PaulMoreland.com – Faith, Family, Friends and Firearms

O Rio Do Bicho

On May 23, 2026

Here’s a piece I wrote a while back and thought it was lost as it wasn’t here on my blog. So here it is for the edification and/or entertainment of whosoever should take time to peruse it…

My folks took me down to Brazil when I was just a wee lad. We first lived near the mouth of the Amazon river in the city of Belém before moving to a frontier town 500 miles south. It was a wonderful time for us kids, growing up in a wild, beautiful part of God’s globe. The area is between two major rivers, the Araguaia on the west and the Tocantins on the east. And the jungle was kind of a mix between the Atlantic rain forest and the Amazon rain forest. We were always ready for an adventure so when I got the invite to visit a new mission work being done up in virgin territory above the Amazon I jumped at the chance. By this time the roads were in better shape and the trip north to Belém took only 12 hours. From there I caught a plane up to Manaus to save time for the coming boat ride.

Even today there are vast tracts of the Amazon basin where no white man has set foot. There are huge pieces where only the foot of the native leaves tracks, along with myriads of as yet un-catalogued species of insects, reptiles, birds and mammals. There are nameless rivers snaking their way through dense, steamy jungle. As we used to joke, in the Amazon it rains every day during the dry season – and in the wet season it rains twice as often.

From the airport I caught a cab to the waterfront where I made my way through the bustling throng, always conscious of my pockets and belongings for there are many folks with light fingers and no regard for the concept of personal property inhabiting this even more savage jungle. My friend had told me to catch a ride with Bertinho, a river boat captain he had known for years. I found Bertinho towards the upriver end of the waterfront, yelling orders to his crew as they finished loading the last of the provisions he was to take to the new mission site up river. His crew consisted of José, his eleven year old son and Alfonso, his fifteen year old nephew. Quickly my few things were quickly stowed on board and my hammock slung for the ride. After a few more adjustments and double checking of supplies and order lists Alfonso cranked up the one lung Yanmar diesel engine that powered the boat. Slowly we put-put-putted away from the bank and up the river.

“So,” I asked Bertinho, “what do you think of this new area?”

His brow furrowed slightly and he shook his head, “I don’t know, it’s a beautiful area, lots of game and I even found some gold dust in one of the streams. But do you know what the natives call the river?”

I shook my head. Communications from our friends were few and far between and my info for this new work was sketchy at best.

“We finally found a translator,” he said, “and the name this tribe uses for the river is something like ‘Rio do Bicho’ – and they throw offerings into water to appease the spirits.”

Rio do Bicho – roughly translated “The Critter’s River”, an odd name, but so are most in this part of God’s green earth.

As we pushed our way up the Amazon I quickly was lulled into a blissful stupor by the beauty of the jungle, punctuated by flowers and announced by raucous parrots, monkeys and other denizens of the jungle. Here and there the riverbank was slashed with small holdings where folks had squatted in squalid huts to eke out a living from the poor, sandy soil. Troops of naked, pot bellied children would cease their playing to wave as we put-put-putted by.

We overnighted below a large island, tethered to a tree. We took turns standing watch through the night and I drew the last (and my favorite) shift. Bertinho shook me awake in the dark before moving quietly to his hammock to catch some more rest before the day’s travel would begin. I marveled at the beauty of the starry sky above and listened to the sound of the jungle around us. The river is vast at this point, still far above the outlet to the Atlantic. Countless rivers and streams feed into it, bringing enormous quantities of water and nutrients into this, the largest and longest river in the world. As the sun slowly approached the eastern sky the river slowly came into focus. Tendrils of vapor still rose from the surface and I saw a school of pink porpoises feeding between the island and the shore.

After a breakfast of farofada and coffee, Alfonso cranked up the Yanmar and we went put-put-putting up between the island and the shore. The water was clearer here than the main channel and the reason was soon evident when we came to the mouth of the river which would now take us roughly northeast to the new mission – still two days’ travel ahead. Here the clearings were fewer and instead of the mestizo population we’d seen on the way up from Manaus along the river we were seeing truly native huts and clearings.

