The enemy’s formidable weapon against men are enchanting women to entice you into adultery. According to Ephesians 6:10-18, demons are behind these women, they not being aware are being used to cause Jesus’ followers to sin against Him.
We men must keep our eyes pure because that is the entry way into our souls. This is Satan’s primary attack for entrance. How do we protect our eyes from letting darkness creep in?
Don’t watch anything that has women wearing almost nothing as to entice your minds.
Don’t read anything in WordPress that’s sexual in nature because your mind have eyes as well and will convert the sexual words into images.
Don’t look at porn magazines which is a landmine, throw it away immediately.
Most Christians have a difficult time distinguishing their spirit from their intellect. Your conscience is the voice of your spirit. The Holy Spirit is more closely associated with your conscience than your intellect. As you pray in tongues, you are praying from the channel of your conscience through which the Holy Spirit speaks.
Our problem is that we are more accustomed to looking for God’s voice in our intellect. Our intellect is generally an unsafe guide because it is usually clouded with a mixture of the world’s thinking, where much of our decision-making is based on our best interests. Most Christians have a difficult time hearing from God, because their soul which comprises much of their intellect, is clouded with self, mingled with the world and yet has some Word in it.
I didn’t find any public reference to Bernstein’s religion, so it is possible he is Jewish. That said, if he is Jewish, he sure sounds like a Fundamentalist Christian.
Some things are so shameful you hate to comment on them because doing so calls attention to them, and thus the shame multiplies.
A pair of bull-dykes protested our pro-life march at the county courthouse last Sunday afternoon and it was exceedingly hard even to look at them. The stomach churned, the face blushed, and eyes were averted as the crowd of fathers, mothers, children, and babes-in-arms walked by them as these women spewed blasphemies and obscenities.
This is our reaction to the bimbos, dykes, and hussies who marched in pink last week and shrieked on cue for their media pimps. We avoid the news. We turn away from the ugly. We cover our ears. To say these females are shameful doesn’t begin to…touch it. They trample the commons and no one tells them to shut their mouths and go home.
So what should the nation’s men do? Or rather, how should Christian men respond?
Thinking about it, at first I fell into my old habit of wishing Christian women would rebuke them. If there’s public dirty work to be done today, women can get away with it a lot easier than men can.
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When women need to be told to be quiet and sit down—when women are flagrant in their trashing of God’s Creation Order of sexuality—what man wants to assert the privileges of his sex? What man wants to remind women that the “weaker” sex is commanded by God to have a “gentle and quiet spirit” (1Peter 3:1-7)?
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The Christian men of our nation owe our wives and children the public rebuke of female immodesty, whether it’s the nakedness of the internet, the obscenity spewing bull-dykes on our courthouse square, or the shrieking shrews on our National Mall.
To my family and congregation, I try to explain it this way. Imagine standing in line at Sam’s Club and having a man who is stark naked come up and stand in line behind you and your family. Would you simply avert your eyes?
No, of course not. You would call the manager and demand the man be removed from the store so your children didn’t have to submit to his sexual assault.
So then, what if it was a pair of bull-dykes who took their place in line behind you? Would you call the manager? Would you demand they be arrested?
Surely you recognize their sexual assault is every bit as serious and shameful as a naked man, right? So why do you leave their trashing of the commons without rebuke? Why do you allow them to assault the modesty and innocence of your wife and children without the slightest protest?
The reason we allow these obscenities without rebuking them is two-fold.
First, we don’t realize public nakedness and public repudiation of one’s sexuality are equally scandalous and shameful. It is God who commands man not to wear woman’s clothing and woman not to wear man’s:
A woman shall not wear man’s clothing, nor shall a man put on a woman’s clothing; for whoever does these things is an abomination to the LORD your God. (Deuteronomy 22:5)
Like nakedness, women playing the man and men playing the woman are sins against the Seventh Commandment, “thou shalt not commit adultery.” Calvin comments:
This decree [Deut. 22:5] also commends modesty in general, and in it God anticipates the danger, lest women should harden themselves into forgetfulness of modesty, or men should degenerate into effeminacy unworthy of their nature. Garments are not in themselves of so much importance; but as it is disgraceful for men to become effeminate, and also for women to affect manliness in their dress and gestures, propriety and modesty are prescribed, not only for decency’s sake, but lest one kind of liberty should at length lead to something worse. The words of the heathen poet (Juvenal) are very true: “What shame can she, who wears a helmet, show, Her sex deserting?”
