#analogies in scripture

[happyhealthyandprosperous]

The Pressing of Olive Oil – The Pressing of Jesus

The Pressing of Olive Oil – The Pressing of Jesus About a year ago I saw an Instagram post by Dave Adamson that brought several analogies to mind and inspired me to do some research and write a post. His post was about Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and the parallels of an olive press (“Gethsemane”) and Jesus being pressed with the weight of our sin and his sacrifice. As we enter the…

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#analogies in scripture #anoint #anointing #be salt and light #cleaning #cleansed #consecrated as holy #crushed #crushing #garden of gethsemane #gethsemane #healing #high priest #king of kings #kingdom of priests #light #light of the world #olive oil #olive press #pressed #pressing #spiritual food #sustain

[thelordismylightandmysalvation]

He said to his disciples, “The harvest is great, but the workers are few.  So pray to the Lord who is in charge of the harvest; ask him to send more workers into his fields.”

Verse of the Day - Matthew 9:37-38 (NLT)

#Bible verses #scripture #words of Christ #Jesus #harvest #witnessing #workers #analogy #pray #fields #Matthew

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Incomplete vs. overshoot

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in Seattle (Feb 26) with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

You know the "horseshoe theory," right? "The far-left and the far-right, rather than being at opposite and opposing ends of a linear continuum of the political spectrum, closely resemble each other, analogous to the way that the opposite ends of a horseshoe are close together":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horseshoe_theory

It's a theory that only makes sense if you don't know much about the right and the left and what each side wants out of politics.

Take women's suffrage. The early suffragists ("suffragettes" in the UK) were mostly interested in votes for affluent, white women – not women as a body. Today's left criticizes the suffrage movement on the basis that they didn't go far enough:

https://www.npr.org/2011/03/25/134849480/the-root-how-racism-tainted-womens-suffrage

Contrast that with Christian Dominionists – the cranks who think that embryos are people (though presumably not for the purpose of calculating a state's electoral college vote? Though it would be cool if presidential elections turned on which side of a state line a fertility clinic's chest-freezer rested on):

https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/segments/how-alabama-ivf-ruling-was-influenced-christian-nationalism-on-the-media?tab=summary

These people are part of a far-right coalition that wants to abolish votes for women. As billionaire far-right bagman Peter Thiel wrote that he thought it was a mistake to let women vote at all:

https://www.cato-unbound.org/2009/04/13/peter-thiel/education-libertarian/

Superficially, there's some horseshoe theory action going on here. The left thinks the suffragists were wrong. The right thinks they were wrong, too. Therefore, the left and the right agree!

Well, they agree that the suffragists were wrong, but for opposite reasons – and far, far more importantly, they totally disagree about what they want. The right wants a world where no women can vote. The left wants a world where all women can vote. The idea that the right and the left agree on women's suffrage is, as the physicists say, "not even wrong."

It's the kind of wrong that can only be captured by citing scripture, specifically, A Fish Called Wanda, 6E, 79: "The central message of Buddhism is not 'Every man for himself.' And the London Underground is not a political movement. Those are all mistakes, Otto. I looked them up."

Or take the New Deal. While the New Deal set its sites on liberating workers from precarity, abuse and corruption, the Dealers – like the suffragists – had huge gaps in their program, omitting people of color, indigenous people, women, queer people, etc. There are lots of leftists who criticize the New Deal on this basis: it didn't go far enough:

https://livingnewdeal.org/new-deal-and-race/

But for the past 40 years, America has seen a sustained, vicious assault on New Deal programs, from Social Security to Medicare to food stamps to labor rights to national parks, funded by billionaires who want to bring back the Gilded Age and turn us all into forelock-tugging plebs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

If you only view politics as a game of elementary school cliques, you might say that the left and the right are meeting again. The left says Roosevelt got it wrong with the New Deal (because he left out so many people). The right says FDR was wrong for doing the New Deal in the first place. Therefore, the left and the right agree, right?

Obviously wrong. Obviously. Again, the important thing is why the left and the right think the New Deal deserves criticism. The important thing is what the left and the right want. The left wants universal liberation. The right wants us all in economic chains. They do not agree.

It's not always just politics, either. Take the old, good internet. That was an internet defined by technological self-determination, a wild and wooly internet where there were few gatekeepers, where disfavored groups could find each other and make common cause, where users who were threatened by the greed of the shareholders behind big services could install blockers, mods, alternative clients and other "adversarial interoperability" tools that seized the means of computation.

Today's enshitternet – "five giant websites, filled with screenshots of the other four" (h/t Tom Eastman) – is orders of magnitude more populous than that old, good internet. The enshitternet has billions of users, and they are legally – and technologically – prevented from taking any self-help measures when the owners of services change them to shift value from users to themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The anti-enshittification movement rightly criticizes the old, good internet because it wasn't inclusive enough. It was a system almost exclusively hospitable to affluent, privileged people – the people who least needed the liberatory power of technology.

Likewise pro-enshittification monopolists – billionaires and their useful idiots – deplore the old, good internet because it gave its users too much power. For them, ad-blocking, alternative clients, mods, reverse-engineering and so on were all bugs, not features. For them, the enshitternet is great because businesses can literally criminalize taking action to protect yourself from their predatory impulses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Superficially, it seems like the pro- and anti-enshittification forces agree – they both agree that the old, good internet was a mistake. But the difference that matters here is that the pro-enshittification side wants everyone mired in the enshitternet forever, living with what Jay Freeman calls "Felony contempt of business-model." By contrast, the disenshittification side wants a new, good internet that gives every user – not just a handful of techies – the power to decide how the digital systems they work use, and to be able to alter or reconfigure them to suit their own needs.

The horsehoe theory only makes sense if you don't take into account the beliefs and goals of each side. Politics aren't just a matter of who you agree with on a given issue – the real issue is what you're trying to accomplish.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/26/horsehoe-crab/#substantive-disagreement

#pluralistic #politics #suffrage #womens rights #new deal #civil rights #race #enshitternet #new good internet #old good internet

[kemetic-dreams]

                THE IFA CONCEPT OF SOCIOLOGY

Yoruba culture has used the Ifa paradigm of the cosmos as the basis for building their major cities. The structure of the Yoruba Nation was a federation of city states. Each city was ruled by an Oba. In ancient times the Oba was never seen by his subjects, so he became the invisible nucleus of the circle that formed the city. He was surrounded by a female council of elders called Odu and a predominantly male council of elders called Ogboni. The city itself was supported by male and female work parties who tended to divide their labor along gender lines. The men were traditionally farmers and the women traditionally controlled the market place. Both men and women participated in craft guilds that preserved the techniques used in the arts. The cities were built in a circular formation with the compound of the Oba at the center. The symbolic image of Yoruba culture appears as follows:

There is some archeological evidence in the Yoruba cities of Ile Ife and Oyo that suggests that this design was used as the basis for the actual layout of those cities. The extent to which this occurred in other cities has not been thoroughly researched. It does appear that this structure was used in pre-colonial times as the basis for establishing political and religious institutions both of which were built upon the cosmological model found in Ifa.

Variations on this structure involved the system of establishing the location for sacred shrines. The system is called Gede which is a very old form of astrology. In Gede the path of solar bodies and planets is marked in relationship to the ways that they transverse the landscape. Celestial bodies are believed to enhance the ase (inherent power) of natural forces that arise from the Earth. By correlating the influences of Olorun and Ile, the ancient diviners were able to consecrate their shrines in places that reflected the essence of specific Odu.

Earth (ile) was considered a reflection of Heaven (Orun) and the layout of Yoruba cities was designed to make them mirrors of the cosmic order. The religion of Ifa originally comes from the city of Ile Ife. In lfa scripture, Ile Ifa is described as the original home of humans. The words: "Ile Ife” translate to mean; "Spreading Earth." So Ile Ife is a city and it is any place where land formed on Earth that allowed for human evolution to take place. Ifa scripture also refers to Ile Ife as a Spiritual place. It is the home for those ancestors who have returned to Source.

D. THE IFA CONCEPT OF PSYCHOLOGY

Perhaps the most accessible manifestation of Odu is through the portal of individual consciousness. Ifa teaches that Odu represent the energy patterns that create consciousness. They are analogous to what Carl Jung called archetypes of the collective unconscious. Jung believed that there exists a set of primal patterns that form the content of self-perception and place the self in relationship to the world. According to Jung, these patterns remain abstract until the unconscious gives them a cultural and personal context. In both Jungian psychology and the Ifa concept of consciousness, Odu (archetypes) can be revealed through dreams, where they take on personal qualities and manifest as mythic drama. By grasping this particular manifestation of Odu, Ifa teaches that it is possible to create internal balance which is the foundation of living in harmony with Nature.

Ifa psychology is linked to the concept of ori. The literal translation of ori is "head." This is a limited definition because ori also implies consciousness and Ifa cosmology teaches that all Forces in Nature have ori or consciousness.31 Because Ifa believes in reincarnation, every ori forms a polarity with ipori. The ipori is the eternal consciousness that exists in Orun (Heaven).32 It is the ipori that forms the link between past and future lives. If a scripture describes the ipori as the perfect double of ori. According to Ifa cosmology, every ori makes an agreement with Olorun prior to each incarnation.33 This agreement outlines the type of life that is to be lived and the lessons that are to be learned in a given lifetime. At the moment of birth the content of this agreement is lost to conscious thought. Part of the process of establishing internal balance is viewed as the task of remembering the original agreement between ori and Olorun.

This agreement is the source of individual destiny. Because divination is considered a method for discovering destiny, all divination based on Ifa is related to the question of enhancing the alignment between ori and ipori.

The link between ori and ipori lies within ori inu.35 The Yoruba words; "ori inu" translate to mean; "inner head." This is a reference to what Jung called the individual consciousness or self. Ori inu is the nucleus of that circle of Forces that creates self-awareness.

