The Fairable, part the third

 And now, the conclusion of the story, which will introduce the theme of repentance.
-----

It was very dark.  The oppressive heat continued, though the sun had gone down hours before, and everywhere was the rotten egg stench of sulfur, belched out by the horrid red Dragon.
 

In a corner of the darkness, a certain gray squirrel was admiring his prize.  A real acorn from the fabled Western Woods!  Samuel held it out at arm's length. It was beautiful!  It looked-- like an acorn. Like every other acorn he'd ever seen or eaten in his entire life.  He held it up to his nose to sniff its delectable nutty aroma!  It smelled-- well, mostly it just smelled.  It smelled like rotten eggs, because everything did when you were close to the dragon.  He stuck out his little pink tongue and gave its smooth shell a lick.  It tasted like-- the shell of an acorn... and a little bit like rotten eggs.
 

Ugh! How could he possibly enjoy his reward in this foul atmosphere? He'd done something great and mighty! He'd led two children of King Olam through the woods and handed them over to the dragon--all by himself!  He should be able to enjoy his reward!  Instead, he had a sick feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach, and he suspected that it wasn't just the smell of sulfur in the air.  He should be able to bask in the glow of a job well-done!  So why didn't he feel like celebrating?

  
In his mind, he traveled back in time to his younger days.  War was raging fiercely in the Kingdom of Olam back then. Every faithful, able-bodied servant of the King was training for battle. He was part of the "Mad Squirrel Brigade," 305th Regiment!  Their motto had been, "We don't just EAT nuts, we ARE nuts!"  He'd been proud to fight for his king and kingdom! Sgt Bigotes had drilled them in marching in formation for hours!
 

"Squirrels marching to the foe! Hut, two, three, four.
"We will fight them where we go! Hut, two, three, four.
"We will fight them in the trees! Hut, two, three, four.
"We will bite their knobby knees! Hut, two, three, four. Company, halt!"
 

Now, most drill sergeants would've said at this point, "About face!" meaning turn around to go back the way you'd come. However, Sgt Bigotes had grown up in a tree near a monastery, and he'd heard the monks talking often. They had a special word, they said, that meant "to turn around and go back the way you came."  That word was "repent."  So, instead of "About face," Sgt Bigotes said, "Re-PENT!"
Samuel Squirrel smiled at that happy memory. He'd always felt good about being a loyal servant to his King.
 

In the darkness, poorly-lit by a few smoky campfires, Catherine fidgeted against the thick stake, struggling against her bonds. Her wrists were rubbed raw by the coarse ropes, but she thought she might be making some headway with the knots.
 

"Harold," she whispered, "Are you any closer to getting free?" There was no answer.
 

"Harold!" she said, a little louder.
 

"Snorxx--Wha? I'm sorry. I guessed I must have dozed off.  What were you saying?"
 

"Dozed off?! HOW can you sleep at a time like this?! And how can you sleep standing up?!  What are you, a horse?!"
 

"I'm just really tired."
 

"How are you doing with getting your hands untied?"
 

"What? Oh that!  Yeah, I had a dagger tucked in the back of my pants that they didn't know about. I cut myself free hours ago!"
 

"WHAT?!"
 

"Oh sure!  I've just been standing here leaning against this wooden stake because it's just so comfortable!  No, I'm kidding. Still tied up tight."
 

"Harold, I'm scared. What are we gonna do?"
 

"Um... Deep knee bends, maybe?"
 

"Harold!"
 

"Or... we could sing! Do you know 'The Walloping Whales of Cardiff, Wales'?"
 

"Harold."
 

"'There are plenty of fish in the sea, so they say. There's herring and salmon and cod.'"
 

"Harold!"
 

"Oh, right! 'There's Harold and salmon and'--No, that's not right.  Pretty sure it's 'herring.'"
 

"HAROLD!"
 

"Yes?"
 

"MUST you make jokes at a time like this?"
 

"Sorry. I always make jokes when I'm nervous."
 

"You make jokes a lot!"
 

"I'm nervous a lot!"

"Harold! What's that moving over there?
----

"I can fix this!" said Samuel. "I know I can!" He marched right up to the ugly red mound of scaly flesh.  

