Released!

Praise the Lord! Rhanja Masih, a Christian in Pakistan sentenced to life in prison for false charges of crimes against Islam has been released! Pray for his continued safety.

Quotation

Where there is no cross, there is no crown. This lesson cannot be learned from books, and men do not usually taste this sweetness. This rich life does not exist in a comfortable environment. If the spices are not refined to become oil, the fragrance of the perfume cannot flow forth; and if the grapes are not crushed in the vat, they will not become wine.
FROM A CHINESE CHRISTIAN

Quoted from here

The Message: The core of our Faith

Recently I have been leading a Bible study for young men. Right now we are going through the book of first John. It’s a wonderful book that really opens my eyes to the basics of our faith. I thought it would be good to start off with the elements of Christianity, and though there are many passages in Scripture that give the gospel, I think 1 John chapter one offers the message with striking clarity and feeling. Reading the chapter after meditating upon it, I feel as if John is talking right to us. There isn’t the feeling of an age gap. His message is relevant for every one of us even today.

John starts off the book by saying that he has heard, seen and touched "concerning the Word of Life" (Jesus). In other words, he is an eyewitness to the Messenger of Life. He sailed across the sea with Him, saw Him walk on the water, calm storms, cast out demons, heal the sick, and most importantly – he heard His message of Life for the world. John had authority because he was an eyewitness.

Then John tells us why he is going to relay the message that the Messenger brought. First, so that you can have fellowship with the body of Christ, Jesus and the Father, and then secondly so that our joy could be absolutely full.

After all of these preliminaries, John suddenly splurges out the message in verse 5, "This is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you…" I can just imagine the elders reading this letter aloud to their congregations. The reader pauses for a second as all ears focus and strain to catch the end of the sentence. "God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all."
One has to wonder upon reading these words why John uses the imagery of light and darkness. Why doesn’t he just come right out and say that God is holy, or God is just or God is perfect? Well, the word light encapsulates all of these adjectives! Light symbolizes perfection, holiness, glory, justice etc. Conversely darkness epitomizes hatred, blasphemy, idolatry, lust and in a word sin.

This is all absorbed by the listeners in a second, and the reader proceeds, "If we say that we have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth." A problem arises. The message is that our perfect joy comes from fellowship with God and the church, but we can’t have fellowship with God if we walk in darkness. Well, we all walk in darkness, right? Ever since our ancestors were expelled from the perfect garden of goodness, we have wandered in the shrouds and wildernesses of sin. So it seems that our only hope for true joy is utterly and completely shut out.

"But!" the speaker nearly shouts, joy surging all over his rosy face. The downcast sinners perk up at the word. They begin to tremble as the reader continues, "If we walk in the Light as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another…" Yes, but how? Some are weeping now. "And the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin." It falls like a thunderbolt. Unexpected grace and mercy! The emotions are almost too powerful. Dangling over the pit of hell and then swept away in a moment into paradise! Perfect happiness, so elusive, is now dumped into our lap!

One is strongly tempted to jump out of his seat and cry in a loud voice, "Hallelujah!" with hands raised skyward. Grace poured out upon those who consider their plight helpless creates fireworks of emotion equivalent to no other event. To be torn apart and then unexpectedly put back together is joy. The man declared innocent just before the noose strangles him, sees a beauty in every flower and insect where the common man sees nothing but dirt. In the same way the redeemed man is overjoyed because of this unexpected pardon, even when he was guilty. Phillip Yancey, in his book on grace What’s so Amazing about Grace? rightly says that forgiveness is the most unnatural act. And yet this strangest performance yields the greatest joy. To be forgiven when you ought not is a marvel that far eclipses anything in the natural world. It is a wonder that any can not believe in a God when such a supernatural thing as forgiveness exists.

And for those who still insist on their innocence, and proclaim that they have no use for grace, John has hard words. Verses eight and ten call this person a self-deceiver and blasphemer, but verse nine re-iterates the call to grace. All that is necessary is confession. Jesus will pardon and cleanse!

There is the message, black and white as it will be. You are on death’s row, about to be slain and submitted to eternal torture, but God out of his mercy and kindness purchased your life and totally forgave you! All you have to do is accept it, and in return He’ll shower on you perfect and undefiled joy forever by granting you fellowship with Him!

New blog

I've opened a new blog solely about politics. It is called 'Christian in the Arena'. Please visit.

More Thoughts on Abortion

In a previous post on abortion, there was quite a discussion going on how is the best way to disarm the monster of abortion. Some opted for the "put your arm around and weep with" methodology, while another suggested the "grab a horrific picture and stand outside". I’m still wrestling through the issue myself, but I thought I’d put some of my thoughts into a formal article here.

One strange thing about me is that whenever I’m thinking through an issue, I tend to create a mental allegorical visual of what I’m up against. In this whole abortion thing, I have this picture in mind.