In addition to the polarity between ori and ipori, ori inu is the center point of the polarity between ara and emi. Ara is the physical body. Ifa psychology includes the heart (okan) and the emotions (egbe) as part of the physical self. According to lfa, the nature of one's ipori can only be grasped if the head and the heart are in alignment. In other words, the mind and the emotions must be in agreement if spiritual insight is to occur. Similarly, Jung understood that a conflict between the mind and the emotions is one of the sources of mental illness.36 In Ifa this conflict is called ori ibi. It is difficult to make a literal translation of ori ibi, but the term suggests a lack of alignment between ori and ipori. When the ori and ipori are functioning as one, it creates a condition called ori ire. A literal translation of ori ire would be; "wise head." .Jung referred to this condition as individuation, which was his basis for defining mental health.37

Ara or the physical body exists in polarity with emi. The Yoruba word emi means; "breath.” Ifa teaches that the breath of life comes from Olodumare and contains the eternal essence of consciousness. Emi in this context would translate to mean; "soul." The Ifa symbol of self would appear as follows:

#ifa #vodun #kemetic dreams #traditional african religion #african spirituality #african culture #west africa #odunlade adekola #ori #orunmila #oya

[sophieinwonderland]

why are people now straight up citing scripture to debunk an effing meme 😭 oh my goddd "god is plural" doesnt mean "god is one-to-one analagous to a human person who identifies as an endogenic system" its already a leap to ASSUME that and now i have to see christians saying "um actually, you cant compare the trinity to this other, human state of many-but-oneness because..." as if their problem isnt solely with the word PLURAL. Like is it heretical to compare the trinity to an egg too now?? Im willing to bet youre JUST mad bc its the word plural. Whats with this particular fixation lmfao who cares

Like is it heretical to compare the trinity to an egg too now??

I mean, depending on who you ask...

I think this extreme is kind of silly because that's a pretty common metaphor used to explain God even if it's not exact. Analogies like this are commonly used by Christians to compare the Trinity to physical things, even if those analogies aren't completely accurate because they can help make things easier to understand. It's similar to how lower grade of school will oversimplify things to children

Unlike the egg though, I actually feel that the plurality comparison avoids partialism given that, even for systems who do identify as parts, there aren't necessarily clear divides. There is blending and overlap, and each headmate is their own person despite still being the same organism, similar to how God is considered to be three persons in one being.

And yeah, I agree. This is totally just them taking issue with the word plural.

I don't really agree that this is a meme, personally.

I legitimately think it's a valid interpretation of the biblical canon and one that I would encourage for Christian plurals to adopt.

now i have to see christians saying "um actually, you cant compare the trinity to this other, human state of many-but-oneness because..." as if their problem isnt solely with the word PLURAL.

Do you want to know what I find especially silly about these people, personally?

Any Christian will be the first to tell you that God's creation is how he imparts understanding of his nature. And this is backed by the Bible itself.

"For his invisible attributes, that is, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen since the creation of the world, being understood through what he has made. As a result, people are without excuse." - Romans 1:20

So it's kind of ridiculous to claim that the nature of the Trinity would be something that has to be incomprehensible and impossible to understand by looking at nature. Especially the nature of humans who are made in God's image.

(I will say that I kind of enjoy these arguments. Normal syscourse can get so boring and repetitive sometimes. Arguing over the plurality of God has been a breath of fresh air! 😁😊)

#syscourse #plural #religion #plurality #pro endogenic #pro endo #endo safe #multiplicity #endogenic #systems #system #sysblr #actually plural #actually a system

[gothicprep]

whenever I see someone argue that xyz thing is analogous to religion, I’m always surprised that nobody cares to ask what is, in my opinion, the obvious follow-up question – “is this a feature of religion specifically, or is it a general feature of human psychology that reliably crops up in instances of strongly held belief?”

if you take religion analogies far enough, you can argue that not playing in traffic is a religion. not playing in traffic is a commandment. sin is playing in traffic, virtue is not doing that. you have the ritual of looking both ways before you cross the street, holy places in the way of crosswalks, ordained figures in the way of crossing guards. there are blessings for those who don’t play in traffic, but terrible vengeance can befall those who do…

I’m deliberately picking the stupidest and least rhetorically powerful thing I can think of here to (hopefully) illustrate how much undeserved mileage you can get out of religion analogies lol. if there are figures representing something, no, that’s a guru. it’s a religion. books about it? those are scriptures. it’s religion. recommending doing something regularly? not so fast – that’s a ritual, so this is obviously a religion.

this line of thinking is like intellectual mustard gas lmfao. but if this isn’t convincing to you, please join my not playing in traffic cult. membership fee is $50 a month.

[mask131]

The myth of Apollo (5)

And here is the last part of Françoise Graziani’s article « Apollo, the mythical sun » (begun here).

IV/ The mystical Sun

The interpretation of the Sun as a symbol of royalty was already present during the Renaissance but was truly amplified by the baroque era. This iconological interpretation was first punctually associated with the panegyric (Ronsard in his “Elegies” wrote “Henry, the Sun that inspired me”), then to the emblematic, as the royal crown was depicted as a crown of sun-rays. While Tyard saw a positive symbol within the idea of the Sun “Prince and rector of the sky”, the baroque poet Drelincourt, in 1677, compared it to a “superb King, who shines in his Court, Crowned with rays” – but only to better accuse the celestial body of being a simulacra of God, a “weak painting”. Within the same idea, Du Bartas substituted the false pagan god to the real God: “The world is a cloud through which shines, not the bow-shooting son of the beautiful Latone, this divine Phoebus, but…”. It is very revealing that Drelincourt presents a critical and desacralizing interpretation of the sun, where it loses its mythical name and function… while writing within the court of Louis XIV, right as the king ideologically concretizes the literary allegories by depicting himself within Versailles (the “house of the Sun”) as Apollo, as the sun on earth. Drelincourt concludes his sonnet “About the Sun”, by insisting that the Sun is just the “portrait of the Primal Cause”: “your brightness is but a Shadow, and you are not the Sun anymore”. The mythical Sun is a false sun, but it is replaced in the metaphorical heaven by the real mystical Sun, the Christ, that the Renaissance paintings sometimes depicted under the traits of Apollo. As a reflection of the true God, as the interpret and the vehicle of God’s light, the Christ was a solar character, whose death was thought as bringing a “night” to the Western world (it was how the poets metaphorize the eclipse that occurred during the Crucifixion). This identification, very common within the mystical baroque poetry, was sometimes pushed to the point of including (in a very unusual way) some episodes of Apollo’s legends within the Christian allegory (such as Hyacinthus or Clythia).

V/ The Sun of intelligence

The mystical sun is, in a paradox that determined all poetic interpretations, linked to the decline of the mythical sun. And yet, the mystical sun is born from a very old topos, the one of the Deus Pictor: if God is a painter, and the Universe his painting, than the Sun (and the poets claim it since the Hellenistic times) is his brush. In the baroque era, the solar myth, heavily used in a metaphorical (not quite allegorical) way, leads this motif towards the realm of abstractions. Every time it appears, it is linked to two elements: on one side, the Sun as a divine principle and an instrument of creation which becomes the double of the poet (a poet that now dares associate himself with not just Orpheus, but Apollo). On the other side, the diurnal travel of the solar eye becomes the metaphor of the process of writing. Numerous baroque texts play on the similarity between the words “rayons” (the rays) and “crayon” (the pencil), to show the Creator in his picturesque and scriptural functions. In a similar way, it is traditional to punctuate long poems by various sunsets and sunrises, described in such a way that they establish an analogy between the rhythm of the days, and the rhythm of the poem itself.

It is for example the case within G. B. Marino’s “Adone”, where, at the end of the poem, the Muse answers Apollo’s call, and comes to “end the thread of this long canvas”, and the end of the last day is described in textual terms: “The sky is of paper, the darkness of ink, the ray a feather / Which with the sun erases the ending day to write / to the West, in letters of gold, the end of the long travel.” Within “Adone”, Apollo is present under different shapes. He is found, in a metaphorical way, in the character of the hero, Adonis, which ultimately is just a gaze that crosses the various spectacles of the universe (celestial world, terrestrial world, cultural world) and is often compared, due to the “shine of his youth”, to Apollo. As the sun is the eye that brightens the world, that reveals the world and that allows it to be, the first creating gaze over the poem is done by the poet itself ; but there is another sight, the image of the human eye that reads and interprets the great Book of Nature. Adonis, within Marino’s poem, plays this role of reader, the double of the creature to which the secrets of the creation are hidden. He is, too, a “false sun”, and this is why Marino show him as a passive hero who, throughout the poem, does not understand what he sees: it is a reverse image of the philosophical sun of the Renaissance. He symbolizes the human soul, in the idea that the human soul only perceives the appearances, and mistakes itself for the sun because it was created in tis image. Marino’s Adonis is a “lonely eye” to which the gods (Venus and Hermes) reveal secrets, but the only world that receives the light of his gaze is the one of the book, of which the real writer is Apollo, “he who brightens the wise minds”. He who shines upon the minds embodies the last avatar of the god of Poetry: the divine Intellect, he who makes the minds shining and insightful, he who gifts human with both invention and divination. The solar sign valorizes the human Intellect, and more so over the individual intelligence. The god doesn’t “inspire” anymore, but he does more by “shining” upon the artistic works.

Apollo is more and more disguised as time passes by, to the point of losing his name – he is substituted so much he is even refused the qualificative of a god. He keeps however, as a mythical sign, a great coherence. The abstract uses of the Sun as metaphors for the divine eye contain very clear remains of its mythical nature. The connotations tied to the solar figure are simply the transpositions, on a metaphorical plane, of the elements tied to the god. The frequency of his use throughout the 16th and 17th centuries proves its almost ritualistic value, even though literature splits itself from the myth. As such, it seems that, as soon as the poetry does not bear the myth of the inspiration anymire, the figure of its titular god is slowly abandoned. Even though the invocation of the Muses persists, as a convention or as a periodical element, all the way to the 19th century. The names of “Apollo”, “Muses” and “Lyre” are enough to designate, by metonymy, and outside of all myths, the very concept of poetry.

