TOUCHDOWN JESUS INCINERATED BY GOD

[Iason Ouabache]

Wow, that thing was made out of styrofoam? No wonder it lit the fuck up. Rather tacky. And funny considering that it is from the "Solid Rock Church"

I would love to know how a big pile of styrofoam  and some rebar cost them a quarter of a million dollars.

[Captain Utopia]

Ah know, let's build a giant lightning rod and
encase it in flammable material, for Jesus.
       \

               \
    Aw shit, it gone burned the fuck down,
    let's rebuild it!

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Ah know, let's build a giant lightning rod and
encase it in flammable material, for Jesus.
       \

               \
    Aw shit, it gone burned the fuck down,
    let's rebuild it!

I guess Thor or Zeus had the final word on that.

[Golden Applesauce]

I liked this bit too: "Church founder and former horse trader Lawrence Bishop and his wife paid $250,000 for the statue in an attempt to help people, according to the Associated Press." -- I just find it interesting the depths to which people can confuse attention-seeking with charity.

It's confusing evangelism with charity (although attention-seeking may be no small part of it.)  Evangelical groups tend to measure their impact/success by the number of people who have been 'saved' or 'born again' or even just been exposed to their ideas about sin and salvation.  It's the natural conclusion of a sola fide theology; these aren't the people who believe that from faith comes good works, but rather that faith is good works - the only form of good works.  The only kind of charity that exists is spreading the faith - saving even a single soul is infinitely more important that alleviating any number of material ills.  All suffering is rooted in a lack of God in your life; giving a man a fish may feed him for a day, teaching him to fish may feed him for the rest of his life, but those can only ever satisfy material hunger, a misunderstanding of the natural spiritual hunger for God - and no number of fish will ever fill that hole.  So why bother?  Give the starving man a Bible, and his soul will bask in the glory of God for all eternity.  In this mindset, building a humongous statue of Jesus on the interstate really does help people, because it reminds them of Jesus, who is the only thing worth thinking about.

It's the same reasoning behind taking perfectly good songs and replacing the lyrics with poorly-written stuff about God and Jesus and Salvation and Heaven and all that.  Listening to a perfectly good song means that you like the song and are paying attention to it, instead of liking and paying attention to Jesus, which is better.  Solid Rock Church would honestly prefer people to contemplate Jesus then to pay attention to the road they're traveling on in excess of 100 km/hr.

Cain had a good essay about Discordia as an antidote to nihilism that touched on these issues somewhere around here ....

[Captain Utopia]

Thanks, that makes more sense, even it if it also more depressing to consider.

[Golden Applesauce]

Found it:

Discordianism as Perfect Nihilism
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=23189.0

[Nephew Twiddleton]

I liked this bit too: "Church founder and former horse trader Lawrence Bishop and his wife paid $250,000 for the statue in an attempt to help people, according to the Associated Press." -- I just find it interesting the depths to which people can confuse attention-seeking with charity.

It's confusing evangelism with charity (although attention-seeking may be no small part of it.)  Evangelical groups tend to measure their impact/success by the number of people who have been 'saved' or 'born again' or even just been exposed to their ideas about sin and salvation.  It's the natural conclusion of a sola fide theology; these aren't the people who believe that from faith comes good works, but rather that faith is good works - the only form of good works.  The only kind of charity that exists is spreading the faith - saving even a single soul is infinitely more important that alleviating any number of material ills.  All suffering is rooted in a lack of God in your life; giving a man a fish may feed him for a day, teaching him to fish may feed him for the rest of his life, but those can only ever satisfy material hunger, a misunderstanding of the natural spiritual hunger for God - and no number of fish will ever fill that hole.  So why bother?  Give the starving man a Bible, and his soul will bask in the glory of God for all eternity.  In this mindset, building a humongous statue of Jesus on the interstate really does help people, because it reminds them of Jesus, who is the only thing worth thinking about.

It's the same reasoning behind taking perfectly good songs and replacing the lyrics with poorly-written stuff about God and Jesus and Salvation and Heaven and all that.  Listening to a perfectly good song means that you like the song and are paying attention to it, instead of liking and paying attention to Jesus, which is better.  Solid Rock Church would honestly prefer people to contemplate Jesus then to pay attention to the road they're traveling on in excess of 100 km/hr.

Cain had a good essay about Discordia as an antidote to nihilism that touched on these issues somewhere around here ....

