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Proof that Gay Relationships are Wrong

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MoNiCa4316

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I SO have, for years now, said "Thy will be done". I just don't believe the CHurch's teaching on it anymore.

And ya, I don't like not having the Eucharist. But alas. C'est la vie. =/

Justin, to be honest it sounds to me like you just gave up :( not that God told you that homosexuality is oki. But that He was telling you otherwise, but it was difficult to deal with so you gave up. So you started to believe differently than the Church, and started trying to justify your disagreement.

I know this MUST be difficult, but such is dying to self! it's hard! have you ever thought that maybe God just wants you to die to self in this way, and come back to the Sacraments? He always helps us when we try to do His will you know.. He gives us grace.. we just need to cooperate..
 
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eastcoast_bsc

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Hey Justin. I can fully empathize with your struggle and ambiguous feelings. I know your walk, because I have walked your walk. I am more then several years older than you, so I have experienced both sides of the coin in life.

I just want you to be aware, that sometimes in life,nothing is above board. You are now feeling the blush of excitement in regards to the new freedom you are feeling.

Just remember, don 't be so quick to drink the Koolaid. Humans are always going to fail you. Now in an attempt at fairness, I present this story I found.

Huw Raphael worked for several years in the Episcopal Church and was in the middle of the discernment process, seeking ordination in ECUSA, when he converted to Orthodox Christianity in 2002. He now lives in the southern Appalachian Mountains

This Is Hell
I stand by those words of Fr. Seraphim. This Hell is being driven by one’s hormones and knowing that to deny them is “unhealthy.” Hell is being driven by one’s desires and fantasies and knowing that to deny them is to deny the only joy there is, the joy that defines your whole being.
Hell is a fine San Francisco morning standing trapped in your bedroom while an orgy takes place in the hallway outside. Hell is a foggy San Francisco afternoon standing in a room full of men involved in various actions with each other—and somewhere a voice tells you it’s all wrong, but you don’t know what to do. Hell is a balmy San Francisco evening on a back porch listening to ten homosexual men in the middle of the most liberal Episcopal diocese in the country insist that all churches are homophobic and evil.

Hell is being told in a Sunday sermon that Jesus died in first-century Judea, that Jesus isn’t alive, that Jesus isn’t coming back, and that he would want you to “follow your bliss” to find the will of God in your life—all of this when you know now that your “bliss” makes you more depressed every time you indulge in it. Hell is knowing that the same biblical scholarship that allows for your own sexual antics also allows for clergy who deny the Virgin Birth and the Resurrection.
Hell is a “Pride Parade” where no one looks at you, where no one returns your compliments, where no one bothers to notice you—on a day when egos are supposed to be full and fluffy, Hell is having one’s ego bashed. Hell is knowing that at this point, someone reading this essay will say, “Oh, he’s ugly and bitter, that’s all.”

Hell is watching your friends die for the sake of their own freedom to damn themselves—and hearing them cry, “I didn’t do anything to deserve this . . . God is hateful.”
Hell is knowing that there is the slightest possibility that the Jesus Seminar folks and other “new theologians” are wrong and that 2,000 years of orthodox Christians are right: that homosexual sex might be evil. Hell is standing next to those who end a conversation about this question by saying, “Oh, shut up.” Hell is being told that all the gospel is wrong—that two millennia of your brothers and sisters in the faith were wrong—and that Jesus loves you just as you are and does not ask you to change, that modern Christianity will just throw out everything that disagrees with this picture of Jesus. Hell is being told that this nihilism and denial of any and all truth is exactly what church is supposed to be—liberating us from the dark past of sin and law and guilt.

Hell is finding out that no one really wants “a relationship” no matter how much they want it blessed or accepted; rather, that they want easier sex, the right to demand acceptance from their neighbors, and the ability to collect a partner’s insurance payments. Hell is knowing that they would also like the blessed relationship to be open, not monogamous, with a “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy and weekends free to play around. And don’t judge us, please.

