The ramblings, rants, and observations of an Orthodox Reactionary. Feel free to look around!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death- 235 years ago...

Yesterday was, someone pointed out to me, the 235th anniversary of Patrick Henry's well-known speech to the Virginia House of Burgesses. In the interest of American history- and my political sensibilities- I am pleased to reproduce the entire thing. (Thanks Mike!)


Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death

Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775.

"No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The questing before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings."

"Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it."

"I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free-- if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained-- we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!"

"They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come."

"It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"

I think we all too often forget, safe and snug in our simple, easy lives, that Liberty is a dangerous idea. And our Founders were dangerous men.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Faith, Charity, and The Atheist

An interesting article by Miguel A. Guanipa over at American Thinker.

Read it all.

"The problem with socialism is that eventually you run out of other people's money."
-Margaret Thatcher

Friday, March 19, 2010

An Apology For Liberty

A brief explanation for this note. I recently posted a note, entitled "A *Very Serious* Warning to Nancy Pelosi" that I found elsewhere on the 'net. One of the comments on my note asked me if I was advocating overthrow of the current government. This long-winded spiel was my reply, but quickly took on a life of its own. I reproduce my answer here, in its entirety.


I would answer that question with a question: If an elected government-- such as this one-- took an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States-- which they did-- and to represent the people of the various regions that elected them- which they did-- then proceeded to, once in office, break that oath and not only not represent the very citizens that elected them, but instead pass bills which would deprive those same citizens of their Life, Liberty, and Property, while at the same time forever exempting themselves from it, what should be the logical outcome? The rational response?

I think that we shouldn't wait until November. We should remove them now. The world will not end simply because Congress is not there to exercise her imperial power-- given how often the Hill goes into recess and on vacations, this is blatantly obvious. If it makes you feel better, simply think of it as an 'extended recess'. Such an act would serve to cow the President and the Supreme Court-- they would watch their step in the months immediately following, I think.

And yes, it would likely have to be at gunpoint. But that only makes sense. Brutes only understand force; besides, has the Federal government not used force in the past against her own citizens to ensure compliance? The Whiskey Rebellion. Nullification. The Civil War. The Bonus Army of 1932. Waco.

Is not the Federal Government's very existence predicated on the threat of force? Take this healthcare bill for example. Among other things, it mandates federal funds be used to pay for abortions. What if a concerned group of pro-lifers decide that, until its repeal or amendment, they will not pay federal taxes. A noble stand- and one in line with their conscience. Martin Luther King and Mahatma Ghandi would be proud. What will the Federal Government do, if repeal is not "in the cards"?

They will demand these people pay their taxes.

When refused, they will arrest them.

If a select few refuse to allow themselves to be arrested, they will be killed.

"Government is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force." George Washington would have good reason to know. He fought a government that abandoned all pretense of 'sweet reasonableness' and instead, sought to crush those who would not comply into dust. And though our ancestors won for themselves a new government, that maxim still rang true. Ask the farmers of Pennsylvania, brutally suppressed by President Washington and their former comrades-in-arms during the aforementioned Whiskey Rebellion.

"When the people fear their government, there is tyranny; when the government fears the people, there is liberty." -Thomas Jefferson.

The entire reason that we are where we are in American history is because the self-proclaimed elites do not fear the citizenry. They violate the Constitution without a second's hesitation, because they know we will whine and cry and complain, but we will comply.

It is the reason Nancy Pelosi can ask "Are you serious?" when a reporter asks her what part of the Constitution gives government the authority to mandate and regulate healthcare. It is the reason George W. Bush can say "The Constitution is a God-****ed piece of paper!" in a cabinet meeting and get away with it.

All this because "we the people" have abdicated our authority to hold our elected representatives accountable. We slept, or found more exciting and pleasurable pursuits to occupy ourselves with. And while we- and our parents and their parents and *their parents*- nodded off, criminals and jackals took over our nation. The only way we can restore the sanctity of the Constitution is through the counter-threat of force. Only when it is understood that Americans value our Life, Liberty, and Property so highly that we are willing to spill blood to keep it will these assaults on us cease.

