In this world, “crazy” is an honorific. And I keep getting crazier....
So much has fallen away like scabs of old sores this year. It’s a grotesque analogy, but it fits inasmuch as a lot of old, unhealthy habits of mine are leaving me. Not only did I dump Gab for its provocations towards rage against various interest groups, but I quit 4chan a couple of weeks ago. I have to force myself to find something to post to social media and now it’s days between Facebook entries from me when I all but posted every hour on the hour a while back.
Every Wednesday I used to visit a Facebook page to see the admin’s photo for “Waifu Wednesday,” in which readers are invited to post photos of their celebrity crushes. This admin in particular was fixated on a long-since retired Internet model whose hazel-eyed, milk-skinned English beauty was very appealing while she had it. You can see the bloom fall slowly away from her over the years in her photos, which was part of the fascination for me. Look at a photo and guess the year.
I downloaded and saved this guy’s photos of the model for over nearly a decade until one very special day this summer when I deleted the entire 200+ photo directory. I still have a few images of the young woman in my screensaver folder, but they’re entirely wholesome—and perhaps not for long, either. It never fails to fascinate how the Holy Spirit changes one’s preferences along with one’s thinking. One day you wake up and say, “This isn’t right,” and years of habit are struck away just like that.
Last week was Columbus Day week, and I toyed with the idea of posting memes critical of the anti-white Indigenous Peoples Day re-jiggering of the holiday. As it turns out, I know a sweet Christian woman married to a fat Indian guy and decided it wasn’t worth upsetting her or her otherwise personable husband. I’d love to say I’m improving, putting aside my hatred of celebrating savages and their primitive savagery over Christian civilization for the feelings of a few people, but, no. It’s the Holy Spirit. I would never have done this on my own.
I pause here to savor the incredulity of people who will tell me this is crazy in a world that puts out movies with laughably obtuse titles like The Woman King and stamps its feet petulantly when another movie, this one about homosexuals and their gross lifestyle (there’s an orgy scene), fails at the box office. Cutting up children in the womb is celebrated as a sacrament when people aren’t making jokes about the murder and I’m barking mad for believing in Jesus, His holy Heavenly Father and the Holy Spirit?
Fine, so I’m crazy. Also, racist, “anti-Semitic,” “homophobic,” whatever. You’re an eager participant in a culture that’s working to normalize sex with children. What can your labels mean to me?
Evil cannot create, only appropriate and desecrate, and no one is taking the hint when they look at the now-accepted scene of endless remakes, re-imaginings, etc., of intellectual properties created way back in last century? There is nothing created new from whole creative cloth for reasons. They can, however, take a beloved character and make her insufferable when they’re not turning the white male hero into a brown bisexual, or into yet another fussy, impetuous, and insufferable white woman who can, courtesy of special effects, wipe the floor with men three times her petite body mass.
But that’s just the media culture again. There’s so much actual and lethally harmful evil going on one wonders where to begin. I was stunned by the news that either the US or UK destroyed the Russian gas pipeline to Germany a couple of weeks ago. Europeans will starve and freeze this winter for the perverse hatreds of the unseen, unnamed rulers of the collective West, but a middle-aged man in women’s makeup is angry because no one is calling him beautiful, let alone calling him “her,” so that’s what we’ll obsess over. That is, until another well-remunerated black comedian or athlete complains about oppression. Or another wealthy actress deems it necessary to talk about how hard it is for her in a sexist world, because she’s not properly worshipped and venerated by the lesser men around her in the name of equality.
And so on and on. I’m happy to be absolutely insane and set apart from this terminally ill culture. I believe in the Almighty Creator whose handiwork is evidenced and enjoyed by all with eyes to see, I believe in His Son Christ Jesus whose holy sacrifice makes it possible for me to stand before our Father, and I am personally acquainted with the work of His Holy Spirit. Your insults are blessings to me. Your seething hatred of my Lord only tells me I’m on the correct path. Thanks for that. Seriously.
People misunderstood what Bob Dylan meant when he sang “You Gotta Serve Somebody.” For clarity’s sake, “You Will Serve Somebody” is a better title. For you will either serve God who rules the universe, or you will serve the Father of Lies and Murder to whom this world has been given over until Christ’s return.
There is no neutral ground. You’re either with a wholesome family Bible study night or Drag Queen Story Hour for small children. Simple as. You’re not weaseling out by saying, “Hurr-durr, I don’t believe children should be exposed to that stuff anymore than they should have the Bible shoved down their throats.” Do that, and you’ll find I’m not the one who will be cutting off your social media access and even your employment and income for heresy. You’ll learn quickly whom your Master is soon enough.
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