I’m standing in a very dark and dreary place. The terrain is entirely rocks and stones; gray clouds cover the sky. At my feet is a massive trench, filled with niches and caves. Running wild in this ditch is a monster, forty or fifty feet tall, ugly beyond belief – like something out of Lord of the Rings or Star Wars. And yet scattered also within this horrible place are single machine-gun nests operated by brave souls who fire down on this hideous beast. More often than not they are slapped against the rocks by a powerful claw. Above the ditch are large bleachers where people are sitting and cheering as the monster slaughters the people within. One final detail. The monster is also gobbling up small children and infants left unguarded in this ditch.

I’m sure most of you can decipher this imagery. The monster is of course the lie of abortion that binds people and takes the lives of innocent children. It is a tool in the hand of the great murderer, Satan. Not only are children being murdered, but poor mothers are also being ‘murdered’. The guilt and oppressive gnawing sorrow are worse than death. The machine-gunners are all of us trying in one way or another to fight against this beast. The people on the bleachers are those who are also deceived by the devil, and love to see this monster triumph over the machine-gunners.

Okay, now for my thoughts.

First we must recognize that our enemy is not people. Ephesians tells us that we struggle not with other people, but with demonic powers. We are cutting prisoners free, not slitting their throats. We must be motivated by love and compassion for fellow humans who are wicked, yes, but no more so than we ourselves.

Second we must realize that God’s grace and forgiveness is available for these people. These people who have aborted haven’t sinned themselves away from the ability to receive grace and forgiveness.

So obviously, we must fight with love and mercy for these people primarily. Also, I believe that we can fight with the "ugly signs". Think about it, whenever great social revolutionaries wanted to change things, they showed the people the vice in its ugliest forms – not out of hate, but love. Victor Hugo painted ugly poverty in his book Les Miserables to get a point across. Martin Luther King jr.’s civil rights movement really gained power when the nation saw on television the ugly persecution delivered by angry racist mobs. In the same way, we must show the ugly truth of abortion. Then change may come.

In conclusion, my position is this: love must motivate our actions, but love often leaves us no choice but to show people the ugliness of what they are doing. We need to be careful, as one reader pointed out in the previous post, that we are not coming across arrogantly or self-righteously.

The Skeptic Paper part 5

And here it is folks...part 5, the conclusion of the story. Thanks for reading.

I found these series of visions becoming ever more intense with every moment, but the last was to be far more moving then any I had seen previously. When my vision once again cleared, I was standing in a doorway. It was an extremely strange aperture, and only after some serious thought did I realize that this was the doorway between the spiritual and the material. How many great philosophers would have sacrificed long and happy lives for a moment in this doorway to be able to return to earth and write of it? And here was I standing in it.

I was facing the material world, which was rather easily identified. Below me I saw the hustle and bustle of billions of people about their business, the earth rotating slowly on its axis, the towers and steeples of England, the skyscrapers of New York, the mosques of Saudia Arabia, the card-board houses of Mexico, the rice farms of China - it was all laid out before me, moving slothfully along like a gray slug in the interior of a rotten log, perfectly unaware of anything that might
come through the door.

Having seen enough of the world I already knew much of, I turned around to look through the other end of the door. Here I found a place too dazzling for description. Great cities, emerald towers, crystal-blue skies - everything in greater and perfected formation than the most remarkable architecture of earth. The pyramids of Egypt, the Sistine Chapel, The Eiffel tower, the Empire State building, the Dome of the Rock, the Taj Mahal, and Notre Dame would have been mere dung-hovels in comparison with the squattest and meanest of all of these buildings. Towers that rose for seeming infinitude sprouted up everywhere, walls as thick as continents, dazzling walks and gardens - it was a monstrous display of wonder and beauty. And yet in the center of it all was an astounding temple after Hebrew style. So huge as to engulf a world and a half. And from this great edifice of worship, around which a trillion adorers sung eternally, a great cloud of smoke was rising. I wondered at the meaning of this great, furious billow, but soon found it out.

At once, both worlds were cut in two with the explosive sound of a trumpet that threatened to shake all the foundations of the universe. The sound had hardly even begun when a Being so powerful and formidable issued forth from the temple as to cause me to fall instantaneously to my face. I heard the crashing of a million hooves and glanced up to see a cavalry such as the world has never seen in all of its chronicles dashing headlong at the door in which my shuddering frame sat. At the head was a Deity so fearsome and so holy and white as to strike me with terror, horror and guilt that must have lasted an eternity and more. In a second, the whole force was at the door, billowing through it into the material footstool beneath it. I was washed off the edge like a cork over a waterfall into the convex of fury and terror that awaited all mankind below me.
I fell to the earth with my eyes every transfixed on that One who led the battle charge into this complacent globe. In His hand was a sword that gleamed powerfully in the light of Himself. I felt certain that there was more substance in that one sword than in all of the writings of History. And then the most horrific thing of all happened to me. That sword was slowly lowered, like a fateful battle-axe and pointed directly at me. I instantly felt a torrent of myself flood my soul and I heard myself screaming aloud, "Cover me! Swallow me up foul earth!" But there was no relief offered. Instead I felt those ever piercing eyes run through my entire soul and I could see every fault and twinge of wrong that I had ever done highlighted in the ferocious eyes of that terrible Magistrate with His fiery sword...