VI/ Hyperion

With Romanticism, Apollo becomes the Archer again. The divine inspiration of the poet is not an illumination or a revelation anymore, but a shock, a stupefying possession. The poet, as Hölderlin writes, is “struck by Apollo” and, confronted by the presence of the god, he can’t be understood by other humans anymore. The poetic vocation is assimilated to a curse, and to a suffering. Within Hölderlin’s work, Apollo is fused with both Jupiter, he who strikes with the blinding lightning, he who “shakes and vivifies”, and with Dionysos, to condense itself ultimately in the figure of the Christ. He also especially identified with the one who was, according to Hesiod, his grand-father, the titan Hyperion. Just like Hyperion, of which he bears the name in the allegorical novel of Hölderlin “Hyperion”, the poet is a fallen and exiled titan, whose rebellion (pre-apollonian actions) are doomed to failure, but who keeps the vague memory of his solar origin and of his mission, while still being, like the sun, doomed to loneliness. A loneliness which, in this context, bears both a positive aspect, as the solitude which brings exaltation, and a negative aspect, the solitude which makes the poet a cursed man or a mad man. Apollo and Dionysos become one within the Romantic conception of madness as a sign of both divine election and mystical drunkenness. The fundamental ambiguity of Apollo is found back within the duality of the poetry, perceived as both a grace and an eviction. This duality was felt by the Romantics on an individual plane, and not on a conceptual plane like in the Renaissance.

An exceptional occurrence of the figure of Apollo within literature must be studied, quite close to Hölderlin’s own interpretation. Apollo appears as the subject and the hero of a 19th century literary work in only one piece, an unfinished poem by Keats which was also called Hyperion (1819). This brief epic of a Miltonian style depicts the fall of the Titans, banished by the New Gods, and the rise to divinity of the young Apollo, initiated by Mnemosyne. Within Keats’ writing, just like within Hölderlin’s work, Apollo is treated as the symbol of a “new beauty”, and as the tutelar god, not to say the embodiment, of the New Poetry. For both men, the accent is put on the “divine future” of Apollo: for Keats, Apollo only becomes a god when, thanks to Mnemosyne (who is in mythology the mother of the Muses), he understands his divinity, and this accession to Knowledge is a painful process. Apollo, before striking the poets, suffers himself from an “agony as burning as death is cold”. And he screams painfully when he was his epiphany. Within Hölderlin’s, the name Hyperion symbolized, by an antonomasia, the splitting of the hero, a hero turned to the Ancient Gods, that feels himself as their interpret, and yet is destined to inaugurate the renewal of the Teenager Sun through a New Poetic Religion. The poet which is speaking here is not yet born, and Hyperion represents the mythical prehistory of he who will only become a god, a pure lonely spirit, the “Hermit of Greece”, free of all heroic temptations, only after Romanticism. In a similar way, Keats brutally interrupts his poem right as Poetry is born.

#the myth of apollo #apollo #hyperion #greek mythology #poetry #greek gods #symbolism #sun #titans #keats #hölderlin #christianization of greek myths #greek myths #poetic symbols #literary myths

[killerlookz]

Sins of the Flesh | Eddie Munson

pairing: occultist! eddie munson x pastor's daughter! reader (F!)

description: Despite your father's teachings, you hardly believed it when rumors that your boyfriend, Eddie Munson was a devil worshipper began swirling around. but perhaps you should have been more careful and believed them.

content: this is kind of a dark! fic... you've been warned! ... if any of the following upset you, click away! SMUT, 18+ ONLY, P in V unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f! receiving), dacryphilia, innocence/corruption kink, some slight manipulation (but all sexual elements are entirely consensual) allusions to satanism and the occult, non-specific/non-graphic mentions of ritual self-harm, blood, religious themes, guilt, BLASPHEMY (like really, like a lot of blasphemy), loss of religion/faith... and excessive usage of the pet name "angel"... seriously excessive. some angst and also fluff

word count: 8119

Say that the night sings alone / and if there's a god then I'm letting him go / all for you, and you alone.

It was peculiar of you to be up so late, always good, always in bed before midnight- your eyes bore deep into the wooden frame of your analog alarm clock, watching the seconds tick by, and by, and by. Your arms clung around the soft white linen of your pillow, bringing the malleable material closer to your body in an attempt to bring some comfort to your sorrow-heavy bones.

You couldn't bring yourself to lift your head from that pitiful position, the place where it had hung all day. You couldn't even manage yourself away from the comfort of your bed to close your window now, you could hear the harsh pattering of the rain outside falling against your faded wooden floors, still- you couldn't leave.

It had made no sense- you'd always been good, even after meeting him you'd been good. You followed your father's word, you knew your scripture to a T, you prayed, you went to church, and lived your life by God's law- and still, this burden of great suffering had been placed upon you.

A tear that had been welling in your stinging eyeballs finally escaped down your cheek, no- you hadn't been good, you were far from it. You'd let yourself fall in love, in love with a boy you'd had no business ever being around. You'd heard the swirling rumors- the fervent ranting and ravings of your father; 'the imaginations of today's youth have become Satan's battlefield, he is fighting for your children's imaginations- he has sent up the musicians in heavy metal bands and put his word in fantasy games in order to teach your children his wicked ways and overcome their minds with evil'

Perhaps it was your naivety or simple teenage rebellion, but you'd hardly believed a word of it. Always a strong follower of your father's teachings, always wanting to learn from him and take his vast knowledge of God's word to heart- but this. It had all seemed like hysteria- men with long hair did not quite seem like the walking incarnation of the devil- you mean, after all, didn't Jesus have long hair? But now as you stare at that analog clock, it's numbers ticking closer and closer to dawn, you'd realized just how stupid you'd been. So terribly stupid- your father was a smart man, he knew what was best for you he knew, he knew, he knew- and you had been so foolish to push his teachings aside.

You suppose it had been his plan all along- Eddie- your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? The truth had been so plain as day, how couldn't you see it? He'd been so sweet- so sweet since the moment you'd met him; it was clear as day in your mind, down to the split second you'd first truly laid your eyes on Eddie Munson.

The school hallway, your 18th birthday, your mother had bought you that dress you'd been itching for, a Gunne Sax- one with a long flowing silhouette and lace trim- of course you'd worn it to school that day. You couldn't remember exactly what the two cheerleaders who stood next to your locker had said about it- but you remember their laughter as they'd eyed you up and down, their fierce eyes still burned into your skin and their piercing shrieks still scratched at your ears. But the torment had ended rather quickly with the appearance of another man, one unlike any other man you'd seen before- with long curly hair and tattered clothes; he'd told the girls off, told them to get lost. You can remember your careful eyes as they flicked up to his- soft and brown, inviting you in with a warmth you'd never known before as he simply asked if you were okay. He'd been so beautiful, so enticing that the crude drawing of the devil on his shirt had failed to phase you at all.

He was the sort of boy your father had preached about, the sort who'd been possessed by the armies of Satan and was now doomed to carry out his bidding for eternity. But, you'd figured there was no way that could have been true. He'd been so utterly sweet in the months you'd gotten to know him- his always reassuring glances, and soft touches; you don't think you'd ever seen him angry, or heard him raise his voice- it couldn't have been true.

But it had been, it had all been true, every rumor spit his way, every little thing your father and the ranting televangelists of the 700 Club had said- he'd been possessed by the armies of Satan.

You'd found yourself wandering around alone in his trailer yesterday evening- with Eddie having gone to go pick the two of you up something to eat. You roamed around his room, looking over the familiar sight when a sudden glimmer of curiosity had been inspired about you. You did some light prodding, just some, innocent simple snooping into the habits of the man you'd grown so fond of- but you'd stumbled upon something that had seemed so unlike him.

Your fingertips grazed a wooden drawer, you moved to hook them into the flimsy metal handle- pulling back the drawer. Your stomach had fallen to the floor once you'd turned your head to peak inside; candles, crumpled papers with hastily drawn sigils- they'd looked to have been speckled with crimson flecks of drying blood, razor blades, matches, and an opened pocket knife, its rusted metal stained with bold sanguine streaks.

You'd closed the drawer as quick as you'd opened it, your brain moving faster than your body could work- you were stuck, your thoughts chanting; 'run, run, run' over, and over, and over again and finally your incessant thoughts won- and your feet picked up from that spot in his room, and you ran- hoping to never see that place again.

You turned your face into the pillow to stifle the scream that threatened to rip from your throat. You'd had no clue on how to hide the sick that trudged through your veins- no clue how to cope with just how stupid you'd been. Stupid, stupid girl- that's all you were, all you'd ever have been, and all you ever will be.

The sound of the rustling leaves outside had grown to a disturbingly loud volume, the cracking branches on the trees had sounded like they were breaking right against your ears. A loud thud had brought your face up from its suffocated spot against your pillow- the startle having canceled out your anguish for just a split moment.

Your heart drops, bile and stomach acid threatening your throat upon the realization that the sound had not been from the storm. You stare, stunned, looking at the looming, darkened figure of Eddie Munson standing just feet away from your bed. The pallid moonlight did little to aid in the brightening of your room, but still, even in the shadows, you'd recognize him anywhere. Your jaw clenches tight and a thick swallow falls down the length of your esophagus, begging for whatever had risen from your stomach to not find its way out. You suck a trembling breath inward as you sit up in your bed.

"You're never up this late sweetheart," There's an insidiousness to the way his words point toward you, he's angry. Perhaps rightfully so, you'd left him in the dust, no explanations last night.

"W-why are you here?" You sniffle, tears spilling down your burning cheeks- stinging the rubbed raw flesh.