The rivers are the only means for travel and the river boats provide transport. So it was only natural for folks to hail a boat and ask for a ride. Passage was paid in goods. Fresh fruit, freshly killed game, dried fish and even balls of raw rubber were used to repay the captain for his kindness of giving folks a lift. It was near noon when I noticed that Bertinho was watching the water behind us, a dark scowl on his face.

“What is it?” I asked.

He merely pointed and it took a minute or so before I saw the dark shadow that was behind our boat. Slowly it moved, keeping roughly the same distance behind us as we moved up against the current. I moved closer to the stern and started to lean out a bit to get a better look when I bumped against a tamborete, the four legged, rawhide covered stool typical of Brazil’s poorer abodes. The stool fell into the water and drifted beyond my grasp before I could grab it. 70 feet or so behind the boat it suddenly disappeared in huge swirl, reminiscent of a bass sucking down a popper! The shadow in the water quickly resumed its place and kept pace with us as we wended our way up the watery highway.

A couple hours later we were hailed from the western bank. A young woman wanted to accompany us up to the next village, along with her passel of children. She wasn’t more than 18 and yet already had four children and one on the way. Bertinho had José and Alfonso run the boarding plank up to the bank above us (the river being low since it was dry season) and the kids scrambled aboard, chattering like monkeys in their native tongue. Bertinho reached up to take the girl’s hand and help her aboard and she slipped, dropping the stalk of bananas that she was bringing to pay for her passage. Bertinho caught her, but the bananas quickly floated aft, beyond our reach. Alfonso ran up the board to the bank with a rope in his hand, hoping to snag the fruit – but he was too late. The bananas disappeared with the same sudden swirl in which the stool had met its fate!

José was only eleven but had spent his whole life on the river. He was excited and ready to get revenge for the theft we had suffered. Earlier in the day the boys had knocked a macaw from a branch above the river with a badogue – a cross between a bow and a slingshot that children in Brazil are very proficient in making and using. They had plucked and cleaned it and hung it in the shade awaiting a chance to get to land, build a fire and roast it. José quickly grabbed the bird’s carcass, threaded it on a hook and tossed the offering into the water. The huge shovel nose catfish that the natives call surubim can reach astonishing size in the rivers around the Amazon. The natives use hooks reminiscent of something you’d seen in “Jaws” and the “fishing line” is often a thin rope. In his haste José forgot what he was fishing for and he took a couple of wraps around his hand to give himself a better purchase to set the hook.

The bait drifted down towards the shadow which was holding in the current below the boat. Suddenly it too disappeared in a swirl! So intent were Bertinho and I in watching the proceedings that we forgot to check on José’s procedures. After all, in spite of his youth he had been hunting and fishing with his father along the rivers for his entire life. We yelled with delight when we saw the bait disappear – followed with a shout of horror when we realized that José had been drug overboard! Kids long the rivers learn to swim before they can walk so we weren’t too worried on that account, but José was quickly dragged away from the boat by the heavy line wrapped around his hand!

Helplessly we watched as he was dragged along, and then we breathed a sigh of relief when we saw his movement stop – then he started back to the boat, swimming strongly and laughing. “I taught him a lesson, Dad!” he called. Suddenly he sunk below the surface in a slight boil of water!

I barely managed to grab Bertinho, to keep him from throwing himself into the river after his son! José was his oldest, and favorite son, his companion in his travels and best fishing and hunting buddy. Being much larger than he was I managed, with difficulty, to pin him to the deck. “Bertinho! There’s nothing you can do!” I said

He ceased struggling and I let him up. He sat up and I watched warily, hoping to keep him from throwing himself overboard after his son. Alfonso was still on the bank and had seen the whole show. Suddenly he yelled, pointing downstream. There it was again, the dark shadow, our companion on the journey up the river. The water was murky from rain upstream, but we could still make out the movement of the shadow – which was nearly as long as our boat.

“Bring me that rope!” Bertinho yelled to Alfonso as he scrambled forward and frantically dug amongst the cargo. He quickly found what he was looking for, a fishing spear that had been ordered for the mission upstream. He tied the rope to the spear and ran up the board to the bank, then eased his way downstream towards where the shadow hung in the water.