"Dragon, I've reconsidered our deal. Here's your crummy acorn back. Now let Harold and Catherine go!"
 

The huge snake-like head lowered itself to look Samuel in the eye. "I think not. You, of course are free to leave--but where will you go? [cough.] Do you think you'll be welcome anywhere in the Kingdom once King Olam hears what you've done--that you handed two of his children over to his enemy?  Do you think he could ever forgive you after that? Face it, Squirrel. You've failed, and you must live with the consequences."

Samuel dipped his head, turned, and trudged sadly away.

The dragon drew his head back to coil his long neck over his broken wing, when he was suddenly startled by the sound of thundering hooves that grew louder every second. The night was illuminated by hundreds of torches, borne by soldiers on horseback, and by a light that seemed to emanate from the silvery armor of the of the leader of this army.
 

"Well, well!  King Olam.  I have two of your children here.  Let's come to an arrangement, hmm?"
 

"They don't belong to you." Said King Olam, with the voice of unquestioned authority. "They belong to me. Let. Them. Go."
 

Then, off to the left, near the ground, "Ho-ho!" And on the right, "Ho-ho!" And soon, from everywhere in the shadows, "Ho-ho! Ho-ho! Ho-ho-ho! Ho-ho!"
 

"Harold! It's Poisson Erro!"
 

Everywhere around, brightly colored frogs armed with bows and arrows hopped into the light!
 

"Ho-ho! It is _I_ AND my whole family!  WE are the king's archers!  Allez!"
 

The Dragon and all his vast host of misshapen minions began to flee, peppered on every side with tiny arrows!  Somewhere, in the midst of all the chaos, someone cut the ropes that bound Catherine and Harold--someone who still had a paring knife that had been borrowed from King Olam's kitchen. King Olam dismounted and embraced them both. "My children!" he said. And then, "Samuel Squirrel. Step forward.
 

The little gray squirrel seemed even smaller than usual. He stepped forth on shaking legs, and would not raise his head to look up at the king.
 

"Samuel. What have you done?"
 

"I was supposed to lead these two to safety, but instead, I handed them over to-- to the Dragon. It was wrong! I never should have done it!  I tried to make it right, but I only made things worse!  I'm done with THAT. I don't want to be anything but your loyal subject! I surrender!  Do with me as you will!  I--" he began marching in place on his little squirrel legs, "I want to go back to the place I came from. Your Majesty, I repent!"
 

"Samuel Squirrel..." said King Olaf, getting down on his knees and stretching his arms forward, "I forgive you.  Welcome back."

Another Fairable.

 This is night #2 of the Fairy Tale-themed camp week: "Who Am I?"

I'm prefacing each vespers message with a piece of a longer story that addresses each night's theme. Night #2 is "There's more going on than we knew." The emphasis is the spiritual realities behind what goes on around us. This is a continuation of THIS story. And, it leaves a sort of cliff hanger for the following night.
-----

The morning was cool and misty. Fog rolled through the lowlands from nearby lakes. Harold and Catherine followed Samuel, their squirrel guide, deeper into the forest on a barely-discernible pathway that practically vanished to the eyes of the adventurers—but still the little gray creature led on.

“Forward! Onward!” he squeaked. “We have not many furlongs to go before we can break for repast!” Harold wished he’d paid better attention to his father when he’d explained just how long a furlong was. It wasn’t a measurement he used fixing shoes. And “repast”?! What did that mean?! He wasn’t about to ask Catherine about it. He didn’t want to appear foolish.
 

Catherine, having toiled for years in a kitchen, knew that “repast” meant you got to  eat something. However, she didn’t know what a “furlong” was, either.  She thought it might have something to do with the length of a squirrel’s furry tail. “Fur” “long.” It made sense. But was it different for every squirrel? And what if a deer said it? Catherine had never met a talking deer, and wasn’t sure if they even existed.
 

“Harold,” she whispered, “are there any talking deer?”
 

“Well… I never met any, myself…”
 

“Maybe Samuel knows.” Come to think of it, she’d never met any talking squirrels, either, until yesterday.
 

"So... are you going to ask him?"
 

"Umm... Maybe later."
 

"And now," said Samuel, "we may take a break for a while and refresh ourselves."
 

The branches over their heads contained small, but sweet-smelling apples.
 

