that’s impossible. No one can stop sinning.” On one hand you can call me an optimist, but on the other hand, Jesus Himself commanded us to “be perfect (or holy, depending on translation), therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matt. 5:48)  While I know some look at this as a bar that we should always strive for, even though we’ll never achieve it, I don’t think Jesus would give a command for us that could not be accomplished.  So either Jesus commanded us to do something that we could not achieve, in which case means we have no hope of fulfilling such a goal, or He gave us a command that can be achieved, in which case we have a hope that one day we will reach the bar that has been set.

However, there is truth to the statement above.  No one can stop sinning . . . by themselves.  But we aren’t by ourselves.  We’re not meant to struggle against sin by ourselves.  The point was never to do it by ourselves.  The point was to do it with Jesus.  And we know that the Bible tells us that through God all things are possible.  I don’t think a single Christian would argue that God can’t get rid of a sin in your life, so why is it unbelievable that God could get rid of all of it?  Is it instantaneous?  Heaven’s sake, no.  That’s part of the journey of being a Christian.  But it’s possible through God.

So yes, it’s impossible to stop sinning, when we are by ourselves.  But Jesus gave us a command to perfect as God is perfect.  So either we have to trust that Jesus is capable of more than we believe Him to be, or we have decided for ourselves that Jesus set an unattainable and unreasonable goal and we have no hope of getting rid of sin.

“But Christians are still tempted.” Temptation is not a sin.  Jesus was tempted.  If we call temptation a sin, we’re saying that Jesus also sinned.  And if Jesus sinned, then His sacrifice meant nothing because it could do nothing.  But if we recognize that temptation is not a sin but rather something that attempts to lead us into sin, then we can see that Jesus went through something that everyone else went through, and because of His oneness with God, was able to resist.

Which, in fact, is a prayer Jesus had for us.  Something He prayed to the Father, in John 17:20-21: “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray for those who will believe in Me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

We are supposed to be one with Christ.  And if we are one with Christ, we will be able to resist the temptations that come our way.  Once again, not instantaneous, but a journey.  A maturity, something that’s obtained over time.

“But Christians still make mistakes.” But are mistakes sins?  If you did not know you did something wrong, are you sinning?  Or does the mistake become a sin when you are aware of it and hold yourself in the right?  Making a mistake isn’t the sin.  Refusing to acknowledge the mistake or deliberately making the wrong choice again becomes the sin.

I am a Christian.  I have been freed from sin.  While I can still end up sinning, I believe it is possible to reach a point of maturity in my Christian walk where I can be perfect as my heavenly Father is, as Jesus commanded.  Not by my own efforts, but by bringing myself closer to Him and by striving to be in Him according to Christ’s prayer for me.  To call myself a sinner would be to claim that all things are not possible through Christ, and to hold onto a life I am supposed to leave for the sake of Christ.  I am not defined by my sins, and if I should refuse to be identified by my sins, it is only right that I refuse to be identified as a sinner.

I understand some will have theological disagreements with this belief.  I know that it’s not a belief that many will accept.  I wrote this because it was something I’d been thinking about for the past week.  I’m not opposed to civil conversation, but honestly I am not looking for a conversation where it’s all just “you’re wrong” from either side.

[notagoodfather]

Bio

Name: Sven Baldwin

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 43

Birthday: November 29th

Height: 6'0’’

Build: Athletic

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Colour: Black

Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Priest

Skills/Talents: Knowledge in Elemental Magic, Teleportation, Cold weapons. Master of Martial arts and Multilingualism.

Likes: Reading, Dancing, Iced Tea, Fanta Grape, French fries, Barbecue, Cooking.

Dislikes: Lies, Injustice, Church.

Faceclaims: Nyx Ulric - Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV / Johan Akan / Kanda Yuu - D.Gray Man/  Higgs Monaghan - Death Stranding

Voiceclaims: Aaron Paul /  Dan Vasc / 

Personality: Selfless, patient, calm, loyal, intelligent, solitary. Usually, this is the impression he passes on to most people. Though in his childhood he appeared to be someone more cheerful and social. Nowadays he is more reclusive and somewhat distant. But he still shows kindness and listens or helps people when they need something. Besides his joker side appears sometimes.

[*Certain muses are not required to remember or have known Sven before. This is always optional and can be discussed for specific plots.]

Backstory: Sven was born and raised in the Order Hands of God. A secret group of the Church that has a duty to protect God, the Church, and humanity. His parents were the best agents in the area. At first, they were rivals, yet in time they fell in love and had their beloved son.

Unfortunately, Sven’s mother died in childbirth. Then he was raised by his father until he was 8 years old. But his father was killed while trying to protect an important family. The boy was on that day too, his first mission. Protect the Sparda’s family. Though he failed and barely survived.

For very little he almost went mad. The loss of his father and the failure in his mission to protect that family brought severe traumas. The Order then erased his memories to preserve the little sanity he still had. Sven seemed to improve days later, but he still had nightmares from time to time.

To honor his father’s memory, he resolved to devote himself completely to become a priest. At age 17 he made his vows and became officially an agent of order. Over time he was sent to different missions.

Some of them have led him back to meet ghosts from the past. Remnants of his memories were returning. Sven decides to investigate more about his own history. Even if he has to confront old traumas.

VERSES

TIME TRAVELLER

It’s a unique verse for when Sven goes to other worlds and timelines. Usually, he uses teleporter magic. Or a magical portal and artifacts that contain some ancient magic. He may end up using intentionally or unintentionally. But it always depends on the specific thread.                                  

YOUNG FATHER

Young father Sven Baldwin has just officially become an agent of the Order Hands of God at the age of 18. Despite his excellent skills and performance on the battlefield. His short temper and rude behavior have become a problem. He has a great hatred for demons because it was the specimen that killed much of his family. In the future, it’s expected to him be a more godly priest.

LITTLE SVEN

Sven is 6 years old. He hates being cloistered in the Order. He lives fleeing from agents. And always make excuses not to do the training of his father and grandfather. He does not have many friends and does not know very well about dealing with people. When he feels cornered or stress he can bites. But if treated well he can be kind.

THE WITCHER

Sven has been banned from the Order Hands of God Order. For his crime, his punishment was to be tortured almost to death and then thrown into a portal into the void. Yet luck and perhaps even God favored the priest. He ended up being thrown out in a distant world. And just at Kaer Morhen’s door. On the verge of death, Vesemir helped him and saved his life. In debt Sven, swore to stay on his services and help other witchers. They also asked him if he didn’t want to be a witcher as well. At first, he refuses. but Sven thinks that perhaps it was fate offering a new purpose. Perhaps in a distant future, he will be able to accept.

DRAGON AGE

On one of his missions, Sven fell into a trap. A demon summoned a dimensional portal and pushed the priest inside. In that, he ended up stopping at Thedas. But luckily he was welcomed by the Inquisition. With no way of knowing how to return home, he offered his services to the Inquisitor. Despite having lost much of his magic, he still manages to summon simple magic. He ended up becoming one of Leliana’s spies. For now, Sven will follow the Inquisitor’s purposes. However, he plans to find some way to return to his own world in the future.

BORDERLANDS

Sven is a mysterious man who appeared on Pandora claiming to be the servant of the God of Death. And he’s in search of the chosen one. That will purge the world of sins. The man seems to have a twisted mind.  If he finds anyone who can kill a lot and survive long enough he believes he can be the chosen one. In other words, he follows and kills for someone who is strong enough. But if that person turns out to be weak in the end he kills without mercy. Probably Sven was caught by his Order and tortured until he went crazy. Yet, it is not known how he got to Pandora and what his real intentions in this universe.

[alphacenturian4]

Is Christianity and Catholicism compatible with Feminism and Socialism.