These native boatmen are impressive. Mostly of mestizo origins, most of them have a large percentage of native blood in their veins. They learn to hunt and fish at an early age and their ability to use primitive weapons and tools is impressive indeed. Where a city man will see nothing they can throw a spear and bring up a fish – stuck right behind the head for a quick, clean kill.

Bertinho moved down the riverbank and I stuck to him, worried that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. Losing José was a blow, and I didn’t want to have to take the boat back down to Manaus and explain to María, Bertinho’s wife, what had happened to her husband and son. Bertinho crouched, arm back and tense. Suddenly he threw the spear and the rope slid quickly from the coil in his hand. The spear penetrated the surface of the water cleanly, with scarcely a ripple and immediately a flurry of water erupted! Bertinho ran towards a small tree and threw a couple of hitches around it, bracing himself against the weight at the end of the line. Slowly the struggle subsided and the line was taught from the weight of the creature and the pull of the current.

Slowly we hauled in the rope, Alfonso keeping the rope moving smoothly around the tree to control the slack as Bertinho and I pulled against the tremendous weight. Slowly but surely the rope came in. I was worried the spear would pull loose, but it didn’t. Soon the shadow became more distinct and the ugly head of the beast could be seen – the spear stuck firmly behind where it had broken the vertebrae as it plunged home. The creature was huge, two thirds the length of our 20 foot river boat, and of an incredible girth.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’ve never seen one before.” Bertinho replied. “I think this is why the call it “O Rio do Bicho”.

We got the front part of the beast on shore and Bertinho pulled his facão – the omnipresent machete which is found with almost every native man – and started to open the beast. I moved to his side, understanding his need to retrieve his son’s body for proper burial. We rolled the creature on its back and Bertinho carefully yet quickly made a cut from below the gills towards the tail. We each took a side and pulled, opening up the cavernous interior to the green light of the jungle.

Imagine our surprise when we saw José sitting there on the stool, eating bananas!

You can’t return “home”

By paul

On August 2, 2025

In Culture, Freedom, Fun, Religion

There were two lots, one on the corner. An undeveloped “street” out front, a country road that was allegedly a street meandered down the slight slope on the side, while scrub brush and baby jungle trees that would never reach their potential encompassed the other two sides of the property. At one point there had been a pineapple field there, but it had long ago been harvested and abandoned. That was the property that Dad acquired from our uncle.

A barbed wire fence was put around the place, trenches were dug for the foundation and brick by brick the house raised and then the walls roofed and we moved in. We had the run of the area, “way out on the outskirts of town”. Many a happy hour was spent “bivouacking” in some tiny clearing we’d make in the brush. Slingshots, pocket knives, eventually an air rifle – these were our companions. A tiny packet of seasoned salt from the kitchen and a small box of matches and we were set to enjoy the high life of eating what we could catch in this tiny “wilderness¨. A chicken pen was set up, rose bushes and other plants set out, a banana tree planted and the second lot was cleared off for planting a garden.

From this place of refuge we’d venture out, going to church, visiting friends, trips to the river or with the whole family we’d pack up for excursions further afield. An old shed was set up where we had the one lung Yanmar diesel powered generator that we’d use to pump water of an evening, giving us the amazing glow that replaced the relatively dim kerosene Alladin lamps that usually illuminated our nights before bed time. When the water tank would overflow one of us would go out, turn off the generator, and lock the shed as the memory of the thudding engine noise gradually faded, replaced by the night time songs of bugs and amphibians.

Eventually the shed was replaced by a brick structure where Dad had his shop/tool room. We had room for guests and a “School room” as well. Gradually the neighborhood started filling up, folks built and moved in across the side rode, another family took up residence behind us with a concrete slab wall to the back of their property that gave a good back drop for our chicken pen. But while we remained there the “jungle” to the other side was undisturbed, providing cover to all kinds of birds and small animals, like the tegu and iguanas that lusted after our chickens and eggs and the cutia that occasionally appeared.

Life moves on, I left for college. Dad and Mom and my younger siblings moved north, nearly to the banks of the great river. After graduation and marriage I moved with my bride to the old place as we prepared to move yet further east, and even in such a short time, things weren’t the same.