A moment later and I was stepping out of the pastor's hidden closet. The dim church building rattled with another rumble of the still present thunderstorm. The old fellow was there looking at me intently.

"Wh-what does it all mean?" I asked, hardly able to get a grasp on myself.

"Look at your last sentence on your paper," he said softly.

I trembled as I looked slowly down to the end of the last paragraph. How do you know that your Lord is true and that He really will come back with judgement and fury? I looked up at the old man.

"I chose not to answer that question directly," he replied frankly. "In fact, if you notice, many of them I didn't answer in a logical format. My greatest thought for you today is this, my dear young man, if I'm wrong and you're right, then I go into the ground a peaceful and fulfilled man. If you're wrong and I'm right, which I must say I know to be true, then you stand to one day look into the eyes of that King on horseback - Jesus is His name."

I shivered, but remained staunch. "But, after all, you really have no proof," I pointed out.
"Proof and evidence may be found elsewhere," he replied firmly, "but as for me, I find it far better to realize that only reality itself can fully convince a man of his wrong. No atheist will ever be convinced that there is no God until he sees Him, and then there won't be a shadow of doubt. Reality is the great leveler. Death is not. Death only grants us an unabashed view of the reality we all must live with - in Hell and misery, or in Heaven and joy."

"I couldn't live in heaven with Him!" I declared furiously.

"Not now you couldn't. But once you experienced His cleansing from sin then neither He nor His Father would have cause to look on you wrathfully."

"I don't think I can do that!" I cried. I quickly slapped my head over my head and pounded down the length of the building into the rain. I felt the skeptic paper crumple in my hand as the rain fell upon it. My first instinct was to cover it, but then, suddenly, I became filled with a ravenous disgust for it. I ripped it in two and cast it into the mud. "Die with the rest of carnal earth!" I hissed. "I will not remain to perish with you." I turned and walked back into the church for the second time.

The Skeptic Paper part 4

Here is part four out of five in my parable...

"While you're looking at your paper, take a quick glimpse at the next point down." My guide was back with me again.

"Are you going to remain with me for this one?" I asked. We were now standing in a broad field that seemed to stretch on endlessly in every direction. The only remarkable difference that I could note was that we were standing in a slightly elevated part of the field upon which some very yellow and delicious-looking corn stalks grew proudly toward the deep-blue sky. All around this little platform was a vast wilderness of parched cornhusks that stood very small in comparison with those closest to me.

"Yes," my guide replied, "I will remain with you for this part of my argument. However, please look at your paper."

"Many great thinkers of all ages have disagreed with the basic tenants of Christianity. How, therefore, can it be true?" I read aloud.

"I do not intend to logically rebuff this assault," my companion replied. "The best argument is simply a glimpse of reality. The best way to convince a child that there is such a place as China is to take him there. The best way to convince someone who has never seen the sea that there is one is to show him it. In the same way the best way to show you that quantity of brain-power does not necessarily mean quality of brain-power is to show you the end result of many of these thinker's logic."

"Undeniably," I replied merely. I was curious to see how he would work his way through this problem.

"Very well, we shall embark. I think it is noteworthy to begin by telling you where we are. We are in the field of philosophy. That little patch that we just stepped off of is the acre of truth. All around you is man's attempts without God's help to find out truth for himself. Quite a pretty lot of dead husks, I should say."

"Anyone can create an allusion," I replied stiffly.

"Well said, well said," replied the pastor, "but do not be too hasty in your conclusion. We are upon our first group of thinkers."

As he said this, a little knot of heavily bearded men came into view. They were dressed quite anciently and it was obvious from the very first that they were Greeks. One fellow was standing in the center of them bellowing out something at the others. "I am thoroughly convinced that everything is made up of four basic substances, elements if you will, my dear fellows."

"And what may they be?" roared another fellow who was lounging comfortably in the corn.

"Earth, fire, water and wind!" exclaimed the speaker.

The philosophers sat puzzling over this new concept for several concentrated minutes, and then suddenly, as with one voice, they cried, "It must be true! It is reasonable! Very, very reasonable!"

Another fellow stood up almost instantly some notes in hand. "Gentlemen," he cried, doffing bows left and right, "I have come to another conclusion."

"Great Aristotle, speak!" cried one of the reverend Grecians, tugging ferociously at his snowy beard.

"Very well," Aristotle smiled, dropping another seeping bow. "Ahem, yes...I believe that the
planets are governed by intelligence."

"Elaborate," cried one of the party irritably.