By Ramon Aguilar IV

As a Philosopher, a Catholic, and an American I have made a few view videos refuting and disagreeing with certain popular Catholic youtubers on the these grounds as my beliefs on these subjects are tied into my identity. This will be my strongest refutation of these men and their views to date. As recent issues in the Roman Catholic Church have raised their reactionary rhetoric to mutinous levels.  Dr Taylor Marshall, Timothy Gordon, and Michael Voris, are Schismatic rabble rousers. Who are ultra-traditionalist disguised as YouTube scholars and theologians, exploiting current real and ugly controversies and scandals to grow an audience, get published and gain their works exposure. These men are doing more damage than good for the American Catholic community. Creating division were there should be unison against a growing tied of apostacy and blasphemy. As I can think of no worse blasphemy than evil priests using the name of God to justify sinful and wicked acts.

As of recent, these men have made certain claims about Catholicism, Christianity, Feminism and Socialism as they relate to each other in a type of pseudo, or proto, or postmodern-Liberation Theology that I would like to refute by looking at a definitional understanding of these terms. I used the Webster’s Encyclopedic Dictionary (1996), the Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy (2016), and Hardon’s the Pocket Catholic Dictionary (2013) to check my definitions, verbiage, and usage against.

           Let us start with their claim of Catholicism being a religion of unchangeable doctrine best expressed in Latin vernacular.

For me, as is backed up by my sources mentioned above Catholicism: Is the faith, ritual, and morals of the Roman Catholic Church with Jesus as its head, the pope as its mouth piece, and its faithful members of the Church as its body. Intended for all human kind it is the general universal of broad, liberal, inclusive, practical, and metaphysical applications, Tradition, and doctrines through the lens of Christian theology. As for the Name Catholic being appropriate to this entity called the Roman Catholic Church it was coined by St Ignatious of Antioch between AD 35-107.  While pertaining to the whole Christian body; it makes exclusive claims and has exclusive characteristics of Truth, Unity, Sanctity, & Apostolic Succession that includes the adherents to such faith and its Organization. It is the part of the Christian body that recognizes the Papacy and the other Patriarchs but is not Protestant.  It also means that it is inclusive of Customs, Doctrine, and Dogma as long as those elements are considered to be Orthodoxy as defined by and explained by the Apostolic Fathers and continued in its Tradition as overseen by the Bishops as distinguished from heresy since the time of Christ. And it originally referred to the Undivided Church before the Great Schism of 1054.

Thus, their almost slavish dedication to the Oral Tradition as it is recorded in doctrine and dogma is equivalent to the Protestants’ devotion to Sola Scriptura.

           Their claims about Christianity do not hold up much better as they describe a judgmental, wrathful religion with tyrannical doctrines, making them sound more Calvinistic than Augustine in their views of what Christianity is.

While what I have learned and been taught is that Christianity is the particular Christian religious system that claims faith in the Jewish Messiah Jesus Christ and the deposit of faith thereof, including its teachings, morals, & spirituality as relates to the beliefs, practices, principles, and conduct of the people who follow Jesus Christ. These people claim Christ Jesus as their Lord, God, and Savior and recognized the Trinity: that is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, as defined by the Apostolic Church Fathers and expressed (that is, evident) in the canonized Gospels and Epistles of the New Testament Biblical Scriptures.; including the rites and mainstream branches of Western Catholic, British-North American Protestant, and Eastern Orthodox Churches as well as its minor branches of Oriental and Coptic churches.

           These men: Dr Taylor Marshall, Timothy Gordon, and Michael Voris have categorized Socialism, Communism, and Feminism as absolute evils and grave mortal sin and have all but accused Pope Frances as being members of or at least subject to theses movements and their philosophy. But what are these philosophical political systems and are they by definition diametrically opposed to Christian-Catholicism as these men claim?

Socialism: Is the theory and political system of social organization in which the means of production are not in private hands but under social control, as relates to wealth and power. This system demands the collective ownership of means, interest, production, and control by the community as a whole and advocates for the equal distribution of capital and land among said community. Usually as prescribed by Marx, Lennon, or Mao.

And while Marxism is opposed to Christianity by its very nature of being anti-religious, elements of socialism are compatible with Christianity just as elements of progressive social reform and social justice are compatible, utilitarian, and complimentary to democracy.

           And what of its twin cousin Communism.

Communism or Collectivism: is a socioeconomic theory and system of communal self-government in which each connected community forms a federation based on state-ownership of property distributed down ethnic, gender, cultural, or economic lines expelling free-market mechanisms of control, supply, and demand. The is the exercise of the political principle of centralized, social and economic control.

           And while the argument can be made that this type of political system leads to a type of social tyranny where every man and woman is their own tyrant the Church has stood up for Monarchy, Republicanism (representational governments), direct democracies, and other forms of National Governments its members have been subject to throughout the years. After all we render on to Cesare what is his, our souls belong to God not to the state.

But what of feminism. An evil movement that promotes abortion, promiscuity, the emasculation of men, and an end to motherhood and an end to traditional families. Well, lets take an homes and simple look at what Feminism is, or what the types of feminisms are at their core. Feminism philosophically speaking are the doctrines that advocate for social, political, and reproductive rights for women, and the organizations and movements who advocate for those rights. Feminism being originally concerned with the asymmetrical distribution of powers and rights that leads to the biases that subjugate women to subordination, and disparagement.  And their goal being the end of that subjugation, subordination, and disparagement.

There is much here that is compatible with old and new testament, that is compatible with Judaism and Christianity. The incompatibility comes from two places, Genesis and Paul’s Epistles. And while some may point to Deuteronomy or Leviticus as the points of contention the principles and the place to find the potential reconciliation thereof lays in Genesis and the Epistles. As both men and women are asked to submit to God and to each other in obedience and respect.

That is without denying hard and even harsh realities.

           So lets look at masculinity and femininity. Are they truly incompatible?

Masculinity: is that pertaining to the traditional attributes, characteristics, and qualities inherent to men and male individuals as relates to strength, boldness and gender.

           While, Femininity: are the qualities of feminine womanliness seen collectively as a whole, as pertains to traditional female attributes as relates to sensitivity, gentleness, and gender.

           I think it is a mistake to look at these means as virtues or vices on their but instead it is more preferable to look at these trait sets as simply quantifiable quantities that are complementary to each other. And while one sex or gender is more prone to one set or the other that does not make either set mutually excusive to the other.

           But what are Catholics defending when we defend the Patriarchy, is it manly masculine Authoritarianism? No, here is what Catholics, Theologians, and Doctors of the faith mean by Patriarchy.

A patriarch is simply the male head of a family, tribe, rite, or Church. This is the founder or personage who has authority over other members of his group. For the early Church these were the Holy Fathers of Rome, Alexandria, Antioch, Constantinople, and Jerusalem who ruled over Catholic Sees as well as the heads of later Catholic sees such as The Coptic-Ethiopian, Nestorian, Armenian, and Russian sees. But more broadly these are the male elders of a community as a whole.

           But does having a male only priesthood mean that we are against female leadership or a Matriarchy. Well, let’s look at what Matriarchy is. A Matriarch is simply a female head of a family or tribe, or a woman who is a founder of a community or a group. And a Matriarchal system or community where is one where a matriarchate has developed. This would be a family, society, community or state governed by a matrix (by the mother).

           Now, the church has both mother’s and father’s of the faith, and women have been powerful doctors of the faith just as men have been. So, the idea of Matriarchs and Patriarchs ruling and guiding together is not antithetical to our faith. As both the masculine and the famine should be respected and protected. While a misogynist and misandrist order would not be tolerated by the church. So while I see and acknowledge the tension I do not see them as unreconcilable as I will now expand upon returning to the topic of feminism.

           The goal of social, political, and reproductive rights for women, the right for women to organize and gather as a group, is something most Catholics throughout time would agree upon as a good. And again, most Catholics would agree to the goals of ending or preventing the subjugation, subordination, and disparagement of women. It only mater the aim and degree of the goal. For instance, if reproductive right is framed as ending State Mandated Abortions and giving women the right to choose to keep her child in societies where such right are not granted as self-evident then yes Catholics would and do support that, within that framing. Suffrage and having the right to vote is another universal most catholic would support for all women of the age of reason being weighted the same and equal to men of the age of reason. Just as Catholics support and fund monastery for monks so Catholics support and willingly fund convents for nuns. This framing and reframing can go on and one, but you get my point.

