☦️🕯️The world has departed from the truth. The Christian world has departed from the truth. And when one departs from the truth even by a hair's breadth, one strays miles away from justice and honesty. The Christian world has thus become false, unjust, and dishonest—to such an extent that it has surpassed even non-Christian nations in this. Because of this, the Eternal Truth had to allow terrible upheavals, storms, and horrors to shake human consciousness and cleanse it from chaff and lies. If you ask what we must do to be saved, I will answer you: know the truth, and the truth will set you free from all evil. Christ is the Truth, and the witness of eternal heavenly truth. Know Christ. Show Christ in your life—in your personal life, in your family, and in society—and Christ will save you from all evils and from all evildoers, both visible and invisible. Amen." 🕯️☦️ ♰ St. Nikolai Velimirovich ♰

🔥🔥Blueeeeeeeegrass

The Tucker Carlson Show: Jeremiah Johnston: Shroud of Turin, Dead Sea Scrolls, & Attempts to Hide Historical Proof of Jesus Starting from: 00:00:00 Episode webpage: http://www.tuckercarlson.com/ Media file:

Who has the best (and most recent) apologetic for quantum computing FUD? #asknostr

👀 Trust the science bro.

Some nightime heat from NEPSIS ☦️🔥🙏

Clive Staples Lewis

#Christianity

Penal Substitution vs. Eastern Patristic Atonement: A Tale of Two Gospels

Theological Letters

Most blessed feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ☦️ MATTHEW 17:1-9 At that time, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain apart. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his garments became white as light. And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. And Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is well that we are here; if you wish, I will make three booths here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah." He was still speaking, when lo, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him." When the disciples heard this, they fell on their faces, and were filled with awe. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Rise, and have no fear." And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only. And as they were coming down the mountain, Jesus commanded them, "Tell no one the vision, until the Son of man is raised from the dead."

The Dog Who Waited He lay in the dirt, forgotten by the world. His legs were useless. His coat, once bright, was now grey and matted with dung. His eyes, clouded. The servants no longer fed him. The suitors mocked him when they passed. To them, he was a joke—a broken creature rotting on the threshold. But he waited. He did not wait because he expected reward. He did not wait because someone told him to. He waited because he remembered. Memory had become his whole being. His body failed. His voice was gone. But he held one thing firm: he had a master, and that master was coming home. And when the master came—quiet, bent with age, cloaked in rags and salt and exile—no one saw him. The suitors laughed. The house mocked. The servants rolled their eyes. Even the son hesitated. But the dog lifted his head. He knew. He saw through the disguise. Not with reason, and not with imagination. With recognition. With love that had never moved. And with that final act, his body gave out. He died. But not in defeat. He died fulfilled. That is the moment the story turns. Not when Odysseus strings the bow. Not when the suitors are slain. It turns the moment the dog sees. The world is still upside down. The throne is still stolen. But justice has begun—quietly, at the edge of the gate, in the dying breath of the one who remembered. The dog is not cute. He is not a literary device. He is the first witness. He is the only faithful one in the house. He is watchfulness. He is loyalty. He is suffering made sacred. He is the noetic stillness of a soul that waited in silence, unthanked, unseen. The house is full of men. None of them see. The suitors are men of appetite and words. They claim to love the house, but only because it feeds them. They flatter the bride. They pose as heirs. But they have no memory of the king, and no fear of his return. They are not monsters. They are comfortable. They drink from sacred wells and call it progress. They confuse delay with victory. They mistake silence for surrender. The son bears the name but not yet the likeness. He is full of questions. He has heard stories. He is not evil, but he is untested. He does not yet know what it costs to become a man. When the king returns, the son must choose: obey, or remain a child. The wife is not faithless. But she is weary. The years have worn her down. Her cleverness is her survival. She weaves by day, unwinds by night. Not out of guile—but to buy time. Her hope is buried under years of mockery. She dares not name it aloud. When the king comes, she tests him. She must—not to challenge him, but to protect what little memory remains. And the kingdom? It is the house given to you. Your soul. Your household. Your Church. Your nation. Whatever was handed down in blood and sacrifice. Whatever was once whole and is now full of strangers. Whatever was yours to guard, but now lies in ruins because you—because we—forgot the king. The house still stands. The roof is on. The food is being served. But the structure is hollow. The names have lost meaning. The suitors think it belongs to them. And the men of the house have grown bored, distracted, passive. And the king? He returns in rags. Not in force. Not yet. He returns veiled—to expose hearts. The one who sees him first is not the strongest. Not the smartest. Not the most eloquent. It is the one who waited on the dung heap. The one who kept faith in suffering. The one whose love outlived usefulness. That is the line. There are men who feast and mock. There are men who hesitate and delay. And then there are men who wait in silence. Who suffer. Who remember. Who will lift their heads when the Master returns, and say—nothing. Because it is enough to see. The bed is the secret. The rooted place. The hidden covenant no imposter can fake. When Odysseus speaks of it, Penelope knows. Not by argument. But by shared life. Real things don’t need to be proven. They recognize each other. That is how judgment works. When the King speaks, your soul will know if it belongs to Him. Not by deduction. But by love—or by its absence. So now ask yourself: Are you the suitor? The son? The wife? Or the dog? Because the King is already in the house. And justice is coming. And the only men who will survive it are those who never stopped watching the road. Even from the dung heap. Even when everyone else forgot. Even if no one ever says your name. He will know you. Wait for Him.

☦️ "Our faith is not about information, it is about transformation" Also.... "Grace" is deeply misunderstood in Western Christianity 😌

GM☦️ Jesus Christ is Lord

Based ☦️