Those in Washington may perhaps get back in line. But first they must fear us. Yes, fear is the basest motivator. We would earnestly prefer that Love- for their fellow man, and for the founding principles of this nation- would motivate those in power. And if not love, then at least Reason, it is hoped, would inform their actions. But when these two are not in evidence- when those who dwell in DC mock the former and shun the latter- fear is the only motivator left to us. Every Congressperson should remain painfully aware throughout their term of public service that if they trespass against the Bill of Rights, there is a short trip to the capital steps and a rope in their future. Every judge must make rulings with the knowledge that, if he stretches the words of the Constitution beyond their intent, he may not make it home from work that evening-- if he even makes it to his car in the parking lot.

Nullification- as is being discussed in several states- will likely fail. The threat of force will close this avenue off from us. Same with peaceful secession. It would only remain peaceful until the first tanks roll across that state's border. Again, they threaten force. "Those who make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revoultion inevitable," in the words of John F. Kennedy.

Ending a life- even that of a murderer or a tyrant- is a huge step, a threshold crossed. (It is similar to losing one's own virginity, or of baptism-- not to say that those are as wicked as killing, or that killing is as righteous as those two acts can be. Please don't misunderstand me. I believe that when one takes a life, there is a massive "point-of-no return". It is a deed which has physical and spiritual consequences. It is only my failure of imagination that keeps me from providing better illustrations.) It should not be taken lightly. Looking at the long train of abuses and usurpations that mark our history, I believe it has not been taken lightly. Longsuffering- in the most literal sense of that term- has characterized the conduct of the American people in all of her dealings with government. But for how much longer? There is also a "point of no-return" where our liberties are concerned. There will come a day when it is too late to pull our freedoms from the jaws of our would-be masters. Some I know argue that day was decades ago. I disagree. I believe it is fast-approaching, but it is not yet arrived.

If we wish to postpone the day of blood-spilling, we must stand now. But even as we vote for the GOP (who has never once repealed unconstitutional government programs- and has often enacted their own) and scream at the willingly-deaf media, we must prepare for the day when our lawsuits and appeals fail, when neither party listens to us.

"A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him." -Ezra Pound

In the struggle for liberty there is a series of battle lines. The front line of defense is the soap box. The second is the ballot box. The penultimate line is the jury box. When these fail us, our "last-stand" trench is the cartridge box. In this healthcare debate, we have been driven out of the first and are regrouping at the second, which has never worked for us before. No government program which deprives us of that which is rightfully ours (Social Security, Medicare, NFA of 1934, the PATRIOT ACT) has ever been repealed, save Prohibition. Perhaps this time will be different. But I doubt it. The jury box... Will the Surpeme Court stop it? Unlikely. What purpose would one branch of the Federal Government have for restraining another? They, like Congress and the executive, are exempt from this bill. Any expansion of Federal power is a silent expansion of theirs. We can hope- and I do hope that it will be stopped. But, to quote one libertarian writer, "I'd *love* to hear your backup plan!"

Most Americans don't have one, and don't care to have one. But they are, as they always have been-- as they were in the first American Revolution-- mere furniture, to be maneuvered around. (Did you know that of the 1/3rd of colonists who supported revolution, only 3% of them ever bore arms against the forces of George III?) They will sit around, and wring their hands, and perhaps make noble or submissive noises, but in the end they will do nothing, and will accept whatever future is placed before them. But for those who love liberty, righteous force must be the backup plan. So it was for our founding generation, and so it must be for us.

Pray then, that it will not come to violence. Act, so that it might not. But prepare, so when it becomes apparent that all our actions are for naught (as I believe they will be), you can go to your closet, pull out your battle rifle (or lever-action or bolt-action or carbine), and-- with a heart heavy over what must transpire but a conscience clear with the knowledge that you have already exhausted all other reasonable alternatives-- prove with your actions the love of liberty that you have professed with your mouth.

"Live Free or Die. Death is not the worst of Evils."

Sunday, March 14, 2010

A Dream...

He wouldn’t say he liked the desert. It was more an issue of acclimatization than anything else. He had spent so much of his adult life in the desert, both in the waking world and here, that it almost seemed wrong not to be in the wastes. Abundant vegetation, laughter and rain—they often felt like the place that wasn’t real; the false world. Hadn’t he felt that way in the other place- in his waking life—when he got home from that world’s deserts? Seeing the prosperity and the plenty, the ease and the sheeplike security, all the while knowing that in the real world, blood was spilled and water was sparse and killing over power and women and food seemed not just the right thing to do, but sometimes the only thing?