In from the Cold
Hell is standing in the middle of the most gay-friendly city in the country—perhaps the world—and knowing that, please God, there must be something more than this. Hell is belonging to a church that just pats you on the head and says, “That’s okay, dear.”
Hell welcomes you in from the cold . . . by leaving all the windows and doors wide open and turning off the heat (too great a change can be a shock, you know). It requires no change. It asks for no shift in vision. “We value every person and support a widely diverse community” means “We have no standards,” means “We offer nothing you do not already have,” that there is no difference between church and Denny’s.
 
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ikonographics

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Not long ago Justin "invited" demons into himself. Obviously they've gained a foothold.

YOu may have hit the nail on the head here. Here is the story of how Crazy John a contemporary Fool for Christ living in Athens healed a homosexual transvestite:

Constantine, who always used to sit in the last rows of the church, got up - with obvious hesitation at first - and walked up to old Anastasy. As he walked to the pulpit, he noticed that everyone was looking at him in a strange manner. He could see a vague look of wonder in the eyes of the churchgoers, while he was wondering why old Anastasy invited only him to stand by him, during the reading of the letter.

Something unusual was however prompting him, so, after a quick glance at his beloved Katerina, he asked old Anastasy to say a few words in memory of Crazy John. Old Anastasy intended that the letter be read first, then Constantine would have been asked to speak. But father Vassily intervened, saying:

"Let the boy speak first, Anastasy".

With his head lowered, Constantine approached the microphone.

"I regard and perceive myself as the worst miasma that has ever existed in mankind. I furthermore know that you all confront me as a miasma of society, on account of my prior sinful activity. You are absolutely right to do so. That is how I deserve to be confronted by you, because with the life I led, I not only harmed myself, but also those near me - that means you all - but also all those that I caught in the meshes of iniquity. So, I am taking the opportunity that mister Anastasy is giving me, to ask each one of you personally to forgive me. I don't even deserve your forgiveness, because I have harmed you more than you could ever imagine. I harmed our town, our district, our neighborhood. I harmed friends and acquaintances of mine, and parents and relatives, because with my lifestyle, I had brought the mire of debauchery into your everyday lives.

This downhill slide that I had taken was ended once and for all by Crazy John. The prayers of that fool released me from the clutches, not only of one demon, but of an entire legion that had lodged inside me.

I was a transvestite for almost ten years. I believed at the time that happiness could be found in the ephemeral pleasure that bodily contact can arouse. I dressed provocatively; I used to be furious with people. I confronted life as though it were a vessel for pleasures, which I had to make sure I filled, on a daily basis. I experienced the mire of Hell, more than a human mind could ever imagine. That is why I used to regularly change my place of residence, since society had rightly perceived me as an outcast. And that was essentially what I was. I believed that quarrels, insults and disappointments were the best kind of defence, in my literally vehement obsession to pursue something that deviated from what was socially correct - from the ideals and the values of the Gospel. At the time, I had looked upon my illness as a human right, and was under the illusion that it was an outright normal thing - a thing that nowadays, even top-level leaders tend to advertise as a mere supposed "otherness".

So, there wasn't a single police station in Athens that didn't know me. There wasn't a single courtroom where I hadn't been a "customer" - either as an accused, for having offended virtuous behaviour, or as a witness for the defence or for the prosecution, in various, related cases. I was under the illusion that with my overall immoral activity, I was serving a silent revolution in favour of the acceptance of homosexuality. Hunted as I was, I arrived at your neighborhood too, and presented myself to the kindly, poor old lady Chrysoula, to ask her to let her one-room apartment to me. That is where I saw Crazy John for the very first time; he had brought over some bread to the almost destitute old woman.

Unlike most other tenants, I wasn't asked too many things by old Chrysoula. She just mentioned that the 30.000 drachmas she was asking for was the only income she would have, to make ends meet; so she asked me to not delay my payments because she had to pay for the bills, the building maintenance, as well as to buy her other basic needs.

"Oh, my dear child Constantine, God must have sent you! The apartment hasn't been rented out for three months and I am living off the help I get from mister Apostolis the baker and mister Pantelis the grocer here, who send me bread and provisions with this fool here", she said, pointing to Crazy John.