One of my best friends is a Lutheran minister (ok, two of them, and they're married to each other), and I don't want to speak for them, but I think I know them well enough to get their reactions to this:

Fucking retarded.

The particular unit in that marital construct that I had in mind has a brother who wanted to witness to others to spread God's glory.

Naturally, since he grew up in the Midwest, he was preaching to the choir, and probably looking like a weird religious fanatic in the process (and since he was "non-denominational" as opposed to mainstream Protestant, I'd put $20 on it).

Wonder how that's all working out for him. The marital unit in question has other things to worry about (ie their congregations) so I'm not going to ask. But it does offer me the occasional yuk.

Best part:
I met both husband and wife's families. One of them is a preacher's kid, following in their father's footsteps. That father welcomed me into his home, and ironically that Sunday had to preach about false gods, knowing full well that I was a former Christian turned other (Pagan), and that an atheist friend was also in the audience. He did a very good job, instead preaching about the ills of capitalism and the worship of money and material posessions (Go Rev. XXX!!!). The other spouse's parent called them up during a tornado warning to tell them that maybe it's the right time to talk to me and my atheist friend about Jesus. Like we haven't heard about him before.

[Captain Utopia]

Thanks for the link GA!  I got a lot more out of that essay this time than I did last year.

The thing which bugs me about interacting with some Fundamentalists is the false mask they'll show you.  LIke, they'll be friendly and pretend to be interested in your differing opinions.. but they'll always remain steadfast.  Why?  Because you're not talking with them, you're being talked at by their mask - and if you cease to provide them with whatever strategic benefit they think you give them - you'll be disposed of like a used kleenex.

[P3nT4gR4m]

Thanks for the link GA!  I got a lot more out of that essay this time than I did last year.

The thing which bugs me about interacting with some Fundamentalists is the false mask they'll show you.  LIke, they'll be friendly and pretend to be interested in your differing opinions.. but they'll always remain steadfast.  Why?  Because you're not talking with them, you're being talked at by their mask - and if you cease to provide them with whatever strategic benefit they think you give them - you'll be disposed of like a used kleenex.

Lesson learned: Do not attempt friendship with evangelists - they are good for mockery and lulz, nothing else.

[BadBeast]

There was an Charismatic Evangelist in the town I grew up in, a small man, worked as a supply teacher, and a youth club worker for the County Council. Quiet, polite, kindly, would always pick you up if you were hitchiking, friendly, a typical Geography Teacher type, right down to the leather patches on his elbows. Everyone knew him, no-one disliked him, he was exactly what the non-Churchgoing, but decent middle class people of the town would expect of a small 'c' christian. Lions club, Rotary Club, local charities, etc.

One time, when I was in my early 20's, he picked me up, hitchiking, I wasn't living anywhere in particular, and on my way to a festival. Asked me where I was going, so I told him. He said he was driving over that way the following morning, and if I wanted, I could have some lunch, at his house, stay over for thew night and he would give me a ride in the morning. Sounded good to me, so we went back to his house. I knew his wife, vaguely, his daughter (from his first marriage) was a bit older than me, and she had left home, and gone to live with her mother by the coast.

'Ho hum', I thought. This might be a bit strained, or boring, but it was only until the morning, so I pasted my 'that's very interesting, tell me more' face on, nodded where appropriate, and by Teatime, I was wishing I had not taken him up on his offer. Anyway, sat at the table, just about to tuck in, but he raised his hands, and started to say Grace. I had no religious upbringing as a child, didn't know any Churchgoing folks, so it was the first time I'd seen anyone pray in their home. Bit weird, I thought, but each to their own.
After Dinner, he said to me, "Would you like to come and meet some friends of mine, we have a bit of a meeting on Thursday nights, a few beers, and talk about stuff"

I knew what he meant by stuff. He meant fucking Jesus! But I wasn't going to spurn his hospitality, that would have been really rude, and at the end of the day, he wasn't a bad bloke, just a bit of a nutty Jesus type. So I agreed to go with him, it was only a couple of hours, and there was a promise of a few beers in it. So along I went. It was in some big House, a friend of his, he said they took it in turns to host Thursday nights. All very middle class, coffee morning women, and Civil Service husbands. Even a few 6 or 7 year old brats, But they all had a bit of the 'Stepford' about them, behind the eyes. I just wanted to get out of there. All my alarm bells were ringing, but for no obvious reason that I could see. But I sat down, and grabbed a pot of fucking disgusting ' Nettle Beer' and tried to look inconspicuous.