"And yonder is a spring of good, cold water," Samuel continued. "We should replenish our water supply."
 

Harold began to climb up into the branches to harvest some of the apples. He reached for one that looked good, but before his fingers could close around it, the apple flew out of the tree and into a denser, more shadowy portion of the forest.  He thought this was odd, but rather than dwelling on it, he reached for a different apple.  Again, just before he could lay his hand on it, that apple, too, went sailing off the branch with a little "whoosh!" and into the thick undergrowth. Harold wasn't sure, but he thought he'd seen something like a bird carry the apple away this time!
 

"Ho-ho!" shouted a little voice from the other side of the forest pathway. "Stop! Thou vile knave!"
 

Out of the shadows hopped a tiny frog with bright yellow patches, carrying an even tinier bow and arrow in his little froggy toes!  
 

"Those are the king's apples! And _I_ am the king's archer! Ma name is Poisson Erro! Ho-ho-ho!"

With lightning speed, Poisson loosed three more arrows, and picked three more apples off the tree. "Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
 

"And I keep telling you," said Samuel, returning with a squirrel-sized armload of arrow-pierced apples, 

"That your name means 'Wrong Fish!'"
 

"Samuel, my friend!"
 

"Archer. The young lad in the tree is Harold.  Harold, this is Poisson Erro."

"You are amazing!" said Harold, "Can you teach me to shoot like that?"
 

"And the young lass carrying the waterskins is Catherine.  Catherine, Poisson Erro."
 

She curtsied as best as she could. "Nice to meet you, Fishie!"
 

"We are on business for His Majesty King Olam.  You're a long way from home, Archer.  What brings you back to this territory?"
 

"Ah, what else? Le guerre."
 

"The war?!" said Samuel, "There's always a battle someplace, of course, but--"
 

"No, no. This is THE War.  contre Le Dragon."
 

Harold was on the ground again. "Dragon?! Did you say 'dragon'?"
 

"Oui. Le Dragon."
 

"So, Ol' Red and Scaly is on the move again, eh?"
 

"Do not underestimate him.  It is true, he is injured badly, but he still commands a great and willing army."
 

Samuel replied, "Yes... well... Let's partake of some repast, shall we? We have apples, thanks to our froggy friend!"
 

"And I have some cheese that I brought with me!" said Catherine.
 

"And cold, fresh water," added Samuel.
 

"And I have--" began Harold.  "Well, _I_ have an appetite!"
 

"And," he thought to himself, "I now know what 'repast' means!"
 

"Ho-ho! AND you have a sense of humor!" said Poisson Erro.
 

The apples were as delicious as they had smelled. The cheese was a little hard, but its tanginess complemented the apples' sweetness.
 

"Would YOU like some cheese, Mr Erro?" asked Catherine.
 

"Merci, but no. Ah prefer french flies with my apples! Ho-ho-ho! You would like some, no?"
 

"That's right," Samuel kidded. "We would like some--NO!"
 

"Well then, more for me! Ho-ho!"
 

They all shared a good laugh.
 

In the quiet moment that followed, Catherine asked, "So, our enemy--He is REALLY a dragon?"
 

"Oui!  But he cannot fly.  One wing was broken long ago in a battle with King Olam.  He is lame in one leg, and he cannot breathe fire."
 

"Doesn't sound like much of a threat," said Harold.
 

"Ah! The power of Le Dragon is in deception.  He is very skilled at telling lies. Those that believe his lies follow him and do his bidding.  Instead of being children of the King, they become--something else."
 

Harold nodded thoughtfully, his mouth full of apple.  Suddenly, he noticed the apple didn't taste right!  

He spat it out. "Ugh! This apple tastes like--rotten eggs!"
 

"It's not the apples!" Catherine noted, sniffing. "It's the air! It stinks."
 

"Dragon's breath!" said Samuel, "Everybody off the road!"
 

Just as they had hidden themselves, two figures came walking down the path. One of them had a snout like a pig but floppy ears like a basset hound.  It was not cute.  She was saying, "...And THAT'S when I decided that NO ONE was gonna tell me how to live my life--not even that stuffy old King Olam! Ya know what I mean?"
 

