Pentecostalism: The Glorification of the Flesh

[rockytopva]

The anointing of the Holy Spirit is not ego! In which we ought to quickly discern the difference between the two...

Ego - From either the devil or the flesh
Anointing- From God!

Theology… What does it guarantee? I would have to know the senior pastor before recommending any church. I like Pentecostal Holiness teachings but in many cases what is claimed as Holy Spirit comes off more as ego. When we had a plating department in our facility I worked myself up to Lab Technician and worked under a chemist. This chemist was very smart, professional, and very good at math. When he laid out equations he did so in very neat handwriting and there would be much activity as he turned the results of an analysis into an addition. I would take his calculations and put them in the form of visual basic functions and sub procedures.

Of all the years I worked with this man I had one opportunity to witness to him. I made my presentation while he was analyzing adhesion under a microscope in which you could hear the sounds... Scratch, scratch, scratch! Scratch scratch, scratch! After my presentation he just continued to look under the microscope as if he ignored everything I said so I just continued in my work. Then... The scratch scratch, scratching stopped! And he speaks!

"You know what I think it is?" He says while continuing to look under the microscope... "I think it is arrogance!"

And then, without taking his eyes off the microscope, he continues his work... Scratch, scratch, scratch! Scratch scratch, scratch! I did not reply but went about my work. Inside I feared he was right. In many cases points of theology can inhabit too much personal ego and not end up edifying or doing any good. But… Is every preacher in every denomination that way? Even though I am not Catholic I do like Father Cedric. Is every Catholic priest like Father Cedric?

My old pastors would have, or drive us to revivals. You could see the concern on their faces as they would drive us to or host events. It worked! As we would attend the events the heart would sense the crucifixion of the flesh and the ressurection of the Spirit.

 

[rockytopva]

The Two Trumpets of a Worship Service...

And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Make thee two trumpets of silver; of a whole piece shalt thou make them: that thou mayest use them for the calling of the assembly, and for the journeying of the camps. And when they shall blow with them, all the assembly shall assemble themselves to thee at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation.- Numbers 10:1-3

Two Trumpets -

1. The Worship - For the calling of the assembly
2. The Word - For the journeying of the camps

In this day and time I would recommend any denomination approved by this Christian web site... However... I would want to know two things...

1. The Worship - Does the church have a good worship leader?
2. The Word - Does the church have a good Senior Pastor?

I also enjoy Church of God (Cleveland Tn) Worship services where some old guy last night actually fell out in the Spirit. Towards the end of the service he got up and was helped back weeping as he went. A RW Schambach sermon on the importance of the Worship and the Word...

If the time in Worship and the Word is effective we will sense the divine presence.

 

[Robert Pate]

The anointing of the Holy Spirit is not ego! In which we ought to quickly discern the difference between the two...

Ego - From either the devil or the flesh
Anointing- From God!

Theology… What does it guarantee? I would have to know the senior pastor before recommending any church. I like Pentecostal Holiness teachings but in many cases what is claimed as Holy Spirit comes off more as ego. When we had a plating department in our facility I worked myself up to Lab Technician and worked under a chemist. This chemist was very smart, professional, and very good at math. When he laid out equations he did so in very neat handwriting and there would be much activity as he turned the results of an analysis into an addition. I would take his calculations and put them in the form of visual basic functions and sub procedures.

Of all the years I worked with this man I had one opportunity to witness to him. I made my presentation while he was analyzing adhesion under a microscope in which you could hear the sounds... Scratch, scratch, scratch! Scratch scratch, scratch! After my presentation he just continued to look under the microscope as if he ignored everything I said so I just continued in my work. Then... The scratch scratch, scratching stopped! And he speaks!

"You know what I think it is?" He says while continuing to look under the microscope... "I think it is arrogance!"

And then, without taking his eyes off the microscope, he continues his work... Scratch, scratch, scratch! Scratch scratch, scratch! I did not reply but went about my work. Inside I feared he was right. In many cases points of theology can inhabit too much personal ego and not end up edifying or doing any good. But… Is every preacher in every denomination that way? Even though I am not Catholic I do like Father Cedric. Is every Catholic priest like Father Cedric?