Then, my man, (I'll call him Graham, because that wasn't his name) Said, "Right, shall we begin?" everyone turned their attention to him, he picked up his "Good News Bible" and started to read some passages out. From the book of Daniel. But his voice changed. It became slower, and lower, and pitched in a really hypnotic tone. It was like he was a different man. The rapt faces of the other perhaps 12 people in the room, all turned towards him. Horrorbliss.

There was no sound but his voice, I could swear that I had been listening for only a few seconds, when his voice became different again. He'd read the first six chapters of Daniel, and I knew this, because I had the story in my head, about Nebuchadnezzer coming and laying siege to Jerusalem, and conquering it, and how Daniel swore never to defile himself on the new King's meat, at table, but begged nothing but pulses and water for 10 days. I don't know how I knew it, because I'd never read it, or been told it, as far as I knew except in the last (as I'd thought) couple of minutes. I remember it to this day.

At chapter seven, his voice changed gear, and he started on about Daniels dreams, freaky shit, four great beasts coming up from the sea, etc, then the bloke nearest to me, fell on the floor, and started having some kind of fit, his eyes rolled back, and he began to convulse. Now, this wasn't right, I knew there was at least one Doctor in the room, but everyone was still looking at Graham, faces full of blank fappy adoration. The bloke on the floor became more and more animated, like he was having a fit, so I said "Shouldn't someone see to him? He doesn't look well" every face in the room snapped towrds me, and the look on their faces, all of them, just for an instant, was one of outraged hostility, as if  I had just suggested we all take turns on the Familys Labrador. I've seen that look since, on the faces of people who have just been disturbed at a particularly tricky bit of their new game, as they look around, the naked empty rage, well, that was the look I got from a dozen frothy Christians, all at once, after I'd just been hypnotically speed taught Half a book of the Old Testament.

Their look was quickly masked, and one of the Women explained to me quietly, that he was full of the 'Holy Spirit', and he would be fine, and to just leave him alone, and concentrate on the 'lesson'. At that point, Graham ramped up the intensity right up to eleven, and then some. I was fucking shocked, his eyes shone, his breathing changed, and his arms began emphasising his words. If the volume was turned down, you could have dubbed Adolf Hitler's Nurenberg speech over his voice,  and it would have sounded more natural. He was absolutely and totally fucking posessed. The others began nodding, and saying stuff like "Praise be" and "Take me Lord", falling to their knees, and then, to add a little more surrealness to the whole scene, they began gibbering in fucking babytalk nonsense, and shaking and throwing back thier heads in ecstasy. Graham was shouting out some right horrorshow, beasts with metal teeth, and horns, devouring, and smashing some other beast with hoofs,and thrones, and waving his arms around, at the frenzied pile of gibbering, twitching,freakshow motherfuckers all across the room, and I started to laugh.

Not just a nervous giggle, but corpsing uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face, gouts of green snot, coming out of my nose, and absolutely no control over it. The more I tried to stop, the worse it got.

Graham came striding across the room, and held my head, and started saying the tears, and weeping, (he thought I was 'weeping for the sins of the world') were just the outward signs that I was being filled with God's love, and it was all the sin coming out, and how I should just give myself over to the Lord God, and everything would be just ginger peachy.

His hands were laid across the top of my head, and he began to pray to God, to banish the dark spirit that had me in it's thrall, and cajoling some fucking demon to leave, and take its barbed hooks out of my soul. At this point, I realised that this whole setup, was primarily to brainwipe me into their cosy little group, and make me one of them in God's eyes, to bathe me in the blood of the Lamb. At this point, I stopped laughing, and tried to stand up. I was leaving. Right there and then.
As I stood up, Graham put his hands on my shoulders, and another bloke came up behind me, and began to gently, but firmly 'restrain' me.

That was where they went wrong. The man behind me, had pinned my arms to my sides, and Graham had started in frenzied whisper mode, reciting all these demonic names, trying to abdjure the demons out of me. The rest of them stood around, looking downwards, and praying feverishly. It was time to leave. I would have just ran out of the room, if I could have, but Graham was in front of me, and Matey was holding my arms to my side from behind. I threw my head back, really hard, and busted the restrainer right on his nose, splitting it open, swung at this babbling twat in front of me, and knocked him flat on his back. As I went to step over him to run out of the door, they all moved between me, and the exit, like I was the madman. Saying stuff like leave here Satan, leave this child of God, in God's hands, so I just fixed the nearest bloke in the eye and told him to get out of my fucking way, or I would kick his head right off his fucking shoulders.