Her companion on the road was something like an oversized monkey, but with the beak of a flamingo where the mouth should be, and one leg ending in a pink webbed foot! Catherine shuddered in the bushes.
 

"I totally understand that!" said the fla-monkey. "You KNOW King Olam just has all those rules--those so-called 'Qualities and Virtues,' so he can control us!  In fact, I heard that HE didn't even write them! They were just made up by some of his subjects to give themselves more authority!"
 

"That's right!" agreed Pig-Nose, "And that was SO long ago!  I mean, what did they know about life nowadays?  And besides, do we REALLY want to follow the rules of somebody who'd pick on a poor, defenseless, crippled dragon?"
 

"We'll show them!" said the flamonkey, or was it the monk-mingo? "Let's set fire to all the houses in the next village we come to!  They're probably all control freaks who follow King Olam, anyway--and want to prevent us from being our beautiful, wonderful true selves!"
 

Their laughter faded as they passed around the next bend in the road.
 

"Well," said Samuel, "Let's get going. We have plenty of ground to cover before nightfall."
 

The smell of sulfur grew stronger as the small band emerged into a clearing. A yellowish fog hung in the air, dimming the afternoon sun.  A make shift camp was being set up by hordes of nasty looking soldiers, some human, some animal, some horrible corruptions of the two. Limping slowly toward them up the road on three legs was a mountain of sharp red gravel, with a long snaky neck and head, dragging one useless scaly wing through the dust like the tattered crimson sail of a ship with a broken mast.
 

Samuel skittered up Catherine's skirt and plucked forth her paring knife. He hopped back to the ground and held it out like a sword.
 

"Your Diabolical Majesty! I bring you the two prisoners!"
 

"Prisoners?!" shouted Harold! "What are you doing, you shaggy gray lunatic?!" He raised his club to swing in attack, but it was snatched roughly from his hand by something like a muscular warthog standing on its hind legs!
 

The eyes of Catherine and Harold sought their bright yellow archer friend, but he seemed to have vanished from the path!
 

The serpentine head swung toward Samuel. "You have done well, Squirrel." He wheezed out a trailing cloud of sulphurous breath. "You are as wise and brave as I was led to believe. (cough) Here is your reward. An acorn from the western woods!"
 

The squirrel clutched the acorn to his heart. "King Olam never pays his loyal subjects so richly!"
Armored things bound Harold and Catherine and began shoving them toward the dragon's encampment. 

The sun was setting.  It was very dark.

The Gospel of Melvin: The Parable of The Wedding Feast

The carpenter was on a roll. He launched into another one of his nutty stories.

   “A king’s son was getting married, so he sent out invitations.” (At least it wasn’t one of those “Furnish Your Own Firkin” kind of things. Wine, meat, music--all provided! Yup! With the rich, it’s first class all the way. AND they always include plenty of fresh fruit! I remember this one time, a Sadducee was throwing a party, and he ordered my entire week’s stock of honeydew! It was glorious! Of course, I didn’t get an invitation to the feast, but it was still a memorable occasion for me.)

   “On the day of the wedding party, when the food was nearly ready, he sent his servants to tell the guests that dinner was ready and it was time to come to the party. But everyone began to make excuses not to come to THE gala event of the year! “

   “Sorry,” said one of them, “I’ve just started a business in secondhand formal attire: Gedaliah’s Garments (wedding clothes a specialty), and I’m too busy.”

   Another said, “I’d come, but I’ve just joined up with the Zealots, and so I’m politically opposed to fraternization with the wealthy and powerful.”

   A third said, “I’ve just bought a crate of watermelons, and need to go examine them.” This last he said, looking toward the fruit stand of a certain upstanding merchant, and adding, “Because you never know what you’re really getting!”

   “Ultimately, everyone who was invited turned down the invitation! Enraged, the king sent his soldiers to kill those who refused his invitation and burn their villages. ‘And start with those jokers who gave the bride and groom potholders at their shower!’ ”

   Then the king told his servants, ‘Go out into the streets and the alleys, and invite the poor, the blind, and the lame. They’re used to begging, and so they won’t care if their roast is cold or their wine is warm.’

   This they did, and, after a long while (since it takes a long time to lead the blind to a place, and help the crippled into seats, and convince the beggars that it really is worth their while to follow you,) it was discovered that there were still empty chairs at banquet!

