I am back for now. I have not posted since March of last year. I am now well enough to write again. It will be fun while it lasts, no matter how long that is.
I have been extremely sick for a long time. But, God won’t let me die. I intend to spend the rest of my life guaranteeing God that he made the right decision.
Folks today tend to think the Bible dropped out of the sky already bound in leather with gold edges. But if you back up a couple thousand years and look at things the way ordinary people lived them, the picture gets a whole lot more human. When Jesus was baptized, John the Baptist recognized him as the Messiah. Later on, sitting in a prison cell, that same John sent word asking if Jesus really was the one. Now, that’s not a small detail. That’s a flat‑out contradiction. And it isn’t the only one. The gospel stories don’t always line up neat and tidy, and sometimes they tell things nobody could have witnessed at all.
There were moments when Jesus was completely alone. No disciples. No crowds. No scribes hiding behind a rock taking notes. Yet we have long, detailed accounts of what he thought, felt, and prayed. Where did those stories come from? They came from memory—layered, repeated, polished, and passed down by people who couldn’t read or write but could remember a story better than most of us can remember where we left our keys.
Folks forget that Jesus was from Nazareth, a place not known for schooling or libraries. There were no court reporters, no newspapers, no historians following him around with a notebook. The people who carried these stories didn’t have the luxury of writing anything down. They had to hold it in their heads, and when you do that, you remember the heart of a thing even if the order gets scrambled.
That’s why the gospels sometimes feel out of sequence. That’s why you see the same event told three different ways. And that’s why some parts sound like they were shaped to fit the needs of the early church—because they probably were. People add things when they’re trying to teach, persuade, or steady a frightened crowd. That’s human nature, and the early Christians were as human as the rest of us.
But here’s the part that matters. Even with all the rough edges, the principles shine through. The facts may wobble, but the truth stands straight. The teachings hold up because they weren’t built on paperwork; they were built on lived experience. Folks who couldn’t read had sharper memories than we do, and they passed down what mattered most. Not the dates. Not the sequence. The principles.
So when I read the gospels, I don’t get tangled up in who remembered what first or which version is the “correct” one. I look at the principles. Those are flawless. Those are what last. And those are what still speak to anybody willing to listen.
Suffering There is no one who isn’t suffering. Buddhism is built on that very idea. Life has friction built into it. My purpose here is to explain that suffering for the sake of righteousness is a very particular kind of suffering, and it tells you something about the way a person is living.
There are plenty of reasons people suffer that don’t mean anything at all. Some suffering is physical. Some is genetic. Some is just the wear and tear of being alive. Those don’t count, because they aren’t caused by behavior. They don’t reveal anything about a person’s character.
By James Quillian, Fantasy Free Ministries
Some gospel music is just good, wholesome entertainment. There is nothing wrong with that.
But every now and then, a song comes along that does more than entertain. It tells the truth
about life, death, and what it means to be reborn. The song “Because He Lives” is one of those.
There is one verse in particular that lays out the spiritual journey in plain language:
And then one day I’ll cross the river
I’ll fight life’s final war with pain
And then, as death gives way to victory
I’ll see the lights of glory and I’ll know he reigns
You do not need a theology degree to understand that verse. It is a picture of the processof dying and being reborn. First, there is a crossing—“I’ll cross the river.” That is the moment when we leave what we know and step into what we cannot control. In Scripture, crossing water often marks a turning point: leaving slavery, entering promise, passing from one kind of life into another.
Then comes the struggle—“I’ll fight life’s final war with pain.” That line is honest.
Dying is not always gentle. Letting go of this world, this body, and our old ways of
thinking can feel like a war. The songwriter does not sugarcoat it. Pain is part of the
process. That is true physically, and it is also true spiritually. When God breaks our
illusions, it hurts.
But the verse does not stop with pain. It moves to a turning point:
“And then, as death gives way to victory.” Death is not the end of the story. It is the
doorway. What looks like defeat from the outside is actually victory from God’s side.