"But I never sent you any bread Chrysoula, as I wasn't aware of your situation" Apostolis spontaneously remarked.

"Nor have I ever sent you any provisions", Pantelis added.

"But that's what Crazy John told me!!" old Chrysoula replied, totally at a loss...

After this small and "endearing" intervention, Constantine continued:

"Crazy John always used to conceal his good deeds... He may have brought you food, my dear Chrysoula, but to me, he brought God".

Constantine's eyes became misty, and tears began to fall. Everyone was now becoming tearful, along with him. He took a deep breath and continued:

"Three days later, I moved into the apartment. Crazy John had helped me carry all my things. And when the transporter purposely dropped an innuendo because of my behaviour and the manner that I spoke, Crazy John stunned him, by pointing out to him that, as a person who systematically lived adulterously and behaved brutally towards his own two children, he had no right to make such remarks about me. The transporter was shocked by these revealing words, and he immediately stopped his sarcasm. I of course was under the impression that the two of them were acquainted, but was taken aback when the transporter turned towards Crazy John as he was leaving, and said:

"What are you anyway? Some kind of charmed one?"

"Yes George, I have been 'charmed' - by our Christ's love", the fool replied.

He even asked the transporter to stop sorrowing Christ, because, in spite of his overall behaviour, Christ had healed his daughter Theodora from a very serious ailment. George then departed, with his head lowered..... He is the gentleman who is sitting over there with his wife, and he can confirm the incident I just described. I was impressed by that dialogue, but at the time I had dismissed it as the ravings of a fool.

So, on the evening of that same day, I dressed up in women's clothes as I normally did, and I went to a familiar transvestite haunt, on the main highway. You can imagine my surprise, when I spotted Crazy John watching me from the opposite corner of the block. The thought crossed my mind that he was seeking erotic companionship. But then, how did he find me?... The fool must have followed me (I thought to myself), and now he would go and tell what he saw to old Chrysoula... Oh well, I guess I will be searching for accommodation again... As all these thoughts were running through my mind, a prospective "customer" stopped in front of me. Just then, like a coiled spring, the fool jumped up and started to yell from across the road:

"He's got AIDS!! He's sick and he will pass it on to you!! Go away!! Go away!!"

I was taken by surprise by the erratic behaviour of a man whom I hardly knew. Naturally the prospective customer left. Then I started to curse Crazy John... I became hysterical...This went on for almost a month. Until this day, I will never know how he managed to discover those illicit haunts. One evening I actually beat him, and in fact quite severely.

But just imagine my surprise, when, every night after I got home, I would find an envelope containing almost double the money that I used to earn from my filthy activities, and on it would be written: "A blessing, for the servant of God, Constantine". I didn't know what to make of all those weird things I was witnessing. In the afternoons, I would go for a walk and whenever I'd see Crazy John, I would get angry. But he would say

"My dear Constantine, stop sorrowing Christ and our Holy Mother, Who are mourning incessantly for you".

I had even contemplated leaving the apartment, but something was holding me there. The other transvestites would ask me:

"Hey, could he by chance be in love with you, which is why he's acting so weird?"

"No", I'd reply, "he doesn't have any such intentions."

To make a long story short, I decided to invite Crazy John to my place, to put an end to all these things. I was hoping that someone had been putting him up to it purposely, just to drive me insane. Crazy John responded to my invitation affirmatively, despite having been humiliated by me so many times. I don't know what came over me that evening, but I cleaned the house, cooked something light, and sat down to do some reading. I was leafing through a magazine with assorted material, and an article caught my attention, about a certain Elder Porphyry who served in the chapel of a hospital in central Omonia square of Athens.

I hadn't finished reading the article, when I heard Crazy John knocking on my door. As soon as I opened the door, he said:

"Be blessed, my Constantine, in the present aeon and in the one to come".

