Tuesday, August 11, 2009
God damn the goddamn devil
I'm just damn near hard up enough to pick a fight with the son-of-a-bitch devil himself. That son-of-a-bitch is unloadin' on me here two weeks before I dare to take a real step toward seminary.
And yeah, when shit gets really hard, I go right back to where I started with him: He's a son-of-a-bitch, and I don't care whether "smart" people or "educated" people or "modern" people dismiss the son-of-a-bitch as outmoded or a fantasy of the past or whatever:
St. Paul talked about "principalities and powers" and whether he's a prince or an imp, or a figment of my yet-unregenerated, desperate imagination, the son-of-a-bitch has it in for me and my beloved right now and I ain't takin' it no more.
Fuck him.
Covered by the Blood of Christ, I stand up and say to him: Fuck you. You pissant.
I don't give a damn if I'm personifying evil.
I don't give a damn if I'm makin' shit up -- it's based on the very real troubles besetting me right now.
I don't give a damn if anybody laughs.
It's either slink off whimpering or stand as best I can on a bum leg, leaning on the Very Cross of Christ, daring God to be God -- and I stand.
Jesus Christ -- avatar, manifestation of Holy Logos, Son of Man, Son of God or bad joke -- I stand!
If I'm wrong, I'm wrong and I throw myself into the Cosmos and I cling to the Gospel gun with one hand and my own balls in the other -- and I stand!
It's money, it's illness, it's fear, it's age, it's garden-variety fretting and it's unholy fear -- but they ALL are bullshit manifestations of Not-God, and I scream my YAWP into space and INSIST that GOD help me!
God help me! God help my beloved!
I'm so goddamned tired of blithely saying, "Yes, God loves the sparrow as it falls -- but it falls."
God help this sparrow from falling!
And God will -- or not.
But I will.
Weak and bloodied, scared shitless, and so wanting to tuck tail and run:
I. Will. Not.
Because:
God. Will.
Amen and oh my. And oh, shit!
Pray with me! Or be silent! No bullshit here. This is a call to spiritual arms, friends.
--ER
And yeah, when shit gets really hard, I go right back to where I started with him: He's a son-of-a-bitch, and I don't care whether "smart" people or "educated" people or "modern" people dismiss the son-of-a-bitch as outmoded or a fantasy of the past or whatever:
St. Paul talked about "principalities and powers" and whether he's a prince or an imp, or a figment of my yet-unregenerated, desperate imagination, the son-of-a-bitch has it in for me and my beloved right now and I ain't takin' it no more.
Fuck him.
Covered by the Blood of Christ, I stand up and say to him: Fuck you. You pissant.
I don't give a damn if I'm personifying evil.
I don't give a damn if I'm makin' shit up -- it's based on the very real troubles besetting me right now.
I don't give a damn if anybody laughs.
It's either slink off whimpering or stand as best I can on a bum leg, leaning on the Very Cross of Christ, daring God to be God -- and I stand.
Jesus Christ -- avatar, manifestation of Holy Logos, Son of Man, Son of God or bad joke -- I stand!
If I'm wrong, I'm wrong and I throw myself into the Cosmos and I cling to the Gospel gun with one hand and my own balls in the other -- and I stand!
It's money, it's illness, it's fear, it's age, it's garden-variety fretting and it's unholy fear -- but they ALL are bullshit manifestations of Not-God, and I scream my YAWP into space and INSIST that GOD help me!
God help me! God help my beloved!
I'm so goddamned tired of blithely saying, "Yes, God loves the sparrow as it falls -- but it falls."
God help this sparrow from falling!
And God will -- or not.
But I will.
Weak and bloodied, scared shitless, and so wanting to tuck tail and run:
I. Will. Not.
Because:
God. Will.
Amen and oh my. And oh, shit!
Pray with me! Or be silent! No bullshit here. This is a call to spiritual arms, friends.
--ER
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We pray because we need to be heard. And we pray with people who need to be heard. People need to be heard more than they need to make someone else listen. There is a distinction.
I am praying for you -- I hear you. And I pray that God hears me on your behalf, as much as I hope he hears your prayers for help too.
I am praying for you -- I hear you. And I pray that God hears me on your behalf, as much as I hope he hears your prayers for help too.
Nothing in this life or world or the next can stand between us and the love we have from God in Jesus Christ.
Fear is the expression of what Jurgen Moltmann calls a "pusillanimous faith". You are expressing the exact opposite here.
I applaud the willingness to march through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, knowing that God is with you.
And so am I, dear friend. Prayers for you, going forth now and until you say stop.
Fear is the expression of what Jurgen Moltmann calls a "pusillanimous faith". You are expressing the exact opposite here.
I applaud the willingness to march through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, knowing that God is with you.
And so am I, dear friend. Prayers for you, going forth now and until you say stop.
Senor Rednek, yo no estoy a gusto al diablo. Me parece que en algun momento esta en los details, ya veces tiene los ojos azules y jeans azul, y, a veces es de tazmania y a veces, me hace hacerlo
pray'n with ya dawg! i know i'm not ready to make nice, not ready to back down: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dblAC5uLb8
love those Chicks! RAWK ON! and keep fight'n the good fight. i'm right along aside ya.
love those Chicks! RAWK ON! and keep fight'n the good fight. i'm right along aside ya.
Great message in this context, actually. Wow. Thanks, again. I love them Chicks, too. They're ALWAYS, um, balls out!
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