"Yes, yes...they have a mind...just like you or I. They can think!"

"Undeniable," muttered one of the more reserved philosophers.

"Yes!" cried another, tugging at his hair rhythmically. "Very well, Aristotle."

"I say it's phooey," bellowed another.

"It must be true! Simply use your brain a little, fool!"

And so they wrangled and argued and fought until it was finally agreed that Aristotle's conclusion was quite correct, and then our ignorant little party of thinkers moved on to another topic of curiosity and continued to shape the world in their image.

"Come," said my guide, "we must be on our way to the next group."

No sooner had we taken four or five steps than the Grecians vanished behind us and another group came into sight. "We have seen some Scientist thinkers," my guide noted, "now we shall see a different sort of thinkers at work."

Before us two lithe fellows stood, each tenaciously clinging onto a strong rope. On the opposite end of each rope was a most ferocious monster who was spouting out all sorts of different profanities and sensuous statements - so horrible that I would be ashamed to copy them. Not only this, but the creature was extremely proud and the absolute epitome of egomaniacy. I was shocked and repulsed by this strange scene. It only compounded itself, however, when the inevitable thing happened. The ropes finally broke and the great monster went running off into the wilderness. I heard several screams and horrible blood-curdling cries as victims of this ghastly beast made its way across the field.

And yet, no sooner had the gargantuan ape, for as I reflected upon the beast, I realized that that's what it was, disappeared, then the two gentlemen brushed their hair, pulled out some pads and paper and began scribbling furiously.

"What are they doing?" I asked my guide.

"Just watch," he replied, a sort of sad smile tugging at his lips.

A moment later I saw another ape beginning to form in the same place where the old one had. The two philosophers, for that is what I took them to be, sprung to their feet and in an instant lassoed the beast with ropes no more sturdy then the previous. And here I watched in horror as the same process repeated itself. The monster swelled until it broke the ropes and fled on a path of destruction. What interested me most was to see that all the while that the philosophers were striving to hold back the creature, they were feeding it pamphlets and papers, which only served to make it swell and grow larger. When two other fellows attempted to destroy the pamphlets that were giving the beast its life source, these first two reacted with vigor and fury.

"What is the meaning of this atrocious scene?" I asked in awe.

"I'm surprised that you cannot decipher it," replied my guide softly. "The two men are called Atheist and Darwinist. By trying to create a world where man is an ape and God is non-existent, they get exactly what they plant - a monster of a man who destroys rampantly, thinking himself a mere beast and, therefore, accountable to none."

"And the two fellows who tried to stop the feeding of the beast?"

"Theology and Virtue are their names. They are of Christian origin and promote the accountability of man and the Sovereignty of God."

I turned to look back at the mysterious scene, but already everything had disappeared.

"You see," my guide explained, "these things come and go in one form, but you may be assured that they will appear later in History's great book. Mankind, apart from the grace of God, never learns. We are always constrained to repeat."

"And is this all there is to see in the great field of philosophy?" I mused aloud.

"Ha!" laughed the old man, "I could show you an eternity's worth of scenes, but some things are better exposed in other lights. I think we have spent enough time here. That is if you are ready to move on."

"Very well," I replied. Surely the old man couldn't have much more up his sleeve. I still had some very venerable arguments, and I was quite sure that these would remain firmly out of his reach.
The next place in which I found myself was an old crumbling building in some distant wilderness. My guide was no-where to be found, and the place was so bitterly cold that I began to think that he'd purposely sent me here as a sort of purgatory or something like that in which I would rethink my final arguments and finally give in to a sort of childish surrender simply to be rid of the discomfort of the place. Well, I was resolved to hold tightly to my last few points. Even this frigid cell should not rob me of these final blows. In the end the old man would have to concede my points.

I was, however, very greatly mistaken, and had only begun to think these demeaning thoughts, which really had no basis to them at all, when the door was flung open and a very interesting figure entered. At once he seized upon my whole store of attention. He was a very tall fellow with a great beard, piercing blue eyes and hands sparkled in a way perfectly indescribable. Suffice it to say that I felt extremely conscious of his total agelessness, and despite the fact that his hair was entirely snow-white, he was not in the least bound by any ailments of spirit or body that normally accompany such as boast white hair. I felt that creative flavors juiced forth from his whole being, and was acutely aware that his mental faculties were astonishingly greater than my own. All of this in a second pounded itself down upon me without any warning. It is probably impossible for the reader to understand, but I must confess that the mere stress and amazement of it all compelled me to roar forth an almost barbarian cry. He turned and looked at me quite frankly, as if he'd purely expected me to do such a thing. In fact I could have sworn, though now it seems quite unlikely, that he was entirely knowledgeable of every minute detail about me - past, present and future. The effect the man, if one can even call him such, had on me was stupendous and horrific all in an instant. I also felt painfully aware of everything I'd ever done that would be classified as wrong by my antagonist, the pastor. It was an awe-inspiring moment, but things were not at their fullest, by far.