I must have been very convincing, and I really was ready to kill someone, but he stepped out of the way, and I left. The women were hysterical, and crying, and I think the 'Holy Spirit' had left the building as soon as my head hit Mr 'you're staying with us now' restrainer.

That was the maddest, most surreal and scary situation I'd ever been in. I was so distraught, and angry, that I almost went back into the House, straight away to beat up on them all some more. I had been well and truly  taken for a cunt, ever since he had picked me up. I remember when we got back to his place, he went straight to the phone to make some calls, but I didn't think anything of it up until that point. Fucking predators for Jesus. Shitnecked Bastards, all of them. That wasn't God, or Jesus in Graham, it was some fucking Demonic hungry thing, that was written all over his face. Either that, or it was a communal psychotic breakdown, shared by them all. But there was nothing Holy about it. At all. They wanted to feed on me. This I am certain of.

But the funny thing is, years later, on reflection, something was there, something good, and empowering, because just at the right moment, the corpsing fit that I had been disabled with, from his sideshow hypnotism, stopped, and the clarity that was left behind, was almost like a car wreck, slow, and quieted down, and when I nutted the bloke behind me, it was spot on the money, and just at the point that his hands loosened up a little, so I could get my arms free, and knock Adolf out the way, to get the fuck out of there.

And when I turned to go back in, I saw Grahams car keys were in the ignition, so I stole his car instead of going back in,  to cause major fucking mayhem. If I had done, then the chances are, I would have got myself into a great deal of trouble, being far less practiced in self control than I am now. I seriously think that if I hadn't seen the car keys, I would have killed someone that night.  So I drove to the Festival I had originally set out for. His wallet was in there too, with about £100 in it, so I had that too. And didn't feel at all like a thief.

I stayed on the road going from festival, to festival, site to site, all summer, and ended up spending the Winter squatting, in Haille Selassies Bath Mansion. Long empty, but still beautiful, we never knew whose it was, until the following March, when the Baaliffs came and read out the eviction notice, "On behalf of the Estate of the late Emperor, His Royal Highness King Haille Selassie, conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, we hereby serve you with notice to quit" So, from one "House of God," to another, in 9 or ten months. Not bad going for a simple country lad like myself.  

[Juana]

Thanks for the link GA!  I got a lot more out of that essay this time than I did last year.

The thing which bugs me about interacting with some Fundamentalists is the false mask they'll show you.  LIke, they'll be friendly and pretend to be interested in your differing opinions.. but they'll always remain steadfast.  Why?  Because you're not talking with them, you're being talked at by their mask - and if you cease to provide them with whatever strategic benefit they think you give them - you'll be disposed of like a used kleenex.

Lesson learned: Do not attempt friendship with evangelists - they are good for mockery and lulz, nothing else.

Chris Hedges's book American fascists: the Christian Right and the war on America talks about this. If they figure they can't hook you, they'll dump you, essentially. I suspect there's some sort of prize for whoever brings in the most converts. It's a good read, though it'll make you paranoid as hell.

[Captain Utopia]

That's quite the story BadBeast!  Thanks for sharing it.  Still, it's probably not as good as Grahams "The night Satan stole my car story" 

[Lies]

Awesome story bad beast, do you mind, you know, using paragraphs when you type these things out though, to make it a bit easier to read?
Bit of an eyestrain when everything is clumped together is all.

[BadBeast]

Awesome story bad beast, do you mind, you know, using paragraphs when you type these things out though, to make it a bit easier to read?
Bit of an eyestrain when everything is clumped together is all.

Sorry Peeps, Fixt.

[BadBeast]

That's quite the story BadBeast!  Thanks for sharing it.  Still, it's probably not as good as Grahams "The night Satan stole my car story" 

Thanks.
I'd honestly never thought of approaching this story from Grahams point of view. "Demon stole  my Datsun Stanza"   I left his motor in a layby on the A354, between Weymouth and Dorchester, So if you're reading this, 'Graham' the reason I haven't been around to see you in 20 years is because you're a fuckin' fruitcake.    Hope you're captured raptured really soon.