What I Don't Have

 

What I Don’t Have

     Spiritual leprosy I don’t have.  Neither do I detect it in ones that are close to me.  Call it a blessing that the apple has fallen far from my mother’s tree.  In that, perversion in a running down a crooked gravel road has not bloodied our souls.

     A mother has a special bond with her son.  I enjoy intimacy with my daughters and daughters-in-law.  Intimacy in such a way as they know me.  They detect my spirit and respect my movements about them.  In this mutual adherence to God’s law, we enjoy freedom to move.  Negating boundaries results in stickiness.  Inordinance with respect to gender expression confuses the little ones as they look up to truth.

     Spiritual leprosy I don’t have.  I knew a man who died of AIDS.  Not a friendly disease.  God does say the ones who run that race will get their reward.  Dancing with flirted disaster gives the end of the barrel eventually.  Russian Roulette spins a chambered impregnation like a piercing needle to the arm.  He did not mince words.  Homosexuality earns its grounds of toxicity birthed out of a malicious factory ditch.  Gooey sludge holds on to the nail as it is driven through the perverted man’s soul.  I don’t wish it.  Not on anyone.

     Why such a strong stance against the wooing call of sexual mischief?  Its dementia far supersedes the old folk’s home.  Walking time bombs threaten our society.  In the explosion of desire, our little ones receive the spattered cum against their craniums.  Lit in their eyes, the taste stains their understanding of what is proper.

     What is proper?  Again, Wisdom cries aloud in the streets.  She begs those not to venture into the darkness without a lamp.  To know him is to slither down his hole.  Turning around is so very hard when one’s head is trapped.  A funneling into his web results the body being wrapped in confines.  Worm hole?  Well, his gravity pulls and supernatural power is needed to extract one from his trap.

     Is it possible?  Yes, quite.  The work of His Spirit is great.  He lifts ones up from death.  Surely, He is able to heal.  Those predetermined in a sinful conception can be emancipated.  Declaring free from the old man, His desires can be enjoyed in holiness.

     Who is able to heal spiritually but the One who created in first place?  An untwisting of the sexual identity knot is the work of the Master.  His fingers know delicate maneuverings needed to draw the string straight.

     I encourage you brother or sister.  Bring your stuff to His door.  He does not turn away.  Neither will He turn His nose from the offal.  Your shame will not offend Him as He is God and Father of all.  He cares enough to ask and get involved.  If you have been bruised by others in high places, then I am sorry.  We have no right under God to be disrespectful of your being.  We all have sensitivities.  He does not criticize.  He is not man that He stoops to this action of flesh.

     Those caught and struggling.  Please come to Him again.  Sexual confusion has infected the Church, but there is hope.  As long as Jesus is alive, there is hope.

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