Two kids, an international move, life in general – and time rolled on. Mom needed help so that she could move closer to family so I went. And when the opportunity came I slipped down for a couple of days to see family, friends and “the old home place”. But, you can’t go home. The place I remembered was vastly changed. Asphalt replaced the muddy streets. The street out front that we had laboriously cleared of towering cane like grass so as to set up a volleyball court – that street now was paved! The two original lots we’d treated as one had become separated by a wall. The “jungle” off to the side from whence our chickens had been assaulted by ravenous wildlife had been cut down and replaced with brick and concrete construction.

Ranging further away, the swampy stream where I learned to fish with a hand line and a tiny hook small enough to hide in a grain of cooked rice – that stream ran no longer and houses crowded around where trees used to flourish. The swampy ground was transformed into a hard, rock like substance after the trees had been destroyed. The creek where we used to seine in our underwear with a mesh bag and a bucket for hauling our shiny catch home was unrecognizable, its once clear waters stained by the effluent from the crowded city that once had been a sleepy little town.

Contemplating these things lead me to contemplate even deeper. How does one define or describe that ephemeral longing that one feels? At one time I thought it was for “going home”, in the sense of returning to the place of one’s youth. But more and more as I continue to mature I’ve come to realize – that yearning really is for a place I’ve not yet been. In Hebrews 11 we read of our forefathers of the faith:

These all died in faith without having received the promises, but they saw them from a distance, greeted them, and confessed that they were foreigners and temporary residents on the earth. Now those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they were thinking about where they came from, they would have had an opportunity to return. But they now desire a better place—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.

As one who has lived most of his life as a “stranger” or “foreigner”, both in the land to which the Lord took him and even in the land of his birth, those verses speak to me. You can’t RETURN home if you’ve not yet reached home! And this is the promise to which I cling:

But the Day of the Lord will come like a thief; on that day the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, the elements will burn and be dissolved, and the earth and the works on it will be disclosed. Since all these things are to be destroyed in this way, it is clear what sort of people you should be in holy conduct and godliness as you wait for and earnestly desire the coming of the day of God. The heavens will be on fire and be dissolved because of it, and the elements will melt with the heat. But based on His promise, we wait for the new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness will dwell. 2 Peter 3:10-13

Has style died?

By paul

On July 29, 2025

In Culture, Freedom, Religion

Looking back at the cars my father liked “back in the day”, it is amazing to see the variety and distinctiveness shown by the different makers and the changes made from year to year. Even my unpracticed eye can see the subtle distinctions between 1953, 1954, 1955, 1956 and 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air’s, for example. I just stepped out in front of our place as I saw my wife off to work and saw two cars that at first glance were identical, both in shape and color. But they are different brands, possibly even different year models, although I don´t know enough about them to say for certain. But the lack of creativity is astounding as companies produce such similar vehicles with no effort to make them actually look good. This past weekend I even saw a particular SUV that has a grill reminiscent of Jeep’s iconic front end, making one wonder at the lack of identity that would lead to an attempt to gain traction by using another company’s style.

And then there’s the matter of clothing. Around here the lack of elegance abounds. Crass, crude “here’s a body on a platter” type “clothing” that leaves little to the imagination abounds. I’m amused by folks in my birth country who are shocked at much less explicit clothing – “they ain’t seen nothing, yet” is what often comes to mind when hearing their laments. But there, too, it is far too common to see ripped, ragged, destroyed new jeans – all in the name of “style”, clothing that my mother wouldn´t even use for floor rags, but folks lay good money out to acquire. Oh, we had our share of raggedy clothing, but we came by it honestly, by wearing it until it displayed a certain level of abuse before retiring it and replacing it with something in good repair.

I need to reread Francis Schaeffer’s book, “How Shall We Then Live”. He addresses the impact of godless thinking on style and art and music. If we look around us we can see in God’s beautiful creation the harmony of color, shape and function demonstrated in many ways. True music has a rhythm and mathematical consistency that is pleasing to the ear. What too often passes as music these days is discordant and abrasive.