Eddie takes a large inhale, filling his lungs before expelling them with an audible sigh,

"I think the better question is where have you been?" He begins to step forward, wood creaking under the heavy weight of his shoes.

"H-here," You stutter, watching his frame carefully as he inches toward you- the logical side of your brain is telling, begging you to scream, to let out a bloody screech of 'help!'- but you can't, despite your fear, you can't.

"This where you ran off to last night, home?" He asks, "That really hurt my feelings sweetheart, coming back to an empty house, my pretty girl nowhere to be found." Eddie shakes his head, his voice is teasing- it's unkind.

"Why are you here?" You ask again, your whisper clawing its way out against your aching throat.

"I needed to make sure you were okay sweetie," His pitch raises in feigned innocence, "Needed to make sure nothing happened to my sweet girl."

"I'm f-fine, y-you can leave now," You sputter, "I'm fine," You repeat, desperately, trying to convince yourself of the notion.

"No," Eddie shakes his head, a smirk falling on his lips, "I'm not going anywhere, pretty."

Eddie's body settles at the foot of your bed, and you flinch, pulling your feet towards you, hugging your knees to your chest.

"What's got you so skittish, sweetie." Eddie cocks his head to the side, his neck craning slowly as he makes unrelenting eye contact with you. "You're not scared of me, are you?"

You blink a few times, trying to rid yourself of his unwavering stare- but he persists, not tearing his eyes away from you.

"It's true," You shut your eyes, sniveling, "What they say about you," You open your eyes, and look off to the side- staring down the floor, unable to look at Eddie as you'd accused him of the same things everyone else had. Your claims had basis unlike everyone else's, and still the wicked vines of guilt wrapped themselves around your heart- he'd thought you were different, but you were just like everyone else, scared.

Eddie's mouth falls open as his head tilts to the other side and his head shakes slowly,

"Baby," He starts, his harsh voice now a whisper, "You don't really believe that. You've been listening to your father too much. You've told me yourself, he is a fool."

Your stomach writhed upon the memories of how often you'd forsaken your father's word for Eddie, how you'd called his fervent ravings paranoia.

"Don't talk about my father," You sneer, a harsh palm wiping down your face to rid your damp flesh of tears, "And don't you lie to me, I know it's true- everything."

"Stupid," Eddie mutters, "That's what you called those rumors, I guess you're just the same now."

Your chin twitches underneath your quivering lips, biting back a sob,

"No, those rumors weren't what was stupid," You mumble, "It was me all along, I should have believed them because they're true," You start to sob, "They're all true," You repeat, your voice breaking.

"Listen to yourself," Eddie tuts, "I thought you were different, I thought you weren't scared."

"I'm not scared," You sniffle, yes you were, you were terrified, completely and utterly terrified.

"No?" The corner of his mouth raises in a smirk, "Then at least have the decency to look me in my fucking face when you make these accusations." He spits. Eddie's voice was harsh, it barely raised above a low mumble but the anger was present in his low tone, and Eddie had never cursed at you before.

Your faces twists as you rip your head from it's position facing the floor. You're face to face with a sneering Eddie, and you take a deep inhale to work up the courage to stand your ground.

"I saw it, the blades, the candles, the sigils- I saw it all," You shake your head, "You're in allegiance with the devil."

Eddie flips to smirking once more as he begins to move towards you very slowly.

"Saw it?" Eddie asks slowly.

"Yes, in your room- d-don't lie to me I know what I saw."

"Oh," Eddie coos, "Silly thing, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Did curiosity kill my little angel?"

You place both of your palms steady into your mattress, letting your weight fall on your hands as you push yourself closer to the headboard, away from Eddie's creeping figure.

"You know nothing of angels," You rebuke, scrunching up your face in a scornful sneer.

"No," Eddie shakes his head, his eyes narrowing, "No, I know you're a perfect little angel." An eyebrow lifts, "Right?"

You don't respond, only continuing to push your body closer into the headboard as Eddie begins to close in on you.

"Come on," Eddie encourages, "You know it's true, say it, say you're an angel, my angel."

"No," You whisper, your hesitant breathes wavering in your chest. Tears continue to pour down your face as you try to ignore the growing warmth that fills your body at the name. Angel- you'd strived so long to be such, his angel.

Your body flinches when you feel Eddie grab ahold of your ankle, preventing you from moving any further backward.

"Say it," Eddie demands, his voice a spitting whisper as he tugs at your leg lightly. "C'mon baby," his hand begins to move up your leg, his calloused hands caressing your calf. You raise your head, staring straight at your ceiling praying to God to give you the strength to fight Eddie off, to not give in to his demands.

Your silent prayers fall on deaf ears and God rewards you no strength as Eddie's hand continues to slowly move up and down your lower leg. You lower your head, your eyes falling upon his- he's staring at you intently, the look in his eyes is almost loving like the Eddie you'd grown to know.

"Please?" He asks once more, but this time he seems so much more pathetic, looking almost like he'd lost the fight he'd so easily put up just moments ago.

"I'm..." You whisper, shaking, "I'm, I'm your angel." You nod, "Yours- Eddie." You're sobbing again, cursing yourself for being so weak, for giving in so easy.

"See? That's right, you're my angel," A small smile creeps onto Eddie's face, "Wasn't so hard, right baby?"

Eddie's hand rests on the inside of your knee, and he rubs a soft line under your thigh with his thumb. You wish you didn't like the way it felt, wish you could kick your leg and shoo him away.

"I- I did what you asked," You stutter, "N-now I want to hear it from you- you're o-of the devil- aren't you?"

"Baby..." He starts, about to defend himself,

"No," You cut him off, "Don't lie to me. Please Eddie, just tell me the truth." You plead.

Eddie moves his hand from where it lays on your knee, slowly dragging it back down the length of your calf before removing it from your skin altogether. It would be a great lie if you said that you didn't immediately miss his soft touch.

"You're right," Eddie sighs, "Too smart, such a smart girl-" He rambles.

"S-so you've been lying to me this whole time?" Your lip quivers, "It's all been a lie... were you just looking for some pretty virgin to sacrifice- is that why you never tried to touch me?" Your accusations came out quick, unable to comprehend the evils that had possessed the man you loved. You'd always admired Eddie's chasteness, how he'd never even brought up the idea of having sex with you- you'd always figured it was because he respected your decision to abstain until marriage, but now- his actions seemed so much more sinister.

"No," Eddie shakes his head, his face twisting as if you'd actually offended him, "No, no- I never tried to touch you because I knew you didn't want it."

You shake your head, deeming his words as faulty, clearly he'd been lying to you before, what was stopping him from lying again?

"I swear to God y/n," He pleads, "I would never hurt you."

"That's an empty promise- clearly God doesn't mean much to you," You begin to bend your knees, pulling away from Eddie once more, "I don't believe you."

In response to your movement Eddie begins to inch towards you again,

"I have no reason to want to hurt you, angel."

"You have every reason, Eddie." You whimper, "I was the perfect target... I was so stupid."

"No," Eddie affirms, grabbing at your leg once more, pulling you again, this time harsher, bringing you to land flat on your back. His suddenness takes the breath straight from your lungs, and your vision blurs as your head hits the pillow. "No, you're not stupid."

Eddie begins to lean over you, his hands coming to rest on either side of your body as he hovers over your shaking frame, his knees straddling your legs.

"Yes, I am," You weep, staring up into Eddie's careful eyes.

"No," Eddie shakes his head, his palm grazes over your cheek, and he wipes a few tears away with his thumb. He's so close to you it makes you feel dizzy, your whole body is burning up under him- it must be a sign of the devil trying to capture you. "You're not stupid at all," Eddie's voice is softer now, he's speaking carefully, sincerely- your chest heaves, anxiety growing stronger and stronger inside you as you're unable to decipher whether or not he's lying to you.

"I know that's what they want you to believe, your father, the church" He murmurs, "That you're stupid, that you're far too dumb to go through this life on your own and make decisions for yourself so you need to dedicate every fiber of yourself to a God in order to know how to make the right choices." Eddie stokes his hand over your cheek once more, "But that's not true, baby. You've been listening to the wrong people all your life, please just listen to me now."

"H-how do I know you're not wrong?" You sniffle, trying to fight any persuasions Eddie was throwing your way- this was the devil's work, this charm, this façade of sincerity- it was simply the devil's work.

"Let me show you then, show you what you've been missing from your life." Eddie's hand slips from your cheek to your shoulder, his fingertips gently poking under the top of the thin sleeve of your nightgown.

"N-no," You refuse, shaking your head, "No-no I will not fall into the devil's trap. I will not submit myself to sin." You lift up a leg, pressing a pointed toe against Eddie's chest, trying to push him back and away from you. Your small action doesn't do much, instead, Eddie's hand moves from your shoulder, grabbing your ankle and moving your leg so it rests back on the bed, outside of his.

"Is sin so much worse than how you live your life now? Scared out of you goddamn skull- fearful that every move you make could send you into eternal damnation. Is that living well?"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain,"

"His name gains no respect from me," Eddie sneers, "And it shouldn't from you either, angel."

"I-I have to- I- it's the only way I know how to live." You defend, "Y-your way of life- it's immoral- it's evil."

"And who decides what is and isn't evil, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, his voice surprisingly calm, and patient despite all your fighting.

"I-it just is."

You could feel yourself slowly giving into him, his words making sense. But the devil was keen, the devil is smart, right? This all had to be clever trickery, your way of life is correct- it just has to be.

"It just is?" Eddie tuts.

"T-the blood," You stammer, recalling the dried blood you'd seen on those crumpled pieces of paper and that pocket knife, "Killing is evil- a-and t-that's what your faith requires you to do."

"The blood?" Eddie asks

"O-on your knife, a-and the sigils."

"Oh angel," Eddie sighs, returning his hand to your cheek, "That is my own."