"For now," he said (and his voice though quiet was enough to cause my spirits to tremble), "I am here but briefly. Later you shall see me fuller."

"F-fuller?" I gasped.

"Yes, you only see a small, small portion of me here. Later you will be permitted to see a bit more."

I shrunk away at this possibility.

"Now watch!" So saying, the mysterious visitor spoke a single word, and out of nowhere came tumbling a little man no bigger than an elf. No sooner had he been born then a lush forest sprung up about him. I was instantly made aware that the little man could see nothing beyond the scope of his little world. And yet, almost in an instant, he began doing things. The first thing he did was to search his surroundings out. When he did so, I noticed that he found a little evidence of his creator - left there on purpose as a clue to the little fellow. He looked at it, comprehended it and then destroyed it, perfectly content to let his senses tell him that it was a farce. Then, like a perfect little idiot, he prostrated himself before a tree - a mere shrub, in truth and began worshipping it in a reverence so blasphemious as to make even me want to instantly destroy the little fellow.

"What is the fellow's name?" I asked furiously, moving closer to the little world.

"His name is pantheist," replied the creator solemnly, "and unless he stops his nonsense, I shall have to judge him in a most terrible way. Such creatures are most disastrous to have about."

"I wouldn't give him a second longer!" I cried furiously. "Blaze the little devil!"

"Watch," my companion commanded. He spoke again and this time several more people appeared. Two women and another man. I watched in horror as each of the little people read the clues given them and in turn destroyed them. They were all extremely blasphemious wretches, but in different ways. The one worshiped the trees, the other built himself a god from stone, another idolized the abstract and the beautiful, and the final one venerated herself. I then watched as a little drama unfolded. First there was a theft, then an adultery, then a murder. And to compound things, the population was growing steadily. One in a hundred of the fellows actually picked up on the clues and worshipped the creator they couldn't see, but the others were quick to ridicule, mock and kill them while they continued in their disgusting practices. The more scholarly sat down and wrote huge volumes on why their creator didn't exist and how even if he did exist, he was a most foul fiend that wished only their harm. And yet, the sun still shone on their little land and the cursed brutes continued to murder, adulterate, slander, feud and blaspheme.

"How long are you going to wait for them?" I finally cried out.

"A little longer," came the reply, but I could see that every muscle in the creator was tense. For him the evil of the little people must be far more intense then even for me.

Then, finally came the minute I was waiting for. With a word from his mouth, the whole world was reduced to ash in a sweep of flame, leaving only the one or two who had actually followed up on the clues given them behind. No sooner had this occurred then the whole scene was reduced from before my eyes and all I could see were the words of one of my cherished points scrolling in front of me: How could a loving creator ever destroy and punish His creation for a few mere things that displease Him? Even I could display more mercy than this God.

How to Stop Abortion

There is no doubt that abortion is one of the greatest evils in our country at this time. And yet for over thirty years it has paraded unstopped. This is ten times worse than slavery, and that issue caused our country to fracture in civil war. Imagine the implications of abortion if it is allowed to continue. Already it has slaughtered millions of innocent children. Homicide is horrible; cold-blooded murder of children – the epitome of innocence - is unthinkable. When I hold the small hand of a baby in mine, and feel its warmth, it is infuriating to think that there are literally thousands of hardened criminals who would gladly let that hand go cold. And yet, these people are defended by law!

So how is one to stop this awful onslaught? I have a plan that if put to action may save our country. It will require men and women of every walk of life to step forward and make this a dominant purpose. William Wilberforce fought his whole life to outlaw slavery in Great Britain. It will take our concerted energies and God’s blessing to vanquish this self-inflicted curse of abortion.

Evangelism is the first step to overcoming abortion in our country. We must change the hearts of the people so that they will once again seek God and forgiveness in Jesus Christ. Only then will the people themselves despise this sin and turn against it. We need to ardently and fearlessly evangelize.

By education we can show people the true horrors of abortion. We need people who will vigorously research the science of these issues and create tracts, posters and books that will be accurate and affordable for quick spread.

Writers can utilize the power of the pen to condemn abortion. Through essays, poems and novels we can force these issues upon people in a professional and compelling way. Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a novel that frowned upon slavery, helped to bring the issue to a head. In the same way, Christian novelists need to produce short stories and novels that show abortion for what it is.
Pastors need to preach against these things as well. When our pulpits echo with the message of life, the people will begin to pick it up. Social reform starts in churches. We cannot fear what men will think; we need to speak loud and clear.

Those aspiring toward politics can push and pray for legislation that will ban abortion. We have seen some advancements in this area, but with the takeover of the Congress by the Democrats, the need for loud political pro-life voices is great.

Those of you aspiring toward a medical profession, volunteer at pro-life clinics that seek to provide an alternative for abortion!