The other day, following our Bible study, it was interesting to hear the participants chatting about their first experiences in attending the weekly gathering of the saints as experienced by our congregation. Since most of them come from backgrounds where they had been exposed to “contemporary Christianity”, they found our efforts to go back to the roots of the faith “strange”, “odd”, “lacking”. But as we teach straight from the Bible, encouraging people to imitate the Berean church by “searching the scriptures daily to see if these things were so”, they returned, and returned again – and now instead of standing and watching a “worship show”, they stand and “sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making music with their heart to the Lord.” The beauty of music that is harmonious both in style and doctrine is something they have grown to love.

And so, as far as the world around is appears, “Style is dead”. But as we preach the Gospel we see people return to a more harmonious way of dressing, singing and living, resurrecting an appreciation for the beauty taught to us by our Creator.

Great Is Thy Faithfulness

By paul

On July 10, 2025

In Culture, Freedom, Religion

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.
- Great is Thy faithfulness!
  Great is Thy faithfulness!
  Morning by morning new mercies I see:
  All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
  Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!
Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.
Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow—
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

This hymn was written in 1923 by Thomas O. Chisholm. He based it on Lamentations 3:22–23: “It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness.”

Sometimes we need to just sit back and remember the truths proclaimed in this masterpiece.

It’s the little things

By paul

On July 8, 2025

In Photography

Looking through a camera lens gives one a different perspective on the world around us. It helps focus on things in a different way, zoning in on some aspect of our surroundings. For this I prefer a regular camera over a cell phone as looking through a view finder helps one to focus in better and frame the shot you really want. But sometimes there’s a bonus.

Here’s a flower I captured an image of yesterday in front or our house. It took some concentration to get the lighting and the framing the way I wanted it and it wasn’t until I saw it on the big screen that I saw the minuscule “guest” on the petal. Zooming in shows what appears to be some teeny, tiny little beetle. The first generation Olympus OM-D E-M1 with the Olympus 60mm Macro lens did a great job of catching the little guy as he went about his business. Or was he doing a photobomb? I can almost imagine him smiling for the camera!

Long time no blog

By paul

On July 8, 2025

In Culture, Freedom, Religion

It’s hard for me to believe it’s been so long since I published anything here. Life gets busy and when one has too many irons in the fire something has to give. In this case, this backwater blog has been neglected. PWM Photography, however, has been updated a few times. It’s easier to grab a few pics I’ve taken and toss them up than it is to think up anything someone might read.

The downside to busyness is the probability of one ending up on the smoldering edge of burnout. Going, going, going eventually leads to gone, should one not find a way to stop and “smell the roses”, listen for “the still, small voice” or otherwise get a respite from activity.

But who’s to care? Who will step in and say “Hey, brother, you need to take a break!”? Growing up, as we did, between continents and cultures means that the “normal” acquisition of meaningful friendships fell along the wayside somewhere. We are welcomed pretty much everywhere, but nowhere are we sought out for who we are, for the friendship we offer is rarely or never reciprocated.

I look at ministries I’m familiar with that have ended in disgrace for one or another reason and am reminded that one must keep eternally on guard against one’s own moral frailty. The question is – “How does one raise up a team that will help one stay focused on the goal and the necessary processes of reaching that goal?” This is an area I’ve struggled with over the years, to the point of no longer pursuing it. Why? Every time we’ve sought a congregation willing to oversee and encourage us in our work we’ve been turned down. One time we spent several months thinking we were building a solid relationship with a group of elders only to be turned down from our request that they help provide oversight to our work – and they quit supporting our work because we had no congregation providing such oversight. THAT one really hurt, and lead to a distrust of elected “leaders” in local congregations in general.

So, now what? Well, we continue on doing our best to fight the good fight, to stay true to the vision we have of service to our Lord and Savior by serving His people as best we can. We do our best to provide encouragement to all we can and words of warning when we see someone in our sphere of influence who needs to get back on course. And we try to keep our eyes on Christ, even when we feel alone in the battle. Often I’m reminded of Elijah’s words (roughly paraphrased here) “Lord, just kill me already because I’m all alone and no one else stands firm for You.” And the answer from the Lord: “Buck up! I’ve got 7,000 who have not bowed their knees to Baal – and I’ve still got work for you to do!”