Bull-dykes and flaming gays trampling the grass of the commons should be rebuked whether that commons is the National Mall, the courthouse square, or Sam’s Club.
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding” (Prov. 9:10).
My oldest granddaughter, Ruth Bell, just turned 15. She is spectacularly beautiful, with a sweet, strong spirit. One of the birthday traditions in our family is that each of us gives the one who is being celebrated a Bible verse.
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My selection of the verse I felt led to choose for Bell this year was affected by what I saw on news reports the day after the Inauguration of the 45th president of the United States.
Various news outlets played video and audio reports of hundreds of thousands of women all over the world marching in protest of President Trump. It was an incredible sight to see women flooding the streets, not only in Washington, but also in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, London and dozens of other major cities. They were peaceful, vulgar, at times obscene—marching for what? They claimed to represent all women, yet a common denominator seemed missing, unless it was fear of President Trump and the possibility that he may interfere with their right to easily accessible abortion for anyone and everyone, at any time and for any reason.
When I opened my Bible the morning following the march of women, this is what I read in my previously scheduled devotions for the day: Proverbs 9:13-15, 18 (NIV): “The woman Folly is loud; she is undisciplined and without knowledge. She sits at the door of her house, [wives, mothers, soccer moms] on a seat at the highest point of the city [in the workplace, in leadership positions], calling out to those who pass by … But little do they know … that her guests are in the depths of the grave.”
My heart aches for many of the women I saw marching, women who have joined a “movement” that is deceptive and in the end, will be destructive and lead them to a spiritual and moral “grave” (see 2 Tim. 3:6-9). I pray earnestly for them to turn to the one, true, living God, who is the only One who can give them the deep, permanent peace, love, hope, and security we all long for.
With these sights and sounds still fresh on my mind, the verse I have chosen for our beloved Bell is one I share with you, too: “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (Prov. 31:30)…
First, there won’t be nearly as many news cameras.
Second, there won’t be any vagina costumes or vagina signs or vagina hats. There won’t be any reproductive organs on display at all, except perhaps by the counter protesters. The participants will be putting their message — not their genitals — forward.
Third, the speakers won’t be going on any vulgar or profane tirades. The march will be family friendly.
Fourth, there won’t be any discussion of blowing up the White House.
Fifth, the marchers will not be demanding any special entitlements. They will not be looking for free birth control, or free tampons, or free anything. They will not be making any personal demands, because this march is not about them. The people who make their voices heard today do so not for their own sake. They do so for the sake of those who cannot speak for themselves.
The march participants stand to gain nothing from this. Their motivations cannot be selfish because their demands are not self-serving. Every single person — hundreds of thousands of them — will be marching in the place of someone else. The march last week, and so many others of its type, have been made up mostly of people saying, “Do such and such for me. Give me something. Help me. Me. Me. Me.” But the March For Life is different. The March For Life says, “Do this for them. Give them a chance. Give them their rights. Help them. Them. Them. Them.”
And the “them,” of course, are pre-born children. Whereas the people at the so-called Women’s March said, “Forget them, let them die,” we at the March For Life say, “Remember them, let them live.” These are the two competing points of view. Here is the great dividing line in our culture. The question is asked and must be answered: “Should these children be given a chance to live or not?” How you answer that question will determine on which side of the line you belong.
Our culture has answered with a cruel and callous “no” for the past 40 years. The so-called Women’s March echoed that answer. The feminist movement, liberalism, the media, the Democratic Party, academia — all of these powerful forces join together in shouting “no.” No, give them no chance. Give them nothing. Take everything from them. Take their dignity. Take their rights. Take their lives. And when they are dead, take some more. Take their limbs, their livers, their brains, their hearts, carve them up and make use of the pieces. Take it all. They are nothing to us. They are insects. They are lower than insects because we would sooner acknowledge the life of an insect than the life of this “clump of cells.” They are dirt. Let them die, then. Pick apart their carcasses and throw the rest in the dumpster. This is the answer the pro-aborts shout proudly from the rooftops.
Well, today in Washington DC a great many people will gather to deliver a different answer.