           Yet there is another phase or factor to this refutation. These men Taylor, Timothy, and Michael have said that part of the problem were not just the isms but the toxic soup that they make called Liberation Theology. So what is Liberation Theology. Liberation Theology is a Christian and more specifically Latin American Roman Catholic movement that makes criticism of oppression, and the mission of social justice its central tasks. Its adherence seek justice and rights poor, minorities, and women. As well as, sometimes violent retribution against racism, sexism, oppression, and economic imbalance. The justify these goals and actions by emphasizing Biblical themes of liberation, social Christianity, and the preaching of the “Red Letter” social gospel. This religious socialism is based on the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth as taken separate from the Epistles or the Old Testament. Making a New Bible out of just the Four Gospels. These “Christians” believe capitalism to be idolatrous, rooted in greed, and a mortal sin. Christian socialists identify with the suffering inequality of the marginalized, minorities, and the oppressed. It is a synthesis of Christian theology and liberal socio-economic political theory, particularly Marx. Such theology found fertile ground in the 1970s in regions such as Peru, Brazil, Uruguay, and Spain. The evangelical context of liberation theology emphasizes evangelism and social responsibility. Similar theologies have developed in repressed and poverty-stricken areas such as the so-called Black Theology of South Africa and some US ghettos, PLT in Palestinian, Dalit in India, and Minjung Korea. Unfortunately, Liberation Theology reinterprets the bible in new ways departing from recognized Catholic, Christian, & Apostolic tradition. These are radical, revolutionary, anti-capitalist sometimes anti-governmental sects who have incorrectly and only partially interpreted the message of Jesus. They do this misinterpretation by divorcing the message of Jesus from the rest of the bible, viewing him as opposed to that more complete message most Christians and Catholics accept.

           While I am sympathetic to Liberation theology, its cause and its main goal, I cannot deny that it is a perversion of Christianity. And to this point I must consider to these men, that in this toxic brew there are version of radical feminism, of Socialism, Communism, and Matriarchood that are incompatible and antithetical to Roman Catholicism there are also so called Christainties which are too. These Christianities fall outside of the definition I gave earlier and include Mormonism, Jehovah Witness, and Oneness Pentecostalism. But as religious and faithful we do not judge all of theism on the actions of Hindu Cult leaders, nor on the action Radical Muslim Sects, nor Christendom on the actions of the Witch Hunters or the incidents in the wars between Catholics and Protestants or Baptist and Anabaptist. So, we should not judge feminism, progressivism, nor even collectivism by the actions or goals of some of or even many of its more radical members.

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 259

John 1:4

CULTURE & TRADITION 25: WHOM SHALL WE SEND 6?

1Pe 1:18 Forasmuch as ye know that YE WERE NOT REDEEMED WITH CORRUPTIBLE THINGS, as silver and gold, FROM YOUR VAIN CONVERSATION RECEIVED BY TRADITION FROM YOUR FATHERS; KJV

Please follow the points carefully and with your eyes fully on scriptures as we dig further: Elijah is a “mouthful” beloved, and we all should patiently take good time to read him and learn plenty lessons.

We should ask: when Elijah “closed the heavens,” did he have to pray with his head between knees?

1Ki 17:1 A prophet named Elijah, from Tishbe in Gilead, said to King Ahab, "IN THE NAME OF THE LORD, THE LIVING GOD OF ISRAEL, WHOM I SERVE, I TELL YOU THAT THERE WILL BE NO DEW OR RAIN FOR THE NEXT TWO OR THREE YEARS UNTIL I SAY SO." GNB

All he did was make DECREE, and he categorically said that the rains will again return by another decree.

So why [for crying out loud] did he have to spend that much energy to bring back the rain?

We must recall that the rains was not his “making” but God’s, and what was God’s instruction please?

1Ki 18:1 Sometime later, in the third year of the famine, THE LORD’S MESSAGE CAME TO ELIJAH, “GO, MAKE AN APPEARANCE BEFORE AHAB, SO I MAY SEND RAIN ON THE SURFACE OF THE GROUND.” NET

God simply said: “Go and confront Ahab and Israel over their sins and I will send the rains after that.”

These are the problems we have in Church today: men of God put their heads between their knees to pray for benefits and bountiful blessings for the people but overlook the salient issues of their souls.

Mat 6:31-33 “SO THEN, FORSAKE YOUR WORRIES! Why would you say, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘WHAT WILL WE DRINK?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For That Is What The Unbelievers Chase After. Doesn’t your heavenly Father already know the things your bodies require? “SO ABOVE ALL, CONSTANTLY CHASE AFTER THE REALM OF GOD’S KINGDOM AND THE RIGHTEOUSNESS THAT PROCEEDS FROM HIM. THEN ALL THESE LESS IMPORTANT THINGS WILL BE GIVEN TO YOU ABUNDANTLY. TPT

Beloved, this is the DIVINE EQUATION the church is “mixing up” that is making us sweat profusely before we get so little of vanity: go for heaven and Righteousness first, and you don’t have to go for the vain things you need; it would come automatically.

Many of us don’t agree, so we suffer grievously.

Mat 6:25-26 I tell you not to worry about your life. Don't worry about having something to eat, drink, or wear. ISN'T LIFE MORE THAN FOOD OR CLOTHING? Look at the birds in the sky! They don't plant or harvest. They don't even store grain in barns. Yet your Father in heaven takes care of them. AREN'T YOU WORTH MORE THAN BIRDS? CEV

The Church is expending stupendous energies in pursuit of “goodies” of life, at the expense of the character that sustains the life itself.

We have concluded that life is all about merriment and pleasure.

Ecc 8:15-16 SO I DECIDED IT WAS MORE IMPORTANT TO ENJOY LIFE BECAUSE THE BEST THING PEOPLE CAN DO IN THIS LIFE IS TO EAT, DRINK, AND ENJOY LIFE. At least that will help people enjoy the hard work God gave them to do during their life on earth. I carefully studied the things people do in this life. I SAW HOW BUSY PEOPLE ARE. THEY WORK DAY AND NIGHT, AND THEY ALMOST NEVER SLEEP. ERV

Some may quote this scripture as excuse for such decision, but this is what happens when you don’t understand the Word.

Solomon was talking here from a viewpoint of someone who may have given up on taking life seriously, based on a concept that it seemed useless to be righteous.

Read Vs 14 pls. take note that Solomon said in vs 15 – according to this version – that “…he decided…”, not “God said”.

Ecc 8:14 HERE IS ANOTHER ENIGMA THAT OCCURS ON EARTH: Sometimes there are righteous people who get what the wicked deserve, and SOMETIMES THERE ARE WICKED PEOPLE WHO GET WHAT THE RIGHTEOUS DESERVE. I said, “This also is an enigma.” NET

Paul quoted Isaiah when he said something close to Eccl 8:15, being a vague concept of humanity.

1Co 15:32-33 IF FROM A HUMAN POINT OF VIEW I fought with wild beasts at Ephesus, what did it benefit me? If the dead are not raised, LET US EAT AND DRINK, FOR TOMORROW WE DIE. DO NOT BE DECEIVED: “BAD COMPANY CORRUPTS GOOD MORALS.” NET

If you think life is about just living to enjoy, you’ve been misguided and thinking as a lost human soul.

1Co 15:19 If our hope in Christ is only for this life here on earth, THEN PEOPLE SHOULD FEEL MORE SORRY FOR US THAN FOR ANYONE ELSE. ERV

So when people receive conviction and you think it is the Rain that is most important, you’re myopic.

They get the goodies, you see, but SIN “drains” it all and sends them all back to sq. 1.