So, to those “7,000” – keep your eyes on the Lord. Take time to rest and care for yourself. The Lord’s not finished with any of you until He takes you home. Stay firm in your commitment to not be conformed to the world around you but rather transformed through the renewing of your mind. The Lord WILL see you through!

Leaving God Out Has Consequences

By paul

On August 17, 2024

In Culture, Freedom, Government, Religion

They have installed kings,
but not through me.
They have appointed leaders,
but without my approval.
They make their silver and gold
into idols for themselves
for their own destruction.
~ Hosea 8:4

Once again election year has rolled around and social media and legacy media and all kinds of other opinion and fact and misinformation founts are heating up. Politics is an extreme sport and can be very entertaining at times. Unfortunately, far too many take a “My team against your team” approach and they focus on the false dichotomy of “You MUST vote Democrat or Republican!” – forgetting that there ARE other alternatives. When one mentions such a possibility then people get defensive and INSIST that “any vote for another party is a vote for (fill in the name of the candidate they don’t like)”. In this manner the myth that one MUST vote Democrat or Republican is perpetuated, and the prophecy that a third party has no chance is fulfilled.

A look at Ballotpedia shows that as of today, August 17, 2024, there are seven candidates representing five parties and two independents as well. Yet the public continues to allow the media to foment the idea that there are only two candidates. The more I consider the possibilities, the more I’m amazed at how people focus on the the flaws of one of the two front runners, completely forgetting that the other is equally or even MORE flawed. It’s as if the public wears blinders and is incapable of reasoning for themselves or of sifting through the allegations and attacks and personalities to come to the conclusion that, in a nation of 340,000,000 or so people – there HAS to be a better option than that which someone is attempting to foist on a complacent population.

Now imagine the possibilities if the nation as a whole were to step back, take a breath and look at other options than the false dichotomy of “D” vs “R”. If through the prophet Hosea God made His abhorrence to the princes and kings chosen by His people known, a people governed mostly by hereditary hierarchies, imagine His opinion of the leaders chosen by a people that was founded on principles taught by His Son. How can a people that has “In God We Trust” emblazoned on their currency fall so low as to be forced to choose between two evils? To choose between two evils still means choosing evil. Isn’t it time that the nation repented and told those who have been manipulating public opinion to their own ends to “take a hike”? Isn’t it time the nation repented and sought a better solution than that offered to us by “our betters”?

Random Thoughts On The Olympic Games

By paul

On July 30, 2024

In Culture, Freedom, Religion

Apparently the world has come around to another cycle of Olympic games. And this year it started off with a lot of commotion, judging from my inbox and social media feeds! I’ve seen more of it than I care to, but such is life in a connected world.

Apparently the opening ceremony included a scandalous depiction of – something. Reports vary between a blasphemous reproduction of the “The Last Supper” painting and “merely” a reincarnation of a Bacchanal ceremony – or maybe a combination of the two! Anyway, it was not something that the world was ready for, at least not the less radicalized world.

Yet I find myself unimpressed. Or rather, unsurprised. After all, the original games were staged to honor the Olympic “gods”. And anyone who was paying attention in class way back when knows that the Greek and Roman “gods” were anything but pure or holy – and those who worshipped them were merely worshipping exaggerated versions of themselves. Zeus could not pass by any kind of female, human or otherwise, without engendering offspring from it. Bacchus was the god of wine and according to some his “worship” involved unbridled lust and drunken revelry. And that’s just to start going down a list of the Roman and Greek “gods”.

So, why are Christians shocked that a celebration of games in honor of the ancient “gods” would involve the type of opening ceremony that was presented in Paris? Why are Christians participating, even just by watching, games that honor false gods? Why has sport become more important than faith in worship of the One Who made us all? Sports in themselves are not evil, but why participate in those dedicated to the ancient “gods” of societies that failed due to their propensity to imitate their supposed deities? There are plenty of sports one can participate in without fomenting the Olympic games and the evil that goes with them.

