The Hand of God Withheld—Necessary Restraint

Making an argument for the Christian god and his incompatible nature—for them

The argument for an inconceivable and unimaginable, all powerful god. One that is without parts of physical matter as we could even comprehend. Consider a character so foreign to our nature, that his eternal compositions could not be seen, felt, or tasted, for our matter is not compatible nor can mix with his attributes (No wonder the psalms are so many) in any way.

All god can do at this point is watch, for historically when he has interfered or tinkered with the deeds of men (parting seas, global floods, Israelite armies laying waste to entire regions) are a horrible affect of mixing his perfect nature with this synthetic world. His attributes and ours—immiscible. Simply looking at the LORD, his foreign composition is too different, too toxic to be presenced by human neurons, optic nerves, or flesh—or are we too toxic to his, in this artificial scape, to mingle outside our petri-dish? A mite of dust cast to the outer reaches of creation as isolated, contained contaminants whose only purpose of matter holds the little interest of an out-of-state trash-dump, where when only goes to visit creates more carnage?

By merely dipping his finger into the stratosphere of our world—cutting stone tablets and etching stone walls. Presenting his hand—regional, if not global catastrophe, churning the elements, like adding ammonium perchlorate to a mixing bowl of “earthly” matter of which we are so crudely formed. That god, by pressing his arm into the ionosphere, simply splits atoms starting chain reactions of global upheaval. Are we but a plant that withers upon touching it? How long will he withhold his finger…his hand? His holy arm? What if he were to present his whole self? The world would melt as a sea of molten glass, where any man-thing that peeks at his composition withers and consumes itself. To this god, the total power in the world is but a firework sparkler, hardly a threat to ourselves, let alone an immortal. Splitting atoms is as natural for him as spearing your flattened, pointed hand into a bucket of air, or water. We are nothing but .02% solid waste, not even worthy of his attention—but to open the lid carefully contaminates our meager world with carefully placed attributes of cataclysm, tectonic shifts, and drought, while we maintain our only sense of order in the heavens by his leaving us alone for a blink of an eye.

“And the Lord said unto Moses, Go down, charge the people, lest they break through unto the Lord to gaze, and many of them perish.” Exodus‬ ‭19:21‬ ‭KJV‬‬

“And all the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing: and he doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth: and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, What doest thou?” Daniel‬ ‭4:35‬ ‭KJV‬‬

“In the same hour came forth fingers of a man’s hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall of the king’s palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote.” Daniel‬ ‭5:5‬ ‭KJV‬‬

“That birds may eat the flesh of kings, and the flesh of captains, and the flesh of mighty men, and the flesh of horses, and of them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both free and bond, both small and great.” Revelation‬ ‭19:18‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Setting aside your contradictions for the moment to complete this thesis, for what will it matter in a moment or two what we achieve, or what we do when the world will soon be rolled together like a scroll? This man-create has been an interesting exercise, and man has proven quite genius with his teaspoon of dirt and a dash of consciousness. While we have been watched long enough and the experiment nearly over, GOD is ready to roll up his experiment and head off to yonder galaxies to admire his handiwork. It doesn’t matter—our world of refuse unfit will be dispersed when the meeting of the gods conclude, and victoriously he’s showed he can create something living out of a thimble full of hardly anything, as long as it is left alone long enough to generate order. It doesn’t matter that however dismal our minds and actions may seem to him, that our collective consciousness will sit on a shelf for forthcoming eons. It may not matter to him that our struggles and achievements have been fought and won with nothing but handicaps and soulful soil, but it matters to us, the lowliest of life-forms. So, a god of mercy? A god of compassion? A god of love? We shall see.

My Older Brother

Born to a fair and middle class life, We wandered and wondered without any strife, four good ol’ boys who loved tussle and swim, to flirt with the girls there was no harm therein, but all that would change from the roof to the floor, when one horrid day came a knock at the door.

Mother and dad were good folks but it seems, they had not yet been schooled in the prophetic dreams, they learned they were sinners and destined to fall, these men at the door who dare gave us their all, instilled in grand doubt and made good things seem pall.

A promised grand life if we follow their book, dad said he would read it but he never did look, he went by their word as a word is a bond, the way old folks did in old days that are gone, so we joined with their church and were baptized us four, and all because someone gave a knock at the door.