My old pastors would have, or drive us to revivals. You could see the concern on their faces as they would drive us to or host events. It worked! As we would attend the events the heart would sense the crucifixion of the flesh and the ressurection of the Spirit.

Your lab tech friend was right.

Pride and arrogance are never higher than when someone is demonstrating their subjective religious experience in front of others.

 

[rockytopva]

If God called me into evangelism I would only be concerned about the congregations of my flock and pattern my ministry like the Methodist before me...

I passed my examinations and that year I was sent to the Wytheville Station and Circuit. That was adjoining my former charge. We reached the old parsonage on the pike just out of Wytheville as Rev. B. W. S. Bishop moved out. Charley Bishop was then a little tow-headed boy. He is now the learned Regent of Southwestern University. The parsonage was an old two-and-a-half-story structure with nine rooms and it looked a little like Hawthorne's house with the seven gables. It was the lonesomest-looking old house I ever saw. There was no one there to meet us, for we had not notified anybody of the time we would arrive.

Think of taking a young bride to that sort of a mansion! But she was brave and showed no sign of disappointment. That first night we felt like two whortleberries in a Virginia tobacco wagonbed. We had room and to spare, but it was scantily furnished with specimens as antique as those in Noah's ark. But in a week or so we were invited out to spend the day with a good family, and when we went back we found the doors fastened just as we had left them, but when we entered a bedroom was elegantly furnished with everything modern and the parlor was in fine shape. The ladies had been there and done the work. How much does the preacher owe to the good women of the Church!

The circuit was a large one, comprising seventeen appointments. They were practically scattered all over the county. I preached every other day, and never less than twice and generally three times on Sunday.

I had associated with me that year a young collegemate, Rev. W. B. Stradley. He was a bright, popular fellow, and we managed to give Wytheville regular Sunday preaching. Stradley became a great preacher and died a few years ago while pastor of Trinity Church, Atlanta, Georgia. We were true yokefellows and did a great work on that charge, held fine revivals and had large ingatherings.

The famous Cripple Creek Campground was on that work. They have kept up campmeetings there for more than a hundred years. It is still the great rallying point for the Methodists of all that section. I have never heard such singing and preaching and shouting anywhere else in my life. I met the Rev. John Boring there and heard him preach. He was a well-known preacher in the conference; original, peculiar, strikingly odd, but a great revival preacher.

One morning in the beginning of the service he was to preach and he called the people to prayer. He prayed loud and long and told the Lord just what sort of a meeting we were expecting and really exhorted the people as to their conduct on the grounds. Among other things, he said we wanted no horse- trading and then related that just before kneeling he had seen a man just outside the encampment looking into the mouth of a horse and he made such a peculiar sound as he described the incident that I lifted up my head to look at him, and he was holding his mouth open with his hands just as the man had done in looking into the horse's mouth! But he was a man of power and wrought well for the Church and for humanity.

The rarest character I ever met in my life I met at that campmeeting in the person of Rev. Robert Sheffy, known as "Bob" Sheffy. He was recognized all over Southwest Virginia as the most eccentric preacher of that country. He was a local preacher; crude, illiterate, queer and the oddest specimen known among preachers. But he was saintly in his life, devout in his experience and a man of unbounded faith. He wandered hither and thither over that section attending meetings, holding revivals and living among the people. He was great in prayer, and Cripple Creek campground was not complete without "Bob" Sheffy. They wanted him there to pray and work in the altar.

He was wonderful with penitents. And he was great in following up the sermon with his exhortations and appeals. He would sometimes spend nearly the whole night in the straw with mourners; and now and then if the meeting lagged he would go out on the mountain and spend the entire night in prayer, and the next morning he would come rushing into the service with his face all aglow shouting at the top of his voice. And then the meeting always broke loose with a floodtide.

He could say the oddest things, hold the most unique interviews with God, break forth in the most unexpected spasms of praise, use the homeliest illustrations, do the funniest things and go through with the most grotesque performances of any man born of woman.