They come back and repent only because they lost all and want more, and so you have the “vicious cycle” of vanity.

1Ki 19:14 He answered, " LORD God Almighty, I HAVE ALWAYS SERVED YOU—YOU ALONE. BUT THE PEOPLE OF ISRAEL HAVE BROKEN THEIR COVENANT WITH YOU, TORN DOWN YOUR ALTARS, AND KILLED ALL YOUR PROPHETS. I am the only one left—and they are trying to kill me." GNB

Let’s not dwell on the “lie”: blaming Israel for Jezebel’s misdeeds. Let’s just say that he meant that Jezebel worked with people in killing those prophets.

Did God not know what he was really afraid of?

The main point here is that all 3yrs of drought and the Mount Carmel fire was now evidently wasted.

Elijah was frustrated because he thought he had done his best. Well, this is what he should have done:

Mat 3:12 He comes with a winnowing fork in his hands and COMES TO HIS THRESHING FLOOR TO SIFT WHAT IS WORTHLESS FROM WHAT IS PURE. And he is ready to sweep out his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his granary, but the straw he will burn up with a fire that can’t be extinguished!” TPT

We will look further into the SIFTING when we get back next week, as I pray seriously for us all, that our lives will not harbor anything that God will condemn in His coming, in Jesus name, Amen.

Come back on Monday for more digging into this intriguing subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, October 7, 2022

08055125517; 08023904307

[xtestament]

The Problem With Catholics telling you not to rely Solely on The Bible

So there’s this thing going around in the Catholic circles of “how dare you rely solely on The Bible for The Bible is not the only rightful source” of course, this is paraphrased but you get the idea, now this comes with the protestant criticism of the Catholic teachings contradicting The Bible and why that is important so let’s look at the first contradiction from the Catholics themselves using their own words.

“Like you, we believe that Scripture is truly the Word of God, authored by God and without error.”

Ok so they’ve admitted that the Scripture is without error which is good, though it begs then the question of why they get annoyed when we say their teachings and wrongful acts contradict something that is without error. If it is without error then that should be the ultimate source of which everything should rely upon, and if anything else comes that goes against it, it should not be believed. Yet for some reason they continue to believe just some of the following things.

Mary never sinned

Mary is the Coredeemer next to Christ

Mary is the redeemer of sins

Mary is the Queen of Heaven

It’s ok to pray to dead people (the apostles)

The Apostles have been set to govern over certain areas of the world and church up in heaven

Graven images in so many churches is ok

The Apostles have been given titles similar to those of the Greek/Roman Pantheon and beyond. 

Only certain people through works can become saints, despite the fact that The Bible mentions that every Christian is a saint.

Priests aren’t allowed to marry

Nuns aren’t allowed to marry

Monks aren’t allowed to marry

The Pope isn’t allowed to Marry (despite previous Popes being married and having kids in history)

That Peter was never married despite The Bible mentioning that he had a wife as well as Church history (see Peter get crusified upside down with his wife)

That the Pope is the Infallible voice of God

The very act of Indulgences (pay us and we’ll give whoever a free ticket to heaven)

That Grace alone is not sufficient to get into Heaven.

These are just some of the few things out of many that contradicts what is in something that the Catholics themselves say... is without error? Like how do you not notice such glaring contradictions? I’m sorry but that takes on some serious blinders to ignore the issues here and that’s just from one sentence. Let’s however get into their “link” that speaks against it and see how it can’t be torn asunder.

“Consider why anyone would want to base their faith on an error instigated 500 years ago by Luther and reject 2,000 years of Church tradition.”

Maybe it was because Luther saw the heresy of the Church who believed that one must do certain works, pay indulgences if you want a soul to go into heaven, that Grace alone was not sufficient, that what the priests and Popes said was more important than the very teachings of Jesus? The level of corruption in the church? There were many reasons that Luther saw to split away and why he nailed his thesis on the doors of the church but here’s a video that might help explain just a little bit of it.

And let’s not forget, that when only one person can read The Bible they can simply say “Oh well, this is totally in the Bible (even though it’s not but you fools don’t know that) so you have to listen to me because you’re all uneducated and don’t know any better” Not to mention the fact that until recently and dare I say even recently, most Catholics are shall I say pushed to not read or rely on The Bible... despite the fact that it is without error... now I wonder why that would be? Oh yes, to keep people ignorant.

But let’s look at their argument for “Tradition” that is to follow Tradition and the Scripture, when it comes to the point where something is wrong, I have heard many Catholics say Tradition is more important... Tradition of errors... is more important than Scripture? Right ok, in that case we must ask who has given them the authority to be more powerful and pure than the Scriptures? Especially when they’re more fallible? Of course, this doesn’t get answered by Catholics but we still must ask the question.

Secondly, when the Early Christian Churches and groups were being created, on of the biggest divisions was that Gentiles must become circumcised in order to become a Christian, this was after all Tradition, and it’s not until Paul steps in to handle that debate that they leave that to the Jews and let Gentiles follow a different set of rules but still very vitally important ones. Also if we want to talk about Tradition as the Catholic church is so opt to do as an excuse for gross contradictions of The Bible that enter into the realms of heresy and blasphemy, why not go back to the source? What do I mean by the source? Well if we’re talking Tradition who else is closer than the Messianic Jews? Why don’t the Catholics follow in their footsteps? Also last I checked the Messianic Jews traditions don’t go against the Bible where as the Catholic ones do, thus one would have an easier time following Pauls words in the Messianic Sphere about tradition than one would anywhere else.

“What is very clear historically is that Jesus established a kingdom with a hierarchy and authority to speak for him (see Lk. 20:29-32, Mt. 10:40, 28:18-20).”

Let’s look at this for a moment because it mentions scripture and we can see what it actually says.

Luke 20: 29-32 “Now there were seven brothers. And the first took a wife, and died without children, and the second took her as wife, and he died childless, then the third took her, and in like manner the seven also; and they left no children and died. Lastly the woman died also”

Welp... nothing there that talks about a Hierarchy that he establishes to speak for him, in fact they’re asking him a question, this is I believe at the time was done by the Sadducees who were an opposing sect to the Pharisees, asking Jesus about the ressurection, to which Jesus stated that no one in Heaven is given in marriage, and that people are equal to the angels themselves if you read just a little bit further.

Matthew 10:40 “He who receives you receives Me, and he who receives Me receives Him who sent Me.”

Ok once again, nothing about a Heirarchy that I can really see, about those who he gave Authority to do things and know everything that Jesus meant and should be said and so on and so forth, so that’s 2 for 2 of whatever they just tried to pull and expected people to just believe without reading. Not to mention that this is right after the line that Jesus tells people to pick up their cross and follow him as well as denying the world and so on and so forth, once again, follow Jesus... not the Church.

Matthew 28: 18-20 “And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” Amen.”

Ok so I can see a heirarchy there, but only as much as “Go tell them what I (that is Jesus) have said and commanded of you” not that they were in a higher position necessarily but this was basically the mandate of “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel” which every Christian is to do, also the Heirarchy here seems pretty clear... the things which JESUS taught and commanded, not what some priest 300-1000 years down the line would say that goes against what Jesus taught and commanded (which the Catholics believe is a ok).

Now let’s see what else they have to say for themselves.

“It was members of this Kingdom—the Church—that would write the Scripture, preserve its many texts and eventually canonize it. The Scriptures cannot write or canonize themselves.”

Well first of all they were part of the Kingdom of Christ as every Christian is, they were not yet a Church but would become parts of one later on in life, and yes the Apostles did write majority of the New Testament who all had eye witness accounts of Jesus in one way or another. In fact Luke was instructed to go and see whether the accounts were accurate by Theophilus, and basically went around interviewing every one that he could. But once again these same Apostles did not mention or believe in any of the things I mentioned earlier, and I dare say they would probably count it as false teachings by false teachers and prophets. Also since there were already False teachers and Prophets claiming things, Paul and the others basically stated “don’t listen to them, don’t entertain them, don’t welcome them and highly use discernment to tell whether something is true or false.” There are too many scriptures where this is stated but I will get them all if I must.

