I get the distinct feeling that a lot of Christians wouldn’t care much for Jesus if they were to actually meet him.
I am embarrassed to be a member of the United Methodist Church this week. But my intent is to change that, one way or another.
Who's a boy? Who's a boy? You are. →
Good works are the fruit that bear the indication God has sown the seeds of grace. Do not mistake them for goodness itself, dog. Would a dog who has experienced unconditional election bark at my stairs for no reason for thirty minutes? There was nothing on the stairs. Why, then, did you bark? Were you fulfilling the commandment found in Lamentations 2:19, “Arise, cry out in the night: in the beginning of the watches pour out thine heart like water before the face of the Lord”? Because I do not believe that injunction applies to my stairs.
We don't remember the farmer, we remember the fruit
The whole thing's great, but the money shot's at the end:
A hip hop act that name-checks Bubastis and Aslan and Ramsay Bolton. A band that's named for a semi-obscure joke from "Avatar: The Last Airbender". Yet manages to be not remotely about nerd service and stays true to its roots.
Not to mention they have some badass grooves. And recognize warp drive technology as a valid counterargument to nihilism.
Damn near every time kids or marginalized people get murdered and the usual "thoughts and prayers" do-nothing calliope starts its familiar tooting and wheezing, I recite the last verse of this song in my head as an antidote. Damn near every time.
Whether or not there is a voice willing to speak for us, it's a good thing we know how to yell.
I keep coming back to these guys. It's all worth a listen.