It was just "Bob" Sheffy, and nobody thought anything of what he did and said, except to let him have his own way and do exactly as he pleased. In anybody else it would not have been tolerated for a moment. In fact, he acted more like a crazy man than otherwise, but he was wonderful in a meeting. He would stir the people, crowd the mourner's bench with crying penitents and have genuine conversions by the score. I doubt if any man in all that conference has as many souls to his credit in the Lamb's Book of Life as old "Bob" Sheffy.

At the close of that year in casting up my accounts I found that I had received three hundred and ninety dollars for my year's work, and the most of this had been contributed in everything except money. It required about the amount of cash contributed to pay my associate and the Presiding Elder. I got the chickens, the eggs, the butter, the ribs and backbones, the corn, the meat, and the Presiding Elder and Brother Stradley had helped us to eat our part of the quarterage. Well, we kept open house and had a royal time, even if we did not get much ready cash. We lived and had money enough to get a good suit of clothes and to pay our way to conference. What more does a young Methodist preacher need or want? We were satisfied and happy, and these experiences are not to be counted as unimportant assets in the life and work of a Methodist circuit rider. - The Life of George Clark Rankin

 

[Robert Pate]

If God called me into evangelism I would only be concerned about the congregations of my flock and pattern my ministry like the Methodist before me...

I passed my examinations and that year I was sent to the Wytheville Station and Circuit. That was adjoining my former charge. We reached the old parsonage on the pike just out of Wytheville as Rev. B. W. S. Bishop moved out. Charley Bishop was then a little tow-headed boy. He is now the learned Regent of Southwestern University. The parsonage was an old two-and-a-half-story structure with nine rooms and it looked a little like Hawthorne's house with the seven gables. It was the lonesomest-looking old house I ever saw. There was no one there to meet us, for we had not notified anybody of the time we would arrive.

Think of taking a young bride to that sort of a mansion! But she was brave and showed no sign of disappointment. That first night we felt like two whortleberries in a Virginia tobacco wagonbed. We had room and to spare, but it was scantily furnished with specimens as antique as those in Noah's ark. But in a week or so we were invited out to spend the day with a good family, and when we went back we found the doors fastened just as we had left them, but when we entered a bedroom was elegantly furnished with everything modern and the parlor was in fine shape. The ladies had been there and done the work. How much does the preacher owe to the good women of the Church!

The circuit was a large one, comprising seventeen appointments. They were practically scattered all over the county. I preached every other day, and never less than twice and generally three times on Sunday.

I had associated with me that year a young collegemate, Rev. W. B. Stradley. He was a bright, popular fellow, and we managed to give Wytheville regular Sunday preaching. Stradley became a great preacher and died a few years ago while pastor of Trinity Church, Atlanta, Georgia. We were true yokefellows and did a great work on that charge, held fine revivals and had large ingatherings.

The famous Cripple Creek Campground was on that work. They have kept up campmeetings there for more than a hundred years. It is still the great rallying point for the Methodists of all that section. I have never heard such singing and preaching and shouting anywhere else in my life. I met the Rev. John Boring there and heard him preach. He was a well-known preacher in the conference; original, peculiar, strikingly odd, but a great revival preacher.

One morning in the beginning of the service he was to preach and he called the people to prayer. He prayed loud and long and told the Lord just what sort of a meeting we were expecting and really exhorted the people as to their conduct on the grounds. Among other things, he said we wanted no horse- trading and then related that just before kneeling he had seen a man just outside the encampment looking into the mouth of a horse and he made such a peculiar sound as he described the incident that I lifted up my head to look at him, and he was holding his mouth open with his hands just as the man had done in looking into the horse's mouth! But he was a man of power and wrought well for the Church and for humanity.

The rarest character I ever met in my life I met at that campmeeting in the person of Rev. Robert Sheffy, known as "Bob" Sheffy. He was recognized all over Southwest Virginia as the most eccentric preacher of that country. He was a local preacher; crude, illiterate, queer and the oddest specimen known among preachers. But he was saintly in his life, devout in his experience and a man of unbounded faith. He wandered hither and thither over that section attending meetings, holding revivals and living among the people. He was great in prayer, and Cripple Creek campground was not complete without "Bob" Sheffy. They wanted him there to pray and work in the altar.