“With Protestants I will not debate Purgatory, Mary, Statues, Incense, Bells, Praying to Saints or the bad popes. I will not discuss pedophile priests or celibacy or papal infallibility. I will not discuss transubstantiation, the Immaculate Conception, books we “added” to the Bible, pagan traditions or the Spanish Inquisition.”

Maybe because all those things go against the Bible and the early Church teachings and you bloody well know it, thus can’t properly defend it or accept it I’d imagine.

“The only topic I will discuss is the doctrine of Sola Scripture. If he believes everything must be found in the Bible then we begin by asking where “everything must be in the Bible” is in the Bible. “

If you’re looking for the exact words Sola Scriptura in the Bible of course it’s not going to be there, but if we must here’s another interesting video this time by a Lutheran defending the basis of Sola Scriptura

and here’s another one

In turn I must ask where in the Bible does it state that the Traditions of Man or the Church are infallible? Where does it state that the Traditions taught are of a higher authority than the Bible? Which I will remind you, you youselfs state is without error. So obviously if there is a contradiction who has the higher Authority? Tradition or the Infallible word of God? You all seem to speak as if it is Tradition that holds more Authority, and if so who decided that? 

Oh and just to put the nail in the coffin here, have another video

And finally because I am tired

“Yet Vatican II makes abundantly clear that this Magisterium is not “over the Word of God, but under it. It was instituted by Christ there to serve the revealed Word of God, not to change it or add to it. “

Ok so the Magisterium is not over the Word of God but under it, so then why is it ok to believe in things that are blatant blasphemies, heresies and the like? After all it just states there that it was Instituted by Christ there to serve the revealed Word of God, not to Change or add to it.

Well now fancy that, and yet you guys have both changed and added to it with things that are not right, how do you not see this? Anyways I’m tired I’ve written a lot of thoughts on it, watch the videos because they have good information but this entire post sums up what I wanted to say, even though I could probably write an entire 100 page essay on it, picking it apart piece by piece.

[madewithonerib]

The Danger of Adding to the Gospel | John MacArthur [Galatians 2:11–12]

Let’s open our Bibles now to Galatians 2. We are coming to a text this morning that on the surface is the kind of text that no one would choose to preach.

But we don’t have that choice, since we go through the books of the Bible verse by verse, & we take what comes, & it usually turns out that those which would be usually ignored by a preacher who might be picking & choosing texts become some of our favorites.

This may be that for you. Let me read you Galatians 2:11-13.

“But when Cephas” – that is the Aramaic word for Peter.

Peter is the Greek word; Cephas is the Aramaic - “when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned.

For prior to the coming of certain men from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles; but when they came, he began to withdraw & hold himself aloof, fearing the party of the circumcision.

The rest of the Jews joined him in hypocrisy, with the result that even Barnabas was carried away by their hypocrisy.”

It’s a rather shocking passage: the apostle Paul confronting the apostle Peter to the face, opposing him because he was to be condemned.

What is behind this confrontation?

In actuality, what is behind this confrontation is what is behind the book of Galatians. And what is behind the book of Galatians is Paul’s desire to defend & declare the true gospel in the face of certain men who have come into the churches of Galatia & propagated false gospel.

This is a polemical book. It is a fight. It is a defense of the true gospel against those who were purveyors of the false gospel. Now with that in mind, I want to back up a little, & we’ll start at altitude, & then we’ll come down & land on these few verses.

Why does religion exist in the world? It’s a big question. Why does religion exist in the world? Materialists tell us that there is nothing but the material world, there is no supernatural world.

But, still, religion exists. Why does it exist? Why is it so universal?

Why is it so personal? Why is it in every period of time, in every location, & culture, every society, every ethnic group that’s ever lived?

Why also does religion take so many forms?

Why is there religion everywhere, and why are there so many kinds of religion?

Those are longstanding questions.

Now let me define religion, just in a dictionary definition.

Religion: the connection between human beings & supernatural beings; that is what religion is. It is a system of belief that connects people to their deities. It is a bridge to the supernatural.

It is universal. Why is it universal? There are just a couple of very obvious reasons. It is universal because all people are created by God & in the image of God.

All people are in some way a reflection of the divine God. They bear the image of God, & they feel innately that connection.

Someone once said, “It’s like the blind boy who flies a kite. He can’t see it, but he can feel the tug of the string that he holds in his hand.”

It is the tug of the eternal. It is the tug of the divine.

In Romans 1 it defines it this way: “The knowledge of God is in them.”

“The knowledge of God is in them.” It’s part of being human. The Bible says that all societies feel after God.

It’s an internal impulse built in. Not only is that impulse toward God part of being human, but the law of God – that is to say, standards which God has ordained - are also built into every human being.

Romans 2 tells us “the law of God is written in the heart.” We know what is right & wrong, & that knowledge triggers our conscience to excuse us or accuse us.

That answers the reason why there is religion, because man is made for God, & he has something innate in him that drives him in the direction of God, & the law of God is written in his heart, so that he has a sense of fear when he violates that law: fear of the Judge, the God who made him. That is what it means to be human.

But that doesn’t answer the question, “Why are there so many forms of religion?” That only answers the question of, “Why has man a religious longing built in by God?” But why are there so many forms of religion? That is not answered by looking at God; that is answered by looking in the other direction at satan.

The true & living God is known by satan; satan knows the truth about God — satan knows God is a Trinity: Father, Son, & Holy Spirit; satan knows who Jesus Christ is, he knows the gospel. Even when our Lord was on earth, the demons themselves, as well as satan, knew who He was & responded accordingly.

Why does satan then devise so many false religions? He is the archenemy of God. He is the arch-hater of God. He, along with a third of the holy angels who rebelled and fell, compose the demonic forces. Those demonic forces do all evil that they can possibly perpetrate against the purposes of God and against God Himself. They give us the reason why there are so many false religions. There’s only one God. There are many, many, many demons – thousands, upon thousands, and thousands times thousands of demons concocting false religion.

That said, there are only two real religions in the world: that is the true religion of God and the false religion of satan in its multiplicity of forms. satan knows there is only one God, and one Savior, and one gospel, and one salvation, and one way to heaven. But he has proliferated human history and the world with as many religions as conceivable in the sinful hearts of men and the wicked minds of demons.

The earth is overrun with all kinds of forms of false religion. But boiled down, there really are two religions: the true religion, which God has revealed in Scripture, which is that salvation comes by grace through faith through believing; and all forms of false religion, which declare that salvation comes to man by man’s own effort, by his own achievement, by something he does – some morality, some religiosity, some ritual, some rite, some ceremony, some behavior. Either salvation is solely by God through divine achievement, divine accomplishment, or it is by man to a total degree or some kind of degree through human achievement. satan’s religion is the religion of human achievement. God’s true religion is the religion of divine accomplishment.

Now I want you to understand this, because it’s how you define the whole world of religion. So go back to the book of Genesis, back to Genesis, and I want you to see this in its large context. Genesis 1 and 2, God creates in six days everything in the universe, absolutely everything in the universe: the macrocosm of the universe, the microcosm of the universe created in six days. When He finished creating it, He pronounced this statement, verse 31 of Genesis 1, “God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good.” “It was very good.” A perfect creation, including man, a perfect creation. There’s no sin.

Chapter 2, which recapitulates the creation of man on the sixth day, ends this way in verse 25: “And the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed.” There was nothing to be ashamed of. There was no sin. You have a perfect universe, and you have a perfect man and a perfect woman – sinless. There is, therefore, no religion. There is no bridge to God. There is no way to God, because there is no barrier, there is no alienation, there is no separation.