— Matt Walsh, The Matt Walsh Blog, Today is the Real Women’s — and Men’s — March, January 27, 2017
Flee fornication. Every sin that a man doeth is without the body; but he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body.” 1 Corinthians 6:18
Fornication is defined as a man and a woman sleeping together before marriage. This sin is condemned throughout the Bible, especially in the New Testament. We are all sinners, but not all sin is equal. The Bible teaches that fornication is so serious that it can get you thrown out of the church.
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If you are saved and sleeping with someone you aren’t married to, you need to repent of that sin. If you are living together, and you’re not married, then you are living in sin. If you plan to keep coming to church, your options are to get married or stop living together.
The Bible teaches that we should only have physical relations within marriage, so if you aren’t married yet, you need to deny that ungodly lust and wait until you get married to enjoy the benefits of marriage. If you aren’t ready to marry the person you are dating, then you shouldn’t be sleeping together. Have some self-control and respect for your body!
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People who commit fornication for the first time often do not end up marrying that person but go on to be with person after person. Our bodies were not designed to exchange bacteria with hundreds of different people. In fact, there are infections people can get that are not considered STDs per say but are virtually unheard of in people who got married as virgins and have had only one partner. I realize that people die and their spouse can remarry, but sleeping with more than a few people in your lifetime is very unhealthy. In fact, the Bible calls it filthy.
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So many women today are in relationships where they would like to get married, but the guy won’t marry them. These jerks need to do the right thing, but the women are also to blame. Unfortunately, the old adage still holds true: Why buy the cow if you can get the milk free?
— Steven Anderson, Faithful Word Baptist Church, Flee Fornication, January 16, 2017
Note
All of us, virtually every moment of every day, exchange bacteria, viruses, dead skin, feces, urine, dirt, buggers…..shall I go on?….with hundreds of different people. The very act of breathing exposes us to countless bacteria and viruses. I wonder if Anderson is aware of the fact that he has likely been exposed to “atheist” bacteria, even without having carnal relations with atheists.
I don’t believe that there are any true atheists – men who are born without any awareness of the existence of God and who involuntarily sustain that absence of awareness of God throughout their lives. There are only pretenders who, for moral rather than intellectual reasons, profess to be atheists; usually they have the intellect and the vocabulary to verbalise [sic] and record their positions better than most people are able to. It is for this reason than many noted philosophers have professed atheism.
Lesser men, like Mark Wignall, who profess to be atheists, come off looking silly, for we can readily see through their pretence.
In the case of Mark Wignall, his profession of atheism on the pages of this newspaper is a pathetic attempt to serve nonsense on a platter of mawkishness. I will spend no time on his last effort. I will only say this – he should stick to what he does best: ferreting out the machinations of the two political parties and displaying his schoolboy fascination with sex.
The confession of many who profess atheism goes something like this: ‘I once believed there was a God. I went to church as a child, then later something happened, some injustice – to me or in the world – and I asked how could a good God let this happen? And so I no longer believe in the existence of God.’ This confession indicates the existence of God, for those who confess that they once believed in the existence of God, but no longer do so, admit the existence of God.
If there is no God, how at one time did they believe he existed? To say I once believed God exists but no longer do so, says nothing about God, but says something about me.
Where did professing atheists, like all other men, get the knowledge that there was a God whose existence they later came to deny? From God himself who created every man with a knowledge of his existence, however nebulous or precise that knowledge is.
GOD EXISTS
Romans 1 at verse 19: “Because what may be known of God is manifest in them, for God has shown it to them.” And verse 20: “For since the creation of the world, His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse.” This says that imprinted on man’s consciousness and displayed in the created order is the evidence of the existence of God.
This is why the above verse say men are without excuse. It is this knowledge which men, for one reason or another, seek to suppress and deny by claiming that God doesn’t exist. They do so usually because they can’t reconcile the innate knowledge of a just, holy and righteous God with Him allegedly doing certain things or permitting certain things to happen. It even goes beyond that. They made God in their image and what they see contradict that image.
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It’s the same with men today who profess that there is no God – they are fighting against what they know in their heart to be true.
It was ten after four as I pulled into the Bryan High School parking lot. I arrived thirty minutes before game time so I could make sure that I had a first-row seat for the night’s slate of basketball games between the Swanton Bulldogs and the Bryan Golden Bears. Bethany, my daughter with Down Syndrome, was with me. Armed with pens and spiral notebooks, she spent the night drawing pictures and entertaining those who sat nearby.