It was the first time that I had ever heard such a greeting, but it was also the first time that I had ever heard a demonic voice speaking from inside me:

"Have you come to my house here as well, you crazy old man, to drive me out? I'm not alone here - I have 365 other friends! I don't intend to go away! You'd better be the one to leave, otherwise I'll kill you!" Crazy John then pulled out a Crucifix from his coat and raised it in front of me, and began to say:

"In the name of the Holy and Homoousion Trinity...." but I didn't hear anything after that, because I lost consciousness...

When I recovered, I saw the old fool standing there, smiling at me. I felt really happy that he was there, but didn't know the reason I felt that way.

"I brought you a gift, my Constantine. It is the Book of Psalms - a book that was written by the king and Prophet, David."

"What's going on? What happened?" I asked.

"My Constantine, you have received an enormous blessing. Christ has chosen you. He is preparing you for very important feats. However, you must be prepared to put up a serious fight, because what you have inside you is not about to leave very easily."

If you could only have seen the way that Crazy John's face glowed, you would have understood why I was so terrified. I had always thought that all the talk about demons was sheer fiction. I believed that they were just an invention thought up by priests and religion, intended to scare people and to extract easy money from them, so that they would enjoy their own lives, get rich, etc.. And yet, there I was, a living witness of their insidious activity against humans. Crazy John became a brother and a friend from that day on. That very same night, I gathered all the women's clothes and shoes and cosmetics that I had, and threw them into the garbage can. The next day, I changed my phone number. With the help of that fool, I even secured a job in the Accounts department of a large company. The owner of the company was a friend of Crazy John; he actually hired me with a satisfactory salary. At the same time, I would go with Crazy John - on an almost daily basis - to a church high up on Hymettus Mountain, where the priest would read the benedictions of Saint Basil (exorcisms) over me, while Crazy John would read Psalms. I cannot describe what I went through. What I can now shout out, thanks to this experience, is that homosexuality (and prostitution in general) is not an "otherness" or an illness; it is a formidable demon, which infuriates the Almighty. What I also want to tell you, is that our holy Church possesses the weapons that are able to exterminate all those things that our modern society nowadays believes (as I used to believe) to be "nonsense".

The prayers of our neighborhood fool saved me. My acquaintance with him changed my entire life. What I experienced over these last few years in this blessed neighborhood constitute a true miracle of the Triadic and only true God. I escaped from the clutches of a true Hell, and I am now living in a world that I had never lived - not even in my wildest dreams.

With the constant support of this saintly man - who was anything but a fool - I came to understand my mistake; I realized various things and situations that comprise the foundations of our society; I became familiar with the love of Christ. I had been functioning like one who is addicted to a toxic substance; I couldn't be told apart from a drug addict; I was living in a nightmare, which that wonderful saint of God - Crazy John - put an end to.

But I don't want to tire you any further with my story. After all, I am only recording my entire story in detail, as old Anastasy asked me to. I also apologize to you all, and to the innumerable victims that I had lured into the meshes of the iniquity that I was trapped in. I apologize to my beloved Katerina, who has opened her embrace to the most sinful person in the universe; who shut her ears to all the unfavorable comments and the justified criticism, and has accepted my marriage proposal to her. She has accepted to live with a zero, with an outcast, a moron. This holy man, Crazy John, had invested in this marriage with his prayers and his tears.

Constantine's last words were lost in his sobs. Also crying with him was Father Vassily, who had run up to hug him, as did all the other churchgoers.

"Father Vassily, I'm thinking of moving out of the neighborhood - not for me, but for Katerina", Constantine murmured falteringly, with difficulty.

Father Vassily then spoke up, and said:

"Dear brethren, Constantine has just expressed the desire to leave our neighborhood. What do you say? Are we going to leave the living testimony of a miracle by our departed brother John - Constantine - but also our own Katerina, to leave?"

"No! No!" they all shouted....."
 
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127.0.0.1

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YOu may have hit the nail on the head here. Here is the story of how Crazy John a contemporary Fool for Christ living in Athens healed a homosexual transvestite:

I've read it, my problem with the story is thus:

A) The story is unverifiable. You'd think there'd be interviews of the former transvestite after he was healed, but no...this is the only time we hear of him, or the Fool for Christ for that matter. Anymore stories about Crazy John? He's a Fool for Christ, right? Surely he's done other things worthy of note.