Immorality has become part and parcel of the Olympic games. This year continues the tradition with a reported 300,000 condoms being distributed to the athletes. Again, why would someone who claims to be a Christian participate in games oriented towards the values of the pagan gods?

The Indwelling Presence

By paul

On March 8, 2024

In Freedom, Religion

Lately the congregation has been reading through the Bible chronologically. It’s been an interesting exercise, one we’ve not done for a number of years. It’s good to switch up versions and reading plans as it makes you THINK about what you’re reading, instead of getting into a rut.

Recently we were reading about the tabernacle and all that went into making it and provisioning it for service to God. The account of the finishing of the tabernacle has given me a lot of food for thought. In Exodus 40:33-35 we read: Next Moses set up the surrounding courtyard for the tabernacle and the altar and hung a screen for the gate of the courtyard. So Moses finished the work. The cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. Moses was unable to enter the tent of meeting because the cloud rested on it, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. The completion of the work lead to the presence of God filling the tabernacle.

Today those of us who seek to be disciples of Jesus Christ see the Old Testament as a type or foreshadowing of things to be revealed in the New Testament under the new covenant described in Jeremiah 31:31-34: “Look, the days are coming”—this is the Lord’s declaration—“when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah. This one will not be like the covenant I made with their ancestors on the day I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land of Egypt—my covenant that they broke even though I am their master”—the Lord’s declaration. “Instead, this is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after those days”—the Lord’s declaration. “I will put my teaching within them and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will one teach his neighbor or his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they will all know me, from the least to the greatest of them”—this is the Lord’s declaration. “For I will forgive their iniquity and never again remember their sin.

In Galatians 3:7-9 we read You know, then, that those who have faith, these are Abraham’s sons. Now the Scripture saw in advance that God would justify the Gentiles by faith and proclaimed the gospel ahead of time to Abraham, saying, All the nations will be blessed through you. Consequently, those who have faith are blessed with Abraham, who had faith. And in in verses 16-18: Now the promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. He does not say “and to seeds,” as though referring to many, but referring to one, and to your seed, who is Christ. My point is this: The law, which came 430 years later, does not invalidate a covenant previously established by God and thus cancel the promise. For if the inheritance is based on the law, it is no longer based on the promise; but God has graciously given it to Abraham through the promise. and verses 24-29: The law, then, was our guardian until Christ, so that we could be justified by faith. But since that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian, for through faith you are all sons of God in Christ Jesus. For those of you who were baptized into Christ have been clothed with Christ. There is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female; since you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, heirs according to the promise. So now we see how God set up so that He would be glorified through people of ALL nations, not just the nation He set up to prepare the way for the coming of the Messiah.

So we see how God has made those who believe and obey to be His sons, yet He also makes us into a temple, an altar and a priesthood. Peter, the apostle, wrote in 1 Peter 2:4-5: As you come to him, a living stone—rejected by people but chosen and honored by God— you yourselves, as living stones, a spiritual house, are being built to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. And in Romans 12:1 Paul the apostle wrote: Therefore, brothers and sisters, in view of the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your true worship. This reflects back to what Jesus Himself said to the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4:23-24: But an hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and in truth. Yes, the Father wants such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in Spirit and in truth.”

So we see that as disciples of Jesus Christ we are:
1) sons of God
2) clothed with Christ
3) a spiritual temple
4) a royal priesthood
5) a living sacrifice

And that brings us back to the idea I’m trying to convey, the foreshadowing in the Old Testament of spiritual concepts in the New Testament. In Acts 2:38-39 the apostle Peter told those present, “Repent and be baptized, each of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and for your children, and for all who are far off, as many as the Lord our God will call.” When we are immersed for the forgiveness of our sins in the name of Jesus the Christ, we are clothed with Christ, circumcised by the hand of God and made pure and Holy before Him. And now we see in Acts that those who do so “will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit”. Today many believe that such a gift is something external to themselves, much like king Saul prophesying because the Spirit took control of him. Yet he DID NOT have the INDWELLING PRESENCE of God, nor do many who today emphasize external “evidence of God’s power”, forgetting that Jesus warned about depending on things external to ourselves. Matthew recorded this in chapter 7, verses 21 to 23 of his gospel. “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, didn’t we prophesy in your name, drive out demons in your name, and do many miracles in your name?’ Then I will announce to them, ‘I never knew you. Depart from me, you lawbreakers!’