His response somehow filled you with worse grief than if he'd had admitted to a human sacrifice. The faint image of Eddie spilling his own blood faded into your mind and it was a horrible sight.

"That doesn't make me feel much better." You whisper, "Partaking in a faith where you must hurt oneself does not sound right."

"And the mortification of the flesh..." Eddie trails off, "Is not the same?"

Eddie had seemed to be just one step ahead of you, his quick remarks and soft-spoken voice had your mind reeling - were you truly following the wrong way of life after all?

"At least my faith doesn't require punishing oneself for simple acts of human nature." He continues.

You turn your head to the side, unable to face what Eddie had been saying any longer. Your stomach churned at the questioning of your own faith. It was becoming harder to put up a fight, you couldn't- not with Eddie so close to you, speaking so sincerely as he gently strokes at your cheek.

"Come on, angel," Eddie urges as you feel the tip of his nose fall against your neck and drag a line up to your jaw. His movement sent a shiver down your spine, and a small tingle begins to grow in your legs, urging up to your thighs as you feel Eddie's hot breath fan over your neck. You know it's wrong, you shouldn't feel like this. "Aren't you tired of the shame?" He mumbles as his mouth nears your neck.

You swallow thickly, unable to fight him any longer, it was wrong but you so desperately at that moment wanted him to just lower himself more- to put his mouth on you.

"Yes," You whisper, desperate as tears begin to well up in your eyes once more. But it was hard to focus on the guilt that churned in your stomach when the pulsing between your thighs was so much stronger.

"My poor angel," Eddie mumbles, his lips just barely gracing the warm flesh of your neck, "She shouldn't have to feel any shame." His head rises from its spot against your neck and you sigh from lacking his touch. You turn your head from its position on its side, looking straight up once more, right into Eddie's eyes. His thick locks fall around him, a cascading dark halo around the pallid complexion of his face. He was the picture of beauty, and if you hadn't known any better perhaps you'd think him to be an angel himself.

Of course, Lucifer had been an angel too, before he'd fallen from Grace.

"I would never let you feel any shame," Eddie insists, looking deep into your eyes. You believe him, completely and wholly, you believe him. In that moment, you're ready to give up God and join him, ready to rid yourself of all you'd ever known, to escape your oppressive household and the unrelenting hand of the church, and just as you once had with your father, you believed Eddie truly knew what was good for you.

Tears are spilling down your cheeks as you look up at Eddie's hovering figure,

"So sick of all my shame," You cry, "I-I want to be free from it all, I-if I truly followed a benevolent god, like they say, he'd just let me have you, he'd spare me from the pain of having to depart with you because of your faith. B-but my God w-would never allow that."

"No," Eddie shakes his head, "He wouldn't, but if you let him go, I'm all yours." Eddie's hand slips to your neck, a finger fiddling with the small golden cross pendant that sits hung around your neck on a thin chain.

"All yours," You repeat, "I'm all yours." You nod, unsure of what you'd actually committed yourself to. You had no clue of the logistics of Eddie's faith, if he truly worshipped Satan, if he himself had been possessed by some sort of demon- but you didn't care, all you wanted was Eddie.

"That's right angel, all mine," Eddie smiles, "You're in good hands now sweetheart, I promise." He hooks his pointer finger into the necklace and yanks his arm back- hard. The action makes you gasp as you feel the metal chain snap around your neck before you hear the necklace being tossed somewhere else in the room. A devilish smirk falls upon his face for a split moment just before his mouth returns to your neck, his lips falling just upon your pulsing jugular as they meld to your skin in a hot, wet kiss.

You'd never been touched in this way before, the simple feeling of Eddie's lips on your untainted flesh leaves you in a trance. A voice in the back of your skull continues to drone at you that this is wrong, that you're committing sins of the flesh- but your God could not have been right about what it is sin, because this felt all too good- and no benevolent being would deprive his people of feeling this good.

You let out a pleasure-filled sigh as Eddie's lips continue to work at your neck. His kisses only become harsher and more forceful as time passes, and eventually his teeth begin to graze your skin- they gently gnaw at small patches of flesh before his tongue quickly glides over said spot to soothe the pain.

His hot kisses, as much as they fill your senses with utter bliss, are not enough. Your body feels incomplete- empty, like there's something missing yet you just cannot place what. You're desperate, but you don't know just what for.

"Eddie," You whisper, throwing your head even further back against the pillow, arching your back.

"Yes, angel?" He asks, his head barely picking up from its spot on your neck.

"Need you," you plead.

"Don't worry baby," He soothes, "You've got me, I'm going to take care of you, patience is a virtue."

"Okay," You mumble.

You find one of Eddie's hands crawling up your thigh, slowly lifting up the delicate white chiffon of your nightgown. The bottom of the garment is nearly sitting at your waist now, the cold breeze of outside hitting your exposed legs, causing goosebumps to dot along your skin.

"Aw, baby, you cold?" Eddie asks, lifting his head up and peering down at your shivering figure. You not quickly, confirming the blatantly obvious, "Poor baby," Eddie coos, "I promise, I'm going to keep you real warm," Eddie begins to smooth over the bumpy skin of your leg.

He reaches down once more, letting his chest fall on top of yours as your lips connect in a passionate kiss. You're seeing stars behind your lidded eyes- you'd kissed Eddie a million times over but each and every time it felt like the first. His lips, slightly chapped, still tasted divine- like cigarettes and a faint wash of stale cheap beer, relatively unappetizing flavors, but when they were on him, it tasted like heaven.

Your hips lift a mere few inches off the mattress, and they brush against Eddie's. A gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of the friction between you and the cool metal of Eddie's belt buckle. A pang of pure pleasure shoots through your whole body like a streak of lightning, and it's unlike anything you'd ever felt before. So you continue again, brushing your hips against Eddie's to continue that sensation, never wanting that sweet friction to ever stop.

"Fuck, baby," Eddie mumbles, gently pulling away from the kiss, "You really are needy."

You nod in agreement, you need Eddie terribly.

"That's okay," He smirks, straightening up a little as his hand slides further and further down your inner thighs, "Whatever you want angel, it's yours."

Eddie's gaze is hot against your body as his fingers inch closer to your panties, the feeling of his fingertips nearing the fabric slowly called your attention to the sticky feeling between your thighs. Quickly, you felt his finger brush over the fabric, the slight gesture making your legs twitch.

"Have you ever touched yourself before?" He asks, his words are careful, endearing despite the salacious topic.

"N-no," You shake your head, you'd been told all your life that any sins of the flesh were strictly forbidden under God's law, so you'd always suppressed those urges. Even as they got stronger, and they did, especially after you'd met Eddie- you often found yourself waking up in the middle of the night from lust-filled dreams- body hot, with thighs aching and damp, and you just had to let the feeling pass, closing your legs tight as you cried yourself to sleep in shame for even having the capacity to dream up those thoughts.

Those same thoughts ran rampant through your mind now with no hesitancy or care, your brain too fueled by its lubricious need to care about guilt or shame.

"Will you let me, then?"

"P-please," You beg, nodding wildly, your head trashing against the pillow.

"Of course, angel," His fingers swipe across the crotch of your panties before hooking themselves into the delicate lace trim, pulling them to the side. "Oh," He muses, a smile on his face, "So wet, baby."

You want to cry as Eddie's fingers find their way to your flesh, two calloused pads brushing between your soaked folds. Your back immediately arches into his touch as a shriek escapes your mouth.

"Shhh, baby," He quiets you, "Wouldn't want your daddy hearing what I'm doing to his innocent baby girl, hm?"

You shake your head, Eddie still proclaiming your innocence even as he touched you in this way made your heart skip a beat.

But your heart wasn't the only thing that was beating as Eddie's fingers slipped through your folds, bringing the pulsing between your thighs to a fever pitch. His fingers moved up further against the mound of flesh until they swiped past your swollen, sensitive clit, circling the nerve with a skill you had no clue he'd had.

"Eddie," You gasp upon feeling the enormous gratification you received just from a simple touch. It almost made no sense how Eddie just grazing your flesh could nearly move you to tears, and yet here you were, wetness pooling in your eyes as his fingers continued to circle around the small bundle of nerves.

Your body writhes against Eddie's, every once of your muscles twitching as the sensation he was bringing you.

"That feel good, pretty?" He asks, clearly confident of your answer.

"Y-yes, yes Eddie- mghm- so good." If you'd known sin could feel this good, perhaps you would have considered abandoning your faith a long while ago.

Your hips snap forward, thrusting against Eddie's fingers as he plays with your clit,

"Mhm-mhm-mhm," Eddie tuts, sitting up further so he can use his other hand to hold you down at your hip, "Can't get too excited, we've got to make this last, haven't we?"

You nod, he was right, you wanted this moment to last forever, you didn't ever want it to end.

Slowly, Eddie's hand draws back from your clit, before falling off of your skin altogether. You feel your aching hole clench around nothing at the loss of contact, and you whimper, blinking the tears from your eyes as you try to deal with the lack of sensation.

"Don't worry, baby," Eddie leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, "I've got you, no whining."

Slowly, Eddie draws away from you, sliding down your body, pressing a quick kiss to your neck, your chest, and your stomach on the way down until his head is resting on one of your thighs. From where he lays, your nightgown still pulled up and your panties still pulled to the side, your cunt is perfectly on display for him. You swallow harshly, obviously, he'd never seen this much of you before. But before you can close your legs out of embarrassment, Eddie sticks a hand between them before dragging that hand to the waistband of your panties. He plays with the hem, brushing his finger over the small flower detail that sits upon the delicate lace trim before sticking his fingers in the waistband, causing you to gasp, and pulling them down.

Now you're really on display, the cool breeze from outside now having no restrictions as it drifts against your slick cunt. You peer down at Eddie who is eyeing between your thighs, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his soft pink lips.

