WE SPANKED GOD . org  

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          This website c / o  miketovar999@gmail.com----feel free to contact, peacefully 

          Preface    

          (author's note---Mike here continuing to edit this essay's text.  Along that line of time and effort, I was just thinking maybe God "dwells in eternity" for the same reason, to have time to get things right.  Well he's got eternity; we don't so let's get to it.  By the way, even evolutionary eons are as lost as we are in eternity.)

           (PS--now is the time to delete useless words and keep what is useful.  I would look at it as a microcosm of God's blessings to us in Christ Jesus.  I recently read a useful book along that line, The Book Of Bible Problems authored by Gerardus D. Bouw, Ph.D.  The book's a keeper; recommended.

            A little fact within a paragraph of Dr. Bouw's book explains that the word 'bless' comes from the French infinit(ive)...word 'to wound'.  Maybe this is why Brits frequently say the derivative word 'bloody'.  Which makes sense.  Let us continue to prove it is indeed love that makes the world go 'round, with no strings attached, thanks to the Lord of Love, whose love-sound rings true with no wrongly bonging gong or clashing cymbal.  

           'End of the preface, except for that word there, 'preface'.  Wow; 'what a word, meaning we're hopefully preparing to see the face of our creator.  Well let's gear up 'n go, to start with innocently looking at one another in the face.  We could have ended up being chosen to be one another after all.  Do you wanna be me or vice versa ?

           ...the original Hello, this website exists solely to satisfy both initial curiosity and a desire for further information about my published booklet We Spanked God, biblical thoughts, Mike Tovar.  You are welcome to it; and as I tell myself when I see 'Welcome' signs in front of churches I really think, "I'll let you know if I feel welcome once I get in there, thank you". 

           I want you to do the same here.   (Hmm; which means you have a way to contact me by a contact mode.  Ken Evoy's SiteSell / SoloBuildIt here has a blog option, however I'm busy using spare time to revise this essay's text, and then I have to get to my house painting. 

           Blogs are fogs to aging old me; let's do email; I'll post an address at the top there...with a stipulation of peaceful carriage of ourselves.  You know a well-hit baseball or softball or hey, cricket is not hit hard but softly.  We do want to get on base to get home; at least I do.  And it does get done as a team. 

           No one ever won alone, even a runner leveraging the pace of the pack.  Sea Biscuit's jockey, a substitute for an injury to Biscuit's buddy, followed the owner's and trainer's orders to not get ahead too much of War Admiral.  The equine dude ran his best in close proximity to other horses until it was time to kick it in acclaimed territorial gear.

           N.B.--'big news, someone just did the research on the expression 'spare the rod, spoil the child'.   Its origin is a 17th-century s+m / erotic 'love' poem.

           No matter ('strange phrase...) whether you have read none or all of the 70-some pages of my booklet's one-liners, feel free to listen in here on the prose paragraph 'q's + a's' printed farther along. Sea Biscuit's was an open field start with War Admiral, not in a boxed starting gate.  He was well-trained to begin at the sound of the bell.  Take a look at the old film on YouTube.

           If you want a hand-held copy of this website essay, it's in process to be published under the title, Let The Cards Lie.  If you do, consider buying it on Bookbaby's website for intimacy and efficiency, automatic with the pictured links at the top of the page, or the bookseller of your choice.  Up-front with you here, the title of this essay necessarily is :

                An  Expose'  Of  Error  Underlying  Christian  Fundamentalist  Fanaticism 

(Yeehaw!, I'll jiggle my own liver; thanks.  If you know, post Noah / Gilgamesh Sumerian rebels used to jiggle an animal's liver to forecast the future.  Leave the liver be or, cast your own horror-scope trial pardner.  "As for me and my house, we shall serve The Lord, even The Father of Lights, from whom all blessings flow, coming down out of heaven, you know, 'California or Bust', cooperatively, admittedly as Second Peoples.) 

                                                                  Introduction

          I will especially show you how it never entered God's biblical mind to tell us to spank one of his little ones.  The old Mosaic 'rod' rule repeated in Solomon's proverbs was for rebellious young men, never young women and children. 

           And the rod was used once-and-for-all on Jesus Christ.  The Spirit of Christ now advises in the new part of God's bible to  "Urge the young men to control themselves."  

         'When push comes to shove, try pulling per the little sign on the door'.  I thought that one liner up while struggling with the entry door of my local newspaper.  Check out the article about my booklet that the Lewistown Sentinel squeezed in on Dec. 31st, 2022.

         Sinful mankind is violent, not God.  Look at Jesus chasing the merchants out of his heavenly dad's temple-house.  The whip he made was for the oxen, not their owners. 

           Of those selling doves, he merely told them to pick the cages up and get them out of there.  Jesus Christ was frequently assertive, but he was never aggressive.  In other words, he never hit anybody nor raised his voice unnecessarily.  

          Historical archaeology is correct to show us how both local Canaanite-and Egyptian-influenced Israelite upbringing was violent.  God simply told Moses and Joshua and Caleb that he'll send  hornets ahead of them to vacate the villages of the people of the land.   Hornets are big stinging bees the size of large grasshoppers, yellow-and-black bodies. 

           There is much studied evidence to prove Moses and Joshua exaggerated a lot when they wrote the biblical reports of their aggressive exploits.  This doesn't discount grace from God to miraculize the book he inspired to have written.  Let's fly on the inside of the airplane,  not hide in a wheel well as YouTube showed one desperate young man did.

          Some of the people already living in the land, like most of the Hebrew rabble were morally corrupt with no sense left of right and wrong. To the latter God pointed out it was no quality of character on their part that entitled them in any way to possession of the land of Canaan.  

          Remember how the people had already debauched themselves while Moses was up on the awesome Arabian mountain of Sinai.  And God then told Moses to stand aside so he could wipe them out.  God had told Moses he'll start everything over with him, but Mo successfully begged him off the idea.

          God soon informed the people with whom he had resumed working that if they persisted in their lack of appreciation, then he would drive them out of the land also.  He did that very thing using Nebuchadnezzar to exile them to Babylon to recoup seventy years of missed sabbaths, then later by the Romans worldwide until recently. 

          Moses messed up too, having already disobeyed God one time too many and thus forfeited his own opportunity to enter the promised land with everybody else.  And you do know, the entire generation that came out of Egypt, God let them die off in the Arabian desert for their perennially unloving and disrespectful attitude.  

           I do explain in this essay that many Jewish people have been learning the way of peace, a social story most of Christendom would do well to heed, including the so-called 'peace churches'.   I do not mean the hell hawks that disregard the moral rules of war.  See the second section of this text about war.

        Moses did correctly pass on the fact from God to the people that God was pointing them all to someone totally better than Moses.  God sensitively reserved the crucial details from Moses until later prophetic writers that that totally better person was going to be an incarnation of himself, Emmanuel meaning 'God  with us'.  

         This is the same personal God who used to check in on his creations Adam and Eve once a day in the Garden of Eden to see how much fun they were having there.  It was a respectful relationship that did not see the mutual development of its potential.

         So God as Jesus Christ then stood in the woodshed for the lickin' all self-conscious people have evidently earned for themselves.  This is why Jesus is nicknamed "the lamb slain from the foundation of the world".  And look how circumstantially God disciplined his wayward first children, Adam and Eve.

          Jesus as God-incarnate gave absolutely no indication when he was living here that children before the age of reason transgress as sin.   Even the prophet Isaiah wrote ahead of time of the Christ Child, "Butter and honey will he eat before he is able to discern between the good and the evil".  Of course by the age of 12 Jesus was very focused.  

          And Jesus was the seed of Eve that God told her would bruise Satan's head totally.  But it would take time.  So let's tell ourselves as we do our children to be patient.

           In the meantime the original picture-writing of the Chinese people is replete, positively full of direct graphic recall of the events of the Garden of Eden and afterwards.

           (Later the brilliant full-spectrum encyclopedia carried by the Chinese commercial fleet and given to merchants of Venice, Italy--the ancient New York City of Europe--would be a foundation for the western cultural renaissance, also the Greek cultural diaspora after the Muslim imperialist invasion;  

           note, the practical Muslims had made a canal connecting the Nile River with the Red Sea, the remains of which are still visible today; see the recommended book 1434 for the full story, researched and written by the retired U.S. naval commander and expert navigator Gavin Menzies; also check out Gavin's initial book 1421 and the Chinese oceanographic pioneering before Ferdinand Magellan and Christopher Columbus). 

          So what-to-do?  All we have to do is be 'Nice or nasty, kind or cruel, wise man or fool', simply looking to God the creator of beauty on the earth and in the cosmos, loving him and each other as a way of life, really the way of life.  For 'the golden rule is the real rod of correction'. 

           But it's God's niceness and kindness and wisdom he fruits in us upon our act of repentance, not any spiritual fruit of our own.  Jesus explained this as being born again, having returned our hearts back to the Father of Lights, even Almighty God.

          Understand, apostle Paul at least twice in the new covenant or new testament, same thing significantly articulated the difference between the old system of general coercion and the new one of individual persuasion.  Which God had always preferred if people's wills were conducive to it. 

          To the Corinthians Paul justly suggested an ostracizing of one of the men who was in the dubious habit of fornicating with his mother, if it was his mother-in-law,  Paul then  stands back with a bird's-eye view and challenges them with the question, "What will ye? Shall I come unto you with a rod, or with a spirit of love and a spirit of meekness?"  Let us agree with Jesus and Paul that there is a choice between two responses to evil.

         Then notice what Paul said to the Hebrew-speaking Christians, in which Paul compares the rod wackings they received as young men from their indignant dads to the new idea of seeking peace with all men, including cantankerous young men.  While Paul is wonderfully wordy in the entire letter to 'the Hebrews', his meaning here in chapter twelve is clear:  "Now, no discipline for the present seems to be joyous but rather miserable."   

          Evidently, circumstantial chastisement is God's idea for discipline.  He got me at the exact literal age the Hebrew wording says in Proverbs, 13 years 5 months.  God set me up with a school paint-stuck window.  He nearly killed me to keep me alive in the long run, The Sweetheart, the "ever present help in time of trouble".

          Digressively, the individual and corporate bully pulpits of Christendom are significantly based on the wrongly translated Mosaic ruling of a rod of corporal punishment for rebellious and disrespectful young men.  Coerced children grow up to be coercive adults or prove me wrong and the rhetoric is on you.

          Further, this furtively connects to the also wrongly translated phrase in the new covenant of 'obey them', the correct translation being ''be ye persuaded of your elder brethren in the Lord Jesus".  Neither do they have 'the rule over' you, which completely usurps Jesus' blood-bought example of exemplary persuasion.    Or shall we draw the blood of our sacrificial little lambs, as hypocrites bound for hell. 

           Persuasion is the policy of our peaceful God, implied in the old and instituted in the new covenant which he made with his Israel of God.  My dear readers, we who are truly God's little ones of his forever-love have evidently accepted candy from strangers, poisoned candy where hand holding metastasizes into arm twisting.  Indeed, we have thrown out the Christ Child with a mis-perception of the Proverbial wrath water.

           A couple, professional statue makers back in communist Russia, got to asking each other about the amazingness of the human hand, especially the thumb.  They said privately with each other despite their secular upbringing that because of the existence of the thumb a wise spirit creator must exist.  They soon heard of 'Christ', to put thumb and index finger together.  They may have then thumbed a ride to Siberia, separately by coercion.  

         God's social guidelines, the ten commandments are non-violent.  God had no logical choice but to put down the rabid animal that were some, not all of the Canaanites.  Derek P. Gilbert in his Inception sheds light on this; recommended.  Rabies is a non-negotiable disease, figuratively speaking.  Put yourself in God's crocs for a minute.  

           Cain kills his little brother and donates his own cold-blooded attitude to his children.  Who violently dominate the society they make, and so God drowns all but eight decent people.  Of these the bad attitude still gets passed on to the first Babylon. 

           Who systematize the wrong worship of the creation in place of the right worship of the creator.  This is what Satan did back when he was Lucifer in heaven.  And it is exactly what an adult does in sticking or smacking a child.   God minds his own business and if we want to be in his image, then likewise.  God can raise up your children to be Godly with the rocks in your flower garden.

           We take the law into our own hands instead of giving a merciful hand to one another.  Rodding or spanking is a significant something in what Jesus said of anything done to harm "these little ones".  Where is the rod of pleasantness used to defend God's children from Satan?  It is ignored by those who would devour their own children, just as many Israelites did during the Babylonian siege.  One evil thing leads to the other of eating our very own brother.

         The people of the post-flood world clustered themselves up for the wrong reason at Babylon, about a hundred years after the flood.  God intervened to get humankind going in his intended direction.   He confused their single language into the seventy original groupings that modern ethnology and linguistics are aware of.

         Now, the Israel of God's intended exercise is to share with the rest of the world what the almighty god has revealed of his real personality.  The refugee years in Egypt as strangers and before that the pioneer years of Abram and Sarai were intended to furnish a humble perspective.   God was tenderly inviting us away from Sumerian introversion.  And God needs no introduction to introversion for he is perfectly balanced.

          God later had someone write, "To the law and to the testimony".  This tells us to look both back to the ten commandments and forward to the testimony of Jesus.  An angel told the apostle John "...for the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy".  That means God transcends time and plays it out in actuality in Jesus Christ.

          Life is one fun game of Clue, and life is God who is spirit and in truth has created will-filled matter to reflect himself.  And if matter reflects himself, then it only gets better.  Therein is our hope of happiness made possible by Jesus beating sin and death.  I think we try to coercively reflect our own images.

           Which started in Eden, not some evolution, for 'Evolution cannot account for created beauty', even God's "beauty of holiness", his intrinsic separation from the world of anything created.  Maybe God evolved, but the world didn't like a Swedish vehicle.

          Yes there's conflict, starting with Lucifer, once God's finest or one of his finest angels.  His job was to lead the nurturing of the human race, including praise in song and instrument, his very body having musical appendages.  He got greedy, was cast down to Earth, and renamed Satan.   Satan doesn't persuade, he deceives with soulically appealing tunes and mental melodies.

            The symptom is hypnotic, for example the seemingly gorgeous songs from the Protestant Reformation.  That my musically skilled Mennonite friends are so fond of.  My qualm is that many of the melodies stick in my brain against my will.  That is control by a force of intellect outside of me.   Remember things don't get done in a chance vacuum.

            Blessedly, the old Gregorian Chant melody I learned can dispel it.  But the Protestant tunes are ten times more sticky in that way than any song from secular pop culture.  The Gregorian can dissipate hypnotic pop songs within seconds.  Whereas a given Protestant melody sticks like pine sap on the fingers of my mind for days in perverted persistence.  I like Godly self control not evil elf control.

           Now imagine our subsequent challenge.  Even the archangel Mikey, when Satan tried to prevent him hiding the dead body of Moses objectively said, "The Lord rebuke you."

          Have you heard of Scarface?  He is a scary ancient spirit living in the Big Horn mountains, especially on Cloud Peak. The old story of the First People says he used to live in Heaven and was beautiful.  Until iniquity was found in him and God sent him to Earth.  Note, it is a respectful tradition and maybe wise to only make day trips up there. 

          Things often require a closer look, the essence of any so called reformation.

          For example, it was not the Egyptian Sinai where the Hebrews Mosaically escaped from the Egyptians, who always had posted military units out there.  Moses with the people made a bee-line in their great escape fully across the big Sinai peninsula.

           They followed a major wadi or canyon drainage system to the Gulf of Aqaba.  Where there is an enormous sand spit on the west shore of that right rabbit-ear of the Red Sea about halfway up it.           

         Solomon later placed two pillars there, one on each side to mark the spots.  The pillar on the western, Israeli shore of the Gulf of Aqaba has been solidly set upright in concrete, with Solomon's name in ancient script inscribed upon it.  There's other apt words on it also, as a list of bullet points.  See  Ron Wyatt Archaeology online for videos and photos.  Ron and his little family spent their vacation money out there for decades.

           Update, it used to be the Israeli side, now apportioned to Egypt geo-politically.  The inscriptions on that western pillar were eroded, but the inscriptions, by Solomon on the pillar on the Arabian eastern shore were observed by Ron and copied down by him.  It had been carried away to somewhere unknown Ron Wyatt noticed next time he 'vacationed' there.  Ron and his two sons were incarcerated for 78 days by adjacent Lebanon for trespassing in the area.

           The pillar on the Saudi Arabian side was still in the water and has since been removed apparently by that owner.  Apostle Paul mentioned 'Sinai in Arabia' to the Galatians in a letter.  Elijah seems to have holed up there in a cave, maybe his famous raven roost.  One YouTube video demonstrated how Hebrew inscriptions in stone have been found around the entire Arabian peninsula.  