Adam and Eve are living in the garden in the fellowship of God. It is a full, blessed, pure, righteous fellowship. There’s no alienation. There’s no separation. There’s no need for a religion, no need to find a way to reconcile with God. God is not alienated; the sinner has not yet sinned.

Come to chapter 3, and immediately satan finds Eve, Eve finds Adam, they disobey God. You remember the Fall occurs there. Now sin has entered the world. Immediately there is alienation and separation. Go down to verse 7: “The eyes of both of them were opened, they knew that they were naked, and now all of a sudden they are naked and there is shame; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings. They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” Now we have gone from communion to alienation, fellowship to separation. Sin has separated man from God. Now we have the need for reconciliation.

What did Adam and Eve do? Verse 7, “They sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings.” That is the launch of false religion. That is the launch of false religion. That is the symbol of false religion. That is the first act of man to create a way in which he himself could deal with his own shame, in which he could cover his own iniquity. And then he hides, because he hasn’t yet found a way to face God.

This is the birth of false religion: men make ways to cover their own sin. But it does not salve their guilty conscience, and so they hide from God. False religion is a form of hiding from God, hiding from His true presence. That is the symbol of all false religion, that a guilty, dying sinner can make a covering for his own shame, and that somehow he can cover his shame and hide himself from God. He hides himself in his own self-made coverings.

That can’t work, as we see immediately, “The Lord God,” in verse 9, “called to the man, and said to him, ‘Where are you?’ He said, ‘I heard the sound of You in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid myself.’” Now what once was a sweet communion with God is over. He fears God, because his conscience is accusing him strongly of sin. That’s why he felt shame. That’s why he and his wife covered themselves. They are now not anxious to commune with God. They are afraid of God.

They are hiding from God. God has become fearful, terrifying to them. Why? Because God said, in chapter 2, verses 15-17: “Don’t eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And if you eat, you will die.” God has now become their hunter. God is stalking them to kill them; that’s what they feel.

Their relationship to God has dramatically changed, and that is the relationship to God that every human being since has. And religion comes along and says, “Make some leaves. Make yourselves some covering for your shame.” It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. God exposes their sin, and then God begins to curse them. He curses the serpent, curses the woman, curses the man, and the curse is unleashed. That curse in that moment went to the end of the created universe. It touched every molecule of matter, every element of infinite space. The curse went instantaneously to the ends of creation. Everything was cursed - everything, including man. The coverings that man made are useless: they do not cover his shame, they do not hide him from God, and they do not remove him from divine judgment.

And then verse 21: “The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife, and clothed them.” Here is the first act of true religion. If the sinner is to have a covering it has to come from God, and it has to come by death. It has to come from God, and it has to come by death. This is the first death since creation began. This is the first death, and God is the killer. This, of course, is the primary reason in the book of Genesis that you cannot put evolution in chapter 1 and 2, because nothing dies. The theory of evolution is simply an elongated series of deaths.

But there are no deaths in Genesis 1 and 2. The first death is an execution by God, and it’s an amazing thing to think about, because God said to Adam and Eve, “In the day you eat, you’ll die.” And they were ready to die. They were covering themselves to hide themselves from God for fear that their death was coming. And they saw a death, but amazingly it was the death of an innocent substitute. And here at the very beginning, in the garden itself, is the introduction of the Christian doctrine of substitutionary death. An innocent animal gives its life to provide covering for sinners who cannot cover themselves. So in the garden, you have the beginning of false religion, in the covering that Adam and Eve made; and the beginning of true religion, which is the covering that only God can make through death, through death.

From that point on those two religions have never changed. There is the true religion that requires death, the death of the substitute. There were many animal deaths through all of Israel’s history. None of them could atone for sin; but they all pictured the one who would die as the Lamb of God and take away the sins of the world. But they communicated the message that the bridge to God - true religion, the way to God - is through the death of a perfect sacrifice. Turned out that that perfect sacrifice was Jesus Christ. True religion has always realized that the sinner deserves death, that God will provide a substitute, that God will forgive and mete out His punishment on someone else who is innocent. That’s what the sacrificial system communicated.

False religion has always said, “Make something to cover yourselves and hide.” True religion is based on faith in what God will provide. False religion is based on the works that I provide. True religion, the religion of Scripture, is the religion that trusts what God provides; and all false religion by any name, any title, in any form, language, or structural, social context is always the same: “You provide your own covering to somehow satisfy the deity.”

Now, immediately, Adam and Eve got together and had two sons, chapter 4. “Man had relations with his wife Eve, and she conceived and gave birth to Cain, and she said, ‘I’ve gotten a manchild with the help of the Lord.’ Again, she gave birth to his brother Abel. And Abel was a keeper of flocks, but Cain was a tiller of the ground.”

Now you know this, that there were not a whole lot of lessons that Adam and Eve would have taught their children; they were the only two people on the planet. But there were some lessons that were very, very clear in their minds. One had to do with sacrifice: that we’re sinful, we’re cursed, the sentence of death is on our heads. Don’t offer God something of your own doing. There must be a sacrifice. There must be a sacrifice to please God. You know that Adam taught his sons that lesson, because that is the one lesson they learned that’s recorded here in Genesis.

So it came time for the offering. Verse 3: “In the course of time Cain brought an offering to the Lord of the fruit of the ground.” This is exactly what his parents did the first time. He’s going to bring something that he received, that he harvested from the work of his hands, and he’s going to try to come before God and cover his sin in that way.

“Abel,” verse 4, “on his part also brought, but he brought of the firstlings of his flock” – that means the best of the flock – “and their fat portions” – a full, fatted animal – “And the Lord had regard for Abel and his offering; but for Cain and for his offering He had no regard.”

Now here again you see the two kinds of religion. God accepts the sacrifice, because sin requires a death. The death of an innocent substitute God will accept if the heart is right. The other religion is the religion illustrated by Cain who brings something that he himself has plucked up out of the ground. The plants symbolize false religion and man’s efforts; that is covering without death, without the death of a substitute. Animal death symbolizes true religion and God’s provision by death - a death acceptable to God in the sinner’s place.

Cain then is the prototype of false religion. Cain is the prototype of false religion. Abel is the prototype of true religion. Abel brought a sacrifice. Cain offers the fruit of his labor; that becomes the endless pattern of false religion. Abel offers an animal sacrifice, because he knew he had nothing in and of himself to give. But he knew God would accept a death in the place of his death. That’s how it has to be. Salvation would come by the death of an acceptable, innocent substitute.

The story turns very, very sadly to murder. Verse 5: “Cain became very angry, his countenance fell.” He started to feel the guilt. “The Lord said to Cain, ‘Why are you angry? Why has your countenance fallen? If you do well, will not your countenance be lifted up?’” If you had done the right thing, if you had done what you were instructed to do you wouldn’t be in this condition where you’re both angry and feeling guilt and remorse. “‘If you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door; and its desire is for you, but you must master it.’”

“Cain told Abel his brother. And it came about when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and killed him.” And here is the other thing that you need to learn from this: true religion has always been slaughtered by false religion. Look at the world. It is always false religion that leads the massacre against the true people of God - false religion in some form. The way of Cain is the way of works and hates the way of faith; the way of Abel is the way of faith that obeys God. They way of Cain trusts in himself; the way of Abel trusts in another. The way of Cain doesn’t need a death; the way of Abel demands a death.

And as the history goes from there at the Tower of Babel, the people followed the way of Cain. They would build a tower to God, and judgment came. On the other hand, there was Noah who followed the way of Abel, but it was only Noah and his sons and daughters, and the rest of the world was engulfed in the way of Cain, and consequently engulfed in the death that came to them through the global Flood. Even after the Flood subsided and life began again, the way of Cain, the way of satan, dominated the world.

Then you come to Abraham, the story of Abraham – incredibly wonderful story. God calls out a people to follow the way of Abel, the way of faith, the way of sacrifice. Cain’s way was the majority way in the world; it still is. Abel’s was the small believing remnant that came through Abraham, and initially constituted the nation Israel. But even in the nation Israel, there were both religions existing within the framework of Judaism.