If you have been blessed with a lot of money, use it to support those who are taking a stand and need support for books, tracts, movies etc.

Get married, have children of your own and if you know someone, who is thinking of aborting, offer to adopt the child!

Finally, let’s pray. The power of prayer is enormous, but we must take action as well. Prayer can’t be a shield from doing our part.

I realize that all of these things are going on in some form or another, but I encourage you to get involved. If thousands of us threw ourselves into this combat, imagine the impact we could have! Find your area of interest or expertise and prayerfully discover how you can use that to wage war against abortion.

God bless you for your interest in stopping this curse, and please spread this essay as much as you can. I hold no copyright on it; the only thing I ask is that you don’t modify the content.
2006 – Jonathan McCarthy – jleem88@gmail.com

Vote!

Please, if you are able to vote, in the name of Christ I urge you to get out and vote pro-life. If you aren't able to vote - pray!

Skeptic Paper part 3

Once again I appreciate your feedback. I appologize for the spam that some of you might have seen before I deleted it. Thanks for pointing it out Josh. AT this point I'm going to leave word verification off...keep it as a last resort if I continue to get heavily spammed. For those of you who chose to remain anonymous, I appreciate your comments, but if you ever want me to visit your blog, you'll have to leave your url. Here is part three. :-)

I folded the paper and put it back into my pocket. When I looked up, my environment had once again changed drastically. I was standing in a small room piled high with beautiful piles of folded cloth and embroidered fabrics. As I sifted through the material, I found myriads of unbelievable colors and designs. Surely this must be the most beautiful stockpile of cloth in the whole world. I wondered who the owner of such a fortune might be. I was not long delayed in finding out.
A little door at one end of the room suddenly was flung open and bald old man came scurrying in. His face was relaxed and a great smile spread from ear to ear. Almost instantly I liked him.

"Hello!" he cried out upon seeing me. "Who are you?"

"I-I..." I stumbled about, trying to conceive how I might explain to this total stranger who I was.

"Never mind!" he laughed, seeing my misery in an instant. "You are welcome here. I see that you have been admiring my cloths, eh?"

"Yes," I replied, "they are unparalleled."

"Ah!" he cried, sucking my words in with an uncanny delight. "You say, unparalleled? Perhaps even magnificent beyond compare?"

"Y-Yes," I conceded, "I meant that as well."

"Perhaps you meant it, but you did not say it," he chided, chuckling a little and rubbing his hands together. His eyes had never glanced at me since that initial introduction; they were always transfixed on the piles of cloth that lay all about. "I made them all myself," he cooed mysteriously.

"What's that?" I asked, leaning closer.

"I made them all myself...no one helped me mind you. I...I made them! And they are...what did you call them...unparalleled, magnificent beyond compare, perfect, majestic, undeniable!" He chuckled again in his strange way.

"What are you going to do with them?" I asked hesitantly.

"Do?" he bellowed, almost angry for a second. "I'm going to cut them and carve them...gently, mind you...into a wonderful suit for myself...a brilliant suit! So dazzling that all the world will wonder at me! All the universe will say that I am the best tailor in the world. My cloth will be without parallel. Even the King Himself, Who I am going to see tomorrow, will fall on His face before me."

I started back at this strange prediction.

"Of course, he will have to invite me to live forever in his court," the tailor chuckled. "He won't be able to help it. I know, I know," he held up his hand to me as if thinking I was going to say something, "one is supposed to get the seal of His ring before going to His court, but I have no time for such trifles. My clothes will win me a place of honor and prestige for all my years!" He rubbed his hands together fiercely. "But time to get busy!" he cried, dropping to his hands and knees. He reached into his breeches and pulled out some string, a needle and scissors. In a moment or two he was busily hacking away at the cloth.

I ambled over to a window in one of the walls. As I peered through the pane, I found to my surprise that there was another almost identical room on the other side. And in it two other individuals stood. The one was very much like my companion, a tailor by trade, but the Other was much different. He stood tall and had a brilliant suit on. I even imagined that I only saw a twinge of its glory...something, perhaps fog in the window obscured the rest from my sight. This One was guiding the fingers of the other tailor as he sewed a suit for himself.

"Who are those people in the other room?" I asked, turning to my companion.

"Hmm? Oh, them. Yes, that's my brother Bum-kin. He's always been a strange one. All of our family for decades have sewed our own clothing for the courts, but Bum-kin insisted on doing it the way that the King requires."

"And what is so wrong about that?"

"Nothing especially, if you really need the help offered, but for our family, we never needed those types of things. We were always good enough on our own. That fellow you see in there is some relation to the King who comes and helps Bum-kin sew his cloth. I guess after his suit is done, he'll get a free promotion to the palace."

"Sounds like a marvelous deal to me."

"It's too simple. Some of us like to do things on our own. Very humiliating that way."

"Perhaps it's intended to be."

"Ah," the tailor scowled. "However that may be, though," he quickly said, "I'm sure they'll make an exception in my case."

