Showing posts with label Epexegesis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Epexegesis. Show all posts

Friday, September 8, 2023

Love... for which to honor

 


Included are seven gifts I have to offer you. It is my hope that you will take the time to study and perhaps, even enjoy, these gifts for which to honor. Please accept them as they are intended.

But before I describe these gifts, there are a couple things you need to know. First, I wish to thank you for such a situation as that which brought about the much needed discussion of reconciliation. I am thankful that God hath raised up a brother willing to intercede for such a situation. 

Second, I know I am a sinner (if you really want to push that narrative unfairly), but if you truly understood how important I am, you need not remain antagonistic toward me. I don't expect your other brother to change his antagonism, ever since I delivered him over to SATAN for the destruction of the flesh so that his spirit may be saved in the Day of the Lord. As with Peter in Antioch, I withstood him to the face because he was to be blamed.

Here are the awesome gifts included, which I made for you to honor my awesomeness:

1. The new "proofed" LAW Catechism. It is not designed to replace any catechism already out there. Instead, this catechism is designed to be really "out there," surpassing even the catechism of Moses himself. It is a catechism demonstrating HOW Moses catechized the people of Israel to love the LAW of the LORD. Those that say otherwise, perhaps, need to study, at length, as I have, the standard within the Standard (Scripture). 

2. Position paper: Let no man think he is something when he is nothing, Part ONE - This exposes the deep, dark secrets of the Papacy and Islam working with Fauci to destroy Calvinism in America.

3. Position paper: The Bohemian Shuttle: "Pretext", Part TWO 

4. "US" - Part ONE - this is about the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child back in the 90's.

5. Satan (AKA the Devil, Dragon, Serpent, Accuser, Angel of Light) did not write the LAW of God, Part TWO. - finishes the same with a hard-hitting conclusion.

6. Homeschools: Militias for mass Reformation - Parts ONE & TWO

7. The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women - by John Knox. Is about men with fire in their bosom.









Sunday, August 27, 2023

Four Years

 



I want

to honor 

your life,

but I don't

know how

to say more

without

tears...

of joy?






To my child



To my child,

On this date twenty years from now you will watch your Beloved travel from Manhattan to Gettysburg, starry eyed and filled with faith, hope, and joy. Her family's VHS tapes will finally be digitized. Here is what I want you to learn on that day. 

Learn the virtues from her. God knows you didn't learn them from us.





Friday, June 9, 2023

Fool of prayer


 

I hear you, Isaiah

I understand your canned concerns

But I’m not sorry

And I never will be

 

I don’t care if you’re an actual prophet

Or just courageous like one

I simply will not pray for him, period 

I won’t even pray for the man at your right hand

 

They’re both fools I’ve prayed for before

And I’m finished praying for fools who pray

And pray and pray, and pray and pray

And talk about praying

 

For others to be warm and filled 

Along with blessings from above

For them to experience the love and light of Christ

And other ejaculatory buzzwords of spiritual direction

 

Fools pray when far more than praying can and should be done by them

Fools expect results by their prayers

They’re fools because of their many prayers

They’re fools because they expect God alone to act, even if its by inaction

 

Fools also baptize their prayers 

With pietistic not-my-will’s but thy-will’s

And doxological refrains

In Jesus’ name

 

Meanwhile, rapists’ rape 

And rape and rape 

And never receive justice

But thank God there’s at least one fool out there praying for him by name















Monday, June 5, 2023

Trusting Grace

 



 

At first you dragged us

Against our will and into your life

Irresistibly impelling the I 

We were humbled

 

Then you showered gifts 

Washing us with precious promises 

Of life, of good, of blessings to come, even protection from prey

We were inspired

 

So, we did as you commanded

Day after day, studying to preach and pray 

Students on mission, on fire without a cage

We persevered


Life happened

Decades passed

We became as gods

 

Knowing good and evil

Knowing the difference 

Between planting corn and strawberries

Curiosity piqued

 

In our quest of you

Analyzed and perused

Unexamined details sprouted like never before

It was as though, for once, we both reached an impasse

 

Then we each watched each other's tide

Encroach upon our iconic moat and sand castle

While each of us did nothing

 

What happened to the One who saved us?