I brought my camera equipment with me. I ALWAYS bring my cameras, feeling naked on those rare occasions when I leave them at home. I love watching high school basketball games. I am reminded of a time long ago — forty years ago now — when a young redhead boy sprinted up and down the court, hoping his meager effort would lead to a team victory. Never a great player, I still love the machinations of the game. Tonight’s varsity match was a blowout until late in the fourth quarter when Swanton mounted a comeback. A flurry of shots fell through the net, trimming Bryan’s lead to eight. I wondered, would Swanton find a way to snatch victory out of jaws of defeat? Alas, it was not to be. Swanton lost all three games — ninth grade, junior varsity, and varsity. My cousin’s son plays on Swanton’s ninth grade team. He, statistically, had a great game, but his fellow teammates did not.
I knew that tonight was going to be difficult me. It was Veteran’s Night — an opportunity for locals to recognize and applaud veterans for their service. Surrounding me were fans wearing Trump tee shirts and hats, along with hundreds of people wearing flag apparel. These are the same people who would be outraged if I burnt a flag, demanding my arrest for violating the “flag code.” Lost on them are their own violations of the code with their Trumpesque accoutrements.
The public address announcer let the crowd know that the pregame events would begin with the Bryan band playing God Bless America. Everyone stood to their feet as the band began to play America’s second national anthem. Those near me put hands over their hearts, and several of them lustfully sang the words made infamous by the terrorist attacks on 9-11.
I did not stand, silently voicing my disapproval of the insertion of Christianity into a secular public high school event. It is not easy for me to do so. I can feel the stares, and in the past I have had people rebuke me for not giving Jesus his due. I remind those who dare to challenge me that I am an atheist and a secularist. Why should I give reverence to a mythical deity or show my support for those who care little for the separation of church and state.
Once the Christian Tabernacle Choir® finished with their hymn of praise and worship to America’s God, it was time to move on to the patriotic portion of the pregame events. The announcer asked all the veterans in attendance to stand while the rest of us stayed seated. Dozens of veterans stood as people cheered and young millennials ran to them, giving them high fives and thanking them for their service. I did not clap, hoping that since we were seated no one would notice my lack of applause. Alas, I was quickly outed as the crowd rose to its feet, applauding and cheering those who were lucky enough not to return home in a body bag. Their raucous applause went on for several minutes.
I was the only person not standing. Across the way stood my uncle, a veteran of the Vietnam War. I am sure my refusal to participate in the night’s glorification of American militarism offended him. However, he knows that my refusal to do so is a matter of principle for me. I resolutely stand in opposition American imperialism and militarism. My refusal to stand is me saying that I oppose America’s continued involvement in violent, unwinnable wars in the Middle East. Without soldiers, politicians would not be able to stuff American exceptionalism down the throats of the world. Most of all I refuse to stand because I don’t want one more drop of blood shed in my name. I don’t want American men and women dying just so I can have the “freedom” to watch basketball games. I will gladly not watch another sporting event if it means no more violence, carnage, and bloodshed. How dare we cheapen military deaths with empty words about freedom and the American way of life. Enough! I say, to the endless violence and destruction.
After the veterans were seated, it was time for the playing of the National Anthem. As is my custom, I stood, removed my hat, and held it over my heart with my right hand. As the band played, I turned my gaze to the flag and quietly sang the Anthem. A tear trickled down my cheek as I pondered what has become of the United States of America, the land of the free and home of the brave.
Bruce, I would be curious to hear how your old church handled this issue. It really seems to be a bedrock sticky wicket that says more about the pastor of the church than anything else. I am going to a Methodist church now where they will pay your electric bill or give you a grocery store gift card but will not hand over cash. Seems sort of mean even if it’s likely a better idea.
I grew up in a home where money was hard to come by. Dad always had a job, but never seemed to have enough money to pay the bills. This is why, as a youth, Dad moved us from town to town and school to school. When people learn about my well-traveled upbringing, they often ask, did you move a lot because of your father’s work?No, we moved a lot because Dad didn’t pay the rent (my parents never owned a home). Clothing, lunch money, and spending money were hard to come by, and when Dad did buy me clothes, they were often cheap Rink’s Bargain City (Bargain Shitty) knock-offs. My first pair of Levi’s came not from my Dad, but courtesy of a five-fingered discount at a local clothing store. This would not be the last time I shoplifted.