Suddenly there was a sharp rap on the door, and without asking to be admitted, the tailor from the other room, Bum-kin came rushing in. "Brother!" he cried.

"What is it?" the tailor mumbled, glaring up at his brother.

"The Teacher tells me that there is but little time left! If you want to get in the palace you really must be willing to accept His help."

"Bah! The King will accept me without His help."

"You're work isn't good enough!"

"What! How can you say such a thing?"

"You know very well that all of our ancestors for years and years have tried to do it on their own!"

"Yes, and we don't know what ever happened to them. Perhaps they were accepted."
"But, brother, you mustn't take the risk. Is it not much safer to play by the rules than to depend on yourself? Why, the King Himself says that in no case shall anyone get admittance into the palace if they don't have the authorized document!"

"Nonsense! That is for the common people who can't help themselves. I know my stitchwork. Look! It is finished now!" The tailor stood up, lifting high a very brilliant piece of clothwork - at least it appeared so in my eyes.

Bum-kin seemed very vexed though. "No, no, no!" he squealed. "It won't, won't, won't do!"
"We shall see." A moment later and the tailor had finished strapping on his fine suit. "Can anyone resist this?" he laughed merrily.

His brother looked very, very pale at this point. He gazed emptily at the suit his brother wore..."Y-you did that?" he murmured.

"Yes!" cried the tailor with triumphant laughter, for he misunderstood his brother's meaning. "A fine piece of work!" And before his brother could mutter another word, he had skipped out the room.

"Where is he going?" I asked Bum-kin.

"To the castle, I presume. He shall die, die..."

I hurried out after the tailor, very anxious to see what his fate should be. I caught sight of him outside of the tailorshop. He was running quickly down the street of the little town toward a great palace that lay at the end. I did the best I could to catch up to him, but by the time I'd reached the palace he was already inside. There were no guards at the door to stop me, so I entered cautiously, finding my little tailor standing in a little room before a great throne. Here then was the throne room! The King was not presently in the room, but from my companion's face I could tell he was very shortly expected there.

A moment later and the King entered. He was dressed in such dazzling apparel that I had to shield my eyes so as not to be blinded if I wanted to look toward Him. However, I soon had more cause to wonder at my companion's apparel than His. For as my eyes turned away from the King, I caught a glimpse of the tailor. At the first beam of light, his wonderful suit of clothes had undergone a tremendous change. Now, instead he stood clothed in a few scant rags!

"You dare to enter my presence in those!" bellowed the King furiously.

The tailor stood, struck dumb and terrorized. Everything he'd ever betted on had fallen to pieces before his eyes.

"You should have obtained an authorized paper and My Teacher would have helped you into some decent raiment. But no paper and those! Nudity and a paper would have been better! But since you insist on being treated for what you are, you shall!"

A great man now entered the room. In his hand he held some heavy chains and shackles. The tailor slithered forward despairingly. I watched in horror as he was drug away to doom. I quickly exited the palace and reached into my pocket, being sure that the answer would like on my paper. It was the third point: Why do we need Christ? Surely there are lots of good people who have so adorned themselves with religious works that God couldn't refuse them...even if they didn't accept Christ.

Skeptic Paper part 2

Here is part two in my parable/allegory. Thank you all for reading the first part.

No sooner had I stepped out to follow him than I was immediately engulfed in a new scene, and once again the pastor was no where to be seen. I stood for a while sucking in the landscape for I was now in a very different place. I stood in a little dell between two hills. The hill on my left was all covered in daisies and flowers; the hill on my right was of a different nature of flower. The stems seemed stiffer and the blossoms were red while the other hill was covered in blue and yellow. I almost felt the air of arrogance seeping out from its shrubbery, while on the left I most distinctly felt that whoever lived there was more ignorant than blatantly arrogant.

And so, finding myself in some quiet for a very long time, I decided to examine the slopes a little more carefully. I went first to the one on my left and found to my utter astonishment that when I bent down to examine the little flowers that dotted the hill - they disappeared! Not to say that they rolled up or snapped their buds shut like a frightened turtle, but to say that they vanished, instantly like a mirage in the desert or a mist over a waterfall that fades off into nothing as it rises. Not only did the flowers utterly disappear, but the grass and everything also was nowhere to be seen. In their stead I saw a long icy slope, slick as anything where the hill had been. It was sheer and so slippery that it would be a wonder if anything could get any traction on it. Not only this, it was dark and foreboding, but I also got the impression that few eyes had ever seen it. Finding this hill very peculiar and I must say a little bit frightening; I turned to the other one. Here I found nearly the very same thing. However, I felt very sure on examining the ice beneath the flower mirage on this hill that here one could find no foothold at all. Once one was set rolling it would be nothing short of a most extreme miracle to stop oneself.