You try not to think of the image of the crucifixion of Christ that sits just over your bed- the carved wooden statue looking down, watching you desperate and filled with lust. But you supposed, if Jesus had died for your sins, at least you were making his death worthwhile.

"Bend your knees, baby," He urges, and without a second thought you do just what he says, lifting your knees upwards, putting you on an even greater display for him. His eyes look you up and down as a small smile grows on his face, "God, you are gorgeous." He muses, eyes blowing wide.

Slowly, he brings himself to his knees and lowers his head towards your thighs. He begins to place slow kisses against the hot flesh on your inner thighs, carefully grazing your skin with his heated tongue. Your legs are already beginning to shake at the simple action, and you feel your arousal continuing to grow, afraid your slick might be dripping onto your sheets below.

Suddenly, the most intense wave of pleasure you'd felt thus far rocks your entire body, knocking your whole being completely off center as Eddie moves his tongue to lick a fat stripe between your puffy folds.

"Ah," you yelp, your fingertips clinging at your bedsheets for dear life as Eddie continues to work his tongue against your cunt. Your chest heaves at the feeling, his wet tongue stimulating your sensitive nerves, and the vibrations of his satisfied mumbles rocking against your core.

His tongue dips down, quickly entering your hole and swirling around before moving up to your clit, where he makes small circles round and round against the nerves.

The feeling is entirely overwhelming, the waves of pleasure that are nonstop rocking through you are almost too much to bear. Your legs begin to shake as you feel a tightness growing in your stomach. Each sudden movement Eddie makes only makes that tightness feel more intense, almost like you're about to collapse in on yourself at any given moment.

You try to quiet your incessant whimpering, but it feels nearly impossible to lock down the lewd noises that are escaping you- almost like they're an involuntary response to Eddie's stimulus.

Your legs begin to tremble, shaking back and forth around Eddie's head, you throw your head back in a sigh, your fingers gripping the sheets for dear life and then suddenly- nothing.

Eddie raises his head from between your thighs, his lips now swollen and pink with his saliva and your slick.

"You taste just as good as you look baby," He smiles as his eyes lift to look at yours.

"Yeah?" you breathe out, your voice breaking, the lack of pleasure is almost painful, feeling like there's a week-old bruise between your thighs. You sniffle, tears spilling from your eyes, unsure of what exactly you were feeling as your legs continued to shake.

"No," Eddie shakes his head, "No crying," He insists, "Gonna give you what you really need now," He smirks, leaning forward and grabbing the hem of your nightgown, "Lift your arms up, angel." He instructs, and you oblige, letting Eddie hover over you and strip you of your last remaining garment. He lifts the nightgown over your head before gently tossing it off to the side. Eddie takes a moment, letting his eyes wander all over your naked body, hair tussled over your pillow, eyes wet with tears, cheeks red, your nipples hard from the cold, and your knees still bent, cunt still on display.

"Fuck," He mumbles, caressing your side with a delicate hand down to your waist, "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

The compliment brings a smile to your face, making you unable to feel any insecurity about being so bare. Eddie leans in, kissing your neck once more, down to your chest, and to your tits, where he gently latches onto one of your nipples, making you gasp as he flicks it's pebbled suface with his tongue.

You continue your act from before, brushing your hips against Eddie's instead, this time there was a new surface to gain your friction on. As your cunt ran down the harsh fabric of his jeans, you shutter at the feeling of his erection straining the tight black fabric.

You had no clue you'd ever had that sort of power over someone, to cause such a physical reaction in Eddie's body like that. Eddie had been so chaste with you prior, you doubted he'd ever even had fantasies about you- but now, knowing this side of you, seeing how he hungered for you- you knew he did.

Eddie's hands move to your hips, pushing them down to keep you from grinding against him, before he sits up once more. Eddie tugs his own shirt over his head, revealing the delicate pale skin of his chest and stomach. You'd noticed two tattoos sitting on the left side of his chest, ones you hadn't seen before, ones you didn't even know he had.

He looked like a dream, sitting there before you half undressed.

"You're beautiful too, you know." You say meekly, smiling up at Eddie. The praises catches him off guard as his head snaps back to you.

"You think so, sweetheart?" He smiles,

You nod, "Prettiest thing I've ever set my eyes on,"

Eddie's head falls to the side, still grinning, "Thank you, angel," Before his hands begin to fall to his belt, the metal buckle chimes as he tries to open its confines as quick as possible, not even caring to fully take it off as he gets it undone. Eddie stands up, beginning to wiggle off his jeans, shedding his boxers with them. A hard swallow hits your throat upon watching Eddie's cock spring free from the confines of his clothing as the fabric fell down his legs. Outside of anatomy textbooks and ancient sculptures, you'd never seen a man completely naked before- and the sudden implications of both of your nakedness hit you quick and hard like a speeding train.

He was gorgeous, a true piece of fine art- there was no other way to describe it. Your mouth watered at just the sight of him. He began to make his way back to the bed, cock sprung up, bobbing as he walked. You weren't sure what the average cock was supposed to look like or how big it was supposed to be. But even just the sight of Eddie's made you dizzy, the light flush of red on the tip of it, slick with precum at the slit- you needed him bad.

Eddie made his way back to you, his now naked body hovering over yours. Your thighs were aching, your whole body trembling with need as Eddie began to line himself up at your enterance.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asks, noticing your shaking figure.

You peer down between your thighs, looking towards where Eddie's cock resides just mere inches away from your throbbing cunt. and you nod.

"Perfect,"

"Good, baby," Eddie grabs the shaft of his cock with one hand, guiding the head through your folds. The return of the stimulation makes you sigh, and you try hard to keep your focus, wanting to watch just what exactly Eddie was doing. Slowly, the head makes its way to your entrance, stopping just outside your aching hole. He pauses for a moment, before slowly pushing forward.

You bite your lip hard at the sensation, he's barely pushed himself in and you already feel like you're being split apart. It was a burning stretch, and you winced at the feeling of Eddie's cock just barely sitting inside your entrance.

Eddie breathes out hard,

"Angel," He brings your attention to his face, "You've got to relax, baby, or it's going to hurt- I know it's foreign to you, but like I said, you can let go of all that shame now, I've got you."

You nod, taking his gentle words to heart before leaning back down against your pillows. You close your eyes, and let a deep exhale out, along with it relaxing your tense muscles, before nodding, letting Eddie know you were ready.

Eddie's lips fall against yours, kissing you in a sweet distraction to keep you relaxed as he begins to push forward once more. As you let your lips melt on his, you feel his cock begin to enter you again, slowly. The feeling is still uncomfortable but the intense sting has worn away, all that is left is a deep stretching as Eddie bottoms out into you.

It takes a couple of strokes for you to get used to the feeling, before it's no longer uncomfortable and the pleasure begins to set in.

He bottoms out into you once more, and finally, you let out a soft moan, letting Eddie know you're now enjoying the feeling. Your eyes slowly begin to open, and you see Eddie hovering over you, his signature guitar pick necklace dangling in your face as he thrusts into you once more.

You feel like you can feel every minute detail of Eddie's cock, every vein, and every ridge as it glides against your pillow-y walls.

"Fuck," Eddie breaths, "You feel so good, baby. Fuck, I already love your pretty little cunt."

Eddie's words are pure filth, but you can't help but love it. You can't deny how it continues to add to the pressure that spills from your cunt and into your stomach.

"So lucky I'm the one who gets to ruin you," Eddie smirks, nearing his face closer to yours.

Ruin you- you liked the sound of that, what better way to mark the relinquishing of your prior faith than letting the newest object of your devotion ruin you.

"Only you, Eddie," You whimper as Eddie hits a spot inside of you that makes your body rattle with stimulation, "My Eddie," You sigh,

"That's right, baby, yours," He huffs, "And you're all mine, say it- say you're mine, baby."

"All yours Eddie, only yours," You stammer, your voice becoming loose and words slurring together as the pleasure begins to override your brain. "Only yours," You repeat again as you feel a few tears slip against your cheek.

"You're so pretty when you cry, angel," Eddie smirks, "So pretty when you cry for me."

And the tears continue to slip down your cheeks as Eddie continues to rock his cock into your cunt.

"Mhhm, keep letting those tears fall, my innocent little angel crying because I'm ruining her so nice and good."

"Yes, Eddie, so good," You sigh.

Your arms snake around Eddie, burying your fingernails deep into his back, their grip strengthening with each growing thrust.

"Can't ever go back to church again," Eddie pants, "Won't even be able to look at the congregation in the eyes, hm? Imagine if they knew their pastor's sweet daughter's been fucked hard and deep by the town freak."

"They'd be- they'd be mortified," You giggle, trying to focus and give him an answer, "Think they'd excommunicate me,"

"Mmmh," Eddie hums his face dipping down to your neck to place a few small kisses against the humid skin, "Maybe I should tell them then, saves you the trouble of having to leave the church on your own."

"M-my f-father would kill me," You huff

"Mhm-mhm," Eddie refutes, "M'never gonna let anyone hurt you baby."

A small smile falls on your face as your eyes begin to shut, screwing tight as that taut feeling begins to strengthen in your tummy.

"E-Eddie," You wail, trying to not let your voice get too loud, "I-I feel- feel like I'm going to burst," You ramble as the growing feeling rages inside of you, making you restless.

"Good, baby, means you're about to cum," Eddie praises, "Let go of that feeling, cum all over my cock angel, m'close too," Eddie urges, and his words are just about enough to throw you over the edge.

That tightening pressure explodes into a million pieces inside of you, the aftershock rocking your entire body with raging tremors. Small, staccato'd whimpers leave your lips while your limbs shake rapidly as your release spills out around Eddie, resulting in a lewd squelching each time he continues to enter you.

Eddie continues to thrust into you, rocking you through the remaining strains of your orgasm and pushing himself into his own.