The old life dies so that a new life can begin. That is the pattern of the cross and the
resurrection. That is also the pattern of every genuine spiritual rebirth.
Finally, there is sight and certainty—“I’ll see the lights of glory and I’ll know He reigns.”
At that point, faith turns into sight. What we trusted without seeing becomes visible.
The rule of Christ is no longer a doctrine; it is a reality we stand in. The verse walks us
straight through fear, pain, and death into clarity, light, and authority.
I teach natural law, but natural law does not stop at economics or politics. It runs right
through the human soul. If you live in reality, you have the same authority I do. Truth
does not need a license. It just needs to be spoken plainly.
The pattern in this verse—crossing, struggle, death, and then victory—is not just religious poetry. It is how real change works. Something old has to die for something new to live. That is true in your spiritual life, your habits, your relationships, and even in how you see yourself. You cannot drag the old self into the new life and expect peace.
Many people want resurrection without a cross. They want victory without a war. This verse refuses that shortcut. It tells you straight: there is a river to cross, a war to fight,
and a death to pass through. But it also tells you something else—on the other side, there is light, glory, and a King who actually reigns.
This verse also runs parallel to some of the thoughts of Carl Jung. Jung talked about the “shadow”—the parts of ourselves we do not want to see. To become whole, a person has to face that shadow, not deny it. That is a kind of death. The false image of ourselves has to die so that a more honest, integrated self can live.
When the verse says, “I’ll fight life’s final war with pain,” it is not just about the body
shutting down. It can also be heard as the final struggle with all the lies we have believed about ourselves and about God. Jung would say that avoiding that inner conflict keeps a person divided and sick. Facing it—crossing that river—opens the way to a deeper life.
Where Jung speaks of integration, Scripture speaks of new birth. Where Jung talks about the self becoming whole, the gospel talks about being made new in Christ. Different language, but the same basic pattern: you do not get to real life without passing through something that feels like death.
You do not need fancy words to understand what is real. You just need honesty. This verse from‘ Because He Lives” is honest. It tells you that pain is real, death is real,
and fear is real—but it also tells you that none of those have the last word.
If you are seeking, here is the simple truth: you are going to cross that river one day.
You do not get to vote on that. What you can decide is whether that crossing is just the
end of your story or the beginning of a new one. The promise of the gospel is that because He lives, death is not a wall; it is a doorway.
You do not have to understand all the theology. You do not have to read Jung. You just
have to be willing to let the old life go and trust the One who has already gone through
death and come out the other side. That is what this verse is pointing to. That is what
makes this song more than entertainment. It is a map.
And when that day comes—when you cross your river and fight your final war with pain—the promise is simple: death will give way to victory, you will see the lights of glory,
and you will know, not just believe, that He reigns.
Teachings: Straight Talk on Inner Change and Real Understanding
Folks, in a world full of fancy rituals and highbrow debates, Jesus’ plain words cut right through the noise. He zeroed in on fixing up the folks who messed up, pushed for real getting-it over bowing down, and his ideas line up mighty well with that thinker Carl Jung. We’re sticking to what he taught—no side trips into miracles or history fights. Let’s get to it.
Jesus didn’t waste time patting the good folks on the back. No, he went straight for the sinners—the cheaters, the wanderers, the ones society kicked to the curb. He said it clear: “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I came for the sinners, not the righteous” (Mark 2:17).
Look at his stories. The Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32) blows it all on wild living, hits rock bottom, and heads home. Dad throws a party—no questions asked. Or the Lost Sheep (Luke 15:3-7): the shepherd ditches the 99 safe ones to haul back the stray, happier about that one than the rest. Why? Because the sinner’s got the most to lose—big consequences here and beyond. Jesus knew turning them around stops the hurt at the source. It’s about owning your mess and flipping the script. Simple as that.