Now Sundays were different with no time to explore, we’d sit in the church and keep still to be sure, but being a young lad who didn’t set very good, got my first whippin’ and in the corner I stood, the teacher told dad how I had misbehaved, and I was the lad not even jesus could save.

A dark cloud hung over my once happy face, to be safe and content we did prayers to have grace, but these things they promised we already had, long before the time we found out we were bad, but god we found out he was keeping a score, from the men who had come and knocked at our door.

They taught us of freedom of choice and freewill, then took it away with fear torments of hell, we learned that the devil got into our skins, that gay folks were bad and loud laughters a sin, but I looked for the day I would once turn eighteen, and with two middle fingers I returned to my dreams.

Leaving was easy, adjusting was hard, but still no regrets that I turned in my card, I learned how to choose and the consequence mine, that I could do good without all of the fines, the guilt it still lingers and thoughts come is scores, from so long ago I heard a knock at the door.

Is everyone crazy, I think that they are, confessing their sins and then sinning some more, responsibly daft and delayed recompense, excuses and reasons for time on the fence, waiting for someone to even their score, hate and division then hating some more, ironic hypocrisy blend with the days, the living and loving so often delayed, to wait on another to come make it right, when we have the power to end the long fight.

Blood Oaths

When I was twenty I went to the LDS temple for what is called an endowment. In Mormon lingo, the endowment is where you receive your “spiritual gifts”, that enable you to pass the sentinels and enter the presence of god. Washed and anointed with oil, pronounced clean and blessed to be a “king and a priest unto the most high god, to rule and reign in the house of Israel forever” The endowment ceremony is about an hour and a half where you rehash the creation!story and make various covenants that are sworn to secrecy with signs, special handshakes, and followed by an oath to never reveal the signs and tokens or suffer your life to be taken. As you made the oath, you symbolically slit your own throat in one phase, and disembowel yourself in the other. All the while wearing the robes of the priesthood and a fig leaf apron to cover your nakedness.

Besides having to agree to all the covenants by acting out a blood oath it happens BEFORE YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY ARE. It was shockingly strange, but you move along to the veil and use those key words, signs, and tokens to pass through and enter the presence of god in the “celestial ” room. Hushed tones and reverence rule, and discussing these things is vague and symbolic in nature. Everyone around you congratulating you and telling you how wonderful it is. It wasn’t. But, trusting those that have gone on before, convinced that you just lack understanding, and being reassured that the more times you go (the next times in behalf of the deceased that missed this opportunity) the more you understand the wonderful significance of it all.

To anyone who thinks this is even remotely normal, you have a problem. The ceremony now, some 35 years later, has been dumbed down to be less offensive, but the one I went through had already been lightened several times before. The initial ceremony was vastly more ghastly, but as times changed, so did people’s ability to tolerate it. While some fought the changes, apparently god is changing how important this is to have it exactly right.

Mormon culture is a persuasive closed system, where open criticism is the road to apostasy, and questions about anything inside the approved doctrines are unwelcome.

In most cases (mine being extremely rare where my wife left with me) the mere mention of unbelief deems you an outcast, failing your priesthood and your family. Tell your wife and extended family you don’t believe, and you are told to pray, study, do not doubt, trust me, trust us, and the fear of hell from denying your testimony, losing every friend, spouse, kids, and practically every sense of your life is on the chopping block. I have one friend left after 50 years of church. But it was worth it.

Dogs and Cats Work for Food

Obviously the title can be used in a dual sense, but I have a confession. Through no fault of my own, I have eaten dog and cat, and a lot of it too. I had no idea at the time, but back in the 80’s on Monday nights for a few years, my family would meet at a Chinese restaurant and have a little get together. The food was always good, and Monday’s were usually quiet for our gathering. One day I was watching the news, and there was our restaurant on the receiving end animal cruelty charges, with a dumpster full of dog and cat carcasses at the rear of the store. Apparently this had been going on for quite some time. It was too late to throw up, but I wished I could. Becoming aware of the situation changed everything. I was sickened by it and was obligated to never return.

Now imagine for a moment the church is a beautiful cake. One adorned with lavish decorations and frosting so smooth it looks polished. You hear many in the room talking about how perfect and wonderful it is, but as you cut into it, you find foreskins from murdered people, an eye, a tooth, some throwing stones surrounding a cross, and some parrot heads still beckoning you to eat. From a distance, the crowd still praising the baker, and inviting more into the room to experience the magical moment and witness this once in a lifetime masterpiece. From a distance, all you can see is the people surrounding, blocking from your view the disgusting display. Protecting you from seeing what lays just below the surface.

