Friday, January 23, 2004
Plus, I'm starting to feel kinda too pure even for myself. Ah, the burdens of rigorism.
Monday, January 19, 2004
The Crocodile Hunter and I, we sit in creaky chairs, rockin' back and forth on our porch chewin' on our sola fide tobacco and drinking up some of our prime propositional moonshine, 12 gauge apologetic shotguns filled with loads of Bible buckshot--waitin' all day long fer something or someone to shoot at, like our hillbilly snake-handling dearly departed anabaptist relatives of old (Switzerland isn't the only place where they have mountains...have you never heard of the Ozarks?). Yep, we wait and then shoot at anything that moves.
Don't ya dare come calling without lettin us know way ahead o' time that you'se a comin. Yer likely to get filled with biblical buckshot. We've had friends--at least wesa thought they was friends--who merely mention the name of N.T. Wright and BAM! Shot em dead. Right their on da spot.
It doesn't matter if it's a cockroach of a heretic that comes up in our sights. As long as a bullet of orthodoxy can hit it. BAM! Shot em dead.
Take our little internet covenantalist sacralist heresy monger Tim Enloe. We've been paying extra careful attention to his blog lately, because he just keeps blowing fuses over every little fully biblical thing we say about the Gospel. He's really losing it, we fear. It's our duty to warn the world about him and his compromises of the Gospel. He's not really much bigger to us than a squirrel--after all, he's just an undergraduate student that seems to have a penchant for really long posts that are hard to respond to because you have to have more than a fifth grade education to read what he says...which is why I let the Crocodile Hunter, who has a Ph.D, do the shooting on that one.
Well, on our porch today we can see Tim "TGE the sacralist Roman pig" Enloe from the distance...he's left his latest spewage of swamp filth heresy on his blog...he's frozen still (little varmint probably thinks we're about to get him--he's right!) waiting, watching.
As soon as he moves, we'll have him.
Either that, or we'll quash him and other little varmints on the Dividing Line...well, at least Mr. Croc will...I'm much too unimportant to be present with him there. I'll just stay on the porch and skin the kill.
As I was contemplating deep thoughts (some are below) and ruminating on the grand design of the universe while sitting on the porch ever watchful ever vigilant, I wondered to myself...
Why do we feel compelled to deal with each and every little heretical varmint (even those who are not really heretical, just plain wrong) no matter how small, insignificant or unimportant they may seem to be in light of Christ's command to defend the faith?
And then, the answer hit me as I took the last long swig of my prime propositional moonshine. The first answer was downright practical. If we didn't pay attention to each and every little teeny tiny thing that moves in front of our porch of orthodoxy, we wouldn't have much else to do! We'd be flat bored.
But, then, as I took another between cheek and gum--and as Mr. Croc Hunter did the same--it was almost like a revelation. I could have been Joseph Smith seeing that great light in the forest...except I was on my porch [oh wait...as if it's not enough that I've been using literary allusions from Romanist pigs...now I must do it from the Mormons too--oh wait...I forgot...Mormon baptism, Roman Baptism--it's all the same--it's all heresy--OH the swamp that we live in, what shall we ever do!).
Where was I?!?
Oh yeah...my second reason for why we attack everyone indiscriminately whether they deserve it or not: It's the truth, silly.
Nothing is more important than the truth. Not people's ideas about the Bible, people's reputations, people's understanding of salvation, people's silly thinking any differently than we Reformed Donatists do...Nothing is more important than the truth.
I know, I know, Paul said that charity was of utmost importance, but without the truth what is charity?!? What is love if it is not truth?!?
If people can't handle the truth, they deserve to get shot.
Which is why The Great White Shark the REAL heresy hunter Dr. James White and I are sittin on the porch in the middle of this swamp land of heresy known as the Internet with our prime propositional moonshine and our sola fide chewin tobacco, shotguns ready, fingers on the trigger.
Don't worry about us, though, we'll be broadcasting on Monday at 5pm--a special Dividing Line. Instead of dealing with the normal gators (such as Romanist pigs, Triple 'SSS' Presbyterians, Mormon cultists, and JW proselytizers), we'll be handling the squirrels, the cockroaches, and the mosquitoes of heresy. After all, if somebody wasn't in to pest control who in the world could sit out on their porch and drink their prime propositional moonshine anyway?
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Simple. It's just not doing any good. The heretics multiply like mutant gerbils on steroids. As fast as I destroy one five more rise up to take his place.
Only me and my little group are able to remain faithful against the shifting tides of anti-Gospel foolishness. Being faithful is a lonely business.
Plus I can't get any of the "Reformed" bloggers out there to link to my blog! It's like they think I'm some kind of loony or something. Like I'm too pure for their compromising eyes to look upon.
Please! I'm just trying to defend the Gospel!
I'm just trying to make sure that the Visible Church never has any icky nasty tares in it!
I'm just trying to make sure the centrality of the Reformation to all of history doesn't get lost. Even though I myself am too pure for the Reformation, appearances are everything some time.
Why don't people understand? It's not my fault that most people don't love the truth as passionately as I do!
I don't know why I should go on when all my efforts are so fruitless.
You might remind me that sure, the Truly Elect listen to me and heed what I'm saying. But know what? That's a small reward because their number is so small. So very, very small.
Sometimes I feel like Marion did at the bottom of the Well of Souls in Raiders of the Lost Ark: "Indyyyyyyy the torch is going outttttttttt!" That's how all this filthy heresy makes me feel. It's everywhere just like all those nasty slimy snakes!
Lord have mercy.