           If that's true, it means that is where the chosen people wandered.  For when we hear mention of ''the wilderness'' in subsequent history, it means the huge sandy lands to the east in Old Arabia.  Observed there are flat stones with engraved pictures of sandals, untied sandals commemorating Moses and the bush on fire that was not consumed.

          A well known example of a closer look is the Mosaic divorce laws.  Jesus said they were written into the Levitical rulings by Moses due to the hardness of the selfishly demanding people's hearts.  Jesus told them that, in the beginning, in Eden before people got selfish, a couple in love had an eternal delight with their first love for each other, one of endearing devotion and companionship.  Would the original Adam and Eve have hit their children?

           Is YHWH trying to get us back to Sinai, or Eden?  It can't be both, regardless of the ten commandments being from Sinai.  For they are forever condensed into the great 2.  Indeed, YHWH, God, as Jesus is leading us forward to the eternal Eden.  Zechariah and Jeremiah clearly articulated God's dissolution of the old covenant at Sinai, toward a new one.  

        And like my mom said when she first met my fiance', "Good more grandchildren!"  Do you know what God's top priority is?   'Yup, "Godly children", his favorite subject and why he had Joshua include them in the removal of the Amorites.  Who were so diabolical that the evil spirits in them had possessed even their children and their dogs it seems.          

         This ends my essay's introduction.  Thank you for reading so far already.

         

          Part A                            

          December ,  2022       My dear Earthly neighbor ( You’re one-of-a-kind ! ), BookBaby of Pennsauken, New Jersey midwifed my first-ever published work, except for one inclusion 17 years ago in a list of reader-contributed ‘thought-gems’ always placed on the back cover of the Amish-Mennonite monthly booklet, the Calvary Messenger.

         However an ice storm set in, as today where I live in Pennsylvania, USA , Earth.   You know of my jokingly including Earth, this really is very seriously and pathetically cried out by Almighty God once in his bible-book, "Oh Earth !  Earth !"   Jesus said exactly this also to Jerusalem one day.                 

         What significantly happened, since the above-mentioned start in 2005 when watching a well driller and I said to myself, 'Living water is not drawn from a wishing well', I happily and in relaxed fashion continued to occasionally jot down more of the same one-line statements as expressions and truisms, all biblically based. 

         Then our only surviving child was eighteen-months and in hindsight I reacted to or acted upon what I call false programming, yes false teaching.  What I did was, after a wonderful ‘one’ year and into a tremendous ‘two’ with this child-person I had I think been entrusted with, I awkwardly figured it was the official time to strike the sweetheart.

         Come some next communication situation, yes without warning as a vocalized explanation, I swatted a non-existent fly on his diapered rear with a fly-swatter.  The big little guy looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.  Probably the confused look on my face startled him also into crying.  And any such 'situation' starting at that age is simply and innocently the child beginning to assert and discover himself as an independent  individual.

         You see, I had been asking around in the society I communed with.  Found was the conflicting, dual opinion of using stick or hand.  Knowing biblically that the devil is the deceptive “author of confusion” I deduced the fact I am asking the wrong people. 

         So I went into town—I’m out in the country—to Mifflin County’s Children & Youth Services.  That began to solve the problem when Nancy, a middle-aged caseworker invited me to sit and talk with her in the family room.

         Nancy focused quickly and when I caught my breath and stopped babbling she said, “No implements are allowed to be used; that’s federal law.  You may use your hand, but are not to hit so hard you leave a red-mark”.  Then Nancy stood us up right there and held my gaze to say, “Take the log out of your own eye”.  This older gal had obviously not only seen senseless tragedy, but also she ‘knew her bible’.

         Now hang on to your hats and headship coverings, for God I think seconded that WWJD-implied logic by Nancy with a website that my spouse found on-line shortly afterwards, three weeks as it was.  Which reveals the fact of embarrassing simplicity that King James-and-editors wrongly put the one-size-fits-all term ‘child’ alongside the correct Hebrew word for young-adult "son", masculine, not 'daughter'. 

          That Hebrew word ‘na’ar’ is the only conceptual term for any age of so-called ‘child’ from newborns to female and male almost-newlyweds in the entire text of God’s biblical book of The Proverbs.   The Hebrew language has some ten time-lapsed words for the concept of child and ‘na’ar or male young-adult is the only one of them God contextually utilized in all of  Proverbs.   We've swallowed this hook, line, sinker, and rod, to the disrespect of fish and little lambs.

           You can't smarten up until you sweeten up.

           The same error is in the earlier Bishops' Bible; but that's academic.

          Each of the several rod-related  passages in Proverbs except one of them were mistranslated as biblically forbidden “private interpretation” by King James.  Solomon was elaborating on the old and subjective Levitical ruling through Moses for knocking some serious sense into rebellious young-men on their upper-back muscles, not their buttocks. 

          A thirty-three-year-old and quotidian innocent Son of God condemned violence with his uniquely holy body.   And the reported words of the Roman captain in charge of the crucifixion tell it fully in light of the apparent cosmic eclipse and earthquake plus Jesus' telling words.  "Surely, this man was a son of the gods", said relatively in his cultural awareness. 

           This is besides the fact that Jesus is the only human to experience spiritual separation from God.  God wouldn't ask it of anyone else, such a feeling so bad.  But don't we do this with an innocent trusting child looking to us for integral fellowship?  

          Therefore and in other words it never entered God’s mind to suggest we in-any-way inflict physical aggression upon what Jesus as God described as “these little ones”, nor on any other age group for that matter.  It was a Mosaic ruling for rebellious young men, not children or maidens.  And there were similar rules of corporal chastisement for other transgression categories in Mosaic Law.  'Eternity at our fingertips in our children we hit; fools'.

           And Jesus put the controversy to rest in death and then raised himself up again victoriously.  As with the temple veil for the most holy place, God in Jesus tore in two the divorce papers between him and Israel.  And it was an opening of access for all mankind to heaven's peace.

          After we all vicariously butchered and skewered God as The Son ( “come unto his own, and his own received him not “), his Holy Spirit progressively inspired a new guideline appealing to young men’s free will saying simply yet profoundly, “Urge the young men to control themselves”, translated variously in other translation renditions.  

           Mistaking the one-size word child is not King James' only private interpretation in Proverbs..  The last and pivotal word in another Proverbial line about the rod means 'the grave' in Hebrew, not 'hell'.  It's the same word old Jacob used to mention his misery of his dear son Joseph being purportedly killed by a lion. 

           Jonah used the same word about the belly of the sperm whale that got some take-out.  The Proverbs passage does not mean using a rod on the young buck's back will save him from eternal separation from God.   It means he's gonna' die younger than necessary so try and prevent it.

           Another KJB botch in Proverbs is 'Chasten thy son while there is hope, and spare not thy soul for his crying'.  That final word in the Hebrew means 'death'; it doesn't mean 'crying' at all.  The young man was about to eat the dust by being a rebellious jerk, death; spare his soul from totally wiping out, from prematurely dying in a hand casket.  

           (Note, King James and his brethren otherwise made a marvelous update of the old English bible, poetically and linguistically versatile.  The few errors they made, big as they are do not come close in gravity as the later translations starting with Hort and Westcott.  And the 'thee's and thou's are part of God's pentecostal grammatical precision for effective  evangelism and translation into grammatically precise languages, which common English is not).

          That said, there is one 'rod' proverb that is translated accurately.  It is the one about the "blueness" of the wound.  May I trust your adult perception is sufficiently matured to broach this subject with you?   

           As a rule before Jesus was stricken for all our offenses it applied and makes the CYS stipulation of leaving no red mark an impossibility.  Plus that most children globally are now educated outside the home, leadership is done by people who are not the children's parents.  Render unto Levitical law what is due and no more, lest we recrucify Jesus.

           Personally tackle football and the high-contact magilla-gorilla tag on the school  playground taught us big boys to differentiate physical assertion from aggression.  Our football coach had us in the D.C. Metro title game three years in a row.  It was understood from the start of the season of grueling and painful practice sessions that disrespectful talking or contact would forfeit your right to play in the scheduled games.  And stepping onto a field of competition with the trained energy of an angel was a delightful thrill.

            Besides Jesus uniquely experiencing terminated access to God, the Spirit of Life, also his body being bludgeoned beyond recognition was tantamount to that.  To simply say, he stood in for what I very well know I deserve.  It is an opportunity none of us should refuse, especially because our capacity for indignation derives from our God creator.  The only question remaining is how seriously do we take Jesus in our lives.

           People have been sacrificing their children for their seared consciences.  Thanks to the global hearth realized by the internet, storytelling is more transparent and accessible.  Still, it remains what God had written in his inspired word, thanks to the Jews and now the coincidental Israel of God, of "whosoever will" Christianity, less any violence.  Which will surely disenfranchise Christendom from God's fellowship in Jesus. 

           Because both our children and their educators depend upon Christians' convictions.

           Another question is, Are we kissing cousins or killing cussins?  Jesus' cousin James (their mothers were sisters) wrote that we war when we "lust and have not".  I think we lack the heavenly integrity of a child.  And James used to be nicknamed one of the sons of thunder with his brother John.  They're the ones who wanted to call down fire that day.

           Your hair just got mussed again by the wind of God’s Spirit.  To say, these botched ‘rod’ passages in which social power-tripping and bullying is established first with God’s little ones is then connected with one other enormous mistranslation as "private interpretation" by King James and crew connecting the cruel and un-Godly-violent subjugation of children with that of what, our pet dogs?  No; ‘adults! 

         What KJ-and-Krew did next, surely consciously, considering their scholarship was to morph the beautiful lines in the new covenant Greek in Hebrews 13:7, 17 + 24.  Which is supposed to say, “Be ye (correct KJV grammar, plural for 'you') each persuaded of your conscientious and more experienced elders both female and male",

           Who must give an account to God for the nurturing of your younger souls etcetera”, or "yield" to their leadership, even "take their pattern of action as your own'.  The author, certainly Paul has just listed a litany of exemplary saints gone mortally before them.  One doesn't obey a martyr's death; one accepts it as your own course of action, persuaded to.

         That was wrongly translated by King James to read ‘obey them’, an action non-existent within the church body of Jesus Christ, only mutual persuasion.  Any obedience in the Christian church gets done to Jesus, period.  Obedience does get commanded by God for children to Godly parents,

           and again conditionally, wives to truly Christ-like husbands.  The latter is situational not absolute ethics.   God in no way means obeying an unGodly husband.  The apostle Paul clearly elaborates on this in his writing.

         And that Greek word for obedience is also what the wind and the waves did on Lake Galilee that day, 'the Daddy God having rocked his only begotten child to sleep for a power-nap on a storm-tossed pillow'.  Single quotes indicate We Spanked God one-liners.

        And about this famous fear of God as the Proverbial beginning of wisdom, God precedes that with Psalm 55; 19, b, “Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God”.  Hold on to your horse along with your hat, for those words clearly say that the personal demonstration of a willingness to be changed by God precedes as a prerequisite any famous fear we wisely have of him.  Herein dear reader is the basis of the sanctified holiness without which no human will “see” God in his primordial holiness.  

         The above is the spiritually illegal and uninspired foundation for historical ecclesiastical pseudo-Christian power-mongering protocol…in case you didn’t know or know quite what to think.  And before I have to mention something worse, do know the KJV as a whole is a sanctified blessing and linguistic marvel compared to the very less artistic and less scholarly post-KJV translations, for example ‘holy angels’ instead of merely ‘angels’, or “the Lord Jesus” not merely ‘the Lord’.

           I have a book on this by David W. Daniels entitled Look What's Missing; 'suggested.  I remember on a day back in the nineties when I noticed this spiritual crime.  I was using an RSV at the time, until it occurred to me important words were missing in a notable passage.  I did not know at the time that there was similar misgiving elsewhere by others.

          I hope I'm catching your attention on this, for 'The siren song of a white collar crook is a kaching tune'.

          For there are unholy angels and other lords as imposters.  Take a look at Gail Riplinger’s work and that of others as brothers.  (Note, a paradigm change may be happening with my bible study.  I'm  discovering the utility of a straight 'interlinear' translation of the Hebrew and the Greek original biblical languages. 

           The best recommendations I've heard are for two, Young's and Rotherham's;  there're others.  Although Young's was innaccurate just now for Hebrews 13:17 but accurate for verses 7 and 24.  I did try the JW's Kingdom Interlinear in the 1970's for a while.  But the creepy translation on the vertical column on each page smelled rotten to my spirit.  They don't think Jesus Christ is God come in the flesh.  Neither do much of the Adventists.)

        These examples are among hundreds and hundreds of post-KJV passage translations' slick maneuvers of rhetorical camouflage.   Gail researched by comparatively collating many bible translations with her photographic mind (and pen and paper, laboriously and in bed for six years with a painful neurological condition). 

           Note, an interlinear is like swimming in a lake or river or the ocean.  You won't have lines painted on the bottom of a pool to directly guide you for contextual focus.

           Gail also discovered biographical facts of the sloppy personal lives as spiritual fruit of numerous individuals involved in post-KJV translations as evident and on the record, starting abominably with the secret lives of Hort and Westcott.  They hobby-practiced necromancy according to biographical evidence.  

         To be fair, the KJV scholars were to the individual of impeccable personal and spiritual credentials.  We simply and sadly have to observe that these enormous spiritual strongholds of violence and social control were too much for the KJV translators to deny continuation.  The zillion-dollar question is are we up to the task.

         And the correct original word "woman" was deleted early in the morning of Genesis by King James and erroneously replaced with the irrelevant word 'wife', establishing right there “in (the) beginning” a humanly instituted policy of disrespect to women and girls.  Before a female human is a contracted wife she is a constitutional woman.

          I for one am changing my attitude and my words.  I think I read that fact somewhere in the excellent medieval-to-modern history of Christian women, The Making Of Biblical Womanhood by Beth Allison Barr; recommended.  By the way, related to the above Genesis fact, did you know the Indian Sikh religion began with a determination to reverse the old Hindu humiliation of women and girls?  

          And long before King James and his editors were publicly infatuated with their ecclesiastical bullybuttons, the recently dead apostles weren't smelling in their graves if they made it that far when Christian so-called ''Judaizers'' for want of a better word wrongly changed the original and correct apostolic ecclesiastical procedure of plural leadership, with Jesus as the singular high-priest leader in The Spirit to the, for want of a worse word resurrected Mosaic procedure of high-priest singular leadership in the flesh. 

           In summary, most of two millennia of Christian leadership simultaneously imitate Jews and murder them.  'Crazy?  'Probably not the word for it and ditto with 'children of God'.


          Part  B                                                          

          The above is my own experiential discovery the hard way that so much of Christian church body social dysfunction is directly due to Un-Christian singular leadership in the congregation.   Jesus was the real ‘senior pastor’ or Mennonite 'bishop' for the first biblical  assemblies  in Jerusalem and Antioch who had 'plural pillar' leadership.

           Yes I understand and agree, singular leadership or headship is divinely normal for institutions on the Earth as with job bosses, ship captains, and primary airplane pilots.  It demonstrates lack of faith and respect to circumvent this social system.  God is invisible, and devious people think that makes him proactively insignificant.

           The ensuing problem is that social accountability and availability to one another is curtailed.  I started to learn this hard lesson wondering why people in the church-group I'd joined wouldn't talk about issues.  A horse won't drink either because it's not thirsty or it's stubborn. 

            Jesus wants to singularly lead everyone simultaneously to God's spiritual drink.  And being God he has every right to do so.  Are we doubting his ability to do so?  

          This post-apostolic resorting to singular leadership from the original plural leadership is exactly what Israel did in rejecting God as their real king and as their heavenly husband.  God warned them what would happen under the leadership of a human king.  They said,  ’We don’t care, we want one anyway, to be like the nations around us’.  Big trouble ensued, heavy taxes and unnecessary military death.

           The depth and integrity of family relationships were also curtailed.  I wonder if Christians who hit their children under false Scriptural pretext resemble young people who go to war in willful ignorance.  The children of 'the quiet of the land' howl loudly for the uncalled-for miseries come upon them.  Which becomes generational bias 'manana'.

           Now back at the ranch and proceeding very seriously here, four years later in 2016 I was digging on an archaeology website on YouTube.  A video option on the vertical list to the right when on non-full-screen mode caught my eye, approximately: ‘Cellphone Data Of A Purported Satanist Recovered’.

          YouTube, God bless them, only posting the audio…yes, for whatever reason…with a still shot of a bloody bathtub plus bath surround, the hoarse voice of a little girl cried for help to me.  Are you making the connection to this that I made?   King James’ blunder of a social-agenda inclusion in God’s copyrighted biblical text is part and maybe parcel of the faulty logical reasoning these nasty people use to justify their terrible actions.  

