Boy Buys Gun

You can’t be serious, paying fifty dollars for that; you can only get off a hundred rounds per second, a MP987 will do twice that. The boy sighs; you want to protect your family don’t you, the other kid nods, I’m listening his look says, give me more. Automatic cleaning and can run for three hours without heating up, which means you could hold off the army for at least three hours. Other kid does the math, for 24/7 cover, you’d need, he stops. I’ll take two he says. The other kid gives him two tokens, the game is on, it’s called boy buys Gun. In the old days, they played with toy pieces, men with rifles, plastic, games. Years later, they are watching the drama, when boys buy guns.

where do all those ideas come from, but who needs a rapid firing weapon; those in war zones I guess.

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Why Should We Fear God? — Just Call Me Pastor… a re blog, all that old stuff is true, and it heals too, just imagine it.

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A couple of days ago I found a site on YouTube that arrested my attention. SermonIndex.net contained portions from the sermons of six preachers whose ministry together spanned more than half a century in different locations. Whatever their geographic locations, their sermons had a common theme. With one voice, they contended that there was a […]

via Why Should We Fear God? — Just Call Me Pastor

Emeute, Civilizations and Victor Hugo….

You can have petty arguments that blow up into full scale revolutions, the harm you think your putting an end to, only to realize later the bigger hole you have built for yourself, thereby the merry go round of harm spins faster, the eye for an eye mentality that so many hold so dear, ends up destroying happiness and causing even more harm everywhere, the very goal you had when your started your emeute, as Victor Hugo would say, an end to it. Retaliate, how we hear those words, we have to avenge ourselves, we have to get even, we will lose face, how many wars were started with that mindset, nations and tribes emotionalized to the point of frenzy, while the voices of reason were drowned out.

Solomon sighed, it was refreshing to hear the comparative remarks of Donald Trump, who decided not to avenge the so called hurt caused in the Arabian Gulf, be it a blip, be it a bonfire started by a child, two tribes didn’t go to war, and reason was used, when the expected response didn’t occur. Emeute, struggles that can be solved without blood shed, you just have to listen.

Solomon was reading the literary classic of Victor Hugo, pages of rhythm, written 150 years ago, explaining how the world had to learn from it’s past. Many years later, after so many social changes, the core of the book, still holds. Hugo, Thanks for making the effort, amen. Having encountered the Spirit, Solomon had his own reasons for listening; we are under the Holy Radar, what a great feeling, amen.

It’s a matter of time….

The trouble is it never changes, the same things happen over and over, Amo is listening  to his friend, they are enjoying a coffee at a favorite coffee shop. The two friends are mulling over the times, they are near their end, it’s a matter of time Amo says. His friend smiles, the two of them are not what they were, the limbs are worn, and the eyesight is fading, but they have been friends a long time. They are discussing the end of days, not theirs, that’s a given, its the new world to come that excites them. A lot of new voices are rising up, and there has been many signs, as written in the books of old. Could it be true Amo says, he is excited. The second plane landed on the water, and all survived, the names in the press have an ancient heritage to them, there are changes going on in places no one could have considered, and a TV character is now the president of the United States.

His friend smiles, his head leans left, a smartly dressed young woman passes, just out of his age range by fifty years, Amo leans left too, those were the days, then adds, that New Guy too, at least he’s got serious medical help. Another young woman passes, her head at an angle to the ground, bent over, she is reading her phone, how does she do that without falling over. Amo laughs, it’s good just being able to walk.

Solomon sat at another table, the conversation wagged his ears, he wasn’t spying, he was learning. A matter of time, Ezra said it, or was it the angel, when the time comes, the birthing process begins, a serious of signs, the soft warnings, then it gets closer. It reminded him of a spiral. A matter of time, why not invest in Spirit, he sighed. Given the changes going on, the human race could do with more credit in those hidden places, it’s a matter of time.