B) I like how he's basically not interested in moving closer to to until after he's healed. Many people, born gay, want to have a relationship with God. Why do you think so many homosexuals check in to places like Exodus International, or Love Won Out camps? I'm sure that many here who know LGBT people can testify that they don't spend their lives in police stations and court rooms, or even necessarily wearing provocative dresses. A couple people on this thread said they knew lesbian couples with kids...does the character of this story remind them of the lesbian couples they know?

C) This is of not help to anyone at all. It offers zero practical solutions. Even if the story is true, not every LGBT person has a Saint next door to heal them. Essentially, this person, got lucky. There just happened to be a neighborhood Saint who popped by and healed them. But what practical solutions does it offer the LGBT people who don't know any friendly neighborhood Saints? None.


Basically all this story does is say, "Look this guy got healed by a Saint!"

Ho, hum, that's nice. What about the rest of the LGBT community?

Where is Crazy John btw? Where is he now? I've never heard of him before. Has he passed on? Where are his realics? Where is this former transvestite living now? Can we go talk to him?

That story is of absolutely no help to any LGBT person. None whatsoever.
 
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tekiahteruah

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Just remember, don 't be so quick to drink the Koolaid. Humans are always going to fail you. Now in an attempt at fairness, I present this story I found.

Huw Raphael now regrets writing that. Check out his blog (google: "doxos")-- he is now living as a gay Christian.
 
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rdhosken

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Dear Command0182,

Look before you leap to conclusions: it just took a quick search on "Crazy John Athens" in Bing to find a couple links on the 'Net about a book on him.

So the story isn't just "made up" - it's documented. As for the gift of seeing into people's hearts - I know it's real because I've experienced it. And I know the hell that Constantine in the story went through.

Justin Hesychast: flee to Christ so you too can be delivered from these demons!

Your fellow-servant of Christ,
Robert
 
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127.0.0.1

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Look before you leap to conclusions: it just took a quick search on "Crazy John Athens" in Bing to find a couple links on the 'Net about a book on him.

Care to link me to the book?

EDIT:
Wait...is this it? LINK

"Foolishness for Christ" was always appreciated as one of the most moving chapters in the voluminous Book of Saints of our Orthodox Church. One more pebble that was added to this chapter is the history that a humble levite of the Gospel who lives in the blessed mountains of Agrafa in Northern Greece narrated to us.
His narration pertained to a contemporary "fool for Christ", who lived in one of the many faceless, inaccessible and remote neighborhoods of Athens.
Crazy John - who is the central character of his narration - lived in a tiny, humble apartment that he had inherited from his mother; one of 20 apartments that comprised the condominium building.

I could only find it on one website. Several other sites just quote the one.
 
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AureateDawn

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Justin Hesychast: flee to Christ so you too can be delivered from these demons!

This isn't demons. :) Note the differences in that story vs. my story - wanting a loving, monogamous relationship and a family. ;)

Here is "Hell Reconsidered" in contrast to what eastcoast posted. I think it could prove for interesting discussion... especially his talk on blame.

Two years ago, "Hell" was very present to me - or so I thought. "Hell", according to Sartre, "is other people." And reading that essay from two years ago, you can see that I accepted what he means. My essay is very true but for one point: Hell isn't other people. Hell isn't heterodox religion or alternative lifestyles or open relationships. Hell isn't a pride parade where no one looks at one. Hell is a box about 18" to the side. It is no bigger than my own head and all mirrors on the inside. Hell is, exactly, one person: me.

So two years later, I reconsider Hell. Yes, the Hell I described was real enough but I put blame out in that essay - which blame was easy to place and, for some, enjoyable to read. I was happy to blame liberal religion, I was happy to blame liberal clergy and libertine friends. I was overjoyed to blame a liberal, libertine and permissive culture - and some readers ate it all up for it played, in many cases, into their own political agendas. I am sorry that I gave them stones on which to grind their axes and more ballast for their political canons: for in trying to blame others for my own sins, I may have misled many.