Medical and dental care were almost nonexistent. I can count on one hand the times I went to the doctor growing up. It was only after my parents divorced and Mom signed up for Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC) and Medicaid that I received regular medical and dental care. To this day, I remember going to the dentist as a sixteen-year-old boy, only to be told, yes, your teeth need work. And once your Dad pays his bill, I will be glad to fix them. Talk about embarrassing.
Early on, I realized that if I wanted money of my own that I was going to have to work for it. My first jobs were raking leaves, shoveling snow, and mowing yards. My first “official” job — at age fourteen — was daily emptying the trash at a local nursing home. As a teenager, I worked all sorts of minimum wage jobs. Once I had my own money, I was then able to buy my own clothes, pay for school lunches, and fund my social activities.
I have said all this to emphasize that growing up poor deeply affected how I dealt with people as a pastor. Having suffered the embarrassment of using food stamps and the indignity of being forced to wear welfare glasses (see photograph above), I knew firsthand the struggles of the poor. These experiences made me compassionate to those whom the Bible calls “the least of these.”
In what follows, I will detail how I interacted with the poor in the churches I pastored; what ministries I started that specifically ministered to the disadvantaged and marginalized. During the twenty-five years I spent in the pastorate, I had the privilege of ministering to countless people who were down on their luck. Yes, I met more than a few con-artists, grifters, and lazier-than-a-coon-dog-on-a-cold-winter’s-night users and abusers. I am sure that my kindness was taken advantage of. I took the approach that my job was to help; it was God’s job to sort out motives. Now, this doesn’t mean that I was an easy mark. I wasn’t. I rarely gave money to people, knowing that doing so often fed drug or alcohol addictions. If someone needed gas I took them to the gas station and paid for the gas. When homeless people asked for money, I offered them a meal at a nearby diner. When people needed help with their utilities, I directly contacted the utility and paid the bill. Of course, I couldn’t have done any of these things without the gracious financial support of church members.
Over the years, the churches I pastored had food pantries and clothing rooms that were open to the public. Having suffered the indignity of being singled out for being poor, I made sure that we never embarrassed the poor. If someone said they needed help, we helped them (within the limits of our finances). While I certainly wanted to see people saved, I never made helping poor people contingent on them attending church. I took the approach, freely received, freely given. Unlike many holier-than-thou, self-righteous Baptist preachers, I never had a problem encouraging people to avail themselves of services and benefits offered by the state welfare department and federal food banks.
For eleven years, I pastored a Baptist church in Perry County, Ohio — the northernmost county in the Appalachian region. It was there I saw abject and generational poverty. Good jobs were hard to come by, and once the coal mines closed, those who had well-paying mining jobs were forced to work jobs that often paid minimum wage. The unemployment rate was double-digit, ranging from ten to nineteen percent. As is now the case, the number of unemployed was much higher than the official numbers suggested. Once unemployed workers stopped receiving unemployment benefits, they were no longer counted. These unemployed workers turned to the welfare department for help, trying to eke out an existence on meager government checks and food stamps. Some worked jobs that paid cash or turned to growing marijuana.
The majority of church members were on some sort of government assistance — usually food stamps and Medicaid. Most church families had at least one member gainfully employed. The highest paid man in the church made $21,000 a year (except for a year or so when a nearby church had a split and a number of their middle-class members attended the church — they later left, taking their money with them). Annual church offerings peaked at $40,000 a year, when attendance averages neared 200. Most years, the total offerings were in the $20,000 range. My largest annual salary during this time was $12,000. Five of our six children’s births were paid for by Medicaid, and for several years we received food stamps. Now, this doesn’t mean we didn’t try to improve our lot — we did. I pumped gas and worked as a mechanic at a local gas station, sold insurance, worked in restaurants, and delivered newspapers. I believed then, and still do, that there is no shame in being poor. Work hard, do what you can, and live on the results. (In retrospect, I certainly would have done many things differently, but I, to this day, believe all work is honorable and has value, regardless of its pay.)