I stood up and wondered at the meaning of this. Doubtless the hills were very close in relation to each other, and yet the one seemed to represent a willing rejection of something while the other seemed more characterized by ignorance. However, the more that I thought about it, the more I got confused, and when I looked closer again, I found that there was almost no difference between the hills. Both represented something slightly different, but largely the same. I thought of trout. Many of that species of fish look slightly different, but when cut open they are largely the same. The same must be true of what these two hills represented. They were perhaps described in different terms on paper, but deep down, beneath the mirage, they were largely the same.

Having theorized about these two hills for so long, I had completely overlooked something which should have seized my mind from the very first. Not two yards in front of me there was a formidable aperture in a great wall of rock (which I had also overlooked). This aperture, as I immediately realized, was the opening to a den. What lived in such a monstrously proportioned cave, I couldn't imagine, but I knew it must be something fearsome. I wondered, though, after a few minutes of thought, if perhaps this was nothing but another mirage, and I walked up (cautiously) to the wall. As I got closer, I realized that this was indeed a truer monument than either of the hills had been. Here nothing was false or shrouded - everything was as it stood. And so I mused for a moment or two over this, when it suddenly hit me that whatever this thing was, it was the truth. Both of the hills were false theories of what this monument was, but this monument was the truth of the matter. Both of the hills, instead of giving truth to their inventors, made a dangerous slope. Beyond this I could reason no more, and I suddenly realized that I would have no need of further thought, for my answer seemed to be coming.

I heard voices simultaneously behind both of the hills. I quickly tried to creep to a point where I could hear what they were saying, and remarkably I was able to pick up quite a lot. On the hill to my left, I heard this conversation:

"Some say that this path we are treading is very dangerous."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, some say that it leads to Hell and Judgement."

"What an absurdity...you mustn’t believe such things my dear fellow."

"No, no of course not."

"As you can see, we are walking on a very pleasant pasture. If there were such a thing as judgement and all of that, why aren't we being pestered by heavy rain clouds and dark forebodings? As things stand, it is a pleasant afternoon. There can be no such thing as wrath."

"Yes, yes, you are right. No such thing as wrath or all of that rot."

And suddenly as I watched on that side, two little heads came bobbing over the peak. The one was a smaller fellow who I could see immediately was extremely gullible. He sucked in everything the other, taller fellow told him. So this is why I had seemed so unable to separate ignorance from arrogance when evaluating the hills. In a moment they were at the top of the hill.
They stood there for a second, the arrogant one halfway between a sentence, and then suddenly a look of uttermost terror came upon them both as they realized that the flowers were not real.

A moment later, they had slid into the middle of the two hills.

On the hill on my right I heard this conversation:

"Many believe that people such as you and I will be sentenced to wrath and death."

"Balderdash! If He is good enough to grant a pardon, surely he is good enough to pardon those who don't take up his pardon while on earth."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Such mercy cannot end! Everyone will be pardoned at the conclusion of all things."

"You believe so?"

"I know so! He never meant his threats to be real. They were all just loving pats to try and steer us toward a happier life. Of course, happier for some."

"I'm so happy I'm in your co-" the speaker stopped dead in his tracks, for this duo had also reached the peak of their little deception. With a cry of shock and horror, they both tumbled into the dell.

All of this of course happened at the same exact time, and something must have granted me the ability to mentally separate the conversations, but now there was to be no deviation. All four were to face the exact same fate, regardless of their misconceptions about it.

A terrific roar rumbled out from the aperture of the cave, and a moment later, the most ferocious lion I have ever seen came loping out. With one cat-like spring, the beast settled down upon the group and swallowed them all whole. They had no time to cry out, but I knew that where they went after that, they would have plenty of time for screaming and shrieking and the whole lot. The lion turned and quickly sprung back into its haunt.

I must say that after this, I was still slightly confused about all of what I had seen, but then, there was my guide standing beside me the very moment that I needed him. Before I could open my mouth, he began to explain. "The hill on the left," he began, "is the delusion that cloaks the minds of those who believe there is no such thing as wrath. They simply deny the existence of hell and eternal punishment. The hill on the right is the hill that those who believe God is merciful to the unrepentant walk on. They also deny the existence of hell, but for a different reason. They believe the wrath of God to be merely a fraud, a cheat to try and scare them into repentance. They believe mercy awaits all. These ideas obviously overlap, as you must have realized, but however that may be, both parties met the same fate. Their denial did them no good. What is, is, no matter what man may think."

"And the lion?" I asked.

"The lion is the wrath of God. It pounces on all who haven't accepted Christ and devours them with no partiality to ideology, philosophy or anything else. It cannot be imagined out of existence."

"And why have you shown me this?" I queried.

"Look at your paper," he replied somberly.

I slowly unfolded the paper again and read my second point: There is no conclusive evidence of a place called hell, and surely (even supposing God to be true), if God can grant mercy to repentant sinners here on earth, he can grant mercy to those who aren't repentant here on earth when they reach heaven.