Yeah, he had. But that was before waking up—the spiritual awakening, that is. Now he realized, as he stood in that familiar place, that the desert was far larger and more expansive than its appearance in the physical world. The wastes didn’t stop at borders or climates here. It stretched endlessly across time and space, spreading across the distance between souls and winding deeply into the crevices of each human heart.

The world was a wasteland; a great endless track of no-life, sorrow and suffering, only broken by brief oases of love where the master had dug his wells and planted water. He was at home in the desert, that one, moving from heart to heart like a nomad. The master had once been a gardener—is a gardener, the man corrected himself—but mankind had chosen the desert of misery over the incensed gardens of joy. So the master had put up his banquet clothes and put on the robes of a wanderer.

He became a desert God, as full of power and as incomprehensible as a sandstorm. And even when he began bringing light and life to the dead places, he did not cease to claim the wilderness as his own, but instead made it his temple, his classroom. In the midday gloom he taught man faith. In the dead expanses he preached that there was no life apart from him. In the sting of parched throats he proclaimed living water.

The Israelites… John the Baptist… Paul… Christ Himself. In the wilderness they were led to test themselves against the rugged wilds, to learn what the world really looked like. And sometimes still, the master led modern men into the desert to teach them his ways. The man shifted onto one foot, and thought about his desert journeys. One test he failed, from weakness as much as failure to realize the test. The second one was ongoing, and even as he struggled, he knew this place would be an inseparable part of him—that he would look back on this wilderness of the soul as a time where he gained the strength to face… whatever it was that future him was facing.

Others, he knew, were in the desert. But they were mad with the delusion. They lay out in the deadly sun, thanking a non-existent tree for the shade; They chewed upon the rocks and the sand declaring it the feast of life itself. All the world was waste, and they cursed the tiny islands of green they encountered as if by cursing they could burn those oases to the ground on command. It was a matter of perception, but it was also a matter of reality. The master wanted to dig a well for them, but they insisted from between cratered lips and with croaking speech that they were not thirsty. So he would move on. He would return, again and again, until they died. And then he would bury them in tears, bathing their graves with the precious liquid they refused to let him give them in life.

The man waited as a figure topped a nearby dune and came towards him. The figure was clothed in tatters and robes, the ever-pervasive dust dyeing once-white cloth into the sandy tints of the place which he had chosen to dwell. He had a waterskin and a bag tied on him, and dangling at his side was a rude shovel, the cord at its handle’s end looped over one shoulder. A hood shielded his head from the sun. He approached the waiting man and smiled. His face was leathery, and sand was crusted in the creases of his face.

“Hello,” The newcomer said, his tone that of greeting an old friend. “Come here to think?” The waiting man nodded. “Yes. I think I’ve grown used to it. The desert, I mean.” The wanderer shook his head. “That’s a dangerous thing to say. I’ve been here from the very beginning, and I’ve never gotten used to it. This is not where man is supposed to be. But I understand what you mean. And as long as you recognize the danger of this place, you should be fine.” The waiting man looked off into the distance. “There’s a clarity here I can’t quite get while I’m awake,” he began, and stopped. After a moment, he continued, “I think I come here because this is where you taught me so much. And I want to be near that, to feel that security.” He hung his head. “I don’t want to fail you again.” The wanderer dropped his tools and reached up to touch him on the shoulder. “You know I don’t count that against you. Not anymore. And you need to remember that it isn’t a “points” game. I don’t care how many times you’ve failed in the past. I only care that you succeed—now, and in the future. You keep to me, and you will. I’ve given you everything you need.”

The waiting man looked at the wanderer and smiled. “Thanks. Sorry for wasting your time.” The wanderer stopped in the midst of gathering up his things. “It’s never a waste of my time.” His robes flapped in the hot wind. “None of you ever are.” The wanderer turned to leave, then stopped and called back over his shoulder. “Was there something else?” The waiting man realized as tears filled his eyes that there was. “Father, I have friends out there in the desert. I want them back,” he blurted, even as he realized it was selfish of him to say that. The master looked back, tears smearing the dirt into tracks of salty mud on his cheeks. “So do I,” he said, then smiled and patted the shovel. He walked back into the wasteland, leaving the man to return to his waking life, but not alone.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

A Challenge: Make Voyager Good

I was on Rumbles, and noticed that there was a thread with this title on it. Now, as you know, Star Trek: Voyager was quite possibly one of the worst shows of all time-- with a few good moments. It was the "Twilight" of Star Trek shows. So the idea of making a good show out of the what is an interesting and workable premise intrigued me. Here's my shot:

Of couse, I strated from scratch-- first by removing the murdering, morally autistic Captain Janeway.