And you need to keep that in mind, that false religion is not just outside the boundaries of true religion. It is both outside and inside. There were forms of Judaism that were false, as there are forms of Christianity that are false. satan doesn’t just do his work as anti-Christian; he does his work as subtly pretending to be Christian.

The whole nation of Israel, by way of illustration, was involved in the sacrificial system. The whole nation was involved in it. Sacrifices were given every single day, and repeated sacrifices on special occasions. The whole nation was part of that system, and yet they still were engulfed in false religion, because there were many of them, most of them, the majority of them, going through the sacrificial motions, but not with a pure heart, not with a repentant heart, not like the publican in Luke 16, pounding on the chest, saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” They were trusting in their works, trusting in their religion, trusting in their Jewish heritage, trusting in the covenants God had given them in the past.

The world had gone the way of Cain. Most of Israel had gone the way of Cain; and most of Israel, having gone the way of Cain, ended up killing the prophets who were going the way of Abel. Even in Judaism, the religion of Cain was killing those who were in the religion of Abel. It’s been the same in Christianity. True Christians, through the history of Christianity, have been massacred by false Christians.

So the two religions were side-by-side in Judaism as they are side-by-side in Christianity even today. The prophets exposed that repeatedly. You can read many of the things the prophets said in denouncing not only the nations around them and their false religion, but denouncing the hypocrisy of Israel. Isaiah does it repeatedly; they all do it. I think about Amos chapter 5 where Amos says, “Stop your festivals, stop your sacrifices, stop your offerings, stop your music. Your hearts aren’t right. I hate what you’re doing.”

To offer a sacrifice was the right thing to do, but it had to be done with a right heart; and a right heart said, “I know I’m a sinner. I know I can’t earn my salvation. I trust You God to be merciful to me, to be gracious to me, and to provide a substitute in my place to take my punishment,” even though they didn’t know who the substitute was.

Paul picks this reality up in Romans 2 when he says, “Not all Israel is Israel. Not every Jew is a true Jew.” There are Jews who are Jews outwardly, and there are a lot fewer who are Jews inwardly – that is who really trusted God, and to whom salvation came, because they believed like Abraham, and it was counted to them for righteousness.

You come to the time of Jesus and you meet some of the true Jews: Zacharias, Elizabeth, Joseph, Mary, Simeon, Anna – very few. The nation at the time of our Lord was hypocritical, massively hypocritical. Judaism was basically defined by the Pharisees who would say, “I thank You that I’m not like other men. I’m not a sinner like this publican over here. I tithe, I fast” – et cetera, et cetera – “I’m worthy to be received by You, O God.”

The Bible is clear that the Jews trusted in themselves. They did it through their whole history. They certainly did it at the time of our Lord, and even the time of the apostles. They had literally developed an apostate form of Judaism, which was basically designed and defined by rabbinic tradition that had replaced the Word of God. Achieving right relationship to God was done by strict obedience to Mosaic rules and ceremonies, epitomized by the scribes and Pharisees who were the proud, boasting purveyors of that hypocritical, apostate religion.

Then Pentecost comes and the church is born. Now you’ve got Jews in Jerusalem who have become Christians. This is a problem for some Jews. Out of that vast, vast mass of legalistic, proud Jews, rises a group called the Judaizers – Judaizers because they wanted to Judaize Gentiles. In other words, they said this: “We believe in Christ, and we believe He’s Messiah. We believe in His death and resurrection. But we don’t believe you can be saved by simply believing in Him. You must be circumcised, and you must adhere to the law of Moses and the ancestral traditions.” They did not believe that the atoning work of Jesus Christ was all-sufficient. They believed it was necessary, but you had to add your works.

That essentially is what all false forms of Christianity also say today. They denied, rejected the sufficiency of the atoning, substitutionary death of Jesus, and demanded that Gentile converts be circumcised and adhere to Mosaic rules and traditions. They were so adamant about this that they trailed the apostle Paul in his ministry and went into the churches that he founded and began to propagate this and tell the Gentiles, “You are not truly saved unless you are circumcised and adhere to the Mosaic rules. You are not truly saved.” It is in the face of this – and now you can go back to Galatians – that Paul wrote Galatians, the first of his thirteen letters.

Is it true? Do Gentiles have to go through Mosaic formulas: circumcision and ritual and rules? Do they have to be circumcised? Paul writes Galatians to say, “Absolutely not.”

He said it in Romans - we read it, didn’t we - in chapter 4. Abraham himself believed, and it was counted to him for righteousness before he was ever circumcised. Circumcision plays no role in that. And the Mosaic law didn’t come until long after Abraham.

Paul sees this addition to Christ: “Yes, Christ. Yes, He died and rose. But it’s not enough. You have to be circumcised. You have to adhere to the law.” Paul saw that as a false gospel. And in chapter 1, verses 8-9, he pronounced a curse on anybody who preaches that as we’ve been seeing. Paul is fighting now – this is a polemical book - he’s fighting for the true gospel: the gospel of grace alone, through Christ alone, received by faith alone.

Let me sum up what Paul would say based on what we read in Romans 4 and what’s before us. At no time, at no time in history has any person been saved, made right with God, been forgiven, escaped judgment because of anything that person has done - at no time. No one has ever been saved by works, never. That is the way of Cain. No one ever saved by works. That is why faith is so much the subject that dominates Paul’s letters.

So he’s writing because the Judaizers have gone into the region of Galatia. They’ve gone into the churches of Lystra, Iconium, Derbe, and Antioch, and they’ve taken this false gospel, this damning gospel, in and they’ve confused the people. It’s not that the believers have lost their salvation; you can’t lose it. It’s that they’ve become confused about what the gospel really is; and because they’re confused about the gospel, they’re subject then to proclaim a false gospel. Paul is not trying to save them as if they could be lost again. He is trying to save their usefulness by making sure they understand the true gospel.

Now the Judaizers, in order to get the people in Galatia to lean their way toward this false, Judaizing gospel, had to try to discredit Paul. So they denounced him, said he was a false apostle. So Paul has to open this book defending his apostleship. He opens the book defending his apostleship.

Now we’ve heard him give a defense in chapter 1. And what was his defense in chapter 1? That, “I was called an apostle not by men, I was called by God. I was called directly by Jesus Christ.” We saw that in the Damascus Road experience; he met the risen Christ.

He says, “I didn’t go to Jerusalem. I didn’t learn my theology from the apostles. I went into the desert in Nabataean Arabia for three years. For three years I was tutored by Jesus Christ, just as the twelve apostles were tutored by Him for three years when He was on earth. For three years I learned everything out of the mouth of Christ, not from the apostles. I am a true apostle taught by Christ.”

His first defense in chapter 1 is his own personal encounter with Christ. His second defense in the opening of chapter 2 is, “I did finally after fourteen years” – actually seventeen if you add the three in Arabia – “I finally went down to Jerusalem for a prolonged visit, and the apostles affirmed me, and said, ‘The gospel you preach is the true gospel’” – you see that in verse 9 – “I met with James the brother of our Lord, Cephas” – who’s Peter – “and John. They were the pillars, and they gave to me and Barnabas my companion the right hand of fellowship, so we might go to the Gentiles. They didn’t change our theology.”

“So I tell you I am a true apostle because of my encounter with Christ over three years. I tell you I’m a true apostle because of the validation of the apostles in Jerusalem.” But here, friends, is the final devastating proof: “I opposed Peter to his face.” Paul says elsewhere, “I don’t come behind any apostles.” And he didn’t. He took on Peter.