Despite my egotistical bluster, however, some readers found therein a quiet truth... so I hope this essay is the continuation of it: as that was the First Step, this may be the Fourth Step of Twelve, or at least the turning towards that step. In that former essay I realised my life was out of control - but I blamed everyone else for my own misdeeds. To one degree or another all of those objects I named were really present in the Hell I knew. But they were not the cause of Hell. One does not blame one's furniture or house for one's unemployment. (And to be honest, I've treated a lot of people like furniture.) Liberal religions and sexually permissive cities and libertine cohorts are not Hell. They may have tended the fires in many ways, but Hell was - and is - that 18" box. Hell is, exactly, one person: me.

I remember now - more than I wanted to two years ago - all the good that was done to me when I was in Hell. It was all good that I ignored. I remember now - far more than two years ago - all the harm that was done, not by others but by me to them. I failed to see or return all the love that was offered me. Hell was my own crafting and the damage done was by my own hands - to myself and, most importantly, to others: for even when I was only "playing along" with the realities of Hell and moreso when I was freely giving in to them, my wake drew others along with me.

That old essay paints the picture of a helpless sheep that was led astray by the Minions of Evil. And, spending two years looking over the last decades of failed friendships and projects and actions, I've come to realise the sheep was very willing indeed. When pagans speak of Astrology the Church responds with Man's God-Given free will. When I spoke of Hell two years ago, it was as if I had no free will. Sadly, I see now, I did - I do.

Hell is wounding other people - and then complaining about your own wounds. Hell is wondering why no one loves me - and never asking why I love no one. Hell is demanding, in a joyous party or parade, to be the centre of attention. Hell is making it all "about me". In Gay slang, Hell is "Drama". Hell is the absence of presence: it is being alone in a crowd not because no one will reach out to me but because I let no one reach in. Hell is rather like CS Lewis imagined in The Great Divorce: a wide "community" of people slowly, by self-made choices, drifting further and further apart until each of us has a house alone in the darkness in which we can pace and plot and never reach each other ever again. Hell is like Oakland: there is no there, there. But the "there" that is absent is the Divinely-given human heart of Love. It is a absence made present in my own lack of Love, in my own ego.

When I am judged, I pray God will be merciful on me. But I pray more that I will have the courage to say what I didn't say two years ago: I did this. The life I lived then I crafted for myself, by myself. It was my own free choices that put me where I was not because I knew no better and was thus led astray but because I wanted to know no better. Hell is a self-delusion that I craft for myself when I want what I want and I want it now. Hell is an addiction - one that may take over after a while, yes, swallowing even the divinely-given gift of Free Will; but it is an addiction entered into willingly.

We say in recovery that the only drink an alcoholic needs to worry about is the first one. Reject the first one and the rest won't bother you. Take the first one and the rest will follow naturally. Hell is taking that first drink - and pretending someone else did it. It is not the fault of the bar tender. It is not the fault of the hops grower or the beer brewer or the bottling company or the delivery man.

Oddly enough, I've found that the first drink - forgive the continuance of the analogy - doesn't happen when I thought it did. The first drink of one's chosen poison may happen long before getting to the bar, long before deciding, even, that maybe a drink is needed. I remember, back in the day, how I would feel as my feet, seemingly of their own volition would turn a corner in a surprising direction and, lo: I knew where I was headed. Yet who steers my feet? Me. And so the first drink was taken on a Manhattan Corner when I thought I was on my way home or meeting friends for dinner and surprisingly enough found myself on a totally other route.

In Hell, one imagines that someone else forces one to drink because one's delusion is so over-powering that one's personal power actually blocks out one's vision of personal power. One willingly forgets the choices one makes that are the very foundations of Hell. Only when one needs to go back and undo them all, piece by piece, can one begin to see one's own masterful handiwork.

The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions laid down by my own hands.

I write this now because sitting in NYC I saw Hell again in my memories. In NYC one finds so few real friends that one hangs on to them for dear life. I was able to call people I'd not seen in a decade or more and simply fall back into community with them, so deep was the love that over time it doesn't undo itself. But I was able to see how much damage I had done, and begin, maybe a little, to undo it.