First, make Voyager not a scout ship, but a larger cruiser. Poor engines, not very fast, but tough and beefed-up. They have to destroy the caretaker array-- they travel for awhile, making allies (In no small part to the new Captain and First officer-- the Captain is a bit of a hot head, but Number one compliments him perfectly-- being a calm, able negotiator and diplomat.) Then, their engines start to fail. Like, irreversible failure. According to the engineer, Something happened with the array-- it introduced instabilities into the structure of the warp core itself. They've got weeks of warp power left. After that, well, it will be the galaxy's most expensive paperweight.

So then the scramble begins to find a suitable Class- M planet. They manage, but its inhabited by a dwindling race that used to travel the stars; their empire didn't collaspe, it just fizzled out. Their population is way past the sustainment rate, and falling. The welcome the new visitors, saying "We're on our way out. You can have this planet when we're gone-- and until then, you'll give us comfort in our final hours" etc. Some of the crew want to go home, but they realize its pretty well impossible and, in classic Federation fashion, have a generally optimistic outlook on this "adventure"-- after all, when you sign up for Starfleet, you're saying "I wanna boldly go": and building a society on the other side of the universe is pretty bold. The First officer starts by managing the minutiae and day-by-day stuff; and soon finds herself pretty much de facto laeder of the new society. Eventually they have elections, and she is chosen as Prime minister. The Captain- more out of inertia than anything else- runs against her, and ends up in her cabinet. He quits after a year.

They begin using the tech on this planet to replicate all the materials needed to build shelters, factories, farming, etc. The ship stays in orbit, running on impulse power, with a rotated skeleton crew every 90 days. Its purpose is trading post/star fort/space station, though the trading post role gets filled up in a few years when some new immigrants bring along their engineering skills.

Ah, the immigrants. There's a trickle at first-- Voyager picked up quite few their first year and a half traveling, as many hands make for light work. When the Starfleet ship settled down, others began arriving. Soon the trickle becomes a flood, as thousands of refugees, entrepreneurs, and other free spirits show up to make what they can of this new society. No space communism here; the only system that has any hope of working is a free-wheeling, barely regulated free-market, in which anything of value is currency. Issues arise with some of the ex-Starfleet types; Most manage to dive in with both feet and keep their head above water, some—having been disarmed by a lifetime of “For the Greater Good” silliness back in Federation space, can’t compete and begin to complain—these types coalesce with a small group of elitists who resent the newcomers. They call for a stronger central government, a control on immigration, and for this new government to pay them the pension- or its equivalent in wealth- due them by Starfleet at their retirement.

Also at this time begin the first stirrings of discontent among the original inhabitants of the planet. You see, they thought they were on the way out, so it really didn’t matter if these lost Federation types wanted asylum- in a few generations it would be their planet, whole and entire. But then something odd happened: The dying species- Lets call them the “Elves”- the Elves saw all this creativity and what not happening in front of them and rather than spending their time in sad contemplation and singing dirges to their lost race, started to get up and interact. And they found that their lust for life, for glory and adventure, was still there ready to be kicked into a steady flame. So the younger elves especially want to get in on this Federation thing. But the elders resent this. They were supposed to die with dignity. How many races get the chance to expire in a fashion that isn’t genocide or degeneration into barbarian savagery or self-annihilation? Furthermore, there’s a whole slew of lesser races invited in by these Feddies. How dare they? Is our beautiful homeworld, cradle and casket of the Elvish race, to become a polyglot paradise?

There’s a local bully, around this time- perhaps the Kazon?- who is terrorizing nearby systems. Stories are told by the refugees. At first, most Feddies- except a militant faction led by Captain Robards- want to stay out of it. But soon the stories- told by their neighbors, friends, and eventually wives and husbands- prick the conscience of the Alpha Quadrant types. So an ad hoc fleet is assembled—the parliament, mostly Starfleet types who can’t fend for themselves in the new society, hence the time in politics- vote the Captain to be fleet commander. They sally forth, and whip the Kazon something fierce. Almost overnight the Captain goes from being mostly irrelevant to local hero, and returns to take up the mantle as “The Hero of Karne Expanse.” A series of local planets submit requests to join the newcomers, and the “Confederacy of Worlds” is born. There are series of overhauls in government, and they end up sticking with a parliamentary system of government, with local worlds being almost autonomous—save for being unable to declare war or make treaties, etc. That’s the job of the Confederacy.