I’ve contemplated and meditated long and hard on that passage in Matthew along with what the Bible teaches about baptism (immersion in water is what the apostles referred to as baptism, we know this because that is what the scriptures record them and their disciples as doing). A conclusion I’ve come to, and note it is my conclusion – study it out for yourself, is that since Jesus spoke of being born again to Nicodemus saying “unless someone is born of water and the Spirit he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” , those who refuse to be baptized for the remission of their sins (as directed by Peter in Acts 2:38-39) are not known by God, just as we do not know a child that has not been known. They may be religious, they may be noisy, they may even perform miracles and cast out demons in the Name of the Lord – but if they’ve not been born of water and the Spirit then they run the risk of beng told “Depart from me, you lawbreakers!” on that last day.

Now getting back to the original idea of God’s Presence indwelling His tabernacle, we see that those who are truly Christ’s disciples are also living stones and a royal priesthood and an acceptable living sacrifice to God. And that means that His Presence indwells them. That is the promise that Peter conveyed on Pentecost day when he said “Repent and be baptized, each of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and for your children, and for all who are far off, as many as the Lord our God will call.” Unfortunately, most people today do not understand this concept. Paul the apostle wrote in Ephesians 3:20-21: Now to Him who is able to do above and beyond all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us— to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

May the Indwelling Presence of God be made manifest in and through the lives of His sons who are born again through water and God’s Spirit. May we come to truly understand the power at work within us, sanctifying us as His holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices as we lay our lives on His altar. May we not not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of our mind, so that we may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.

How to make a redneck happy

By paul

On January 23, 2024

In Culture, Freedom, Fun

Redneck, a term used disparagingly by many and a stereotype fomented by the likes of Jeff Foxworhy, yet born proudly by those of us who understand where the term comes from. Back in the days when many wore neckties even around the farm, there was a hardy lot of men who eschewed such things and bore the mark of the sun upon their exposed necks. Necks that were exposed to the elements as they went about their daily lives doing what men do “to get the coon” (whatever it takes to obtain what is needed or desired for daily sustenance.)

Such are the backwoodsmen and farmers, miners (black necks?) and stockmen that built the infrastructure of what we know as The United States of America. Rednecks. And leaving Jeff Foxworthyisms aside, what tends to indicate a redneck or someone with such a background? A pocketknife in their trouser pocket and a vehicle containing “the bare necessities” to jumpstart civilization and/or take care of needful tasks that may crop up along the way are just a couple of common denominators of the breed.

The year was 1998 and it was cold. We’d gone into town for something and found a lady with a car that wouldn’t start – dead battery. As we were up from S. America for a few months on “Home Service”, our vehicle didn’t contain all the paraphernalia we’d learned to carry with us down south. So I told the lady to hang on and I’d be right back. Down to the local wallyworld I went, straight to the automotive section where I got a good idea of the options – and chose not the cheapest but the best I could afford at the moment. Heavy gauge wire, heavy duty clamps, long enough to stretch across the front of two vehicles if needed, those were the cables I selected and carried back to get the lady out of the cold and on her way home. And those cables were included in our luggage upon our return south where they’ve resided in the trunk of various vehicles over the years, being brought out only occasionally, but always with appreciation from the person being helped. Machete, small hatchet, a tool box with basic things, a multimeter, two extinguishers, wheel chocks, a tow rope, hydraulic jack, a small set of sockets and a ratchet along with a decent 12v compressor – these are the type of things that reside in the trunk “just in case”. A quart of oil, radiator fluid, brake fluid – you never know for sure what you’ll run into or need along life’s journey.And at one time or another, all these and more have come in handy.

So, getting back to the title, “How do you make a redneck happy?” – give him a chance to use the tools, knowledge and abilities he’s been carting around for years. “See? I TOLD you it’d come in handy some day!” he’ll say, or at least think, as the situation at hand is resolved due to his forethought and preparation.