   Again, the king sent forth his servants, “Go out to the highways and the hedges! Bring in the highwaymen and the hedgehogs, the good and the bad, and even the melon merchants! The rent on these tables & chairs is ridiculous, and I’m gonna get my money’s worth!”

   This they also did, and the tables were full of riffraff, who were soon full of lukewarm roast and tepid wine. Even so, it was a great party. However, there was one guy in the place not dressed in wedding clothes.

   “Hey!” the king demanded. (That’s the way with kings! They never just ask. Always demanding and commanding and bellowing!) “How did they let you in without wedding clothes?”

   The man replied, “I had wedding clothes, but I lent them to my neighbor Gedaliah, and never saw them again, until I saw them in his shop window, and for thirty shekels no less! I hope his store burns to the ground!”

   The king was more even more enraged. “The proper attire was being handed out at the door! You’ve no excuse!”

   “It’s true. I just didn’t like the color and style. I’ve got to be me, you know? I’d hoped not to be noticed, but I guess that’s what you get for sitting this close to the head table. Next time I’ll sit in the back.”

   “There won’t be a next time!” bellowed the king. “Guards! Throw this worm out into the darkness, and make sure he lands in the thorn bushes, so that there’s weeping and gnashing of teeth!”

   And so they cast him out toward the valley of Hinnom, where the worm does not die, but the fire and smoke goes up forever. For if you fail to do good deeds before those who can reward you, then shall your Heavenly Father reward you?*

* In the absence of actual punctuation in the text, as it typical of the Greek & Hebrew of the time, it is possible that this last may intended to be a statement, rather than a question. In fact, the true sense of Melvin’s text may be that God will reward you for dishonoring those on earth who may be capable of giving you such transitory rewards as food, drink, money and honor. However, in light of the eschatological punishment meted out to the offender, it seems likely that we ought to view his action as morally offensive. Thus, we ought to read the final statement as a question, with the lesson being, as St Heresias put it, “Take advantage of every opportunity for gain; for it is sinful not to do so.”

What I've learned about prayer from how we often practice it

- The only proper posture for prayer is head-bowed, eyes-closed.

- Prayer is how we get God to do our will.

- Prayer is the method by which God finds out what is going on in the world.

- Prayer is the church gossip and news report.

- "God answers prayer" means God answers prayers with "Yes."

- God needs our prayers in order to do anything in the world.

- Prayer is the religious version of Aladdin's lamp: We call upon God and he appears, "Poof! What do you need?"

- God answers prayers democratically. The request with the most pray-ers gets a Yes vote.

- We have to say "in Jesus' name" at the end of our prayers, because otherwise, we're not asking in Jesus' name, and God will say No.

- We ask religious leaders to pray for us, because they're closer to God and more likely to get a Yes answer.

The Breakup: 13 Reasons I Called It Quits With My Creator

Sure, it seemed like a perfect match from the beginning, but in the end, I realized our relationship was destined to fail. Here are some of the reasons why I broke up with God.

01. He was always just so “holier than thou.”

02. He is SO old-fashioned.

03. I didn’t get along with his kid.

04. He kept trying to change me.

05. Okay, I get it: He created me. He’s the reason I (and everything else) continue to exist. He has a great plan for my life here and for my eternity. But when he started to get all possessive and jealous, I was like, “I am SO out of here!”

06. His standards were too high.

07. He kept insisting that I serve him!

08. My friends didn’t like him. This is usually a reliable sign that it isn’t gonna work out.

09. He was seeing other people, but he didn’t want me to see any other deities. I mean, talk about a double standard!

10. Our ideas of a relationship were too different.

11. We just didn’t have enough in common.

12. He kept pushing for a commitment.

13. He’s ALWAYS right. No matter what we’d argue about, it was never HIS fault.

*****
Relax! It’s satire, people! God and I are still together, and we still love each other very much!

St Espressus on Decaffeinated Coffee

   "Decaffeinated coffee is an appalling work of darkness! It takes something which God created, saying, 'It is good,' and perverts it -- subverting its very nature and eliminating the blessing contained therein!"         - St Espressus of Java

The mug pictured is the classic Prayer of St Espressus design, and is available at the Allen's Brain store, linked on the left. No mug is presently available with THIS quote... yet. If there's a request for it, we can make it happen.