Your eyes are wet with tears as they open and your orgasm comes to a close, all that's left is the remaining overstimulation from Eddie's continual thrusting.

Fucked half stupid, eyes almost rolled into the back of your head, you wear a stupid smile on your face while you look up at Eddie,

"Love you so much, Eddie," You begin to ramble, your sloppy, sobbing speech almost incomprehensible, "I love you, Eddie, my Eddie."

"I love you too angel,- mhm- 'boutta cum, sweetheart- fuck," Eddie begins to let go with a few more lazy thrusts, his hips slowing as you feel the warmth of his own cum spill inside your cunt. You're mildly aware of how stupid it was of you to let him do that, to let him fill you up with his seed. But it felt so good, you'd never felt closer to someone than you had when letting him spill himself inside you.

"Can't- can't get pregnant," You blubber mindlessly as Eddie's body collapses on top of yours. His naked skin is hot and sticky with sweat, his now damp hair tickling the underside of your jaw.

Eddie places a kiss against your neck, "Don't worry, angel," He grumbles into the skin, "Y're not gonna get pregnant, we'll go get those pills for the morning after when the pharmacy opens,"

"M'kay," You sniffle, wrapping your arms entirely around Eddie, embracing him entirely as he lays on top of you, "Can you stay with me until then?"

"Of course, angel." He begins to roll over, pulling out of you- the feeling only working to further push out the tears in your eyes. His body lands heavily onto the other side of your mattress, a small thud making your bed frame squeak. Your face grows pale at the noise, and the room falls dead silent for a moment, the pair of you both frozen in fear that you'd made too much noise.

A few moments pass and nothing seems to stir in the house, and Eddie leans his head back on one of your pillows,

"Shit," He mumbles, "Fuck, I'm sorry,"

A hushed giggle escapes your lips as you roll onto your side, cringing as you feel Eddie's release leak from your cunt and down between your thighs. It was endearing, to say the least, that despite Eddie's proposed evil-ness he'd still been cautious of getting you in trouble.

"It's alright," You whisper, staring at Eddie's worn-out face. His hair was unruly, bangs stuck to his sweat-stricken face, his mouth agape, seemingly unable to close. You dragged your eyes down further, marveling at the sight of his bare chest, watching as his collarbones stuck out with each labored breath, broad shoulders rising and falling.

You place a hand on the bed, pushing yourself up as you pull down the sheets, and find your way under them- giving yourself some modesty. Eddie seems to repeat you, shifting himself to wrestle the sheets out from under him and drape them over the top of his bare body.

You feel Eddie grab you, reaching both of his arms out wide, scooping you up, and pulling you towards him. Your head falls against his chest, and both of your bodies, slick with sweat, seem to stick together as they collide.

You'd never had Eddie in your bed before- never actually having let him inside your house, with you having to keep your relationship with Eddie a secret from just about everyone. But it was a wonderful sight, the way his dark, unruly presence contrasted with the soft and quaint nature of your bedroom. You never wanted him to let you go, never wanted to leave that bed with him.

You place a few stray kisses against Eddie's warm chest before letting your head relax against your pillow once more.

"Love you, Eddie- more than anything," You mumble into Eddie's chest. You feel him smack a kiss against the top of your head before speaking,

"I love you too, my angel, more than you will ever, ever know."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #occultist! eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fic #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

[hopethroughscriptureministries]

Embracing the Fruit of the Spirit:

Cultivating Christlike Character

Introduction: Embark on a transformative journey through the fruit of the Spirit as we explore the qualities that reflect the character of Christ. Join us on this enriching exploration of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, and discover how they can shape our lives and relationships.

Scripture Passage: Galatians 5:22-23 (NIV) Cross References: John 15:1-17, Colossians 3:12-17, 2 Peter 1:5-8

Commentary: In Galatians 5, Paul lists the fruit of the Spirit as evidence of a life surrendered to Christ. These qualities—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control—flow from a heart transformed by the Holy Spirit and reflect the character of Christ Himself.

In John 15, Jesus uses the analogy of the vine and branches to illustrate the importance of abiding in Him to bear fruit. He emphasizes the intimate connection between abiding in His love and producing fruit that glorifies the Father.

Colossians 3 calls believers to clothe themselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving as the Lord has forgiven us. These virtues are essential for maintaining unity in the body of Christ.

In 2 Peter 1, believers are encouraged to make every effort to add to their faith goodness, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, mutual affection, and love. These qualities ensure that we will be effective and productive in our knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Broader Context:

Love:

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 - The characteristics of love as described by Paul.

John 13:34-35 - Jesus commands his disciples to love one another as He has loved them.

1 John 4:7-12 - Believers are called to love one another because love comes from God.

Joy:

Psalm 16:11 - In God's presence is fullness of joy.

Nehemiah 8:10 - The joy of the Lord is our strength.

John 15:11 - Jesus desires His joy to be in us, and for our joy to be complete.

Peace:

Isaiah 26:3 - God promises perfect peace to those whose minds are steadfast.

Romans 5:1 - Through faith in Jesus, we have peace with God.

Philippians 4:6-7 - God's peace guards our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Patience:

Ecclesiastes 7:8 - Patience is better than pride.

Romans 12:12 - Believers are called to be patient in affliction.

James 5:7-8 - Be patient and stand firm, for the Lord's coming is near.

Kindness:

Ephesians 4:32 - Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other.

Proverbs 19:22 - What is desired in a man is kindness.

Colossians 3:12 - As God's chosen people, clothe yourselves with kindness.

Goodness:

Psalm 23:6 - Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life.

Romans 12:21 - Overcome evil with good.

Titus 2:14 - Christ gave himself for us to redeem us and purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.

Faithfulness:

1 Corinthians 4:2 - Faithfulness is required of stewards.

2 Timothy 2:13 - God remains faithful even when we are faithless.

Revelation 2:10 - Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you life as your victor's crown.

Gentleness:

Proverbs 15:1 - A gentle answer turns away wrath.

Galatians 6:1 - Restore others gently when they are caught in sin.

1 Peter 3:15 - In your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.

Self-Control:

Proverbs 25:28 - A man without self-control is like a city broken into and left without walls.

1 Corinthians 9:25 - Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.

Titus 2:11-12 - For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age.

Questions:

Which fruit of the Spirit do you find most challenging to cultivate in your life, and why?

In what ways can you abide more deeply in Christ to bear fruit that reflects His character?

How do the fruit of the Spirit impact your relationships with God and others?

What practical steps can you take to nurture the fruit of the Spirit in your daily life?

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gift of the Holy Spirit who produces fruit in our lives that reflects the character of Christ. Help us to cultivate these virtues daily, empowering us to love as you love, to bring joy wherever we go, and to walk in peace amidst life's storms. May our lives bear witness to your transformative power and bring glory to your name. Amen.

#faith #christianity #christian faith #jesus christ #bible #faith in jesus #bible scripture #bible verse #christianlife #christ #biblestudy #bible study #bible quote #holy bible #christian #scripture #daily bible study #daily scripture #daily devotionals #Character #Transformation #ChristianLiving #SpiritualGrowth #Love #Joy #Peace #Patience #Kindness #Goodness #Faithfulness

[unbidden-yidden]

I'm having. An Idea.

Okay so imagine a story that takes the (actual, real, historical) split between Judaism and Xtianity as something of a template and envisions a similar split occurring between Xtianity and some new religion in a way that shows, by analogy, why Xtianity is so surreal and post-apocalyptic from a Jewish perspective.

Jesus is back and he's Some Guy From Albuquerque who has seen an opportunity and seized it. He gains a whole following that is initially labeled as a cult by Xtians and brutally repressed until a desperate world leader adopts the new religion.

Now suddenly it's Everywhere. People are converting from Xtianity to this new religion in droves in order to maintain their lives and lifestyles, and people who try to preach the Good News are laughed at and told that it's Old News - the New Age is here and they are living it already.

Somehow this new religion adds more gods and appropriates the New Testament, relabeling it as the Old Age and their new scripture as the New Age. Xtianity is then portrayed in society as the wishy-washy middle; Jews have still stood by our position that the Moshiach has not yet arrived and this new religion says that their messiah has returned. But the Xtians... well, they somehow managed to recognize the messiah once, but not now - not when it really mattered.

Idk I just think it's an interesting thought experiment.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I think Edelgard could genuinely become a christian (protestant).

The idea of a god who loved humanity so much he would willingly sacrifice himself and die to save humanity I think could potentially hold a lot of appeal for Edelgard, like a light for those darkest moments where she felt truly alone. probably a denomination that emphasizes building a direct relationship with god without need for an intercession especially. the main issue she had with the church of seiros was the lying and perpetuating an unjust system, especially how the teachings emphasized stratification and discrimination of people in society. but the core teachings of jesus, of the king of kings living to serve others (especially those downtrodden and outcast by traditional society), if introduced at the right time, might truly move her.

and I’m ex-christian myself, so this isn’t me trying to justify why my faves are totally going to heaven (she isn’t). I feel like I see fans drawing parallels from three houses to the real world, which definitely exist, but imo garreg mach is much more analogous to religious structures than religious teachings, so who knows how she would feel about our scriptures?

anyways, I can just imagine her singing along to worship songs (“above all” and “still” come to mind) and finding comfort in faith

.

#Christiangard... #fe #fire emblem #fe16 #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe 3 houses #edelgard von hresvelg

[paula-of-christ]

Veiling And Why We Should Stop "Discerning" About It.

Now this is definitely not a "new" idea that I or others have posted about or discussed. However, it is a subject that has been on my mind for quite some time recently as I have joined new Catholic women's facebook groups and traditional circles.

There is this idea of discerning about levels of modesty - specifically about veiling - before doing it. Women come in contact with other women who practice this ancient tradition, and then the reasons for why one does so, becoming enamored with the idea of doing it themselves. But there is a pause in doing so, wondering if it is 'right' simply because they are compelled by other people's experiences with this devotion.