           If you know, “All things work together for the good for those who love God, for those called according to his purpose”.  Should we picnic while tragedy occurs out of our view?  I think if it’s done as part of our periodic and necessary resting and relaxing, yes.  We need to maintain our strength (although 'We only know what we want; only God knows what we need').  And always our Godly focus should be of what is good and right and pure and lovely; Paul to the Philippians.


          Part  C

          By the way, as a point of human interest, the school window accident that maimed me for life with a severed artery and median nerve happened at the very biological age that Solomon was mentioning for rebellious young men.  And my school principal was not surprised, her alert secretary using my uniform tie as a tourniquet. 

          Indeed, of blueness of the wound, as I waited on a gurney for the neurosurgeon to arrive and re-assemble my forearm, it was interesting to peek around the mental safety shield and look at it.  Inside was yellow fat and things that were red and also blue.  

           I woke up this morning joking that neurosurgeons train by painting paint-by-number paintings.  I've got two I did, one of a tiger and one of a leopard.  How 'bout U?

         By circumstantial chastisement God spoiled the rod and spared my young adult life.  And this week as I write, I heard the news of the historical origin of the sentence with the words spare, child, spoil, and rod.  It's part of a 17th-century English adult erotic poetry piece of literature.  Yup ditto, hook line sinker and rod.

         Death got real close by age 20, more than I was used to avoiding, saving myself from drowning in a deep diving-pool two years before the school window accident.  I had been dumped off early at the pool so Mom could go drinking for the day. Pete went to find a friend who lived nearby. The lifeguard Gus, otherwise a pro, stopped and looked at me on the high-dive and then went into his office figuring I'd be alright.   Because the week before, the 4th-of-July I had beaten the other eleven-year-olds, plus the twelve-year-olds in running, swimming, and diving.

         Rules are there to save lives Gus...don't take your eyes off even one swimmer in the water.  The Ultimate Ruler has rules he himself obeys.  I've told our child his mom and dad obey themselves for every next project.  Therein is love as Jesus says, "If you love me, then you'll obey me", this thing spiritually discerned.

           I wonder if Gus or Pete had been there to save me, they would have unknowingly further damaged by back beyond the crushed disc.  I don't know how that works; I know I delicately favored it, both to stay sentient and so as to not aggravate the injury.  I know my first thought facing the pool bottom water dust, ''Oh, so this is how little boys die."

           I didn't swim much after that in Jakarta, all of us children and women evacuated soon after.  i definitely didn't tell my parents what happened.  I'd had enough of human hospitals by then.  Two eye operations were scary, especially the second.  Not only the ether was scary, but waking up from it also.  

            Mom was there for the first, but the second became an excuse for her to drunk out somewhere.  I wandered around my fenced in bed for hours and hours looking for a non-existent pillow.  The nurses didn't answer when I pushed the button on a cord.  And a song rang in my head, the adult instrumental Never On A Sunday.  

           Before Mom died, she apologized, she reminding herself to tell me one day.  Amen.

           How much time do we spend contemplating the phenomenon of childhood growth?

           Surely Jesus is saying to us also what he often had to say to his macho and misogynistic disciples, “Leave them be !” of heavenly children or “Leave her alone!” of inspired women.  Does this mean we're pre-pentecost, not born again yet?  On the day we go to his house, will he say "I never knew you"?  or tie a heavy weight to our neck?

         God had it written, he’ll wipe away the tears forever and said in the meantime it is written that offenses should come and "woe" to the source of those offenses as with Iscariot, for it would be better if they were never born.  Let’s not be afraid of the snake who can only "bruise" our "heel", rather be respectfully afraid of "the just one" who can cause eternal damage to both body and soul. 

         To quote God from his bible-book, “I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked”.  God does take pleasure in our births.  And no child was ever born a snob, nor an adult spiritually re-born a snob.  “God is not mocked”. 

        And “God made man(kind) upright, but he has sought out many devices”, especially in this day and age, of which the messenger-angel Gabriel said to Daniel, “Men will go to and fro and knowledge will increase and then the end will come”.   About God making me upright, I know I tend to slouch.

         Oh, there was one more error I wanted to expose with you, the fallacy of baptism by immersion, you know complete dunking underwater.  When Jesus' first-cousin John the Baptist was preparing Israel for his appearance and presence and ministry as God’s promised messiah, he was purifying them by no new method.  Immersion does not exist in Israelite history; it simply doesn’t exist there. 

        The little bushy herb hyssop was the culturally preferred applicator of splashed liquid.  The liquid sprinkled by the priest upon whosoever of the Israelite people varied by the occasional requirement of pure water, pure water with the ashes of a pure heifer mixed in, straight blood sprinkled, etcetera.  The priests did some serious washing of their bodies, but no full submersion was involved. 

        Immersion baptism is Greek, just like the fancy oratory of the Greeks that became the fancy preaching of the Christians.  Teaching was only one part of the original Christian house meetings.  And when John the Baptist shifted his location from the Jordan to the hillside springs of Aenon, it was because the river had annually swollen and muddied up from snow melt from the mountains of Hebron.  Recall, pure water was needed. 

        Also, at Pentecost when 3000 men besides, possibly women wanted to be baptized upon their repentance of transgression toward God, the military of Rome was still on alert plus rabid locals.  So no way was a pool party to be allowed in the city’s water supply.  Any assumption otherwise is ludicrous, if that’s the word to also describe the cold Canadian river where I was dunked, too early for decent swimming. 

        And about Greek oratory that was morphed into Christian preaching, that combined later with mechanized music as a recipe for hypnotic disaster.  Positively, the Catholic-Gregorian melody of the old Mennonite ‘Ausbund’ song I sing dispels it.  The 'anabaptist' Swiss Brethren providentially discovered these melodies when they force-migrated to the Alsace-Lorraine region.  

           Of hypnotism, I find the Protestant 'silent organ'-accompaniment songs are many more times hypnotically sticky in my brain than any anapestic rock beat.  It can take days compared to seconds for my favorite Gregorian chant melody to dispel that musical chaos.  The Protestant songs--some are Catholic derivatives, and vice versa--have a veneer of radical beauty to them.  But, their musical pace is generally frenetic and not at all peaceful, not anywhere as peaceful and pleasant as the Gregorian tune I sing.

           Many of the clunky and clanky songs of Christendom were written for organs.  Human voice-boxes have to scramble to keep up with such.  It is fact that it wasn't until the 1200's that organs and then trained choirs were let inside the Catholic buildings of worship.  Protestant John Wesley was asked what he thinks about instruments in the meeting-houses.  John humorously and poignantly answered, "I have nothing against instruments in the meeting-houses, as long as they are neither seen nor heard". 

          My give on the subject is the example Jesus gave at the last supper he shared with his friends.  Finally they sang a holy hymn together, then went out into the dark of the night.  That set the spiritual tone, so to speak for the Christian dispensation.   Musical instruments only came into play biblically after the Israelites rejected God as their king.  Note, the 'shofar' horn may be an instument, but it's not a musical one.  It's a good 'n.

           And you'll need a metal detector to find Miriam's tabrets on Aqaba's eastern shore.  There is instrumental accompaniment on the angels singing YouTube recordings.  They derive from a well attested miracle in Kansas I think it was.  Check it out yourself; delight in the French horn and the harp that sounds like a perfect delicately and tastefully played piano.  

           Again, the Israelites only sang before they clamored for a king.  With which came worldly instruments.  Historically biblically, musical instruments were started seven generations after Cain with his descendant Jubal-Cain.  Cain was a problematic guy if you remember.  And of course, if you take away the instrumentation of many a song, the vocals will be less than lyrical.

           Wouldn't you rather sing to your baby, if you had a choice of an instrument only ?

           Singing together with no one on stage is part of how God wants us to minister to one another.  God as the Spirit of Christ leads us to unity not division.  Stages divide in fact they defile, if you remember God saying "no steps in the holy place, lest the priest expose his nakedness", when lifting his legs up steps.  It's God who's in the details; it's the devil who's in obscurity and obfuscation.  

            And, whoever sang a love song to their lovey holding a songbook?

            Let's not complicate 'the simplicity of the gospel'.  And let's remember, the root of the word 'ideal' is idea.  That would be God's idea, the only God who knows what's good for us.  And there are no musicians in a foxhole, to say Christianity is spiritual warfare.


          Part  D                                                  

          My dear reader and may God bless your patience and perseverance here today, let’s be aware of all our instinct to group-think blindly.  While individualism and also tribalism are necessary counterbalancing factors in society anywhere on Earth, only the one who balances our metabolisms while simultaneously balancing the cosmos can give us the mental composure and perspective to re-balance any imbalance. 

        “Pray God for wisdom” is God’s biblical suggestion, he who knows those who are his, those who really and truly seek his face, theoretically for now, for he is spirit and we are yet partly flesh.  For “he will in no wise cast us out”, anyone who seeks him in humility and honesty.  And God biblically invites us, "Come, let us reason together."

         Knowing the full story of God’s reaching out to lost mankind, plus the revelation of himself is the good news of the gospel as it’s called.  'Taking every thought captive to the mind of Christ" is more easily WWJD, 'What would Jesus do?'  What does God do?  And what would God have us do?  'Love him and love each other, 'easy as a smile, while we as Jesus set our faces "like flint".

          God wanted to see love fructified in the Garden of Eden.  He wanted the paired image of himself, Adam and Eve to be so awed by their surroundings that they would remain in a frame of mind where he could develop a relationship with them.   God was their papa and privately also their mama, but they wouldn't have it.  

           Of Eden, a new idea I heard is that its four rivers came out of where is now Israel, even Jerusalem.  That topographical adjustments were made during the flood by God with the Rift Valley and what not.  That the Euphrates and Tigris as two of the four, from one, uniquely, came from there.  And that, the final gusher from the Mount of Olives will re-establish the original Edenic river.

            Continuing, he covered their now private publicity with skins, probably of a slain yearling male lamb.  This anticipated Jesus Christ as "The Lamb slain from the foundation of the world", also the identical dates of Jesus' birth and death, Passover time.  I also wonder, as you may be of the time frame of events there in Eden; 'at least a year?

           Really, twice in Christian magazine articles--I wouldn't mention it if it was only once--the writers, and editors misspelled the word 'public' in the same funny way.  I recall the first article I read had no spelling errors elsewhere in its text; 'subliminal advertising?

          Of Christmas, Jim Bakker and his woman on their interview show listened to Jonathan Cahn explain that Jesus is the tabernacle of God.  Which took nine months gestation so to speak to assemble.  That, time for Israel began the day the so-called ribbon was cut.  Which began the first year, March/April in Israelite recorded history. 

           That the Babylonian Talmud agrees with Chronicles and some Dead Sea scrolls for the course of the priests timeline, especially the baptist's dad Zachariah, so as to time Jesus' birth.  Oh, and that, lambing season in March/April is when shepherds sleep under the stars, to be there for the ewes.  Christnas is the ancient pagan saturnalia feast, when gifts are shared to resemble the sun coming back up the horizon.

           One liner says 'The root of the word gimmick is ;gimme'.'

         The Spirit of Truth that Jesus promised to send to his friends once he got home to Heaven would be himself as God in spirit form.  Jesus plainly said it to his friends there at the last supper, “I will come to you”, this Spirit of Truth Jesus said who “will lead you to all truth”, to comfort and counsel. 

         Now a question I have here is, ‘When?’ and also, ‘How much truth?.  Can we say, 'I'm lead all of the way'?  As Don Barnett called it in the recorded sermons I listened to back in the seventies, before he and a bunch fell thru the ice, for they were all holding hands and that too tightly, he called it the, or let’s use the indefinite pronoun, an unfolding revelation of God. 

         What I’m getting at is and it’s like my oldest brother Greg asked me rhetorically in a letter once, ‘Who knows how high or how far an eagle can fly?’, it’s open-ended.  And as I quipped in my booklet, We Spanked God, 'Sin makes an eagle foot-sore'.

         Once again circumstance comes into play; indeed it’s the playground. And the question as I see it is, and how I figure God sees it is are we nice, humble children? Because we did it as children once, when a child among us, maybe us, tried unilateral power tripping, he or she either got rejected by the rest or yes, you know, took over. 

         My point is peace, the framework wherein children operate. You know, when an adult comes into view, the children basically put up with them until they’re gone.  And then the children go back to their common and peaceful frame of mind, just doin’ and doin’, developing their projects, enjoying the sunshine, the sand in the box flowing through their fingers and toes, or sand on a beach, or just dirt, happy to be here in, where else, the Garden of Eden. 

         And we’re dealing with two kinds of parents, ideal ones which don’t exist where we are east of Eden, and again ideal ones who with God did exist in Eden for a while, and then they had their first child outside The Garden.  Isn't it obvious what God's idea here is?

         Notice or recall that the bible narrative of Genesis shows us how God found a special time each day to look in on his image-reflections Adam and Eve.  What I figure he was doing was as alluded to in the introduction, slowly steadily respectfully being with them progressively or at least consistently.  

          I know that with my son, he and I would connoiter once a day, no matter the weather, for his first three years until his mother hooked him on an iPad, replacing his iDad, and go down to the creek.  Invariably, it would be for hours, every day, especially as he aged, and we would investigate life form after life form, plus one week or so a remote-controlled submarine; 'yes, both of us.

         Even before when Adam was alone, God surely kept his distance giving Adam personal space as Adam did stuff such as organizing God’s animals and his plants and fish which meant Adam did some swimming. 

         In other words, God doesn’t expect us to be know-it-alls all at once.  Plus, it gives us a look at what God’s been up to for eternity-past as it’s necessarily called, not biblically anywhere but implied.  So here where we are and find ourselves is like God in eternity with space for freedom. 

         This is why we should respect it in others, inquire yes and politely probe as a form of sharing not just our sincere convictions, but better our joy, newfound in God.  This is the valuable essence of diversity.  For example, in the booklet I queried, 'You who are gay, are you also carefree?'  Understand, there's no stupid question, unless we ask it over and over.

          An aside, lately I've been thinking that "the love of money" is a creationary replacement for how Jesus said he "makes all things new".  Let's not settle for less.  You know, the thrill of buying something is a secular replacement for receiving from God.  We supplicate God as spiritual shopping and see " every good giving, and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the father of the lights, with whom is no variation nor shadow of turning".

          You see, besides the fact there’s haves and have-nots in every active realm, the significant factor is absolute truth.  Joy is not sadness and only the former is preferable.  Herein is the social imperative of caring and sharing.  Therefore, striking a child is no less morally delusional than sodomy.  "Prove all things; hold fast to that which is good'.  

          A prerequisite of a pastor is to be "no striker".  Pulpit semantics is like semen antics.

         To remind of our subject, the unfolding revelation of God that Don Barnett often preached about, nebulously in my hindsight, but generally and basically, the idea is to be continually open to the very source of information that created us in the first place, and has re-created us in the second place, the latter in Christ Jesus, if applicable to you, this regardless of cultural religion.  Heart is heart and therein thou art.

         That takes off what Jesus said, "As a man thinks in his heart, so he is." And know it if applicable, you didn’t accept Jesus into your heart; Jesus accepted you into his heart.  We call for help.  Hopefully someone rescues us.  And God absolutely will rescue us, if we don't kick too hard "against the goads".  Otherwise, he'll just shoot us and butcher us, as I've done with a few cows that were simply impossible to milk. 

           Less strictly, I've heard a shepherd will crack the leg of a sheep that keeps straying.  

          And with the absolute of caring and the corresponding imperative of sharing and the fact that none of us ‘knows it all’, we shouldn’t do it ourselves and we should be wary when someone tries it on us.   I'm saying here we're trying it on our children, as Nancy correctly criticized.

           "The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked".  To say, we should feel really really stupid for not noticing this before.  Hermeneutics as a general theological skill involves analysis of context.  It's something we're all expected to do in any literary endeavor.  Well, I guess I can't blame anyone else for not noticing it.  For I've read through Proverbs hundreds of times and never noticed it.

           I mean the discrepancy between the general tenor of the context of the, what, first seven chapters of Proverbs with the illogical and contrary presence of the one-size-fits-all term 'child' when the specific focus of the book is advice to young men.  The book has plural authors, so never mind here the many universal applications elsewhere in it.

          Well, let's go on.  The word 'woman' is ringing in my ears.  The best friend of my high-school junior-year girlfriend, who was a woman, as you'll see here, and my girlfriend also was a woman, the two of them used to holler across the school campus to one another, "Woman!!!!!" 