Where did all the power and sovereignty go?

Will you not do for us what we cannot do for ourselves?

Why the silent treatment now?

 

Nothing but silence, casting doubt

In despair, questioning if you’d ever been there

In loneliness, orphaned and stranded

Why should we care?


A generation of wandering

Around this citadel of sand

And you would not coddle or swaddle us once more

 

Why not drag us, or woo us, or inspire us again?

Why jettison every word of promise?

Convince us to care, if you dare

Then the seed finally died

 

Children abandoned their fathers

Servants betrayed their masters

Fruitless branches pruned from the vine

Because juvenility reigned

 

Only a few learned to increase in likeness and sovereignty

Even fewer took control of this monergistic gift for all

To honor father and mother when they’re no longer needed

And trust this first synergistic word with promise



















 

 

Tuesday, April 4, 2023

Sacramental Potatoes

 


These potatoes represent so much to me

They represent what I imagined us to be

From little spuds to flaky skins

To bring together the best there is

The WHOLE of us together in bliss

Then Satan entered and deceived the kids

May the Lord grant such a time again 

When we can munch on tots as friends

And laugh about how wrong they were

To question the prophet and cause a stir









Celebrating American Jesus

 



Must we?

Dress up like candy canes

Consume lots of sweets, meats, and alchoholic treats

 

Must we?

Open presents one by one in front of all

Even though I brought nothing but myself

And they pretend to know me

 

Must we?

Pretend to be tightly knit

And write checks for simple services

Insisted for free









Impacted


Another year

Another festive funeral service survived

Christ is born—Glorify him, they don’t say

The three stooges just offer their gifts

While eighteen bystanders pretend to enjoy the show

It’s like they participate to please Herod or Caesar

So I did what I do best

Pray boldly and ask forgiveness later

And pray louder than the fools in the tomb

Even an infected ear can hear the difference














Good boy

 

 

I prayed last night

It feels right to draw a line in the sand

I’m not sure if it’s wrong to never cross that line again

Even for artificial peace

 

In the moment it feels more wrong than right

Why should I care about him?

Because that’s what Jesus would supposedly do?

What if he’s a pharisee?

 

Should I pray for Saul to become Paul?

For forgiveness, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing?

Saul repented when confronted

He accepted change

 

And as far as forgiveness goes

It turns out that our Father did not forgive them all

Forty years were offered to repent 

And become children again

 

He doesn’t have that many years left though

He knows he should do something

I prayed he would

Or, at least I think I did

 

Maybe I fell asleep

Before I got to that part

If he does do what is right

Does anyone even know what that would look like?









For yourself


 















None of us were surprised

He came and brought her

And made excuses afterward

 

It was a good time apart nonetheless

Kids puking will become his excuse

To normalize dysfunction

 

He convinced many for a time, times, and half a time

That he really does love us

Just not enough to take us seriously

 

This is because he sees the missing

He knows how nations are discipled

His whole life is one adopted failure after another

 

Old man, you have built very little

Defended quite a lot of your own panache

And sustained absolutely nothing but a reputation


For yourself










Sunday, January 22, 2023

John 6.63

 




Profitable is the word I speak and worthy of acceptance

Let us now awake from our sleep, and lift up our hearts and hands toward God in heaven...

Let us observe the appointed time of the glorious bridegroom, so that we may enter with him into his bridal chamber

Let us prepare oil for our lamps, so that we may go forth to meet him with joy

Let us put away and cast from us all uncleanness, and put on wedding garments

Let us trade with the silver we have received, so that we may be called diligent servants

Let us be constant in prayer, so that we may pass beyond the place where fear dwells

Let us purify our heart from iniquity, so that we may see the Lofty One in his glory

Let us be merciful, as it is written, so that God may have mercy upon us

Let there be peace amongst us, so that we may be called brethren of Christ

Let us hunger for justice, so that we may be satisfied from the table of his kingdom

Let us be the salt of truth, so that we do not become food for the serpent

Let us sell our possessions, and buy for ourselves the pearl, so that we may be rich

Let us lay up our treasures in heaven, so that when we arrive we may open them and have pleasure in them

Let us honor the Spirit of Christ, so that we may receive grace from him

Let us be strangers to the world, as Christ was not of it

Let us be humble and meek, so that we may inherit the land of life

Let us be constant in his service, so that he may let us serve in the abode of the saints

Let us pray his prayer in purity, so that it may have access to the Lord of majesty

Let us be sharers in his suffering, so that we may also rise up in his resurrection

Let us bear his sign upon our bodies, so that we may be delivered from the wrath to come



-Aphrahat the Persian







Silent Lover

 


What kind of person are you?