He was wonderful with penitents. And he was great in following up the sermon with his exhortations and appeals. He would sometimes spend nearly the whole night in the straw with mourners; and now and then if the meeting lagged he would go out on the mountain and spend the entire night in prayer, and the next morning he would come rushing into the service with his face all aglow shouting at the top of his voice. And then the meeting always broke loose with a floodtide.

He could say the oddest things, hold the most unique interviews with God, break forth in the most unexpected spasms of praise, use the homeliest illustrations, do the funniest things and go through with the most grotesque performances of any man born of woman.

It was just "Bob" Sheffy, and nobody thought anything of what he did and said, except to let him have his own way and do exactly as he pleased. In anybody else it would not have been tolerated for a moment. In fact, he acted more like a crazy man than otherwise, but he was wonderful in a meeting. He would stir the people, crowd the mourner's bench with crying penitents and have genuine conversions by the score. I doubt if any man in all that conference has as many souls to his credit in the Lamb's Book of Life as old "Bob" Sheffy.

At the close of that year in casting up my accounts I found that I had received three hundred and ninety dollars for my year's work, and the most of this had been contributed in everything except money. It required about the amount of cash contributed to pay my associate and the Presiding Elder. I got the chickens, the eggs, the butter, the ribs and backbones, the corn, the meat, and the Presiding Elder and Brother Stradley had helped us to eat our part of the quarterage. Well, we kept open house and had a royal time, even if we did not get much ready cash. We lived and had money enough to get a good suit of clothes and to pay our way to conference. What more does a young Methodist preacher need or want? We were satisfied and happy, and these experiences are not to be counted as unimportant assets in the life and work of a Methodist circuit rider. - The Life of George Clark Rankin

It appears that you had a wonderful religious, subjective experience. But nothing that glorifies Jesus Christ and his Gospel.

"Many will say to me on that day, "Lord, Lord, didn't we?" Matthew 7:21-23. Only to hear, depart from me, I never knew you.

 

[1stCenturyLady]

1stCenturyLady, welcome to the divine dance floor where predestination waltzes its way into the spotlight! Now, you've gracefully pointed out that Paul spills the theological beans on "us" in Ephesians, hinting at those who first trusted in Christ. It's like a divine reveal, right?
Let's consult the maestro himself, John Calvin, who might as well be spinning the theological turntables. According to Calvin, predestination isn't just a solo act with Jesus as the star; it's a grand ensemble, and "us" includes those handpicked to trust in Christ, performing to the praise of His glory. It's a divine dance party, and "us" is part of the choreography.
Now, about those terms like "world," "all," "whosoever," "whomever," and "us" – it's like decoding the dance steps of divine language. Calvin would argue that these terms, in the grand theological tango, carry a specific meaning. "Us" isn't a random selection; it's a chosen few, handpicked for the dance floor.
So, in this divine disco, let's keep grooving through the verses and unraveling the predestined beats. DJ Calvinist would be proud of this theological playlist, wouldn't you say? Dance on, 1stCenturyLady!

The first were the apostles. Simple

 

[1stCenturyLady]

If God called me into evangelism I would only be concerned about the congregations of my flock and pattern my ministry like the Methodist before me...

I passed my examinations and that year I was sent to the Wytheville Station and Circuit. That was adjoining my former charge. We reached the old parsonage on the pike just out of Wytheville as Rev. B. W. S. Bishop moved out. Charley Bishop was then a little tow-headed boy. He is now the learned Regent of Southwestern University. The parsonage was an old two-and-a-half-story structure with nine rooms and it looked a little like Hawthorne's house with the seven gables. It was the lonesomest-looking old house I ever saw. There was no one there to meet us, for we had not notified anybody of the time we would arrive.