Here’s the kicker: Jesus never begged for folks to worship him. He pointed ’em to God the Father every time. When some guy called him “good,” he shot back, “Why call me good? Only God’s good” (Mark 10:18). His big prayer starts with honoring God, not himself (Matthew 6:9-13).
Instead, he hammered on understanding. “If you love me, do what I say” (John 14:15). Stories like the Sower (Mark 4:1-20) show how truth needs to sink in deep to grow. He flat-out said, “The kingdom of God’s inside you” (Luke 17:21). Salvation ain’t some show—it’s getting the big picture, loving God and your neighbor (Matthew 22:37-40), showing mercy (Matthew 5:7), and aiming for real wholeness (Matthew 5:48). Check yourself first: “Yank the log out of your own eye before picking at your brother’s speck” (Matthew 7:5). That’s the road to freedom.
Now, Carl Jung—that Swiss doc who dug into the mind—his stuff clicks with Jesus like puzzle pieces. Jung talked about “individuation,” pulling your whole self together, conscious and hidden parts. Sounds a lot like Jesus’ inner kingdom.
Mustard Seed parable (Matthew 13:31-32): starts tiny, grows huge—just like Jung’s soul sprouting from a spark. The Pearl of Great Price (Matthew 13:45-46)? That’s your inner gold, worth everything to dig up. Facing your dark side? Jung called it the shadow; Jesus forgave sinners and said look inward. “Seek and find” (Matthew 7:7) matches Jung’s “wake up by looking inside.” Both push for wholeness, like Jesus’ call to be perfect as the Father (Matthew 5:48). It’s like old-school mind healing, folks.
Jesus’ words boil down to this: Fix what’s broken inside, especially if you’re the one breaking things. Get the understanding, and salvation follows. Jung shows it’s deeper than church—it’s human stuff. Ask yourself: Where’s my fix-up needed? What truth am I missing? Grab it, and you’ll find that real peace right now.
Rethinking the doctrine that shaped Christianity
In mainstream Christianity today, Jesus is almost universally presented as God Himself — the second person of the Trinity, fully divine and co-equal with the Father. Yet when we read the New Testament with fresh eyes, free from centuries of doctrinal tradition, a very different picture emerges.The New Testament was not compiled in a vacuum. It was shaped by political forces, church councils, and imperial interests. Its original interpretation was likewise established politically. A plain reading of the scriptures themselves tells a story that contradicts the later “Jesus is God” claim.
Exploring the “Ladder of Ascent” as a universal spiritual technology.
Forgiveness Is Not Just For Sissie PDF
Forgiveness is almost universally misunderstood. Words conjure up images and impressions that change what a term really means. When the word forgiveness comes up, the image it usually brings up is something like a Bible – thumping preacher shaking his finger at a congregation, explaining what Jesus expects from everyone.
Does it make sense to let someone off the hook when what they did festers as hate and resentment ? It makes no sense to say “Its o.k., I can and will live with what you did. Now let’s get on with life. God bless you brother.”
I have explained that sin constitutes mal-adaptive behavior. There is not one sin mentioned in The Bible which would fail to make society progress in reverse over time.
Sin is rewarding because it has rewards. Take fornication, for an example. Fornication provides an immediate pleasure. The ancients had discovered the value of planned births. Fornication created unplanned pregnancies. It also spread infections, none of which could be cured back then. Such things work against mankind’s forward progress.
It is the nature of sin to provide benefits and it does. The benefits are immediate rewards but they are all up front. Costs and risks outweigh the benefits over time.
Costs of sin impact society as a whole. There are no victimless sins.
“Whoever has ears, let them hear.” Matthew 13:9
Scriptures – especially the words of Jesus, have universal meanings beyond applying to the immediate circumstances he was addressing.
Some people are born with a spiritual awareness. Some have a lot, some a little ….and some have none at all. Many feel the presence of a higher power that influences their lives. These are those Jesus understood who were capable of immediately receiving his message.
Atheists seem to be among those born spiritually impaired. Think of this as being handicapped spiritually.