More stuff that amuses and confuses Allen's Brain

This'll teach me to go shopping! Warning: some of this is religious in nature.
The first two are from Barnes & Noble.

I THOUGHT I knew what an Advent calendar was. Apparently, I was wrong, because THIS is a CHRISTMAS Advent calendar. As opposed to, you know, an EASTER Advent calendar or a HALLOWEEN Advent calendar. SO glad we straightened that out!

Because that's the point of the church service, right?

My issue, here, has to do with the change in the role of the corporate worship experience. It used to be that you evnagelized folks and then brought them into the community of believers. Now, it seems, the primary perceived purpose of the church service IS evangelism -- or, at least, baiting the unbeliever into coming back until they respond to the Gospel.
But is that what the church is primarily about? Making the unchurched comfortable?
Never mind this one. I'm just being curmudgeonly, I guess.
*****

And now, on to an un-named antique mall:

Yup, Santa Prunes: the world's grumpiest Father Christmas!
Remember when bad kids used to get coal or sticks in their stockings?
"Ho! Ho! Ho! Looks like someone needs a little roughage!"

I know it's Santa Clara or Santa Clarita, but doesn't it look, at a glance, like "Santa Claus Prunes"?


And now, saving the best worst most notable for last:

I'll give you a moment to drink in, in all its... splendor.

First, it's a Christmas banner/folk art piece.

Takes a few moments to work out "He's Cheer Here!" is supposed to be read "Cheer. He's Here!"

"He," in this instance, is baby Jesus. See the halo? We are, it appears, looking down on him in the manger. Instead of canonical swaddling clothes, this ChristChild appears to be in a modified Christmas stocking -- red bottom, white top -- making him a Christmas gift. Nice sentiment!

You next spot the cruciformly-outstretched arms with too-cute hearts in the palms. You then begin to realize the whole thing is kind of cross-shaped. The "artist" wants to remind us that the baby in the manger came to be our Savior -- an act he will accomplish in his vicarious death at Calvary. And it was an act of love for us, so there are hearts instead of bleeding, nailed hands.

My personal favorite is the way the hair forms an almost-perfect icthus fish symbol! Only the upper "fin" of the tail is missing on the right, but maybe it broke off. Probably unintentional, but it made me laugh -- and hurl.

While none of it is really objectionable, the whole thing -- tassels, fringes, and all -- is just... ugly. I get it, but it's just, so... Blech!

Actually, if you want this item, let me know. Maybe I can acquire it for you. Then perhaps it will stop haunting my nightmares.  Shudder!

Great quotes about Thanksgiving

To help us get in the proper frame of mind for the upcoming holyday, or, if you want to sound inspiring and spiritual at dinner, I'm sharing this today--before you join the widening group of folks who spend the Wednesday before drinking, so as to face the stress of Thanksgiving Day with a hangover.

Stolen from . . .  Somewhere else on the 'net.
*****
"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder." ~ G.K. Chesterton

"Would you know who is the greatest saint in the world: It is not he who prays most or fasts most, it is not he who gives most alms or is most eminent for temperance, chastity or justice; but it is he who is always thankful to God, who wills everything that God wills, who receives everything as an instance of God's goodness and has a heart always ready to praise God for it." ~ William Law

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.” ~ John Milton

“A thankful heart cannot be cynical.” ~ A.W. Tozer

"If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, 'thank you,' that would suffice." ~ Meister Eckhart

"We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts. How can God entrust great things to one who will not thankfully receive from Him the little things?" ~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer

“A sensible thanksgiving for mercies received is a mighty prayer in the Spirit of God. It prevails with Him unspeakably.” ~ John Bunyan

"Gratitude as a discipline involves a conscious choice. I can choose to be grateful even when my emotions and feelings are still steeped in hurt and resentment. It is amazing how many occasions present themselves in which I can choose gratitude instead of a complaint. I can choose to be grateful when I am criticized, even when my heart still responds in bitterness. I can choose to speak about goodness and beauty, even when my inner eye still looks for someone to accuse or something to call ugly." ~ Henri Nouwen

I heartily agree with the following:
"If you are not content with what you have, you would not be satisfied if it were doubled." ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