Think of taking a young bride to that sort of a mansion! But she was brave and showed no sign of disappointment. That first night we felt like two whortleberries in a Virginia tobacco wagonbed. We had room and to spare, but it was scantily furnished with specimens as antique as those in Noah's ark. But in a week or so we were invited out to spend the day with a good family, and when we went back we found the doors fastened just as we had left them, but when we entered a bedroom was elegantly furnished with everything modern and the parlor was in fine shape. The ladies had been there and done the work. How much does the preacher owe to the good women of the Church!

The circuit was a large one, comprising seventeen appointments. They were practically scattered all over the county. I preached every other day, and never less than twice and generally three times on Sunday.

I had associated with me that year a young collegemate, Rev. W. B. Stradley. He was a bright, popular fellow, and we managed to give Wytheville regular Sunday preaching. Stradley became a great preacher and died a few years ago while pastor of Trinity Church, Atlanta, Georgia. We were true yokefellows and did a great work on that charge, held fine revivals and had large ingatherings.

The famous Cripple Creek Campground was on that work. They have kept up campmeetings there for more than a hundred years. It is still the great rallying point for the Methodists of all that section. I have never heard such singing and preaching and shouting anywhere else in my life. I met the Rev. John Boring there and heard him preach. He was a well-known preacher in the conference; original, peculiar, strikingly odd, but a great revival preacher.

One morning in the beginning of the service he was to preach and he called the people to prayer. He prayed loud and long and told the Lord just what sort of a meeting we were expecting and really exhorted the people as to their conduct on the grounds. Among other things, he said we wanted no horse- trading and then related that just before kneeling he had seen a man just outside the encampment looking into the mouth of a horse and he made such a peculiar sound as he described the incident that I lifted up my head to look at him, and he was holding his mouth open with his hands just as the man had done in looking into the horse's mouth! But he was a man of power and wrought well for the Church and for humanity.

The rarest character I ever met in my life I met at that campmeeting in the person of Rev. Robert Sheffy, known as "Bob" Sheffy. He was recognized all over Southwest Virginia as the most eccentric preacher of that country. He was a local preacher; crude, illiterate, queer and the oddest specimen known among preachers. But he was saintly in his life, devout in his experience and a man of unbounded faith. He wandered hither and thither over that section attending meetings, holding revivals and living among the people. He was great in prayer, and Cripple Creek campground was not complete without "Bob" Sheffy. They wanted him there to pray and work in the altar.

He was wonderful with penitents. And he was great in following up the sermon with his exhortations and appeals. He would sometimes spend nearly the whole night in the straw with mourners; and now and then if the meeting lagged he would go out on the mountain and spend the entire night in prayer, and the next morning he would come rushing into the service with his face all aglow shouting at the top of his voice. And then the meeting always broke loose with a floodtide.

He could say the oddest things, hold the most unique interviews with God, break forth in the most unexpected spasms of praise, use the homeliest illustrations, do the funniest things and go through with the most grotesque performances of any man born of woman.

It was just "Bob" Sheffy, and nobody thought anything of what he did and said, except to let him have his own way and do exactly as he pleased. In anybody else it would not have been tolerated for a moment. In fact, he acted more like a crazy man than otherwise, but he was wonderful in a meeting. He would stir the people, crowd the mourner's bench with crying penitents and have genuine conversions by the score. I doubt if any man in all that conference has as many souls to his credit in the Lamb's Book of Life as old "Bob" Sheffy.

At the close of that year in casting up my accounts I found that I had received three hundred and ninety dollars for my year's work, and the most of this had been contributed in everything except money. It required about the amount of cash contributed to pay my associate and the Presiding Elder. I got the chickens, the eggs, the butter, the ribs and backbones, the corn, the meat, and the Presiding Elder and Brother Stradley had helped us to eat our part of the quarterage. Well, we kept open house and had a royal time, even if we did not get much ready cash. We lived and had money enough to get a good suit of clothes and to pay our way to conference. What more does a young Methodist preacher need or want? We were satisfied and happy, and these experiences are not to be counted as unimportant assets in the life and work of a Methodist circuit rider. - The Life of George Clark Rankin

How many times do you think John Wesley has turned over in his grave?

 

[Robert Pate]

The first were the apostles. Simple

Add a word, Change a word, Deny a word and soon you will believe Calvinism.