        The reason they did what normally would not be done was a good and real reason.  At the same party, they had been drugged and raped.  Thus their mutual cry of lamentation bewailing their lost and stolen original virtue.

        They both grew up in the Benguet mining community on Luzon Island, the P.I.  Their dads helped manage, her dad getting me to 3100-ft. to check it out once.  My extra story is, my woman-friend as a girl playing with the others too close to the tailing sewer at ground level slipped half into it, holding on for dear life.

        The other children couldn't extricate her.  Her same future woman-chum ran to the mine office and got her dad.  He pulled her out.  Just after I left, she almost drowned in a big river swimming with her fiance'.  They have two grown girls who "love their dad!!" 

         Her older sister my age, red-haired and heroin-addicted, didn't make it a year here in the States, emigrating after high-school.  Her other best-friend from home, now here, and she were horse-back riding.  Who was drunk while riding and the horse reared; it stepped on her head, fatally.   

        I knew both of them well, enough to know their personalities were the kind that were deeply dissatisfied with the restrictions of this world.  I also know that Divinity as Jesus loves his impetuous ones very dearly.  Another is David Kennedy, best-chum of one of the family who hired me at their Montebello.  


         Part  E

          Caring and sharing is not for know-it-alls.  I was just getting out of my car in our cul-de-sac, and an outside neighbor is in walking his dog, a female Jackie Russel terrier.  And the neighbor boy who was still outside after playing rubber football catch with his dad, a trash truck driver is petting a dog who had never had kind words for me, careful as she is for her guardian. 

           Having thought up a funny thing to say, I waited for the nip-and-tuck engagement over there to return to respectively respectful.  The boy stopped carefully petting her and I joked in feigned jealousy out loud, 'She let me kiss her,"  said with extra stress on kiss and a double inflection on her.  He laughed and she barked. 

           I know and wonder if you know how typically classic this scenario is.  Does God bark at me?  Or, does he let me pet him?  Or is that dog like a child who only agreed with another childlike person.  We are not to show our pearls to pigs, Jesus advised.

        It’s like abortion clinics for example.  If some poor dear has a mind to use a coat-hanger in her social desperation, then give her a sanitary clinic.  That the existence of the clinic becomes for some an end in itself, the original mandate is not deprioritized.  Give the woman a clinic.  It reminds me of what I've studied about suicide.  

        Seriously, research, Christian clinical research, European has observed two different categories of suicidal circumstance.  One is where the individual has unwittingly painted themselves into a mental corner.  The other is where the individual has knowingly painted themselves into a mental corner.

        So what is a real Christian but someone who respects God in his incarnated Christ by being nice to people.  The first Christians pooled their money together, which is not what today we would call empowering.  Neither were they bound as mentally indentured servants, for they were simply head-over-heels in love with “the lover of their souls”.  Who was also the miraculous provider of their flesh.  Many were Jews in love with YHWH incarnated.

        And they were “every man under his fig tree”, each of them feeling the sand flowing through only their own fingers.  These people were content as she who is relieved to have the services of an abortion clinic.  The difference is not dissimilar.  Remember, we only know what we want; only God knows what we need.

         How can God meet us where we are if we’re not where we’re at?  And if someone forces us to be somewhere else, essentially they’re forcing us to be someone else.  Yes,  “Leave them be” and “Leave her alone” Jesus exclaimed.  'Everyone has a right to be wrong, and let no one make light of their song, to God’s "new song"".  He’s the healer, not us. 

        And that fig tree we’re supposed to be content under or a coconut tree, 'our own coconut tree', if we’re not then we’re disobeying God.  For he commanded us to be content under our fig tree.  Otherwise, God would get itchy feet out there in eternity.  And if we don’t do it, we mock him by accusing him of doing so, having itchy feet himself.  In that scenario, evolution would be a better alternative.  

         A bully in a china shop, not just a bull, even a bully on a ship makes a small island.  In other words, if we don’t ‘Occupy until I come’, Jesus will come and find us beating the menservants and the maidservants.  With children, bullies use sticks and hands, able to get away with it.  With adults, bullies use psycho sticks and pulpits, or unreal politics.

         Yes, 'Gullibility is the predator’s perception of innocence'.  And, “God is not slow as men count slowness”.  And the owner of the vineyard is not away on a permanent trip.  He's coming back to give credit where credit is due or not.

         God’s "new song" starts with an invitation, not a threat.  ‘Getting To Know You’ is the theme song of the play, also movie, The King And I, a process of unfolding discovery.  'No interruption is desired in the volcano of a heart in love'.  'Let’s keep it simple, sinners', or are you fully sanctified?  Don’t diminish the circumference of the sandbox.  Don’t tell the children their sandbox is small.  Don’t limit God to holding the universe in his hand. 

         I know a family, a couple who constructed a thirty-by-ten-foot sandbox for their boys.  When I first saw it, it was in an advanced stage.  These guys had every square inch filled with a developed city with suburbs and complete road system, country folk.

         Get out of God’s way, or he will get you out of his way.  He had Solomon say, “Anger is cruel, and fury overwhelming, but who can stand against jealousy?”  God describes, even names himself at one point in his inspired narrative as “Jealous”.   I think we're morbidly jealous of children, and fail to shudder at the implications.

         I  was walking the perimeter of a large beaver pond when the wooded shoreline looped out into the water in what was a small peninsula.  Once around the other side, I decided to walk back inside it and found the home standing area of a moose.  The tracks, the width of the tracks were nearly as wide as my boots were long.  "Our God is a consuming fire!"

        And "God is not slow as men count slowness...".  Especially to you who have heard this expression a hundred times, are you bored with it?  As it continues, "...but he is wanting all men to come to repentance".  What, one time only?  If so, then God wants us to be arrogant, to be born-again snobs.  No, God knows we must repeatedly seek his biblical face and the wisdom of his written lips.

         Those aforementioned mistranslated social-agenda bible passages remind of entering the Earth’s atmosphere.  You have to pierce the shell at just the correct angle or you’re a goner.  We have to respect the bible that way too, because people’s innocent trustworthiness has big potential. 

          It’s like what the California pioneers were told on the way out by people who knew and had their best interests at heart.  Real estate scammers were out there with dishonest alternative routes to The Golden State.  “Walk as fast as you can and don’t take any shortcuts” was the good advice.  Scammers would suggest other routes, but there was only one, the squeeze through the Humboldt Desert.  Ha, make that the humble desert.

         Do you know how the word minister is both a noun and also a verb?  Biblically, it’s only a verb.  A local church here has a motto, ‘Where everyone is a minister"…yeah, except one of them is ordained.  I guess that means the others are ordinary ones. 

         We’ve heard the carnival side-show quotation, ‘There's a sucker born every minute’.  Historically, the source of that has not been pinpointed, although it’s veritable.  Further, I venture to say, and you may quote me on this, ‘There’s a sucker born-again every minute’.  

         You know, there was a century when going to the circus was not done on Sunday.  This century, going to the circus is often done on Sunday.  So who is the person countering God’s injunction, “Thou shall not touch mine annointed!”?  Is it the critic like me who castigates the ecclesiastical huckster? 

         Or is it the pulpit huckster who swindles someone’s guilty conscience?  My ten-year-old, when I told him two minutes of what I knew of pulpit sordid gain said, “Pastors shouldn’t be imposters!”  "Out of the mouths of babes" God said, inspiring someone to write it in his Holy Bible.

         It's not just the sinister minister, for surely history is repeating itself.  Wherein we hear the echo of God’s voice, “...and my people love to have it so”.  Checking to see my newly published booklet listed on the online market, scrolling beyond it soon found a continuing list of erotic websites for intentional adult spanking.  Get a life in Christ guys ‘n gals, for time’s a wastin’!  Do you really want adult spanking on your biographical list of achievements?  

         Do you really want child spanking on your achievement-list for your interview with the man who said 'Anyone who harms a child will be chucked in an eternal ocean'?  There is universal appreciation for Jesus’ analogy of the sparrow.  There are hypocrites who think it only applies to themself.  They exchange the glory and honor of future heavenly recognition for social fanfare on Earth.

         All for the soulical thrill of lording it over weaker people, and their inevitable condemnation is compounded by the domino effect of cowardly decisions today.   By “loving and believing a lie” they effectively stick their foot out and trip the busy passerby.  Who falls into someone else and there go the dominoes 'ad infinitum'.  And saying weaker people is often synonymous with meeker people. 

         On spanking or sticking, I’ve had numerous people tell me they 'turned out alright so it must be true', not a good line of reasoning for calculating a re-entry of Earth’s atmosphere.  When we “Be still and know that (he) is God”, do we then turn and deny the potential divinity of one another? 

          'They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?’ was a movie title where if it was for a book you could read it by its cover.  ‘They hit children, don’t they and worse?’; there’s a title for your book.  My Canadian neighbor said he used to butcher 70 horses a year to feed his minks.  And he shuddered when telling me so.

         Did he smile a theoretical smile as he butchered those screaming horses?  Look, you with eyes to see and ears to reverently fear, Nancy was spot on.  Jesus was butchered not so we wouldn’t get chastised circumstantially, but so God wouldn't reject us no matter what. 

          Some people are hell-bent for disaster; other people are heaven-bent for disaster.  They’ll get to heaven’s front door and the owner will say he doesn’t recognize us as being on the party guest list. 

         I watched a YouTube video about a famous movie actor who was refused entry to a post-Academy Awards party.  This guy would be accepted at most party front-doors and without invitation.  I guess that’s what he was trying to do, but he was refused by direct message from the host of the party.  He took the rejection well, but his friends were fuming, really flabbergasted.  But they had to move on to Nowheresville and they were just so sure they'd be let in.

         Of course the golden rule is the real rod of correction.  Because we’ll have to use it on ourselves first.  Spanking children into traumatized submission is a human tradition that makes God's word of love of no effect.  Commanding obedience of adults instead of encouraging persuasion among everyone is like changing a road sign to point toward a cliff. 

        I did hear a Catholic priest say about Protestant pastors telling wives to obey them instead of their Godly husbands, "Wow, we never did that".  The Holy Spirit can not counsel and comfort someone who will not leave his tradition-bound comfort-zone.   This is part of what Jesus meant about "leaving all".  From what I have been learning from Pam Sheppard Ministries, recommended, the baggage we bring to our born-again experience is demonic.  And then we buy souvenirs.

         And through it all, God’s perennial invitation stands unresponded to of “Come, let us reason together”.   ‘No?  I’ve been working a USPS mailing list of over three-hundred, telling people of the little girl I heard being mutilated.  I can count on one crippled hand the responses, and only two were positive. 

         Most were written to people who know that God’s biblical word is “useful for correction, for reproof, for instruction in righteousness”.  All know the new testament is mostly letters written and answered.  So is it not logical to say people are preferring hypocrisy to honesty by not replying to discuss?  Criticism without proof is false accusation, also coming around as grape-vine gossip.  

         In a long-ago letter exchange with my former ‘bishop’, the Amish-Mennonite equivalent of a ‘senior pastor’, and he was always on my later big mailing list, when I made the observation that sticking and spanking was the new fire of Molech, he wrote “No, Molech, no, you’re going too far to say that”.  To answer again, I use my childhood’s most challenging articulation of convicted insistence, “You wanna’ make a thousand-dollar bet?”  Thinking of that desperate child’s hoarse cries for help, I feel ashamed for even wasting the time to digress into making the comparison.


         Part  F

         Well I jotted some notes periodically today while altering a shirt for myself.  I like sewing; 'been fixing my clothes since a teenager, although I can't feel the needle.  'You know, 'can't expect my mama to follow me around.  Did you know, in the first world war Mennonites and Quakers, maybe Jehovah's Witnesses who didn't want to shoot people and went to alternative war-work camps had to know how to fix their clothes? 

         Otherwise they were denied entry and then what; I don't know, maybe use their trigger fingers.  And 'seems to me, a Christian clothed with the righteousness of Christ should know how to mend that divine clothing.  And any needed alterations of this alternative work of sanctified separation from the world should not cause understandable derisive laughter.  This parallels how God says he does so in Psalm number two.

         'The simplicity of the gospel' is a useful new testament paraphrase, unless it's a quote; excuse me.  It is perfectly exemplified in what Jesus said about children.  That unless we become like one of his little ones, then we in no way will be allowed entry into the kingdom or royal land of heaven. 

        The social atmosphere of that place will have no confused and complicated fear existing there and doesn't as we speak, only "perfect love which casts out all fear".  Earth is our school of life and thinking of schools historically as pertains to 'ouchy' discipline by understandably frustrated teachers, let's talk about that.

         What I know is that paddling disruptive children has not been and is not necessary.  Don't take my word for it; take that of Jesus' cousins, The Jewish People.  Some modern ones do 'hit' children, but most Jews, knowing the Word of God, never have; those in-between this utilize shoe laces on the hands and forearms.  But thev've been influenced by 'the world'  and speak it unfairly fluently.  And the preceding mostly applies to school.

         In fact about young men and discipline, Jewry had a serious pow-wow as a community in about the year 300.  What had happened was, a youth who had been told 'Just wait 'till your father comes home' took his own life.  Samuel Martin told this story in his book ‘Thy Rod And Thy Staff, They Comfort Me: Christians And The Spanking Controversy.  That’s Samuel’s generously free ebook at his biblechild.com.   Sam’s written a sequel since then concentrating on the book of Hebrews, including chapter twelve.

         I pause here--how about you--the Jewish community humbled themself with the determined conviction to discover peace.  God's description of some folk, "The way of peace they have not known." can not be applied here.  These people changed their way, changed their thinking. 

         They do know the prophet Isaiah described the some-day-to-be-born-in-Israel baby messiah or The Christ Child as divinely the begotten of God Almighty, besides being called Immanuel meaning God-incarnate (in a human) was also called The Prince Of Peace.

         This reminds of a cool story I experienced and mention in my booklet of one-liners.  What happened was, I was getting off work in a group home at midnight.  My relief was a person whom I had never seen before on the job.  She said her husband was working at the military medical facility nearby.  I didn't get her name, as I like to do with anyone, for she was busy talking with me at the very top of her lungs.

         She was older than me from China, inevitably a student of Mao Tse Tung and Madame Tung, and the gal's tongue was articulating vitriole she obviously had been indoctrinated with.  However one stronger influence than Red Guard righteousness was expressed by this furious anti-USA Tung-talker.  Of a sudden the woman quieted to a normal tone of voice and said "But that little boy; that's nice".  Then it was off again to the imperial races and her angry diatribe against anything about the United States.


          Part  G                                                          

          It wasn't until I was brushing snow off my car that I focused on what my new friend had said.  Little Miss Tung was talking about the baby boy Jesus Christ, the hope of eternal happiness for all mankind. 

         You know other religions have wishful stories about a divine incarnation.  They remain wishes or holdovers from what God told Eve about her distant future "seed".  

         Here I recall seeing some of the Hindu Ramayana and its dancing participants drinking the blood of baby chicks.  As I had the dubious privilege to observe as a child visiting Indonesia in 1965-66 with my family, Dad working there at the American Embassy, Mom swinging from the chandeliers. 

           She told us once in all seriousness, at a party were a few Russian men sitting quietly off to the side.  Mom told us she engaged them in an interesting conversation.  What else are diplomats' wives for?  You can only swing on so many chandeliers.

         It reminds of what Jesus said as spiritual analogy about eating his flesh and drinking his blood.  Many of his followers stopped following him when he said that.  But he was the real manna in the desert and real grape juice, besides just feeding thousands miraculously that day.  Jesus was trying to get these people to think spiritually, and us.

         Personally by age 17 I was well studied as respectful observation of religions other than the Catholic Christianity I'd been raised in.  One rainy winter day my older brother Peter was culling his book collection.  I had stood in his room doorway to see what I had heard him doing.  In the middle of a spread of books on his bed was a bible he had found somewhere.  Pete saw me looking at it and said, "'You want it?"  I nodded and Peter grasped it and handed it to me.

         Do you know people die for such an opportunity?  If you don't know why then I'll tell you.  The words ring true in the deepest part of my person.  Hell's bells is settling for less, although I kept ringing them until age twenty.  But I had been praying before bed, at least a few years before, before age fifteen and marijuana et al.  Those earlier prayer years were a change from before we went to Indonesia.  Then I prayed to Jesus' mom, whom I had been taught would answer prayer.

         I had reason to pray, living a life at death's door since birth, with no displayed concern or interest by my parents.  But they had their own problems.  What I did do usefully after we returned from Indonesia was reason in my mind that I ought to address myself to God himself.  I had been taught it was possible, so why not go straight to the top? 