I think that for a long time recently, I've been quite happy to be coming out of Hell, never realising or, more to the point, willingly blinding myself to the point that as long as I make choices based on my needs over others, as long as I make patterns to fulfil my own needs, as long as my self-love is the only love I know - I'm still in Hell. As long as my own losses make me pout but your losses give me secret (or not so secret) joy, I'm still in Hell. As long as I need to be right, not just to be right but at the cost of you being wrong, I'm still in Hell. As long as I seek the Truth not out of love for the Truth, but just out of personal ego; as long as I preach but do not do: I'm still in Hell. As long as I claim fear, weakness and lack of freedom as excuses to not do what needs to be done I'm still in Hell.

It is not enough to want out of Hell. Everyone wants out of Hell. One has to want Paradise. One has to choose to go the other direction on the corner. One has to choose purity over concupiscence . One has to admit that one has that power and then make that choice otherwise one continues in perhaps different paths but always to the same end. Hell is, like insanity, doing the same things over and over and expecting different results. And Hell is the delusion that one has no choice in the matter - because one always has choices.

Sitting in the park in NYC - indeed on the bus ride up and back - these thoughts came to me. At the wedding I found that many of my old friends had grown and changed in ways that I would never have imagined possible. It was amazing to see. In me I still see the old man. Cow-towed, yes - chained in and kept under wraps and scared, even, to come out of them - but still the same ego, the same greed and the same hedonism. Glory to God, there are choices to make and the freedom to make them.

Sarx:GenX Someplace between 40 and Death is the link.
 
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emt9109

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This isn't demons. :) Note the differences in that story vs. my story - wanting a loving, monogamous relationship and a family. ;)

That still doesn't make it right, no matter what kind of faulty reasoning you use to tip the scale in your direction. The fact that you don't realize these are demons further proves delusion. I mean, if you can say these aren't demons afflicting you, then I might as well say that when I have feelings of hatred for someone that they are justified because someone wronged me so those feelings aren't from the demons. See what I'm saying? You're giving yourself a "get out of jail free" card, and God knows you're not the one with that capability.
 
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Blonde

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When I am judged, I pray God will be merciful on me. But I pray more that I will have the courage to say what I didn't say two years ago: I did this.

The pain and blessing of repentance. Selah.

Justin,
Now that you have realized your power and ability to choose you need to learn to choose wisely. The book of Proverbs is the place to learn this very well. It will teach you how to discern but it may take a year or more depending on the time you put into it.

It all takes time. God is amazingly patient. Keep pursuing Him.
 
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Monica child of God 1

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Brothers and Sisters,

I think the time has come to let Justin go. As painful as it is, I have learned with my older step children that sometimes you just have to let them do what they have in their heads to do, even when you can see the consequences coming. I often think of the Father in the story of the prodigal son. The Father does not try to get the son to stay or refuse him his portion of the inheritance. The Father lets the son go.

I also think that the more Justin justifies himself in this public forum, the harder it may be for him to come back if he tires of the choices he has made. Let's turn him over to Satan* so that perhaps his soul may be saved. Lord have mercy.

In Christ,

Monica

* “…hand this man over to Satan, so that the sinful nature may be destroyed and his spirit saved on the day of the Lord.” --1 Corinthians 5:5
 
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rdhosken

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Justin - "Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil" (Eph. 6:11, see also verses 12-18).

No armor? Unclean life? Then don't mess with dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.
 
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mg0086

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Justin - "Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil" (Eph. 6:11, see also verses 12-18).

No armor? Unclean life? Then don't mess with dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

Lol!

I like that litle metaphor!
 
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AureateDawn

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Justin - "Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil" (Eph. 6:11, see also verses 12-18).

No armor? Unclean life? Then don't mess with dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

Well if I'm in armor, how am I supposed to have sinful evil gay sex 5 years down the road on my honeymoon? :p Dur! ;)

Love the quote btw. My friend has a shirt with that. <3 We're nerds.
 
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