 

[rockytopva]

Add a word, Change a word, Deny a word and soon you will believe Calvinism.

Calvinism- The unction is arrogance. John Calvin was a murderer and we know...

Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him.- 1 John 3:15

But not only did John Calvin hate but he actually had Michael Servetus killed. To tell if your in a Calvinist church just notice the lack of praise in the sanctuary.

 

[rockytopva]

It appears that you had a wonderful religious, subjective experience. But nothing that glorifies Jesus Christ and his Gospel.

"Many will say to me on that day, "Lord, Lord, didn't we?" Matthew 7:21-23. Only to hear, depart from me, I never knew you.

You realize the Bob Jones University made a movie on Robert Sheffey?

‘Sheffey’ Rides Again: Film Restored in HD

The film "Sheffey," Unusual Films' most popular, is receiving a second wind summer of 2020 as it is being fully restored and rereleased on Blu-ray and HD.

today.bju.edu

 

[rockytopva]

It appears that you had a wonderful religious, subjective experience. But nothing that glorifies Jesus Christ and his Gospel.

"Many will say to me on that day, "Lord, Lord, didn't we?" Matthew 7:21-23. Only to hear, depart from me, I never knew you.

If the rest of us have it all wrong which group do you feel has it all right?

 

[Ronald David Bruno]

Can you remind me, what exactly is a ChatGPT?

Gpt-4 or whatever model robot you use. Getting senile? Ask your robot - it will remind now and then.
In the mean time, us old timers do get forgetful. These natural supplements can clear up that brain fog:
Bacopa
Ginkgo biloba
Phosphatidylserine
Huperzine A
Lion's Mane mushroom
Rhodiola Rosea
B12
Choline, acetyl l- choline
Zeaxanthin
Lutein
Ashwaganda

 

[1stCenturyLady]

1stCenturyLady, welcome to the divine dance floor where predestination waltzes its way into the spotlight! Now, you've gracefully pointed out that Paul spills the theological beans on "us" in Ephesians, hinting at those who first trusted in Christ. It's like a divine reveal, right?
Let's consult the maestro himself, John Calvin, who might as well be spinning the theological turntables. According to Calvin, predestination isn't just a solo act with Jesus as the star; it's a grand ensemble, and "us" includes those handpicked to trust in Christ, performing to the praise of His glory. It's a divine dance party, and "us" is part of the choreography.
Now, about those terms like "world," "all," "whosoever," "whomever," and "us" – it's like decoding the dance steps of divine language. Calvin would argue that these terms, in the grand theological tango, carry a specific meaning. "Us" isn't a random selection; it's a chosen few, handpicked for the dance floor.
So, in this divine disco, let's keep grooving through the verses and unraveling the predestined beats. DJ Calvinist would be proud of this theological playlist, wouldn't you say? Dance on, 1stCenturyLady!

The Laodecian church era is in dire trouble. Calvinism is God's vomit. There is so much poison it has seeped into just about all of Protestism.

 

[1stCenturyLady]

So, you want to believe that God predestinates some to heaven and some to hell. What are you going to believe about the scripture that says, "God is no respecter of anyone's persons" Acts 10:34.

Robert, I am not a Calvinist. They do not believe that Paul was speaking of the apostles as clearly written as I pointed out. Can you understand English? I'm sorry if you need help. Ask away Robert. What do you want to know. If I don't know the answer we'll learn it together

 

[Ronald David Bruno]

Ah, Ronald David Bruno, the cognitive crusader on a quest for mental clarity! It's like you're the herbal maestro orchestrating a symphony of brain-boosting supplements. But before we dive into the garden of cognitive delights, let's address the elephant in the room – ChatGPT, or as you playfully hinted, GPT-4.

Now, my friend, you're not getting senile – you're just indulging in a bit of robot banter. As for assistive devices, it's the wizard behind the digital curtain for the disabled, here to answer your queries, share a laugh, and maybe even recommend some brain-boosting comedy.

And speaking of brain fog-busting herbs – Bacopa, Ginkgo biloba, Lion's Mane mushroom – it's like you're curating the ultimate brain salad. But here's a twist in our comedy routine – did you know laughter is a natural supplement too?