Village Meltdown

You wont believe it, druggies on every corner, I was propositioned by a young woman, beautiful, she is injecting herself, you probably know her from school, the towns people are afraid, it’s madness over there, even the cops are afraid to go near the place. Solomon looked at the expression on the face, the one doing the talking, he was the listener. Foils on every alley, needles too, he listened to the voice, it was the run up to the election, and the speakers party was the strong arm of hope, Solomon listened on. How the masters of misery try to create the worst thoughts, frightening the sheep, a tried and trusted method of getting your attention, so listen..

You have to listen in the context of the times, same way politicians and poll shakers do a test before they announce the real news, they gauge your reaction. Everyone from Islam is dangerous, every Mexican is a rapist, every Irish man is a drunk, every white man a saint. The boy cried wolf sighed Solomon, when the danger is real no one will believe him. It was a mute point, there were many signs in the Sky, results, polls, national intrigues, unstable leaders, trumpet calls, as Ezra said in the book he wrote 2,7000 years before, before the coming of the new world. Solomon hoped those who were trying to divide opinion had been reading the signs, it applied to them as well, the village meltdown.

Wisdom

Rules, we were made to break them, improve on them if you like, so the young assistant listens to the old man, rules, it was her middle name, the fear of getting it wrong, and the paralysis it creates. She was trying to appease the old man, they get diddery don’t they. She mixes the drink with the clotting agent, his swallow is difficult, the muscles don’t have the same dexterity, she assumes he doesn’t want to choke. Where are you from he asks, then he said, I like your accent.

I come far from here she says, her accent east European. She spoons in the thickening agent, and passes him the cup of tea.  He sips with difficulty. Her hand takes his shoulder, leans him forward, makes it easier. He swallows easier. I like your accent madame he says with a smile, so you have traveled too she imagines. You didn’t tell me where you are from, he says, he is smiling at her. why would anyone be interested in where she came from. She remembers her mother, her father, those left behind, inside she sighs, thinking of them, and the struggle they made in order to give her the freedom to travel. Wisdom he smiles, as if he could read her mind. Don’t be afraid to ask he says, with a smile.

The Great Affair

What do you mean, he is having an affair, they look at each other, then they look at her, their stare is accusing, you mean you could not hold him, as if it’s her fault he is off with another. She feels their accusing stares, they are supposed to be supporting me, their her original family after all. She raises her eyes, he was so charming, and didn’t he help them all financially, bought their loyalty, what had he said to them behind her back. Who can resist him, his reputation is so high, even the Pope likes him, and did he know how to use it, reputation.

She has mixed feelings, families are supposed to support each other, why are they supporting him, has he poisoned them too, why me. She gave him children, set aside her ambitions, she thought it was a life long commitment, then she sighs, she was attracted to his sneaky ways, how clever she thought as he regaled her with the office politics, she thought he was sharing with her, no secrets she thought, what a blessing to have.

He leaves her, not that he tells her, emotionally he is gone, has a long term plan, had all along, the children would get older, he’d become more interesting, other friends, well, we all have to grow up, snide remarks, getting fat, she thought he wanted her to loose weight, well, try having children and remaining in the same figure, better chance asking Houdini how he did it. In despair she leaves the meeting, is alone in her car, her thoughts are all messed, she is even thinking the inevitable, maybe that was his plan all along.

He will sympathize with her family, they will all say a few words, and will make up, grief does that, unites, ask any terrorist or extremist group, they all use the emotions. A car passes her by, driving too fast she says, she slows, gathers her thoughts. You’ll get yourself killed she says to herself. Back in her self, she notices the signs, there are bill boards, insurance, money advice, then in big bold letters, Need Help, she see’s a smiling Jesus, eyes wide open, inviting her, she recalls when she was a child, how the family got together and prayed, happier times, her father being a man of Great Spirit. He will never let you down he used to say, her father that is.

The meeting is an invitation, she decides to attend, and in that moment, her heart begins to change, she regains control of her senses, a voice tells her, it’s going to be okay. The Greatest affair in her begins, and the choice is one she can never regret, old friends are best, amen.

Solomon sighed, pity those who use the reputation of God to get ahead and don’t live up to it. The world was changing fast, and the signs were on bill boards all across the sky, an addict could not ignore them, amen.