         I knew it was an option for all humans, so let's go!  I'd also learned that God would at least hear my prayer, although Catholic confusion muddled my thinking with unscriptural ideas of heavenly influence by Jesus' mom.  See Jeremiah's chapters 7 and 44 for Israel's preference of a "queen of heaven".  Jerusalem did it before Rome and Constantinople.

         Despite the bewildering sadness of my teenage years, I knew that God as my creator, even the creator of my heart would hear its cry.  The drugs did not help me do what I now know is the essence and proof of a real walk with God.  I've alluded to it talking about coconut trees and fig bushes. 

         God says it perfectly in his bible-book with the pragmatic challenge to each of us saying, "Do not despise the day of small things".  My book borrowed someone's "Happiness is not doing what you like to do; it's liking what you have to do".  Without Jesus, that line is limp.

         What God means by that line of his is, the drudgery of life under the Edenic curse is the very source of our solution.  God means we need to be happy in a sad place and, focusing on him is the only process to be successful at it.  The bible narrative completely provides the full-spectrum of what on God's Earth is going on. 

         And this very importantly includes the information dually of who God is and who I am.  Life is very much 'a many-splendored thing' and calls for a commensurate explanation.  With God, I rather feel as I do plugged into the electric grid.   Except the latter is a weak analogy.  

          Any complaints must be referred to Samuel Langhorne Clemons, the author Mark Twain.  Who humbly admitted "It's not what I don't understand about the bible that bothers me but what I do understand".  To say, challenges exist and successful people surmount them. 

         Those same successful people, those who find the "pearl of great price" pay the great price of paying insurance companies and armed guards to protect their treasure spiritually.  And it costs nothing!  Jesus cries, "Allyee, Allyee in come freee!"  And mankind is playing hide 'n seek in the Garden of Eden all over again.  We are to be 'childlike, not childish'.

         And insurmountable challenges such as death and taxes require more than we got.  So knowing that the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the most proven event in history, we're not to 'get him on our side'; we're to get on his side. 

         And I mean it about taxes if you know the story, that day the apostles whimpered about April 15th coming up.  Jesus told the soon-famous fisherman to put a line in the lake etcetera.  In other words, Jesus' official howbeit indirect counsel about it is to hang up a sign on your door that says 'Gone fishin'.  That's my kinda' God!

         For as Ralph Waldo Emerson perceived the impossibility of the situation "The sun illuminates only the eye of man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child".  And Jesus, God incarnate said we must be born a second time of the spirit to be little children all over again. 

         A neat thing happened prophetically and coincidentally for me in English class in junior year of high-school at the Baguio City campus of Brent Schools in The Philippines.  Where teacher Ken Guerra docked 5-points off a homework essay if you used the word 'thing'.  Ken's guide-line for a homework essay was William Wordsworth's "splendor in the grass, glory in the flower". 

         I wrote a long meandering story of a day trip with my girl friend.  I don't recall any details except sitting in the back of a bus happily talking with a wise old man we had befriended in the far bus station who was heading back our way, a fictional story.

         Three years later headed to Quebec from Thailand, a tall and elderly man in the San Jose CA bus station was with two Korean women who spoke little English.  They had been using a Greyhound Ameripass as I was, travelling where they wanted one place after another. 

        They had crossed paths a week or two before and he was their impromptu tour guide.  But I saw them confer together apart from me and he turned to me then.  He said "Look these wonderful women have probably had enough of me.  How about if you and I travel together?"  

         I said "Sure, you're on!"  and the women hugged and kissed him good-bye.  Now this man was elderly, and I asked him why he was traveling.  He said he wants to take advantage of the Greyhound Ameripass open ticket before he gets too old to do so. 

         And I asked the man his name and he said "Ralph".  'Last name?  "Emerson".  'Middle name?  "Waldo".  Ralph was a direct descendant of the famous North American philosopher, my teenage hero as that of many other people.

         My former Brent School woman-friend was on her way to England to visit her grandparents for the first time.  I asked her to remain at her uncle's house in L.A. until I got there for what was to be a final visit for us.  She scheduled herself that way and Mr. Emerson (Ralph) and I bussed to Los Angeles and got a downtown hotel room. The next day the three of us took a very long city bus ride around town.  Mainly we found my objective of an organic-food restaurant with foot-long avocados.

         We three went our separate ways the next day, but do you see how very encouraging that was for me to have a real-life fulfillment of an essay daydream?  Another neat thing that I think God did was one Saturday in Baguio when we took in the mountain view over at the U.S. Military R&R base. 

        Just inside the usually-open gate of the ambassador's cottage is where we sat.  She went down the slope to pick grass for a local's horse tethered nearby.  A pine-tree about fifteen-feet tall was almost impeding my view of fifty miles of mountains.  Then an invisible ten-foot man grabbed the neck of the pine and shook it for all it's worth.

         Eight times it shook it, paused and then another series of eight.  While I hollered at her, I politely beseeched God or whomever he had working for him to do it again so she could see it.  She sat next to me and said, "What Mike?"  I said, "That pine tree right there, don't take your eyes off it".  And it or God or both did it again, another series of eight mighty shakes.  "What was that?" she looked at me and asked.  Surely it was God spiritually telling me to stop fornicating with her.


           Part  H                                                                

          The above is normal for a Christian, or a pre-Christian, somewhat rare but normal.  God refrains from showing us signs and wonders because he knows we spoil easily from "Christ and him crucified".  We have to focus on Christ's cross as we carry our own. 

          Soon after my mom was born again and stopped boozing, she had a nightmare wherein someone was strangling her to death.  She cried out to Jesus over and over again right there in the bad dream and woke up with the sheet around her neck really tight.

         The next day was Thanksgiving, me in Canada and Mom had gone into the kitchen from the dining room with Greg to get dessert.  Chris was still at the table in the dining room and overheard Mom tell Greg about the nightmare.  That dream included a big jolt just before she woke up that Mom couldn't account for. 

         So Chris went upstairs to Mom's room to look around.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he thought to look up.  There on the ceiling above the bed was a set of sweat-darkened finger prints. 

         Chris then knelt down and looked under the bed and verified the truth of it.  The metal frame of the big bed was bent way out of shape.  Mom verified that it was not that way before, you know from cleaning under there. 

         Yes, God chastises those he loves including allowing the devil to get his licks in, as with Job.  Mom had in her hand the crucifix the old monk at the monastery school we went to in Rhode Island bequeathed to her.  Mom said that was the hand up against what in the nightmare she thought was a wall.

         "The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy" the angel told John in The Revelation toward the end of the bible.  It indicates the supernatural and not in a way we manipulate the administration of.  David prayed The Lord would "keep me from presumptuous sins". 

         In describing the baptist his cousin John who prepared his way, Jesus sarcastically asked, "What were you expecting to see, a reed shaken in the wind?"  Isaiah, writer of maybe the most eloquent words in literature besides Jesus, when allowed a visit to heaven declared he's "a man of unclean lips", including the people he said he's affiliated with, Israel.

         At this point in our visit together, I want to defer again to Pam Sheppard Ministries.  I mean mainly about the supernatural because Pam is very expert in the subject.  Pam's YouTube videos are perfectly prepared and presented, less the annoying background music she has now.  (I should ask them to go back to the old plain talking.)  And her books are experientially brilliant and useful, especially Pam's most recent copyrighted work that I know of. 

        The book's title is Church Of The End-Time Zombies.  Just looking on Amazon now, it is evident that Pam has not let up since 'Zombies' in 2015.  Pam's work appeals to honesty of ourselves, of the spiritual verities our cream-puff comfort zones don't quite like.  Pam is more aged than me, a little younger in the Lord, and is a most experienced Christian counselor.  Pam has assembled an association of like-minded younger counselors who reflect her brilliance and love.

         My experience would like to generalize with the cartoon character and leave it at that.  Who says "Never underestimate the power of a shnook".  But I have in my mind's eye a video I saw on YouTube. 

         A closed circuit camera in a child's nursery shows the little one standing in his crib in the dark alone and holding on to the railing.  A gossamer-whatever of light is visible moving around the room slowly.  The child is watching it as it moves around.  It ain't no night light either.  Things have to be very evil to get by a child's powerful guardian angel. 

         This reminds me semi-humorously of what nutritionist Don Lawson once said in a recorded Neo-Life meeting I once heard.  Don was talking about the marvels of the human body but lamented ''The wisdom, the great wisdom inside of us is dependent on the dummy on the outside''. 

         I'm thinking here of the beauty at our fingertips of children.  They are the real mirrors of ourselves imitating every move we make and thought we think.  So who really is that person in our mirror?  Would we like to meet ourselves?  Would Jesus?

         What would make a bully boy stomp on a box turtle on our playground?  I read in Maryland Magazine conversely to that of a family reunion.  Maryland folk over in the ancestral area of West Virginia were at their favorite annual picnic place.  One of the grandchildren found a box turtle and showed it to his grandpap. 

          ''Very nice sweetie, now put it back in the woods''.  The child dutifully heads to the woods, but Grandpap calls him to bring it back for a second look.  Something deep inside the man called for a second look at a tortoise on whose hard belly he had penknife-scratched his initials at the same age as his grandchild. 

          'The same box turtle, who keep a close lifetime range of territory.  But would the man do violence to the turtle and suggest the same to his grandson?  Is such frequent hypocrisy what develops bullies of increasing generational violence? 

          Just as starfish salvation is important to this particular starfish washed up on a beach, so God wants us to concentrate on Jesus from birth to death.  It is truly said we can be born once and die twice, or be born twice and die once.  This is a spiritual fact.

         The converse is disaster ignoring real trouble while fabricating vainglorious actions of rescue for imaginary victims.  Facetiousness is the facility of the phony, the same said differently. 

         My dad did well for us living at the bottom of a road that went down and up again.  Fast drivers took no mind to child oblivion at play.  So Dad would get in the fast driver's ear as they sped by and yell "Slow down!". 

         Dad also took his belt to Pete and me a few times.  After a few bare-butt slaps Pete and I would look at each other and start giggling.  Dad invariably would say 'You want more eh, 'you want more?' 

         A more better event occurred between me and Dad alone.  I was in the bad habit of going outside via my ground-level window.  I'd leave it open and bugs would get in, especially at night time and a light left on while elsewhere in the house.  So then one Saturday morning, Dad caught me doing it.  Dad said to not do it any more.  I did it again late in the afternoon.  

         Dad ever-present like God walked up to me.  Dad said, ''Michael, what am I going to do with you?  What are you going to do with yourself?''  This was new territory, so I looked for a new solution. 

         Remembering I had recently received my Catholic-Christian First Communion and corresponding First Confession I asked Dad what time it is.  I had a mind to take advantage of the Saturday confession time up three suburban blocks at the church building ending at 5 o'clock.  I told Dad my idea.  Dad approved, telling me it was five of five.

         I high-tailed it on a bee-line and made it just in time, without looking for cars back on our street as usual.  The friendliest parish priest William Kane was just stepping out of his part of the confessional.  The place was pretty dark except for the high windows along the walls.  Willy Kane looked at me maturely without saying anything, then nodded an invitation into our respective boxes.  William's light blue eyes were an interesting contrast to the dark and slightly unnerving.

         Way later with us by Mom's death bed with Mom looking around with her last energy to see if things were ship-shape, Will Kane said something like ''Debbie, it's all done; you've done everything you've supposed to've. You may go now''.  And sure enough Mom did. 

          Check out a book, an old one, Solomon Shaw the author at Amazon, 236 Testimonies of (both) The Saved and The Unsaved Upon Their Death Beds.  The children's are beautiful, the committed jerks' horrendous.


          Part  I

          I don't know about you, but I've heard enough of me here.  I do definitely want to thank Ken Evoy and his SoloBuildIt web-hosting company for this place for me to techno-slow a further explanation of WE  SPANKED  GOD. 

          Did I tell you my booklet in e-format was not on the web a single day before someone wrote and complained about my title?  It took me some two days to reason through what really is a simple explanation.  If I've already said it above, it still bears repeating.

         To wit, we didn't just spank God, we bloody crucified him.  Thousands of locals were crucified by the Romans, but this guy sweated blood.  Not just nervously, but something else was going on.  The Roman commander there at the scene was moved to say--. 

         Well, being eyewitness observations speculation is the legitimate word for it.  The problem with discounting it is so much plausibility of witness.  Indeed it's said the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the most proven event in history.  

         Sinceriously, while Buddha smiles his little smile, Jesus sets his face like flint.  While the Japanese Art of War, I think it was, shows the sword professor disarming fully eighteen graduate students at one time, Jesus holds his sword in his mouth probably while holding children's hands. 

         There is no topping this dude's witness.  Our problem is shirking the responsibility given to us for sharing our given energies.  I mean, is our accomplishment ledger going to show in the black or the red?  I mean of good works or bad, of random kindness.

          Really, if our ledger shows more take than give, meaning our influence upon others for bettering them individually and society as a whole, then we're in for it.  Because evolution is wishful thinking while creativity is conscious deliberation, we who are alive must pass on that life.  

          I think of what Jesus said.  Jesus more than once by-passed Moses to get our thinking back to the beginning and purity of mind and will.  Being God, he has a right to do that you know.  But watch it, because there's actually less leeway there than here.  

         Because with Moses, we can hem and haw you know, haggle, barter, but with Eden, the conditions are absolutely absolute.  In fact, Eden is so dangerous a place to go given the finality of a decision there, I see the best choice as Calvary. 

         Look at Jeffrey Dalmer, up Goose Creek and on schedule.  Last time I heard, he was grooving on dinosaurs and creation facts to the glory of God.  And by the way, read his dad Lionel Dalmer's autobiography.  Ho-Ho, there's a thickened plot of ‘Who dunnit?!’

         English friends in Quebec had a farm-family expression, ''I'm going to bed''.  It meant someone was headed out to the barn or the field, again since again.  And, that family of three won the provincial gold medal for milk quality.  Two years later, they won the bronze medal.  

          A Quebecois friend's mom had always spoken French when I visited, and late into one visit, she woke me up at her kitchen table with the English, "Show me the way to go home; I'm tired and I want to go to bed".

         It's a sin to be stupid, proven as anything by the fruit of our action.  It is forgivable to dishonor Jesus Christ, directly or indirectly however that is.  What is not forgivable is dishonoring or disrespecting the Holy Spirit.  Besides the fact we're all different, amazing in itself, God says we'll go with the nasty devils if we know to do something virtuous but neglect to do it.  So much for individuality.

         I've kindly suggested to people, people who disregard God in their lives to give it a fair chance, to simply step back from the hubbub of their possibly mis-programmed minds and watch. 

         Roy Masters used to suggest this on late-night radio.  Step back, no longer part of the movie or play or now video you were very much a part of.  The separate place you'll find yourself in will be holy.   Eric taught the same.  Roy's son, Mark I think it is continues in his dad's helpful work, I once noticed on YouTube.

         That's the definition of holy, separated; 'from what but the world of man.  "No flesh shall glory in my presence" God had biblically written.  Like someone you see having fun, your interruptive suggestion of an alternative with its accompanying variables of quality and worth slimly weigh against the utility of accepting it. 

         So you're probably going to get rejected.  Thus I finished my booklet with an analogous mention of the fifties song, 'It's My Party'.  It is not our 'gig' to determine or even describe outside of our given parameters.  As one of my grandmas used to say, ''Mind your own business''.

         My favorite story and I may have said it here already (four hours of writing vaporized today when I pushed a wrong button with my hurt hand and it may have been in there.  I'll go back and check, not used to writing so big). 

         But the neatest bible story I know, maybe you too is the unnecessary challenge Philip put to Jesus.  He told Jesus to show them the father, you know the God of Israel, creator of the cosmos, friend of Abraham and Sarah, despite both of them laughing at God's promise of a baby.

         Jesus must have humanly shook his head or chuckled or both with this winner-takes-all challenge.  "Philip, have you spent this much time with me and still you don't know me?  He who knows me, knows the father ( seen me, seen him)".  To me, this pulls all the bible together. 

         It's long howbeit profoundly exciting reading, the old covenant slowly getting to know God Almighty through his involvement with people, especially his friends like Sarai and Abram, and Moses, and Deborah, etc. aside from everyone's idiotsyncrasies.

         Somewhere God says biblically his top priority is "Godly children".  When we do anything to negatively influence a child, including poor example as hypocrisy, we are affecting eternity of heart.  This isn't melted ice cream, to say I stole money from my dad's cook, Chung, in Kuala Lumpur.

          I was four years and innocent, taking the money from the shallow wicker tray on the table by his bedside.  I treated Pete and also Sing Wa and Kum Li, Chung's children to all the ice cream they wanted from the bicycle-vendor.