Number one is still the Prime Minister. But the Captain is enjoying his newfound fame, and undermining her at every turn. She is exasperated. Doesn’t he realize that she is trying to get this thing off the ground? Yet he shakes hands with the “Alpha-Firsts”, the “Restorationists”, and what’s more, the newcomers don’t seem to care! They too are enamored of the “Hero of the Karne Expanse”! Slowly, their once strong friendship—to the point that when the re-settled the crew had a running bet on when the Captain and the First Officer were going to become an item-- begins to dissolve.

Will they survive? I dunno.

Season Two: The election, and the building of the subspace array. Whispers of secession.


Would you watch it?


The desire to rule is the mother of heresies. – St. John Chrysostom

Tuesday, March 9, 2010


So I'm working on my superhero stories. Question: How cool would it be to see a superhero fighting his foe, while at the same time unravelling his entire worldview? I think it'd be pretty stinking cool.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Obama's "Job Loss" Chart

Alright. The Obama adminstration has released a chart showing how The One's economic plan is reviving the economy, blah, blah, blah...

Not quite. This is the chart, provided by the Labor Dept.

Now pay attention, cause they play a little bit of a game here. This is not the number of total jobs lost, but rather a month-by-month play of the number of jobs lost, using 2007 as a baseline. It's a "difference" deal, not a "total" deal.
Here's the exact same data, graphed as the total number of jobs lost over that same amount of time:

That's what the total numbers look like, before being played with by the Administration.

Also remember concerning that first chart, that there are a finite number of jobs-- only because there are a finite number of Americans-- and as more and more people become unemployed, there will be less available to become unemployed. Also, businesses usually jettison the most "expendable" jobs first, and then suck it up and try to get by with the minimum number of employees necessary to stay afloat. As the number of "expendable" jobs decreases, there are less people to fire. Doesn't mean these folks are getting new employment. (The official and unofficial unemployment numbers beg to differ with this chart.)Then again, this chart is emailed to supporters on the President's "Organizing for America" email list-- the kind of people who aren't gonna question all the pretty colors and fonts.


"I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending too much liberty than to those attending too small a degree of it."
~ Thomas Jefferson

Friday, March 5, 2010

The Philosophy of Liberty

A pretty sweet video on YouTube that very succinctly breaks down Libertarian principles. Eight minutes, and you'll understand a comprehensive liberty worldview!

Best line? "Virtue is only possible in a world where there is free choice."
How true.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Reading Acts

Chapter three- specifically; the story where Peter restores the lame man's ability to walk. I don't know about anyone else, but I squealed like a nerd getting a sneak peek at the newest Star Trek movie when Peter did that. And to think- this was the same man who denied and abandoned his Savior and best friend a month and a half before.

Kinda leaves one in awe of God, huh?

"But Peter said, 'I do not possess silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene--walk!'

And seizing him by the right hand, he raised him up; and immediately his feet and his ankles were strengthened."

New name...

Changed the top bit of the blog, as well as changed the name. Waterproof Shirt was a bit silly and contrived. I like it.

The title (and the image on the right) refers to Athanasius, an important early church father who took on Arius and his popular doctrines, especially the teaching that Jesus was not "homousia"- "of the same substance"- as the Father. Essentially, Arius taught something similar to what modern day Jehovah's Witnesses believe. That Jesus, while a god, was not "the" God.

In response, Athanasius-- a preacher from Africa, whom Arius and his educated intellectual fellows sneeringly called "the black dwarf"-- penned De Incarnatione Verbi Dei, a cheerful, biblically rich treatise which remains amazingly readable even two millennia later. Athanasius almost single-handedly held the gates of orthodox Christianity from an assault by the most educated and well-respected Christian scholars of the day. It is these actions that caused C.S. Lewis to write the quote found under his picture here; as well as gave him the epitaph found on his gravestone: "Athanasius against the world."

Crazy stuff going on in life-- I'll discuss all of that in a later post (in a roundabout, vague fashion, as is proper). Suffice it to say that my Father has been changing my heart, because I am dealing with this much differently than I normally would. He is giving me "eyes to see", and I can look beyond the actions to see the causes behind the actions.

I forgive you. You know who you are. :)


To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”
-C.S. Lewis