However, and when I started to veil but before I covered daily I was definitely guilty of this, women then try to ask God whether or not they should do it. And when no amount of discernment or prayer yield a direct answer, they turn to other women to ask if they think the individual should practice this devotion. (I am tempted to go on a tangent about discernment in general here, but will save that for another post.)

Imagine for a moment of a young man discerning whether to buy a certain car. He has thought and prayed about it, gone to adoration, prayed with relevant scripture, read other men's reasons for buying the car, he can afford the car. He feels compelled to buy the car for these reasons, the exposure he has had to it intellectually, but will not make the leap towards going to a dealership and actually buying the car. He has made all of the relevant steps towards buying it, except for actually doing so, and only because he is not sure if it is "God's Will" since he has not heard a clear sign of whether or not to buy a car.

We can take this to a more similar analogy by replacing buying the car with some other spiritual practice, such as praying a certain prayer daily, attending daily Mass, how frequently to attend the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and the like. It becomes a little absurd even with other spiritual things. How is one supposed to know what devotions to follow in one's own life, when the Magisterium has dictated that individual devotions are up to one's own senses and conscience?

Simply put, by trying to do them. Obviously you would not try all of them at once, but you won't know if you like doing a devotion until you try to do it. There is no intellectual discernment for a devotion, unless it will impact your life in a significant way (such as fasting on a certain day of the week, which would require forethought and planning around in some cases).

If, of course, the worry is from a sense of judgement from others, rather than a spiritual pull away from a certain devotion, you must ask yourself why you would be afraid of living out a devotion to Christ? Wearing a headcovering is akin to wearing other religious gear, if you do not need to discern wearing a shirt with a cross on it, then why discern whether to cover your head? The assumption being that you bought the shirt in order to wear to show as an outward sign of your faith. Similarly, a headcovering does the same, as it provides an outward sign of faith and depending on type or location, modesty as well.

I will note, veiling for Mass being different than daily modesty headcovering. While one is much more for the respect owed to the Eucharist, the other is a level of modesty. There is some level of necessary discernment with the latter, as the Christian faith has no Magisterial or Ritual rules for the headcovering of women that does not originate from the Old Testament, of which we are no longer bound due to the fulfillment of. But this discernment is not whether or not one should participate in the tradition, but what that looks like in an individuals life, since you mostly have to make your own "rules" for it.

Still, the connotation of discernment in the religious sense is necessarily to be reserved for the discernment of serious matters such as vocations.

My final thought on this is that veiling is not that serious. It does not require weeks or months of thinking about and discerning, as to start or stop veiling, will not remove or add grace to you. It is fundamentally a practice. It was made popular by wide-spread piety (or in many cases "piety"), and was cultural rather than spiritual. It is only very recently in the 19th and 20th centuries that we see the removal of regular headcoverings for women, a drop in the bucket of human civilization, and Christian history as well. If you see someone's position on veiling and so then feel compelled to do so yourself, just do it. You don't have to get anything special, especially if you have fashion scarves from the late 00's or early 2010's. If, on the off chance you get questioned, just answer honestly that you're trying it out to see if you like it. If you don't, just don't do it again. It will not harm your relationship with God to not do so, because likely you feel compelled to do so, because you already have a rightly ordered relationship with Him.

#queue me up (queue me up inside) can't queue up (queue me up inside) queue meeeee #catholic #catholicism #christian #christianity #traditional catholic #traditional catholicism #tradcat #tradcatholic #headcovering #christian headcovering #veiling

[deramin2]

Having so many feelings about how Aziraphale and Crowley working together trying to use the absolute least of their power instead performed a gigantic miracle that totally overpowered the counter forces of heaven and hell.

Which is why heaven was so keen on manipulating Aziraphale to separate them by preying on his most obvious insecurity.

And how this is such a good metaphor for what queer people can accomplish when we stand together and fight. But it takes being ready to abandon the old paradigms of allocisheternormative construction of good behavior and bad behavior as outlined in old (and often deliberately misconstrued) scriptures. That a system of power that continually seeks destruction isn't gods because it says it's good. But it takes a lot of undoing old programming to resist it.

Crowley is analogous to a kid kicked out of his home as a teenager for being queer and even if he found a way to support himself, he's only ever found emotional support in Aziraphale. He knows everyone's toxic and using him and he doesn't ever want to go back to that.

Whereas Aziraphale is someone who's fully bought into a system of faith and puts his identity into being good. He thinks the broken system can be fixed and repeatedly being rejected by it is just a big misunderstanding. He's terrified of the rejection and he's terrified of giving up. In many ways Aziraphale represents a middle age gay man who's still in the closet to himself but literally ever other person on earth is fully aware he's gay. At no point in his entire existence has he passed, he's just not ready to admit who he is contradicts the moral system he worships.

Which is why every time Crowley's suggested they run off together Aziraphale says he can't, Crowley gets frustrated, they break up, and get together again not long after when Crowley drops it. They've done this every couple hundred years for thousands of years which is why I'm not worried about the end of season 2. This is just another iteration in the cycle. They broke up like two times in season 1. Crowley goes too fast for him, even though it's been 6,000 years.

But I think it's only a matter of time before Aziraphale recognizes heaven will never be on his side, but Crowley will. And they're so powerful together they don't need any other side.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #go s2 spoilers #Aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable husbands

[gayleviticus]

mythology/religious scripture characters who are narratively important but never had any kind of irl devotion/cult are analogous to bionicle characters who never had toys but just appeared in the comics and movies, in this essay i will

[momentsbeforemass]

First things

The worst way to read the Bible? Out of context.

Pick a random verse, maybe even just part of a verse. Then try to figure it out without any reference to the story or saying that it’s a part of. And don’t even think about the big picture of Jesus’ teachings or Scripture as a whole.

Reading the Bible that way is like taking someone who’s never seen corn on the cob, much less corn growing in a field. Handing them a single kernel of corn. And then asking them to describe the plant that it came from.

The odds of them getting anywhere close to actual corn (corn silk?) are about the same as winning the lottery.

It’s the same thing with Bible verses out of context. Only the odds are even worse.

In today’s Gospel, Peter gets whiny with Jesus. Again. “We have given up everything and followed you.”

Jesus doesn’t deny it. Instead, Jesus doubles down,

“There is no one among you who has given up house or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the Gospel who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age,…and eternal life in the age to come.”

Does that mean that we’re supposed to give up everyone and everything? Is that the standard? Because if it is, my life does not measure up.

Writing around 200, Clement of Alexandria has the answer. And it starts with context, with how this passage fits into the rest of Jesus’ teachings,

“Do not let this passage trouble you. Put it side by side with the still harder saying Jesus delivered in another place in the words, ‘Whoever hates not his father, and mother, and children, and his own life besides, cannot be my disciple.’

Note that the God of peace, who exhorts us to love our enemies, does not arbitrarily require us to hate or abandon those dearest to us. But if we are to love our enemies, it must be in accordance with reason that, by analogy, we should also love our nearest relatives.

But insofar as one’s father, or son, or brother, becomes for you a hinderance to faith or an impediment to godly life, one should not collude with that temptation. Attend to the spiritual meaning.”   

This is why I love the early Church writers. They struggled with the same things that you and I do, especially when it comes to how to live the Faith. As they saw it, the only way to do that was to first understand Scripture as a total package.

So what is the spiritual meaning?

It’s all about first things, about priorities. Because what you focus on, what you put first, determines everything else that follows.

If things are getting between you and God, you may not need to step away from them. But your relationship with them needs to change.

If those closest to you are getting between you and God, you may not need to step away from them. But your relationship with them needs to change.

Although they won’t lead you to God, God will lead you to a healthy relationship with them. If you let Him.

As C.S. Lewis puts it, “Aim at Heaven and you will get earth ‘thrown in,’ aim at earth and you will get neither.”  

Today’s Readings

#First Things #Focus #God #Jesus #Catholic #Christian #Church #Priorities #Clement of Alexandria #C.S. Lewis #Context #Out of Context #Bible Verse #Relationship #Relationship with God #Moments before Mass

[gothicprep]

this is something i've complained about before, and probably will again, but because i see this so often, here we go again lol. i promise i'm not just rehashing the same thing i've already said. but i can't stand when people say "wokeness is like a religion." or that maga is "like a religion". i feel like it's observing something relatively banal but framing it in a way that somehow makes it wrong.

i guess i'll just run with the religion example to stress test it for a moment by dialing it up to 11. when we think of fundamentalism in religion, we tend to think of it in a way that means hyper-literal interpretation of scripture and fidelity to that. and the religion analogy takes that definition for granted, with religious texts being swapped out for specific platitudes and styles of argumentation. but this doesn't apply to all religious extremism. west bank settlers, for example, are religious extremists, but there's about as much in jewish scripture about what they're doing as there is "kill john lennon" in the catcher in the rye. same with buddhists in myanmar – there's nothing in buddhist teaching that could possibly be misconstrued as being violent towards muslims, but that doesn't stop buddhist leaders from winking and nudging towards that. neither of these things are anything to do with the core theological grounds of their respective religions. what they're fundamental *about* is being jewish or being buddhist.

so, following from that, it's not really religion that we're talking about after a certain point. it's intense tribalism and group dynamics. it's fierce in-group mentality. we attach this to religion because religion is very good at creating these sorts of group structures, but this isn't something native to religion itself. and it isn't coincidental that a lot of things that get hit with this religion comparison are group structures, whether it be the literal emphasis on community that's in social justice focused left spaces, or the "us v them" stuff in maga. any strong cultural identity comes with the risk of its abuse. it's kind of the nature of the beast.

i don't know lol. seems to me like you're making a weird leap when you compare something to a religion without immediately arriving at what i think is an obvious follow-up question: if something can behave like a religion with the supernatural elements of it removed, then why are religions themselves like that?