         Chung tore into Sing Wa and Kum Li, no older than me and Pete, hard.  He must have thought his job was in jeopardy.  Plus he didn't seem to know how to stop.  The Judeo-Christian awareness of Jesus as Prince of Peace would have helped you know, to draw the line sooner than seemingly never.  Anyhow soon after this the boy, I forget who was who, got his foot caught in the spokes on the way back from market.  It sounded very serious, possibly maimed for life like my arm.               

         Make of this story what you want dear reader, choosing life in whatever situation.  The simple and really glaring obviousness of a manipulative addition to Proverbs by King James and whoever-else by putting the incongruous word 'child' next to the evidently specific word 'youth' (male) in Young's Interlinear is close to being inexcusable. 

         You know, three times spaced out equally in his bible-book God says to not tamper with it, no addition, no subtraction, a copyrighted text.  Do we want to try that with Albert Einstein on his blackboard?  But rest assured, all our human imperfection God includes in his biblical choreography.  'Problem is, he said he'll put the plagues on us if we do so.

           Note, one especially obious anomaly between the words child and male youth in Proverbs is the scene in the marketplace.  The youth is warned to watch out for women who make money with unwedded intimacy.  That's for sale in the market along with the watermelons.  My point is, the word child is placed contextually in here nearby that.


           Part  J                                                         

           'Morning after Christmas.   I'm slightly miffed how it's actually just after the noon hour and I can't locate three hours of typed storytelling on this page.  I thought I was saving it but 'guess not. 

         Clean up spilled milk, slurping it if it's on a table.  Starving people would for sure.  I've never been hungry, although I can be strict with myself.  The Pulitzer Prize of 1939 was awarded for 'The Yearling' to U.S. author Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, a story of starvation and learned obedience to wise parents.  'Recommended. 

           I've re-read the above from yesterday and I like how it reads, although including today this text is missing seven hours of storytelling effort.  But 'we live and we learn, only if we want to'.

           Waking up this morning, I made an analogy of nightdreams.  They're frustrating in the way of unattainable objectives.  The way they're out of reach reminds of the futility of physically nay corporally trying to influence the spirit of a spirit entity.  Our children are two minutes out of heaven and their residual profundity is inaccessible. 

           It's like the Pharisee Saul of Tarsus trying to influence the converted, the changed Hebrew Christians.  it also reminds of Eve trying to succeed in a conversation with Lucifer descended.  Language and logic combine here to say "Give up !" as we vainly kick against goads, vanity meaning frustration in Greek.

         Hey as I stand here and wonder what next to type, having to again go through my first-thing-in-the-morning notes I wrote to myself, I noticed a Foxfire book last week in a used book store.  My favorite story, besides the old sage in Carolina who refuses to believe mankind has walked on the moon if I do, is the man in the woods hunting.

         He's laid his one-shot rifle up against a tree to relieve himself, # 2 and while squatting there a bear walking too assertively comes over a rise, thankfully in view because they're silent while they walk or stalk.  And I just remembered the little child I heard on the recovered cell phone data.  Continuing, squatting probably helped him stay low and make an even shot; where in the bear's body I don't know. 

          All of which reminds me of the one-liner behind the booklet's title, 'Eat the fat.  Chew the gristle.  'Bear in the bushes.  'Better whistle.  We spanked God'.  The bear in my liner is not a summer bear with lots of time to eat.  It is a winterizing bear, one which will eat you down to the bone.  If it's a mama with teenager-appetite yearling cubs, we're talking bone marrow, me ignorantly, probably any bear.

         I saw a picture combination comparing a Clovis-point spear head with a surgeon's scalpel.  Under a microscope, the edge of the scalpel has a ragged edge.  Under the microscope, the Clovis' edge looks like a brand new scalpel.  Then we know the rock they used was tops, like maybe from Catoctin Ridge in Frederick County, Maryland.  This hardness can at least glance off the rib bone of a mastodon and keep its integrity.  Cave men and women were people who for social reasons found it necessary to live in caves.

         Check out two YouTube films, one old and the other older, both black-and-white.  'Eskimo Hunter' shows the skills of a father accompanied by his son and daughter as spectating learners.  The home life of the family is beautiful, with Mom also, also the protecting and loving demeanor of the boy to his younger sister.  Also the community gathering scene is cool and swell also, especially as the--well I won't spoil it for you.

        'Nanook of The North' (North Quebec) (Eskimo Hunter was the west coast of Alaska) was filmed in 1922, about when Preston Bush was playing first base for Yale.  It is packed with more Eskimo amazingness, and the love shown by all.  A footnote on the screen at the end says--it's easy to miss--Nanook the next year did not return from a solo deer-hunting expedition. 

         'Caribou/Reindeer, their migration patterns vary.  See author Farley Mowat's, 'People Of The Deer'.  'Also his two books on ocean-going salvage tugs, and his two books on dogs (one of wild dogs that were tame, the other of a domestic dog that was wild).

         In Indonesia my parents invited Peter Gemerkin over to sup with them.  Afterwards, Mr. Gemerkin(sp?) came in to tell us children some stories.  The tiger stories were like Jim Corbett's of India/Nepal.  Both involved environmentally displaced tigers who had found how easy we are.  Mr. Gemerkin said he stopped a predatory crocodile 31-feet long, the exact length of the room I'm standing in.  Mr. Gemerkin grew up making his own firearms.  Mr. Gemerkin and his parents had to walk west out of their home in China when the Japanese invaded.

        I thought of a 'punny' word, cult-de-sac.  'Not funny for the stuck victims.

        I tried hunting once, tired of the guys from church helping me out.  The property in Virginia where childhood friends from The Philippines had hired me as caretaker was big.  I used the old house-shotgun, knowing I'd have to get really close with it.  So I moved about an inch-an-hour, a little more. 

         In five-and-a-half hours I hadn't seen a thing until a young buck far ahead hopped the fence by the Norfolk-Southern tracks.  That did it for me and I decided to try an improvised buck call, like I had heard one of the guys play from out of his pocket in the cottage while the other fellow talked with home on my landline phone. 

        I sounded like I was losing my lunch that I hadn't had.  'A long time over and over.  But I didn't see anything which was impossible around there.  Eventually, I did think I heard something, and I pricked my hound-dog ears forward.  I did hear something.  I was sure of it. 

        But but it wasn't in front of me.  It was to the rear, the slight sound I heard.  I continued to sound like vomiting for to keep my brilliant cover.  This might work.  I decided to turn somewhere besides the direction I was stupidly fixated with. 

        A beautiful doe's nose was an inch from one of my boot heels smelling it.  A yearling fawn was on her tail wanting to also by the look on its face.  A buck with half a tree on his head was cowardly back a bit.

        Shooting would have been unethical.  The buck treeing me in the butt would have been ethical.  And I can just hear the girls giggling. 

        Three weeks before I moved to Pennsylvania, smelling the morning air behind the caretaker's cottage, a mountain lion screamed out in the woods.  It was closer than that a short while earlier as I discovered.  But that's a story for another time. 

         I have been thinking here of the U.S. archery team Olympic gold medalist, a few years ago videoed on YouTube practicing.  Did you see that?  He would shoot his arrow from across the street through an open door in the back of his family's two-car garage to the target in the backyard.

        I think children with any kind of undue pressure on them play like they're working.  While adults who have as much pressure as possible taken off of them by Jesus' vicarious sacrifice work like they're playing.  The latter is supernatural living, the former supernatural murder. 

        There is more than one kind of cookie jar and more than one kind of science.  Elaine Stedman in her excellent 'A Woman's Worth' mentions in passing an oriental observation of the human body being feminine in front with the masculine in back.  

         Personally I've long thought my left big toe looked like my mom and my right big toe looked like my dad.  Anyhow Elaine related that accepted oriental fact with God only showing his back to Moses.  Elizabeth Elliot is also recommended reading or on video.

         One thing's for sure to me, there's a lot of spiritual technology that is too hot for us to handle east of Eden as we are.  For example, meditation that recommends clearing your mind of everything is one of the stupidest things you can do.  How many people have been nailed in the back by stealthy animals?  Well there's stealthy predators in the spirit world too.

         A Czechoslovakian (ca. 1977) guy in town back in Ripon, Quebec (she was Basque) told me a story of a famous local hunter back home who had hunted abroad and the walls of whose house were loaded with animal skulls.  It was his undoing probably, the smells.  He had been asked to stalk a marauding and dangerous boar, a wild male pig.

         He set himself up or down on a mossy, cushy log.  He may have heard it coming, but too late.  The odd thing was how the boar didn't just kill him and cut him up a bit.   Do I have to say it, beyond recognition?  The boar must have smelled everything.


          Part  K

          Her dad had been a Spitfire pilot, she who I had loved ineffectively without God.  One time he and Mom with their littlest in the car lost their brakes.  Think Colorado or Bolivia, their Filipino road home steeply down and winding.  Time after time he nicked the mountainside bank along the road to slow the speeding car down.  It stopped. 

        Rebecca Ondov's 'winged' horse Christian stories, recommended, will have you reaching for the seat belt of your easy chair.  At least twice or three times Rebecca implored Jesus out loud to save her and her equine friends from guaranteed laws-of-physics destruction by accident or bear.  And that was only the worst of it.

         Alex, you who recently told me 'I don't read books; I only watch movies and videos', watch They Shoot Horses, Don't They, without watching it.  I just remember a horse going down.  Like mine did but it was him or me at that point. 

          Early in my Christian walk I considered suicide, I suppose somewhat as death stalked me as an infant and as a child.  What happened as a sobering lesson to me was when the preacher and his family came over for lunch.

         After eating lunch, the ten-year-old boy and his younger sister came out to the barn with me and we got to playing tumbleweed-connection on the big hay stack.  Of a sudden I stood upright and looked around for him.  He had found the loaded groundhog rifle leaning off in an alcove, safety off for the quick critters.

         "No Charles" I struggled to articulate so quickly from laughing and with hay in my mouth, "it's loaded!"  Charles had it leveled at my chest, his eye in position.  It is obvious what God was telling me, "What, you want to commit suicide?  Here, I'll do it for you!"

         Esther over in Belleville, PA is retired from Wycliffe Bible Translators.  She said her youthful honeymoon was in Kenya where they had three daughters and then a son.  Who died of a fever.  Husband was killed by a cape buffalo while hunting, the T.V. safari shows I watched in childhood preparing me for Esther saying as clarification, ''Cape buffaloes hunt the hunter''.

         Anyway, or anyhow as it's said around here in PA, Esther came back with the girls to Wycliffe headquarters in Texas.  Esther requested the unprecedented, to go back out to the foreign Christian mission field as a single mother.  She got it, and spent the next fifteen years in the Colombian lowlands. 

         My dad's dad's folks are of that country.  They started coffee cultivation in Colombia.  Communism empowered the workers, who took the land back.  One of my brothers said I shouldn't have named my surviving child after Grandfather Tovar.  Because he was a lecher, an unfaithful husband. 

         Like this new accusation of 'an offensive' title for my book, it took me a day or two to think it through.  I was much like this grandfather whom I never met.  I miss him dearly, my blood and bone.  Grandfather only did a semester of college, here in the U.S. as I only did, actually twice, one at Goddard College fiddling expensively with some architecture, my dad's expense and two, at Bangkok Polytech for a semester of old-fashioned hand carpentry.

         Grandfather met her at a party in Chicago, they married, went up the Magdalena to Bogota, and they came back with two boys in tow, then separated.  God has his ways of bringing us into existence. 

         An additional Polytech story, this time Montreal, my farm boss's son was in the next class room when all the young women students were murdered by a jerk.  His class had to walk past that open door on their way out.  My boss's son decided not to look.

         Also about Esther and me, one of her daughters and sons-in-law live next-door to her in the big old stone house.  That was the home of a cousin of my same grandmother who married off to Colombia.  She was Helen McManigal or as it is often written McMonigle. 

         Ours came from Ireland to Williamsport, PA and Esther's deceased neighbor's family, of the famous orphan girl Rosanna McMonigle set up in Bellefonte, adjacent State College.  I first became aware of all this in 2004 when I moved here.  I was selling stuff to farmers who didn't use cars and noticed one of them looked a little different.  

         Different from most of the other Amish I was meeting and David told me about the little orphan girl, Rosanna of the Amish, his direct ancestor.  Rosanna's mom was a Connor I read in the book by Rosanna's and Little Christy Yoder's youngest son, Joseph.  And that made sense to me because Dave has a nose and face resembling one of our parish priests, 'Father' O'Connor. 

          I was talking with my son last week about noticing similar genotypes in the different racial groups of the world.  I think it's the funniest thing in the world to notice it. 

          Little Christy Yoder was renowned for knowing horses, wrestling too as a young man.  I won't ruin the book for you.  

         Gentling.  That donkey colt Jesus rode into town on had never been ridden before.  That my dear city slickers anywhere is a miracle.  To us maybe.  But to God as Jesus in the flesh, taming mustangs with a smile is standard.  We are so used to violence it's pathetic.  Even Christy Yoder probably contradicted himself between the way he treated or handled horses and how he did children.   

          Here's one.  As Christians are generally oblivious to the fact that Jews have never knocked their little children around, so Mennonites everywhere that I've observed are unaware that one of the minor Mennonite groups population-wise is heretical.  I don't mean minor private interpretations of Scripture such as partial head-hair coverings for the sisters or partial beards for the men.  I mean outright heresy, which I found by being in the non-inadvertent position of the right place at the right time.

         What happened was, because I had applied for membership to the only two congregations who forbade full beards, I was in purgatorial limbo.  So I accepted a subscription to this non-Amish-Mennonite group's twice-monthly.  I read every issue for two years, all healthy and accurate until one day I stopped in my tracks.  A sentence in the second column of the main editorial sermon said in less than a sentence that Jesus' mom didn't actually conceive him.  'Alright...'

         I asked my fiance' about it, because she once churched with them as a child, her dad still at it.  "Oh, yeah, that's something the Holdemans believe."  So I telephoned the neighbor, a non-ordinary minister with them.  He said, "Oh, yeah, but I don't know how to explain it".  He referred me to my future father-in-law, who in turn referred me to Dietrich Philips.  Who was dead five-hundred years, and it took me about that long to get through his book.

         Sure enough there it was corroborated by his fellow Holland church brother Menno Simons, namesake of all Mennonites heretical and non-heretical.  I visited every man of them my age around here, five of them.  Two stared at me as they smiled, silence, a third answered a question I asked of would he believe it if he heard it today for the first time.  No, he admitted, he doesn't think he would.  A fourth after an hour of silently refusing to answer my questions finally said, ‘from First Corinthians fifteen, first Adam, second Adam’, twisting Scripture.  A fifth and last man expressed concern of his church membership if he agreed with me.

         Here's a clue.  Churching with them once or twice a year before, I had asked about membership.  They informed me they would have to re-baptize me.  I heard the alarm but I had stuck the clock under the mattress the night before.  When I got a computer, I looked around and found the website Love Letter To The Holdemans by a couple who had been kicked out, excommunicated. 

         They smartly compiled a side-by-side comparison of the words by John Holdeman on the subject from his book, written back in the 1800's, and the contesting quotations of the early church leaders Tertullian, Polycarp, Irenaeus, and Justin Martyr, which were originally addressed to a Valentinius from whom Holdeman later got the idea.

         It is Gnostic doctrine, which generally distorts the nature of God, the son of God, and in the later form of Valentinius the nature of Mary's conception.  I invite you to read the compared quotations yourself if they're still there.  Two points to finalize this, one, God says heresy should be exposed publicly as in this essay, and two, as alluded to, share my astonishment that both Mennonites and Amish-Mennonites plus Amish, all who are neighbors with the John Holdemans, do not, as much as I have gathered know about it.

         The heretical idea being both female and male came from heaven to make Jesus, which obliterates any value of humanity's standing before God, and God's reason to incarnate humanity.  Practically, John Holdeman was not seeing much growth in his new group, but for some Polish immigrants who melded in for possibly normal reasons of newcomer desperation.  It was a later action like this by Holdeman to probably get some excitement going.  

         What connected two big dots for me as you might have observed was the insistence on re-baptism, which is a useless no-no and Gnostic distortion.  The Gnostics think God is too holy to sully himself with sinful flesh.  Gnostic aficionados are existentially 'holier than thou'.  Thus only 'they' are worthy or sufficiently credentialed to pass on the torch so to speak. 

         Frankly, there's nothing special about who baptizes you, only an experienced person.   The Swiss Brethren actually started over from scratch like this.  What's important is who you're baptized into, earlier Moses, now the one Moses pointed to.  What's decadent about Gnostic baptism, by prioritizing themselves as your adamant choice, they put themselves in the place of God as the Holy Spirit.