I dare every religious loyal to share the gospel from the inside out without explanation or excuse, and then see how many converts you have. I want you to indoctrinate your children with the murderous genocide, rape and oppression, instead of protecting their minds from these events with fakebelieve [sic] bible cartoons until they are old enough, and buried so far in it that they have no idea how to climb out. I know those topics don’t surface, because you know it’s wrong. Point out the obvious contradictions the churches display, instead of all is well during the divisive indoctrination. That would be the honest approach. When your favorite church is exposed as a cesspool, will you walk away, or keep eating because you keep hearing how wonderful it is? You are not obligated to return, but do what is right.

Synesthesia -The Religious Model

Synesthesia is a real condition of crossing senses. Someone may see a color that hurts their ears, while another may see numbers in different colors. It is an interesting phenomenon where senses cross neurons in visual/cerebral perception, and may attribute smells to pain, or shapes such as a triangle may physically perceptually be seen in yellow. Below is one example. A “normal” acuity would see all black, but a synesthesia patient may see green or red. .

And if a subject sees W’s as a color, this test takes less than a second.

Synesthesia is not only seen and present in religion, it is promoted. Seeing a cross can cause tears of pain or joy, hearing a lie can cause belief, and talking out loud followed by an amen, can fondle hope in religious subjects. But this type of behavior is learned, and once believed, it is tolerated.

While most synesthesics feel what they are seeing as normal , 98% of the population sees it as an enigma. To someone that believes in the supernatural god, it may seem natural or necessary, but it is not. But to the theist or the synesthesiac, it requires an outside observer to recognize the flaw.

Thousands of gods have dissipated into near oblivion. Where are they now? They are parked in the annuls and history books, but those from the time thought them to be immortal. While red may be a color, it also may have a smell. Whatever your eyesight tells your mind, deconversion has a sweet ring to it.

“Prove all things, hold fast to that which is good” 1Thess 5:21

It’s not the churches. I can tell you Christianity is a calculated, money making machine that will say Anything to keep you on the rolls. Scientifically calculated music and lighting, voice roll speeches and lies from the pulpit to induce trance-like positive feelings and call it the spirit.

Most of you know my story, and I put this scripture to the rest. Not one thing works as it’s presented. Ambiguous beliefs and morality coupled with endless attempts to validate faith, and bogus prayer that is a waste of time. It was even in the dogma. “Pray like everything depends on god, work like everything depends on you”. Do yourself a favor….just skip the first part and go to work. The entire church experience is a propped up shell game of non answers and conflicting “beliefs” from every denomination. Nothing can be verified, and nothing works as it is supposed to. So go ahead. “Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.”Don’t feel guilty for looking.

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭5:21‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Faith Trap

Born into a certain lair, depending on to who from where, was raised into a strict belief, that if well followed would cause relief. A way of life so grand it’s said, to have raised up living from the dead, and if believed with all my heart, life would light the often dark.

Applied my self into the way, paid my tithes and learned to pray, read the book and proved all things, and stayed high in religions rings, then somehow many years had past, and things weren’t adding up so fast.

Some doubts were hushed and hard to say, was I the lone who felt this way? When I would list but a concern, read more scripture you will learn, apply your faith and don’t surrender, hope is where the life will render.

And so It was, I began again.

Doubling down I did my best, and to the lord I took a test, to verify most carefully, his book of words and then I’d see, but by and by the search from me, had eyes that crossed with dotted tees, and woeful were the histories. I read and pondered every verse, the lord it seemed he was a curse, to opened eyes on every verse, things are not what they seemed.

And so I prayed

In earnest gave I the lord my plea, invested years in him you see, certain that a faithful soul, could hear his word if truth be told. Wanting to believe the words, that marked the pages so absurd, to say I needed little reason, but just one would do.

Retiring to a quiet thicket, the lords voice came by sound of crickets.

It all unraveled very fast, not a thing or two would come to pass, as soon as opened eyes could see, deceived by friends and trusted creeds, that one who thought as smart as me, could fall into a trap so deep, set by ones who cared for me. If only just one part was right, I could continue in the fight, but no god hears the words you say, but alas its hope that traps with faith.