Let’s come down to verse 11. “When Cephas” – or Peter – “came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned.” Peter had come to Antioch, Antioch of Syria where the first church was and where Paul and Barnabas were pastors, along with a group of other men mentioned in the twelfth chapter of Acts. Peter had come there, and he’d stayed a long time. Peter obviously must have been the center of attention. “Tell us about Jesus.” Can you imagine that? “Tell us about Him. Tell us, What was it like when you walked on water? Tell us all the things that we’ve heard.” Remember the gospels haven’t been written yet, and an eyewitness with Christ would have meant everything to these Gentile believers up in Antioch in a flourishing gospel church. Peter would have been some kind of icon, some kind of hero to them.

Why would Paul oppose him to the face? And it’s very strong language. This is the clash we’ll call it, the clash. “What do you mean ‘oppose him’?” That’s a term that – it’s an interesting term, [???] anthistémi. It means “to stop somebody in the direction they’re going.” Peter is doing something that has to be stopped.

It could be translated, “I forbid him. I set myself against him. I play defense, stopping him in his tracks; and I did it to his face, eyeball to eyeball, because he stood condemned.” I mean that’s just shocking. How do you do that to someone like Peter? Where does Paul get this boldness? Is this some kind of personal jealousy? What’s going on here? No. Peter had done something that Paul saw as an attack on the gospel: the gospel of grace alone, faith alone, apart from works. And so he condemned him. This is an apostolic clash of massive proportions.

First half of the book of Acts is all the preaching of Peter. Second half’s all the preaching of Paul. What’s going on here? Why the clash? Well, the cause is in verse 12: “For prior to the coming of certain men from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles; but when they came, he began to withdraw and hold himself aloof, fearing the party of the circumcision.” Wow.

What’s going on? Is this personal jealousy? Not at all. Let me unfold this for you.

“Prior to the coming of certain men from James.” James is the head of the Jerusalem church, the brother of our Lord. He’s kind of the leader there; we see that in the fifteenth chapter of Acts. So here comes some men. I don’t think James sent these men. I think they said they were from James, and they had some connection to the Jerusalem church. At this time, that’s the mother church, that’s the church. So somehow they were associated with it. And prior to the arrival of these men who came from the Jerusalem church and said they had a connection with James, Peter used to eat with the Gentiles.

Now why is that a big deal? Because Jews didn’t eat with Gentiles. Just as a normal rule of life, Jews didn’t eat with Gentiles. Forget Christianity, forget the gospel, forget the church; Jews didn’t do that. A Gentile was unclean; a Gentile home was unclean; a Gentile utensil was unclean. They couldn’t go near Gentiles. They couldn’t eat off the dish a Gentile offered them. And these were rabbinic standards that were iron-fisted laws. It was believed that all Gentile food was contaminated by being unclean, to say nothing of that which was not kosher, not according to the standards of the Mosaic dietary laws. So what you had was the Jews holding to their own dietary laws and a kind of developing racism toward Gentiles. We saw the racism even in the day of Jonah, where he didn’t want to see Gentiles repent. Jews resented, hated Gentiles; and they kept separate.

Peter was raised in that environment. He comes to Antioch; he’s in a Gentile church. And what does he do? He does what a Jew would never do. He used to eat with the Gentiles. What is that saying? That he knows that the lesson he learned in Acts 10, “Rise, Peter, kill and eat.” There’s nothing unclean anymore, nothing unclean anymore - the dietary laws are over. In Christ, the middle wall is broken down. Jew and Gentile are one, and Christ is neither Jew nor Greek. That’s all over with. That’s all over. He knows that.

He also knows that they are brothers and sisters in Christ. And when he eats with them, it’s not just a meal; it’s the love feast; it’s the Lord’s Table. He’s just living life with the Gentiles. He’s with them all the time. They’re being served the same food. He’s finding out what it is to eat all the stuff that Jews could never eat. He’s been liberated.

He is turning his back on the [???] halakhoth, the list of elder traditions that prescribed certain kinds of food. And the fact that you couldn’t eat certain kinds of meat. You couldn’t eat meat that was butchered by a Gentile, or that was, a part of it was offered to idols, or violated the laws of Moses, or had been in the hands of Gentiles, or served on Gentile plates, and all of that. And all of a sudden that’s not even an issue. Peter’s having a great time. He’s discovering all kinds of foods that he’d never eaten before, eating with Gentiles, his brothers and sisters in Christ, until certain men show up. And he began to withdraw and hold himself aloof. He pulled back.

They would have criticized him mercilessly for eating with those Gentiles. And they would have said this: “Not only are you not to eat with Gentiles, they’re not believers, because they haven’t been circumcised, and they don’t adhere to Mosaic rules. So you’re eating not only with Gentiles who are unclean, but you’re eating with nonbelievers.” And they obviously intimidated Peter.

“He began to withdraw and hold himself aloof” - and there’s no questioning the motive – “he was fearing the party of the circumcision.” That’s the Judaizers. “The party of the circumcision” they became known as. He was afraid of them. Good men, great men – for the sake of pride and self-protection, self-preservation, popularity – compromise. They compromise.

Peter just can’t get out of his own shadow, can he? I mean it’s just a history of this guy doing this. He’s an illustration of how sanctification works. It’s not a straight line upward. It’s a few steps forward and a few steps back, and a few steps forward and a few steps back. And it’s where we all live, isn’t it?

All of a sudden now he doesn’t want to be with them, the Gentiles. He won’t eat with the Gentiles. He pulls back from the Lord’s Table. He pulls back from the love feast. He pulls back from the normal fellowship around the meals. He pulls back, fearing.

Peter afraid? It could cost him his reputation. He wants to be liked, he wants to be accepted. He also knows that he’s supposed to take the gospel to the Jews; that’s his particular calling. And now if he offends them all, what’s going to happen?

What he did was so influential, verse 13 says, that, “The rest of the Jews joined him in hypocrisy, with the result that even Barnabas was carried away by their hypocrisy.” Peter became a hypocrite. He acted like he agreed with the Judaizers – devastating. And so did the rest of the Jews that were there, and so did Barnabas. And now what you have is a fracture in the whole church.

And what is this more than that? This is not about disunity; this is an assault on the gospel of faith, because now Peter is acting as if the Judaizers are right. “For that,” Paul says, “I opposed him to his face, because he was to be condemned.”

If you deviate from the gospel in what you say about the gospel, or if you deviate from the gospel in how you act, you’re in violation of the purity of the gospel. It’s hard; I understand. It’s hard to be bold for the gospel when you’re with people who compromise the gospel but also talk about Christ. It’s hard to talk to someone in a form of Christianity that is apostate, heretical, outside the bounds of the true gospel. It’s hard to talk to a Roman Catholic or somebody in some cult or some fringe group, or any kind of “Christian” organization that has a review of the gospel that’s in error.

It’s hard to be bold, because you want to be accepted by them. And maybe you say, “Well, you know, they’re not going to listen to what I have to say if they don’t” – it’s hard. And the fear of men brings a snare, doesn’t it. Even Peter had to be confronted to the face.

Don’t attack the gospel. Don’t attack it by changing it in its content, and don’t attack it by siding with people who have a false gospel. You can’t do that. Paul is saying to the church at Galatia, “We have to have the gospel clear; that’s why we’re in the world.”

Lord, we thank You that we’ve been able to look at this fascinating moment in the life of Paul and Peter. We know that as time went on, Peter grew in his love and respect for Paul, and even called the writings of Paul Scripture. But in this moment we see the importance of recognizing Paul as an apostle. He is an apostle to the degree that he is more faithful to the true gospel than even Peter, who was the head of the twelve. He is an apostle because he will defend the gospel.

Peter wanted to avoid persecution. He wanted to avoid unpopularity. Paul never did that, never did that. He wouldn’t compromise the gospel no matter what. Peter needed this rebuke. He needed to have someone he could look up to, and that someone was Paul.

Father, help us to be faithful to the gospel that we proclaim; and even in our relationships, make clear where we stand. May there be no hypocrisy that compromises the true gospel. May we not be intimidated into affirming those who preach a false gospel, who add works to the gospel of grace and faith. Do Your work in and through our church and through our lives, we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.