         I got a clammy and gross feeling when they said re-baptism would be necessary.  For I knew all of heaven was in attendance at my sanctified wet t-shirt contest.  Also know as part of this glaring lack of communication as spiritual cancer in the community, what the Holdemans' special forte is, sarcastically said is an accentuated prioritization of getting along with neighbors, commonly heard from them individually and separately.  

         I don't just mean the old problem we all have of getting along to go along, or vice versa, no, I mean getting along with un-affiliated neighbors as an end in itself.  That is not only disrespectful to neighbors, it also disregards what God is really doing on this wacko planet.  Practically, it turns away strangers seeking eternal security, every person's right to have.  Adam and Eve did not have belly-buttons, and we who do are not to busy ourselves with them, except the infantile new adventurers.

         Of children and adventure, I had thought it was 75% by 7 or 8; but no, a human- being mentally absorbs by age 4 or 5 fully 80% of everything they will ever learn.  The correlation to violence is easy but for the hardened heart.  What I want to expound upon is what God is so positively busy with.  It's the adventure and the learning; just watch the box-office hit movie of every little one.  They're not looking around like they're on marijuana.  Man o' man, they're investigating and observing a mile-a-minute.  They are primordially anointed by Almighty God with ministry!

         Babies may be jerky but they're not jerks.  Are you?  You are if you violently interfere in their Godliness!  Little ones' bodies may be uncoordinated, their limbs and even their torsos but their eyes are very well developed.  Watch them if you will.  Oh yes, their eyes jerk, from this to that quickly.  But guess what, this means they've just counted the rungs on their crib.  Not a second later, we see them gauging the percentage of humidity in the room while they calculate the oscillations of the candle burning on the table.

         And it's not just people who interfere, but also devils, such as the one that liked to blow out the candle in the shuttered bedroom of my grandpap 'n mom and baby dad.  Devil jerks, like human jerks are self-centered, maybe able to be described as wannabe babies.  "Here, look at me; here, look at me!" they say, as a little one does.  However, and I mean 'Howdie-Doodie ever, while babies are entitled to direct attention, jerks are selfishly taking more than their share.  And devils are completely out of the loop, because they already had their chance, their opportunity, only allowed by God to hang around for a while longer.


          Part  L

          And about devils as fallen angels, religions, not real Judeo-Christianity can only feebly deal with devils.  Christianity is not religion; it is reality.  This is the real life I wanted to really be high on as an intoxicated teenager.  For it truly involves what is high, The Most High God Almighty and his incarnation Jesus Christ through the continuing earthly action of the Holy Spirit.    This is "what angels long to look into".  This is why devils in all their forms stay involved in our lives.  This is why fallen angels meddle in the things of God including us.

         This is why mundane religions of The Earth try to effectively deal with both nice and nasty angels or spirits.  A Christian preacher visited a Buddhist land and visited a temple.  (And maybe he made this story up; I can't find it online since I heard it directly somewhere indirect; but it's plausible, so it bears repeating while being open to correction).  He got into a conversation with an orange-clad monk his age.  The monk spoke English, enough to carry on a conversation.  

         The Christian got to the question he really wanted to ask in effect, "Don't you think it's a little elementary to bow down to a hunk of wood?"  Smiling, the Buddhist brought the Christian around to the back of the statue of Buddha.  And the Buddhist then directed the Christian's attention to high up on the back of the statue.  There, high up on the back of the statue of Gautama Buddha was a hole.  The monk said a spirit enters the whole or hole while they're praying or worshiping or whatever it is they think they're doing.  That explained it for the Christian.

         And as a matter of course that is precisely what the apostle Paul points out.  That the worship the stranger to Christ Jesus does is worship of devils, or demons, same thing.  There is mercy deserving to be given here to innocence and ignorance.  Militaristic Christianity has long been an embarrassment to themselves, while God looks on, shaking his holy head.  While Jesus clearly clarified to Peter in Gethsemane to sheath his sword saying “He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword”.

         Gentle Jesus is truly the Prince of Peace.  As I said in my booklet whoops, I forgot my thought; I had a long night.  I performed an experiment on myself, not one I haven't done before, testing the formerly observed toxicity of some supposedly organic food.  Three days ago, I tried again some organic powdered dried fruit.  I had already tried it a couple of weeks ago with the same results.  But respecting the possibility of conflicting factors, I gave it a go again earlier this week, and then again yesterday.

         'Same results each time, I think it's tainted with chemicals.  Some 300 agricultural chemicals are allowed for organic farming, I read and it is up to the grower to utilize them ethically.  Long lasting heart thwomping is the main symptom as I've experienced it for thirty years now.  Stressful dreams are included.  This is why I’ve learned to stop and recollect what I ate the day before.  There are some bad apples out there I've learned, since my conscious attention was alerted to this issue in the early 1990's with some windfall apples from a commercial orchard I'd been given.  I normally collected for myself from old apple trees in abandoned farm properties.

         Check this, I was part of the 1983 California (one single farm) watermelon debacle.  It's a long story, the ending being the distributor near Montreal whom the grocery store told me to call, as soon as he heard my testimony of adverse symptoms yelled into the phone, "Listen to me, you tell the St.Pierre brothers to get all their watermelon off the shelf now!"  He must have known that besides Oregon and Washington having rejected all watermelon from The Golden State in July, the melons were still circulating on the market.  

         And get this, that half-a-watermelon was ten-feet underneath me from upstairs where I was sleeping in the summer garage-bunk-house.  I got up an hour early to get the cows, because I had had a nightmare.  As I walked past the parked car with the melon in the hatch-back, I reprimanded myself for forgetting it.  I was supposed to bring it in and put it in the fridge.  I brought it in and tasted it to see if the warm night air had spoiled it.  It had been a typically very warm Quebec night, such often warmer than the same meteorological day in Maryland.

        The watermelon was crisp and sweet, despite the above-stated normal influence of temperature on fruit, suspiciously crisp and sweet.  'Slam, I fell against the kitchen counter.  Something was very wrong, vertigo only something I'd heard about.  I drank a fill of salt water and brought the melon out to the manure pile and vomited clear.  Then, I remembered the scary dream I had, 'heart thwomping.  We were on a tour bus, late on a Friday afternoon in a land of large fields.  We arrived at our destination, a model fruit farm, all of us farmers ourselves.  This farm had a reputation of exemplary greatness, and thus reserved Friday evenings through Saturday for agricultural tours.

         In reality we did this once a year to visit the AI bull center in St. Hyacinthe, QC. on a tour bus.  I would think the above-dreamed scenario also transpires in places.  Significantly, through the bus windows we observed two men in hazmat suits spraying as if they were on an airport runway preparing for a plane in trouble.  They were just inside the rows from the edge of the field where we stopped.  I was first out and articulated for everyone, saying to the two persons spraying as I've told you.

         Their simultaneous reply was said loudly, "We don't care, we're spraying anywayyy!"  We passengers in the dream all muttered whatever under our breath, as we all turned and got back on the bus.  


          Part  M

          Walter Lord's, A Night To Remember was the first adult book I read.  I read the book four times-in-a-row.  Ships meant a lot to me since we rode on one of the beautiful Italian Lloyd Triestino ships from Malaya/(Singapore) to Italy.  The trip west on the American SS Independence from Naples was miserable.  What happened was the children's playroom on the Triestino ship was up by the bridge.  The view was great with a fine breeze.  Our door was always open with a gate by the steps down.  Tea and cookies were daily on schedule, cream for the tea.  

         On the Independence the playroom was just inside the front door way down in the ship.  I was carried in horizontally the first time.  One highlight was a birthday cake made especially for me, or so I thought.  In hindsight it was an adult cake plastered with sliced almonds.  I didn't eat a bite.  Chung had made his own cakes for us.  The Philippines a few years before was a lifesaver literally, I think.  

          Placenta previa and blue at birth, I had to be pumped out again a week later.  Breastfeeding was contra-indicated for American women at the time.  I don't know if the colostrum/first-milk was gathered and given.  In a few months Mom was sent back to the United States for four months of alcoholism rehabilitation to spare Dad's job. 

           Mom told me late in her life that when she returned to the P.I. and me I went into convulsions when placed in her arms and almost died.  I must have remembered the trauma of being in her womb.  Positively, Mom was well-fed with the fresh Filipino food, a big plus.   And just as big a plus was the perfect infant care given to me by my Filipina 'amahs', Andy and Victoria.  I have a picture of me and Andy somewhere in my collection.

         I do remember at age twelve leaving my body and flying at near-light speed on a very taught invisible wire between very visible stars from the Vietnam flu.  It didn't help I had a year's supply of candy from Halloween harvesting.  That was my first farming experience, I often joke.  Although maybe the first was collecting the neighborhood's free-sample jugs of Downy fabric softener in about 1962.  My only sister Andrea led that adventure.  

         A more serious recollection was Christmas about that time.  Andrea had 'gotten' a record-player, and I had gotten a record.  It was cowboy songs made in heaven and I asked Andrea if I could use her pick-up.  "Sure", Andrea kindly said and as the tunes entered my soul I lifted my nose to the sky and smiled.  Then, I looked at Dad and Mom and Greg and Andrea sitting in-a-row on the couch.  They had been looking at me and smiling also.

         Understandably, none of them was sufficiently mature in their spirits to consistently share my smiling joy.  Because their smiles turned to frowns before me and I no longer smiled, at least in public.  Then much worse happened, with no mature coping mechanisms in place.  Rod Serling's Thing On The Wing episode of his Twilight Zone television show scared the living and nighttime daylights out of me.  It's a humanoid monster on the wing of a propellor commercial airliner.  

        It eventually puts its morbid face right at the window.  Waking up from a nightmare that night, I knew I had to get my mind settled.  And the only recourse of the required magnitude was my parents.  The door was locked so I started hollering.  Dad hollered back trying to convince me to go back where I came from.  I knew my mind's stability was in question from the fright on the television.  And so I persisted.  Dad let me in, even in bed between him and Mom.  And I waited for the normal reward of my effort, consolation, interpretation, explanation, assurance.

        I shifted as manifestation of my understandable disorientation and Dad gruffly said, "Stay still!" or some such.  I turned in the mostly dark to look at Mom who was watching.  Mom then turned her back to me.  At that point I knew this was the best it would get.  So I stayed still and woke up in my bed, having been returned there by Dad.  It was not a dream; it was not California.  Serling better make this up to both God and his fellow man or he's in trouble.

         What's your name?  And what do you do for a living, if it is for that?  

          My life’s first two decades of adult-after-adult being too busy to talk with me has taught me to not do so.  I make myself available to the young, even to tell the little ones when they tell me their little age, "Oh, five; that's a lot".  Because by God and by Jesus it is a lot.  You see if you haven't noticed it, time goes much more slowly for a child, and teenagers.  I could have been more understanding of a sixteen-year-old I milked cows with one day.

         He was the best friend of the only son of the farmer I was working for.  And I had to milk 249 cows in a stanchion-barn with him.  Everybody else was out picnicking or somewhere.  After a long while of compensating for the guy's dairy disinterest, I got in his face, said his full name and added, ..."if you don't slow down, you're going to run into a brick wall".  A week later he took the farm truck out onto the road, something he had never done before and was forbidden to do.

         My boss later told me that the lad's mom told him that just before she heard the sirens, she heard her only child come in and let the screen door slam as usual.  And as usual, she helloed "Tommy, is that you?" A utility pole not a wall, he wasn't wearing a seat belt.  He should have just taken to the field with no fence there, having caught the grassy shoulder at speed.  Thirteen attempted suicides in the county that year, and the lad's father had moved out.  Let us be still and know that God is not just God, but prophetically also our fellow humans, especially the young ones who have eternity so fresh in their hearts.

         Probably we should let them tell us the stories, seeing they were recently in the arms of the creator, whose angels simultaneously behold God's countenance.


          Part  N

          Did you you know there are more stars than sand on Earth's beaches?  

          And did you also know that, God had someone write in his bible-book he has named the stars?  I don't mean catalogued them astronomically.  I mean, as ownership rights, named them.  Some think we're an astral agricultural project.  But, sweetie, that ain't big enough.

         The last time I saw Patricia in the health-food store with her mom, who said they were moving out of state--that's where we'd met first and talked since--I made sure to remind Patricia something.  It was not important, factually; I just was heart-broken at the prospect of never, not only seeing her again, but also hearing her stories, factual stories, by God of dinosaurs!

        This little chick, four years ancient, knew capitalize-the-word lots about dinosaurs.  Having played with toy dinosaurs in the sandbox with Pete and our Jewish friend, Alan I was tickled pink to hear Patricia expound on the subject.  Patricia knew the names and descriptions and you name it, of several times more than the few I remember.  Please stop here with me and generally think, generally conjecture just what in heaven is going on the earth.

         'A final story I feel like telling, connecting adult-like children to child-like adults, or something like that.  Check it on YouTube, baboons were rightly angry when the adjacent golf course there along the coast of South Africa was enlarged to eighteen holes and their baboon property diminished.  The males were beating up on golfers, so an animal expert was called in.  This adult 'Patricia' walked up on the hill and, speaking telepathically, in her mind only as she approached, lay down in a circle of female baboons.

         The chicks all chit-chatted as they are divinely capable of everywhere, for the babies' benefit, certainly, of language learning, and then the alpha male came into view, approaching the circle of his baboon women, plus one visitor.  Whom he noticed and set up in attack mode stance.  The human female baboon calmly told him, "Hey, Boss, I'm just hanging out with my friends.  I do want to visit with you, also, if you'll come on over and join us".

         Boss baboon gives her the benefit of the doubt, eases up, and settles in elsewhere among the gathered girls.  But, the conversation is one-on-one now, and while Boss civilly paws in the dirt for imaginary bugs and human baboon probably wisely imitates his diplomatic gesture, she explains about the golf course problem.  No attacks on golfers occurs again.  

         YouTube has other films, videos, of people who go in the paddocks and pastures of other people's horses, goats, you name it, and walk with them and even run alongside them.  Then, after everybody is loosened up, exercised, the visitor or visitors sit down for a sit down.  The horses I saw don't just sit down, they eventually lay their beautiful heads down in the laps of the visitor.  

          A similar film to the baboons was of a black panther.  Satan by name, or maybe Diablo, he was distraught as a caged newcomer to a controlled lion management home.  Now, it may be the telepathic visitor simply perceived logically the situation, but after a dialogue with the awesome dude during which he did not growl or snarl, which was different, he settled in, not without transfer to a more central location.  For he was used to being somewhat of a center of attention where he lived before, maybe as an alpha cat.

         Something Godly is going on, regardless of the new-age religious ideas of, for example the South African gal, as I heard her talking with people.  Peace is a priority with these visitors, accepted visitors to the animal communities.  I suggest to orthodox Christians, for want of a better description, never mind the mistletoe hanging above your sanctuary vestibules.  Learn to love like children and animals.

         Because, the new generation's new-age ideas are the result of a vacuum caused by cold-shouldered Christianity.  I avoid black holes, too; everyone should.  I met a Christian brother my age fixing his car in a parking lot.  He had a nasty temper and a great big heart in Christ Jesus.  His woman was helping to love the hell out of him.  He had been found at age four sleeping behind some garbage cans in an alley in Baltimore City, with his older brother who depended on him for his canny survival scrounging ability.  Their daughter loved her daddy.  It was a happy family, and I was welcome to visit at any time they weren't sleeping.

         While people are moving out of the church of the revolving door, I also wonder, as with the arrogant Holdemans, of the people who bounced off the door.  Again, it is wise for any human to not get within the realm of God's jealousy.  And, you who hear this and justify yourself as being smart enough to avoid the above hypocrisy, beware you don't miss your own day of visitation.  As the sun rose on my side of the Greyhound bus entering Canada, everyone else asleep, I could see God giving me the chance of my life.  

         Immigration complications at the check-point were another thing.  I had fully seventeen cardboard boxes of stuff.  I was confident that my decision to move to Quebec was of The Living God.  So, I proceeded that way and explained to the two uniformed men that I was bringing it all to my brother at McGill University.  It was good I didn't say that one in Vancouver, British Columbia.  Let go and let God. 

          Well, how does Mom's run with the plane in Bali mesh with that?  'Gotta here this, and I'm proud to tell it, first heard from Will Kane from the pulpit at Mom's funeral 'mass' (a more interactive Christian service than many Midianite ones I've been to, less the big privately interpretive improvisation of something that don't need fixin'), and then Andrea's old chum from Djakarta, Gigi.