During my eleven-year stint as pastor of Somerset Baptist Church, I spent a significant amount of time helping the poor, both in the community at large and in the church. When a man said he would come to church if only he had shoes, I gave him a pair of mine. When members needed money, I loaned it to them or paid their bills. I sold cars to several church members, no money down, pay me when you can. One church member took advantage of my generosity, buying a car from me and never paying for it. This person sat on the front row on Sundays. I often found it hard to look at him without thinking, hey deadbeat, pay me for the car. But then I would think of Jesus and the Sermon of the Mount or remember my own poverty-filled upbringing. I knew this person’s family history — how he grew up in abject poverty, dropping out of high school and becoming a drug addict. I knew he had spent time in jail and hadn’t had a driver’s license in years. (I helped him get his license reinstated.) As Jesus did for the poor of his day, I had compassion for him, even if he, at times, irritated the heaven out of me. (He was, despite these failings, one of the kindest, most helpful men I have ever known. If I needed help with something, I knew I could call on him.)
For several years, Polly and I took in foster children, mostly court-referred teenagers. The county paid us a stipend for giving these teens a home. I have plenty of stories I could share about our foster children, but I will just share one for now. We had two teen boys living with us who decided that they wanted a bit of freedom. They stole our car (a dealer loaner, as our car was in the shop having a new motor installed), checkbook, and credit card, and took a joy ride to New Jersey. They ran a red light in Jersey and were pulled over by the police. After finding out there was a warrant out for their arrest, they were arrested and returned to Ohio for prosecution. Prior to their court appearance for felony theft, the judge called me and asked me to come to his office for a visit. He asked me what punishment I thought he should mete out to these boys. I told him that I felt that they should be punished, but that I didn’t want to see them go to prison. He (we) decided that he would give them the maximum sentence at a youth detention center, but release them after thirty days. Needless to say, they learned their lesson. One of the boys lived with us again. We forgave him, believing that this is what Jesus would have us do. More than a few people thought we were crazy (and maybe we were).
From giving homeless people a place to stay at the church to feeding the homeless men who frequented the streets of Zanesville, Polly and I, along with the church, tried our best to minister to those in need. As a pastor, I had many shortcomings and faults. I deeply regret my Fundamentalist Baptist preaching and its emphasis on sin instead of grace. I wish I could have seen the disconnect between my hellfire and brimstone preaching on Sundays and my compassionate, patient help of the poor the rest of the week. If I had been the bleeding-heart liberal that I am today back in my Perry County days, I suspect the church would have been known above all else as a place of love and safety for the disenfranchised. I could easily have been a Steven Anderson (please see Christians Say the Darnedest Things: Lazy Bums Want Us to Act Like Compassionate Christians by Steven Anderson), propping up hate of the poor with Bible verses, but fortunately my life experiences softened my heart, and as Jesus did, when he looked at the poor I had compassion on them.
Several years ago, after finding out that I had helped someone with a particular need, my mother-in-law told me, Bruce, why you’d give the last shirt off your back if someone needed it. (Polly grew up in a middle-class home — new cars, vacations, home ownership.) She then said — perhaps thinking of what the Bible said about helping others — well, I guess that is not a bad problem to have. In retrospect, I can see how some of my liberal giving caused her to be concerned. Here we were barely keeping our heads above water and I was giving money, food, clothing, and other things to the poor. If I had to do it all over again, I would have certainly provided a better life for Polly and our children, but I would never have wanted to lose my compassion for others, especially those at the bottom of the economic scale. While my children did without while Dad was sacrificially helping others (and if they hated me for doing so I would understand), all of them — especially the oldest three — have told me that these experiences helped to make them into the hardworking people they are today (Our family has what we call the Gerencser Work Ethic®: work hard, do your job, don’t miss work; be the best employee you can be.)
As I re-read this post, I am uncomfortable with its personal focus. I am not the type of person who, after helping someone, publicizes my largess. Works of charity ought to be done in secret — without fanfare or applause. No need to let everyone on social media know that I did this or that for someone. The good feeling I receive from helping others is enough. Paying it forward is a good way to live, and even if there is no karmic justice, I want to be known as a man who loved and cared for others.
First, there won’t be nearly as many news cameras.
Flee fornication. Every sin that a man doeth is without the body; but he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body.” 1 Corinthians 6:18
I don’t believe that there are any true atheists – men who are born without any awareness of the existence of God and who involuntarily sustain that absence of awareness of God throughout their lives. There are only pretenders who, for moral rather than intellectual reasons, profess to be atheists; usually they have the intellect and the vocabulary to verbalise [sic] and record their positions better than most people are able to. It is for this reason than many noted philosophers have professed atheism.