"Receive every day as a resurrection from death, as a new enjoyment of life; meet every rising sun with such sentiments of God's goodness, as if you had seen it, and all things, new-created upon your account: and under the sense of so great a blessing, let your joyful heart praise and magnify so good and glorious a Creator." ~ William Law

"I thank Thee first because I was never robbed before; second, because although they took my purse they did not take my life; third, although they took my all, it was not much; and fourth, because it was I who was robbed and not I who robbed." ~ Matthew Henry

Makes me laugh--and convicts me:
"When we were children we were grateful to those who filled our stockings at Christmas time. Why are we not grateful to God for filling our stockings with legs?" ~ G.K. Chesterton

“The careless soul receives the Father's gifts as if it were a way things had of dropping into his hand yet is he ever complaining, as if someone were accountable for the checks which meet him at every turn. For the good that comes to him, he gives no thanks—who is there to thank? At the disappointments that befall him he grumbles—there must be someone to blame!” ~ George MacDonoald

“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.” ~ Paul, the Apostle: I Thessalonians 5:16–18  

"Praise be to you, O LORD, God of our father Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting.

Yours, O LORD, is the greatness and the power
and the glory and the majesty and the splendor,
for everything in heaven and earth is yours.
Yours, O LORD, is the kingdom;
you are exalted as head over all.

Wealth and honor come from you;
you are the ruler of all things.
In your hands are strength and power
to exalt and give strength to all.

Now, our God, we give you thanks,
and praise your glorious name.”

~ David, King of Israel: 1 Chronicles 29:10 - 13

Hooray for Bumper Sticker Theology!



Edited to cover a 4-letter word for barnyard fertilizer

 Well, the sticker did get a couple things right.

First, Jesus really does love you.

Second, whatever "gifts" the devil may give you, they are barnyard fertilizer.

Happy Lupercalia!

That ought to send them racing to Wikipedia!
-----------

"Then again, Chocolate Boy hadn’t been a very diligent Buddhist. He was never quite certain, for example, how to get rid of bad caramel, or why people had bought it in the first place." -From "Chocolate Boy Finds Religion"

Imprecatory driving?

What Will YOU Be Burning This September 11th?

A. A big stack of Qur’ans, of course! Islam is of the devil!

B. The Book of Mormon, Bhagavad Gita, Satanic Bible, “O” Magazine or other heathen religious text. False religion is of the devil!

C. Twilight & Harry Potter books. Vampires, werewolves and magic are of the devil!

D. DVD’s of “Big Bang Theory.” (“Big Bang” refers to evolution, which is of the devil!)

E. The Buddy Christ bobble head. Religious satire is of the devil!

F. The Gospel of Melvin. See E.

G. Anything bearing the name and/or image of Elmo, Barney, or Justin Bieber. Do you really need a reason for that?

H. The midnight oil

I. American flag

J. Terry Jones

K. Other. Please comment.

Also on facebook.

On depicting religion in fiction

Recent fiction I've been reading/watching has included religion as part of the plot.  Typically, the religious leaders are shown to be greedy and willfuly deceptive, while the "true believers" are simply woefully ignorant suckers. I'm of two minds about this (which, when you're a brain in a jar, is tricky at best):

First of all, the religions usually depicted as fraudulent are, in fact, phony religions, and as a follower of Jesus, I would expect this to be the case. Additionally, sometimes the church is personified in fiction by its worst proponents. As a lover of truth, I like that. Evil shouldn't be allowed to continue, simply because it wears the guise of faith.

However...

It also seems that when these fake, oppressive religions turn up in plots, there is no alternative to it but utter atheism. In other words, the author(s) seem to be saying, "All religions/faiths are like this phony one I've cooked up here." And, in some cases, knowing the authors, that is exactly what they mean. Of course, if I had only had negative experiences with faith, I might be more accepting of this approach.

What do you think? Is no religion in fiction better than negative depictions of it?

Your comments welcome.

Quote o' the day

“Writing for a penny a word is ridiculous. If a man really wants to make a million dolars, the best way would be to start his own religion."

--L. Ron Hubbard, 1949.

Ironically, Hubbard's estate (?) seems to be trying to recapture his pulp-writing fanbase, lately.