         At Mom's memorial reception after the mass ('messe' in French), Gigi told everyone the details.  I had already been over to Bali with a buddy and his mom and twin sisters, so I wasn't along when my mom, brothers and sister, and Gigi went.  The luggage didn't get off the big four-prop Garuda Airlines plane, they found out.  Mom asked the officials what could be done about it.  The people said, "Nothing, the plane's already left for Surubaya".

         Mom immediately slipped past them and ran out to the tarmac to see where the plane was.  She ran after it, got in front of it, and flagged it down to a full stop and turn-around.  Etcetera.  'No way was Deborah Mary (McCarthy) Tovar going to be on vacation with no clothes for seven, and probably booze for her. 

           About booze, I was told in a job interview at a half-way house that it's harder to kick booze than heroin.  But, how very many people have begun confessing Jesus Christ without a look back.  I did see David Wilkerson's, The Cross And The Switchblade, and read Nicki's book about his memory of God's rescue by Christ Jesus, the Carpathian.


           Part  O

         And now it's not heroin or booze, but digital devices that chart out in infra-red brain scans the former pale in comparison to.  Ray asked me, "Michael, where do people find the time to watch television?"  

         Wanting to answer quickly and smartly, I said, "They don't; they steal it, from themselves, from God".  Of course now I know two decades later they steal it from their children, even if they're all watching together.  So God is in the children and we're spanking him during commercials.

         "Prove it" we children used to challenge each other.  That also was God, who is biblically quoted "Prove all things; hold fast to that which is good."  

         'Makes sense to me.  How about you?  Okay then let's hear it.   

          I almost spoke too fast, early 1975 like yesterday.  I was just out of carpentry class at Bangkok Poly with Mr. Sawang and as I and a lot of people did in that flat city, I went up on the lookout veranda of the big Golden Temple.  Always a good view, the view that day spiritually was enhanced by a conversation with a guy my age standing next to me.  He said he was just out of his two-year obligatory stint in either the Thai military or the monastery system.

         The latter his case, his name Pikul, after a while of general conversation, he asked me to visit his home village in the country.  I replied with a licentious idea which reversed Pikul's former enthusiasm for meeting a foreigner his age.  Pikul politely bowed out of the conversation and walked away.

         Justification is not a sentimental flirtation with truth.  Rather it is a direct encounter with the Word of God.  Our free wills are the active factor in the process.  Hence with one God we have one opportunity to show appreciation, our one life.

          Any anecdote, even a video of say a child talking of ancestors he knows nothing about is demonic manifestation in the poor victim of generational abuse.  The abuse essentially stems from an accumulated neglect in the child's forebears of biblical-text  truth or biblical-type truth.  In which the focus should be on God not man or devils.

         You see if you don't know, we all got off the same boat with Noah and Mrs. Noah.  Check Nick Liguori's book 'Echos Of Ararat' for first-hand proof from global historians of many old cultures.  Because Noah told his family the truth of God, but some of them weren't too excited about it.  By Babylon it was way out of hand so that humanity had lost all perception of the value of sharing and caring, that famous image of God we resemble.

        The '1434' author gives reasonable ideas to explain both Maori and Inca life.  That's right, Chinese.  The guy next to me in kindergarten/first-grade school in Kuala Lumpur, he and my brother Peter in the older class was a master airplane maker in clay.  He made exact replicas of the Lockheed Constellation propellor plane.  'Very very detailed in realistic proportion throughout.   I often wonder what he ended up doing as an adult.

         Remember, he that knows to do right and does wrong is a sinner.  God is merciful, but he doesn't play the fool.  A guy was walking in the woods and came upon a little cliff.  Knowing there might be unsuspecting wildlife at the bottom, he quietly approached and peeked over.  A mother bear was teaching her two cubs to forage.  She had already taught them the system of what to do in times of danger. 

         The guy purposely snapped the dry end of a branch near his face.  Pow, mama smacked one of her babies so that it rolled in the direction of the tree she wanted them to go up.  They hustled right over to it and up, up, up.  The English call spanking smacking, Sam Martin informs in his mentioned book.  The bear is an animal in a very physical environment.  I do understand that animals feel every sentiment we are capable of except talking with their creator.  What they can do is talk with us, silently as God does or brand-new children do.

         The true story behind the Walt Disney movie The Bears And I, three cubs adopted by a student from California panning gold in B.C., Canada for the summer--quite against the advice of the knowledgeable locals--he would stay three years with them, two or three, saw the cubs to adulthood, the female and one of the males to sad disaster.  

         My story here is the female, who hitched up with a wild male, who kept his distance as the man led the three on daily foraging treks.  Then she was shot for fun by a seasonal Anglo hunter.  Her mate stood by her body and did two things.  One, he fought off anything that came to eat her, including grizzlies three times his size.  Two, he cried, his nose to the sky, piercing, furious, penetrating cries, for three weeks, night and day, until he crawled off, exhausted, self-preserving.


          Part  P                                                       

         Jesus beat death.  Jesus Christ is humanity's only hero.  When John tried to worship the angel of The Revelation, the angel said "No, don't do that.  I am just like you.  Worship God".  Let us do so, for the one true God alone is worthy.


         Part  Q                                                          

         Proofreading the text just now while bleary-eyed, not a good combination I noticed a mention of the sparrow Jesus compared us to.   I and many know well that story, even songs of it melodiously.  

         However ever since one Christmas morning and the sound of a screaming bird, that is what this man hears as melody.  I wasn't going home for Christmas that year, and I was back out to the barn after breakfast.

         I was right near the sealed double doors preparing to get the cows out in the snow for exercise.  That is when I heard the screaming just outside.  I pulled the burlap seal in the middle to open a peek-hole. 

         A male sparrow was being slowly lifted off the snow.  His lifter was a bird not much bigger than he was.  It was one of the flock of what I called snow birds that I often saw flying around down by the central drainage ditch.

         I didn't know they were nutritionally oriented that way.  Did you?  Neither do I know exactly what the exact ramifications of death are on this planet.  You know, where does death stop and life begin?  It's certainly not part of an evolutionary process.  It's all too cool and beautiful for a clumsy idea like that.  I just mean predation and victimization as characteristics of the distortion on the planet and cosmos after Eden.  Again one thing's for sure, the balanced and maintained equilibrium of the cosmos is masterfully controlled.  And if we're bear cubs, then God is smacking us up the cross of Jesus Christ.

         I'm looking forward to Nick Liguori's second book, the sequel to his first.  Which covered the Eden / flood / Babylon recollections of South and North American cultures.  Its connection to a sparrow is the individualism of each of us.  That is made sense of with genealogical and historical facts verifying God's biblical history of human culture.

          That God gently and respectfully 'weaned' us off our primal scream of sumerian impersonal divine focus with his own direct contact.  God made contact with the man Abram and Abram's woman Sarai and Abram's nephew Lot and Abram's household.  They all proceeded in unified conviction out of their secular comfort zone.

         Spiritual boozing is the dizzying effect from uprooted societal relation.  Unlike spiritual social drinking, where one maintains focus on coming and going, when one, when society gets so full of informational and experiential booze, one can in no way pin the tail on the donkey.  On Earth one has to concentrate and do it relatively soberly.

         It's not just a long way to Tipperary, it's also a long way to Babylon and Ararat via Ur of the Chaldees and Haran of southeastern Turkey.   Check out Ron Wyatt's videos with the woman he loved and their sons before he died.  They uncovered Noah's Ark, also Calvary and the secret within.  Let's let Jesus' God get us home to Heaven, with legitimate adventures along the way.  'Jim and Penny Caldwell also.

           May I remind you or inform you of how we can walk with a fluidity and ease one step shy of floating.  Dead cows made me first think of this, the wonder that just a few minutes before this mass of bovine flesh could walk with facility or even the oldsters waggle their butts as they skip down a hill when the whole herd frolicked in a positive stampede for joy of life.  

         I mean let our work, The Lord's work be our pleasure.  Just as food is really God sharing his energetic life with us, let our work be his industriousness.  And it is so cool God rested on a seventh day, however you apply that in your personal life.  We don't want Johnny to be a dull boy, all work and no play.  We don't want Johnny to be a stupid boy, to be satisfied with the robotic works of his hands.  When even an AI brain can only dream of leaving on a jet plane, to lyrically quote John Denver, who really did leave us on a plane, to fly home.

         Remember, God invented fun, and like the Eskimos, knowing how very difficult things get in adulthood, let the horse run in their children.  I don't mean to be poetic.  And like a horse, you better have four separate and independent legs under you like a horse.  Jesus is the horse.  Do not do anything as impediment to your horse.  Look at Elijah, the spokesman and current hope of Israel sitting like a sad beggar blessedly fed by handouts from ravens.  But he remembered the run, 31 praise-to-God lengths in front of the second-place finisher, Secretariat vs Baal.   But don't force a course on a horse either.

         Ulysses S. Grant was an above-average horseman reputedly.  When riding a cargo-stage through the Sierra Nevada after Appomatox, the stage pulled by five maybe six teams of horses fast, no guard rails, fully controlled, Grant commented on the prowess and the ability of the African-American man who had the reins, "That's the finest horsemanship I will ever see."  Ulysses was the best many others had seen back in Ohio.

         Am I ready?  How can we be ready if we've never been welcomed here on Earth?  How can a child grow up to be welcoming to new friendships if she or he has been systematically refused?  Would we rather have God standing in person with his hands on his hips staring at us?  Think of it; it couldn't be any better, all this personal space to work out our salvation, with God remaining at a respectful distance!

         'And all he requires of us is to work it out in fear and trembling, humbly.

          And don't look for the orthodox; look for the orthopedic. In Quebec, a guy in the next town over, their butcher had a pair of pulling-contest horses, Pit and Nell.  One would lunge first, then the other.  It maximized the potential leverage of the harnesses by activating parabolic curves of tension and releasing spring.  That is what was the unbeatable provincial heavy-draft team category champion for year after year after year after year, and double that.  Every other team was trained to lunge forward in tandem.   I stopped the truck one day when I happened to be using that road east of town there. 

        The three of them were out there, just kicking around on the street corner, talking about how good the sand feels flowing around their hooves.  "But we're Oreo's dog, Mom" my little nephew accurately said to his parents who were bitching about nothing.

                                                         

         Part  R                                                       

         Three others, then four, walked from Maine to California.  About the year I was born, when the first super-highways now called interstates were going in, nearly their undoing, she, my age, had to decide to cash in the small value of the family property and use it either for a down-payment on a shared room at the local old folks' home or what else?  A horse!  God blessed her with a Morgan made to order, so them and her little doggie went to the local library and read about themselves.  In Tennessee, someone blessed them with a younger Walker to help with the load.  Respective accidents within a few miles of the Specific Ocean sputtered the project to a stop.  Angels were stopping to watch.  A parade was theirs to lead.  What a fine true story!

         Do you know how God breathed into Adam, and Pinocchio came to life?  Well, God as Jesus Christ, at the last, after supper, at one point did the same type of action to the disciples he now addressed as "my friends".  While I write this, I'm wondering what the look on Adam's face was.  That surely, it was the same expression a new baby has.  Regardless, according to what and whom you believe per their eyewitness news report, 'old' covenant included--italics in deference to the Jews, whoever genetically by now they really are--this deserves some attention.

         Ruth Dobschiner did it between some saving Christian walls hiding out, hiding in.  The Dutch Christian family gave her a bible to read, including the 'new' part.  Okay, he's a Jew.  Ruth could see that, yes, possibly a character made-up by desperate fanatics.  With the non-coincidental benefit of the doubt, Ruth further begrudged the factual probability he was a Jewish prophet.  And, just as a German patrol was possibly going by the house, this objective listener likes to think Miss Dobschiner yelled out, angels trapping the sound-wave decibels in mid-air, "OMG, we killed the Son of David!"

         Do what you want with it, but what Moses heard in response to his asking the Spirit (of) God, in conversation with him, what God's parents named God at birth, is exactly what Joseph and Mary's son answered the rabble in Gethsemane.  Do you know the story?  They graveled, "Are you Joshua of Nazareth?"  Josh answered, "I am (ie--YHWH or, The Name)".  Eyewitnesses said the group of jerks fell backwards on the ground.

You know, apostle Saul of Tarsus mentions murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers" as forgivable offenses.  Evidently, the Jews murdered their brother / cousin.  Saul said Jesus said to him in question form, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?  It's hard for you to kick against the goads / the cattle prods!"  Saul answered, "Who...in Damascus...are you Lord?"  'Changed Saul for life; 'even got a name change, unrelated.

           I've mentioned the eloquence of Isaiah.  But, within the abbreviated text of the new covenant writings, Simon Peter's words of love are of the same or better caliber.  The same Holy Spirit of God got into both of them.  Really, before Pentecost, Peter was such a klutz.  And, Joseph of Arimathea ended up in England, I hear.  Andrew got to Kiev in the future Ukraine.  Happiness is making friends for eternal life.

          Excuse, here; 'time for me to figure out how to start a second page.  SoloBuildIt is a techno-clutze's dream-come-true for website wanna-haves such as me.  The home page is direct, though, more automatic than a second page.  'Back side of the moon and all....

          How about you?  I haven't switched pages.  'The same hour here as the above paragraph.  I've got something else big that's been on my mind a long time.   And it bothers me, bothering meaning grieving my heart for people being bullied.  'Women in this case; this case--'sounds legal-- and really it is, as having to do with human rights.  

           Menstruating weddings is my gripe, my grievance.  'Sound legitimate?   I think it is.  A YouTube video made me first--made me; helped me (coercion or persuasion)--think of it initially.  Did you see it?  A wedding, and the video maker is filming the bride dancing.   It doesn't matter with who--well, it does matter; it seems to me the gal shouldn't be dancing with anyone else but the one with whom she's attending her own wedding.

         The back of her dress is to the camera.  Yes, menstruating.  This means the bride is not going to be wanting to consolidate or conjugate her new relationship.  Why did this happen?  This can't be her desire, not that of any red-blooded woman.  And, any nicely sensitive man does not want this for either of them.  And, he shouldn't expect to use her part of the happy bridal bargain because that's gross, disgusting, as well as unGodly unbiblical.  

          This happens because macho men, mean and self-centered macho men, scheduled the wedding, ultimately.  She went along with it like you would go along with it if you were a woman, Mister!  I think of this because today is another extended family wedding that I'm not going to.  Nor was I invited; they've given up, on themselves, I think.

          In hindsight--excuse the pun-- and ours was at the court house done for free by President Judge Tim, the place is secondary to the time.  Although, the first wedding I ever attended was by a big tree in a field where we all gaily shared their joy with a big game of ring-around-the-rosy until 'we all fall down' and didn't get up 'till dawn or so.  

          If in a church-building, I suggest the two in love go up, or simply stand up, if in an open seating arrangement, and articulate their wows for each other in front of friends.  Any supposedly deserving participation by daddies and mommies should not be done.  God says the phenomenon is separation from parents, so do so right then and there.  

           Indeed, God replays Eden at every wedding.  God words this idea of his heart in his psalm numbered forty-five.  Wherein God keenly tells us "Leave your father's house."  It is the opportunity to start over fresh.  Every wedding is an opportunity for society to try it a different way, a better way.  Man makes it same old same old deadness of drudgery.

           And then God gives us periodic and semi-permanent reminders with children.  Who like angels pass through our vision as intangible nightdreams of subconscious reality.  Do we blame ourselves, or punish ourselves for dreaming in our sleep?  Do we children, the Anneliese Michelle's of our lives?  Recall how Annie's fanatic parents manipulated her.

          Correctly, the event should, from the outside look like it was done on the spur-of-the-moment.  But truly, the gal has let the guy know when she's gonna be hot-to-trot.  I think this is what God positively implies when saying, "Behold, the bridegroom cometh!"  Do you think red-blooded Jesus is going to make the above scheduling mistake?  She has passed the message to her bridegroom through his best friend when she wants him to come summit the marriage.  After all, what are best friend's for?

          The root of the word rigamarole is rigged, pronounced 'reegd'; and, the word 'role' in there seals the doubt.  I think here again of what the old pioneer psychiatrist Eric said as universal advice.  To no longer be a perpetrating parent or victimized child, rather be an objective adult.  "Taking every thought captive to the mind of Christ" equals WWJD. 

           Really, it's WWJTh--'What would Jesus think?'  To wit, "But Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he knew all men, and needed not that any should testify of man, for he knew what was in man."  This is why God brought the flood on the earth, "for every thought of man was only evil continually."  There's no funny joke possible there.

          And, I want to mind the public business of my heavenly daddy, who's also privately my heavenly mommy who bore me gently and healthfully.  And doing that keeps me from the presumptuousness of meddling in someone else's business of the same diversity.

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