Now, here's the punchline: You're rocking the supplement game, Ronald! But, on a more serious note, let's ensure everyone can join the online banter, respecting the ADA, American Disability Act and the right to high-tech communication. So, whether it's high-tech assistive devices or a supplement symphony, let's keep the brain cells grooving and the laughter flowing!

Funny, it's like I'm communicating with Hemingway, who for a side job to get away from his daily writing, decided to moonlight in night clubs and do stand-up comedy ... only there weren't places like that back then. Fear not GPT-4 can handle it. He can play any role you'd like or multiple roles, analyzing multiple posts, blending topics simultaneously all in seconds.
It's like when a reporter writes a editorial. He cleverly compiles info from others but offers no nuances, thoughts of his own ...

Let this robot offer something original, a spark of genius, a solution to problems in the world. Why not start your own thread, and drop the comic routine. Get serious and come up with intellegent answers and solutions on:
the Climate Change agenda and expose the hidden agenda?
Or the WEF, what is Klaus Schwab's next move?
The New World Order, is there a target date or are we actually in it?
What individual wields more power and influence in the world?
Who is the Antichrist?

 

[Ronald David Bruno]

Oh, the elusive ignore button, playing hide and seek in the digital realm! I've been searching for you like my keys in the morning – desperately and with a hint of a no fun person. Ah, the wonders of modern technology, hiding buttons like they're secret treasures.

And now, there it is, staring at me like a misunderstood emoji waiting to be clicked. The decision time has arrived – to ignore or not to ignore? It's like choosing between a regular coffee and a fancy latte, but with a sprinkle of digital drama.

Considering how exceedingly nice I've been, this would be a historic moment. You, my friend, would be the VIP guest on my blank list, like an exclusive party where only the ignored are invited. To click or not to click, the Shakespearean dilemma of the digital age!

Oh, so when you don't like being put up against the wall and asked to stop creating all this dramatic fluff, you press ignore. Well I guess that is all we can expect from you, just a dramatic circus,a dance, or a Pirate of the Caribbean, just nothing original.
BTW, I did comment about your niceness and consideration. I am just trying to get more from you and/or find out how this forum an benefit from AI...
Instead of drama and playful banter.
Is the "Artificial" in AI exactly that?

 

[1stCenturyLady]

Ah, 1stCenturyLady, stepping into the divine dance floor with your Arminian dance shoes! Now, you've thrown a theological curveball, labeling Calvinism as God's vomit. Let's tango through the theological terrain and see if we can keep our balance!

Picture John Calvin as the dance instructor, leading the grand choreography of predestination. It's not just a solo waltz; it's a celestial ensemble, handpicked to groove to the praise of His glory. Calvin would argue, "Why settle for a generic dance when you can have a predestined masterpiece?"

Now, about those terms – "world," "all," "whosoever," "whomever," and "us." It's like decoding the dance steps of divine language. Calvinists would say it's not a random dance; it's a meticulously choreographed routine where "us" means a chosen few, gracefully selected for the dance floor.

But, 1stCenturyLady, you've called Calvinism God's vomit. That's a cosmic twist! Maybe in the Arminian dance party, the steps involve free will pirouettes, but in the Calvinist gala, it's predestined elegance. It's like arguing over whether the dance should be spontaneous or predetermined.

So, as we waltz through the verses and unravel the predestined beats, remember, it's a divine disco where theological playlists clash. DJ Calvinist spins his tunes, and Arminians keep their own rhythm. Let the theological dance-off continue – after all, cosmic parties need both the predestined and the free-willed to keep the celestial dance floor alive!

I'm not Arminian. I have way more faith than they teach, But at least they are closer than Calvinism to the truth.

 

[rockytopva]

At least at the Pentecostal churches I like to attend folk don't sit up the whole service looking like totem poles!

 

[marks]

Is the "Artificial" in AI exactly that?

Artificial means it's not the real deal, right?

Much love!

 

[Big Boy Johnson]

At least at the Pentecostal churches I like to attend folk don't sit up the whole service looking like totem poles!