Why don’t you care enough to get involved?

All these people suffer

And my family suffers

We all suffer

But, for what—your glory?

 

Then comes the satiation

Of fingers or fists

Raised up high

 

Life together

At first so sweet

Turns into life separated

Without a choice

Or with a choice

To keep it that way 

Since the other departed

 

Help from on high is then sent

To quote and comfort 

From our lover’s book

All things work together for good

His ways are not our ways

You will never be tested 

At least not beyond what you can endure

 

I’ve heard them all

I’ve even said many

Back when magic words were the only cure

 

Thus, when silence remains the only offering

And the only assurance one receives 

Comes from incestuous prayers and esoteric incantations

That’s when it’s fair to ask new questions

About not loving or respecting the silent treatment

Or the inanity of his children













 

Proverb

 




Prayer is an interesting exercise

One talks to the person in charge

And waits

To wake up

And discover the reality

That “He” listened

“He” stooped and heard my cry

“He” delivered me from the pit

“He” showed mercy to those who feared “Him”

 

But for those who are not chosen

Yet choose nonetheless

Like chicken soup or beef stew

And commit to entertaining the fantasy

Of a “He” who loves to listen

And has many things to say

But is mute

And struggles in popularity

With only one bestseller

 

“He” is merely the residue

The excuse

The guy up high who’s qualified

And highly recommended to fix existential leaks

Better than the guy down the street 

“His” credentials cover heaven and earth

 

When they pray

They wake up to the same reality

As those who parrot proverbs

And wash in lamb’s blood

The only difference between them

Is gratitude for the exercise













Friday, December 23, 2022

Acknowledgements



To my children

with new names, but anointed once

There is a new temple being built

 

The first is an author of hope undiminished, set on reaching God

The second, an Athenian heroine with angelic self-control

The third, a fighter willing to part ways and yet offer only two ways

 

For my father

A familiar saying

Frequently misunderstood

 

With a quick search one finds

Love enduring imprisonment

Faith and reason overcoming injustice

 

In place of a stone

some find a prudent jailor 

lighting gas with rigamarole

 

For my mother

A poem for a poet 

with gems inside


Hiding the Spirit

of the first, second, and third

as the new Temple is built












Saturday, December 3, 2022

Messengers

 


I cried this morning

I changed the wallpaper, too, because of you

It's the perfect picture of the crazy I remember

    with the glow of love for the Divine


All I could say in the moment was, 'I miss you.'

And thanks be to God that you can receive such greetings

    whispered to angels

        or those seated above them


I picture one of them saying, 'Go! Give this to her quickly.'

And at once each one darts off to run their own race

and eventually comes to your mansion


You sense the urgency, 

and so, rush to the door

    and listen intently

        and respond gently


Go tell my son, 'I love you too.'

That's when I cried

and changed my wallpaper

    to the perfect picture of crazy love for the Divine













Sunday, November 27, 2022

I really mean it

 



I really mean it
I can't believe you married me
I love life with you
I love you with every piece of me
And I will love you until
No pieces are left
After nothing is left
I will still be in love with you
And every piece of you that completes me
I would disassemble 
Just so I could put you back together again
It's the least I could do
For giving me all of you
I really mean it















Monday, October 31, 2022

The Prophet

 


There once was a man
Who told stories on mountains 
Before all great feasts

Underlings would gather round 
To hear the seated prophet
And watch his big book open

They would listen with reverence 
As spells were expounded
And the whole world outside his realm, cursed

Every mind was amazed
Every ear refreshed
Every eye dazzled by his authority

Because only he knew how to reform everything

His abilities, his somber tone
Crystal clear interpretation 
Archaic application 

Every true daughter fawned
Every doting disciple stood attentive
Even the queen mother by his side

No underling dared to question the prophet’s word
Each was fitly framed like apples of gold
In settings of silver 

They all knew their history 
And what happens to those who fall
They remembered the first man on a mountain long ago 

He, too, knew how to reform everything

A reptilian once approached festivities
Spoke rashly, argued, and berated the first man 
After listening to him read and teach for only ten minutes

Suddenly, a spell burst forth
Ex opere operato
Suddenly, earth opened its mouth

Swallowing the serpentine beast whole 
Demons dragged him down to the depths below
Torturing him until that last Great Day

An important lesson was forever to be remembered
Such temporal torments are only the beginning 
Of eternal end and unmitigated sorrow 
For those who question the prophet

But God, in his great mercy, spared compliant underlings that day
And so, we, too, listen and learn, and learn to listen
From the prophet and his word

Only in recent years 
has there been one other challenger like the slithering fiend
Another recreant, full of lies and popish schemes 

That one addressed the prophet candidly in his own home
Much to everyone's surprise
The demoniac received mercy

He knew how to reform everything

After the offense was made 
A time was allotted 
For prayerful consideration

A child’s cross brought to the table 
Would become the final straw
As the timer drew nigh to its chime

Opportunity for repentance waned
And waned
And waned

The heart continued to harden 
And harden
Until

Everything within became reformed like him

Then the prophet, rich in mercy
And abundant in redemption
For his great love wherewith he loved his underlings

Quickened him 
And made him sit 
in the heavenly places

So that in the ages to come
He might show the exceeding riches 
Of his favor

In his kindness toward those
He hath foreordained 
That they should walk in his ways











Wednesday, October 26, 2022

Rich Coast Gambling

 


You kept them alive. Now what? Seventy years in your pocket and you unashamedly invest in a sixth. But for what? The sixth doesn’t know you, yet pretends to while mimicking the real you. The real you is in their letters, followed by thirteen pages of gaslighting.

The real you doesn’t play by rules. The real game doesn’t require gimmicks or apologetics. Do you remember the technicolored dreamcoat of debate strategies? Yours do. What about the pen name deemed necessary to remain incognito, or the prodigal options of calls and puts, or the ozonating machines and rejuvenating powders?

Do you remember the emergency meeting about fleeing to Costa Rica? Yours do. They even wished you were serious. While you discover zealots in Uganda they remember your conceits. Apocalyptic delusions, unteachable spirits, and position papers only memorialize your folly.

They chuckle because you’re ridiculous. You grumble because they aren’t enamored by your conceits. At first they thought this imposition of a sixth was another Costa Rica. But then you doubled down in exchange for one more joker. 







Thursday, October 13, 2022

Colonel of Truth

 

 

What is a dative

That was his quiz

Drilling, jabbing, spitting pride

Supposedly to prove a point

An imaginary point, too

Something to do with the sign of the cross

But most likely to convince his opponent

He knows better than everyone in the room

While he sits on his couch

Next to his doormat

And doting disciple

The unholy trinity

Of He, Helpmeet, and ὕβρις









Parrot Disease

 

I wish there was an easy way to say this, but John was right about the jailor.

Tireless propaganda tames all but the few whose faith is whole.

 

I remember you well. I don’t remember everything, 

but what I remember from back then is the same I heard today.

 

You are hurt. Nobody responds to your stupid texts.

Nobody calls you, or checks in, or pays you a visit, or invites you over. 


Always deflecting. Always insulting. Always hearing but not listening.

Always gaslighting. Always the victim. Always the expert. Always the same.

 

Fifty-eight minutes is all it took to remember why your four distanced themselves.

In your eyes the four are Stewards. Milk does feed calves and dung does not.

 

Always reformed but never reforming, and trying to make them think.

That milk is the same sort of thing as sweat or dung.


One is always the soldier at war. One is always attacked. One is always justified.

That one is a horrible human being. Not horrible, as in wicked—

 

—horrible in the sense of pathetic, and mean, and hypocritical, 

and self-aggrandizing, and argumentative, and petty, and embarrassing.


This is why your four don’t bother with you anymore.

Tireless propaganda tames all but the strong whose hearts they break.