Podcasts about good god

St. Paisios provides guidance on fighting the sins and passions that plague us, and how to win the battle to receive a heavenly crown.A reading from Spiritual Counsels, Vol. V: Passions and Virtues by St. Paisios, p. 21-36

Pastor James Walden continues our "Habakkuk - Waiting on God" series with a sermon on Habakkuk 3:17-19.You can find our sermon discussion questions at rvrsd.org/sgquestions.

Why would a good God allow evil and suffering Gen 1:31

The text for today's episode is Conversations with Kiese Laymon, which is a new anthology of interviews with Laymon. My guests are Laymon himself, , a previous guest on the podcast and one of the best nonfiction writers of my generation, and the editor of the book, Constance Bailey.Laymon's memoir Heavy, which came out in 2018, was #60 on the New York Times list of the best hundred books of the 21st Century, and that really understates its brilliance. It's a pretty amazing book, which you should read. He is also the author of the novel Long Division and the essay collection How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America. He has a new children's book out this year, City Summer, Country Summer, and is scheduled to have another memoir out next year, which is provisionally titled Good God. Constance Bailey is an assistant professor of African American literature and folklore at Georgia State University and, like Laymon, a native of Mississippi, though neither of them lives there now. Bailey's in Atlanta and Laymon, who did go back home for a number of years to teach at Old Miss, is now in Houston, where he has an endowed chair of English and creative writing at Rice University.We talk about the origins of the book, both in terms of how Bailey sold it, as a new installment in part of the University of Mississippi Press's storied “Literary Conversation” series, and why it was so appealing for Laymon to sign on (the series, as we learn in the conversation, was a meaningful influence on his development and self-conception as a young writer).We talk a lot about Mississippi itself and how it's affected both of their lives and writing. We talk about race, money, writing, speaking, and what it means to perform for white dollars. It's a good conversation—such a good conversation, in fact, that if anyone ever plans to do another collection of interviews with Kiese, they should let me know and I will send them the transcript of this conversation and give them permission to include it in their collection. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit danieloppenheimer.substack.com/subscribe

Good God, what a terrible performance from the Houston Texans on Sunday against the Bronocs. Wex and AC return to break down Sunday's woes and preview Monday's battle at Toyota Center. Plus, what happens for the Astros now with the World Series finished and the Dodgers back in control. 

In today's episode, Tim Whitaker engages in a conversation wuth Dr. Kip Davis, a biblical scholar specializing in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hebrew Bible. They explore the complexities of interpreting the Hebrew Bible, the nature of God in ancient texts, and the implications of biblical narratives in modern society especially in regard to interpreting genocide depicted in the biblical account. Kipp on YouTube | @Dr KippDavis Chapters 04:26 Understanding the Hebrew Bible's Complexities 11:40 The Bible as a Conversation: Context and Interpretation 26:14 Genesis: Authorial Intent and Modern Interpretation 43:24 God's Role in the Garden: Good or Bad? 57:33 Political Propaganda in Biblical Narratives ____________________________________________________ TNE Podcast hosts thought-provoking conversations at the intersection of faith, politics, and justice. We're part of the New Evangelical's 501c3 nonprofit that rejects Christian Nationalism and builds a better path forward, rooted in Jesus and centered on justice.  If ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠you'd like to support our work or get involved, visit our website: ⁠⁠www.thenewevangelicals.com⁠⁠  Follow Us On Instagram @thenewevangelicals  Subscribe On YouTube @thenewevangelicals This show is produced by Josh Gilbert Media | ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Joshgilbertmedia.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sermon Summary: God & Caesar Mark 12:13–17 “Later they sent some of the Pharisees and Herodians to Jesus to catch him in his words…” Jesus said to them, ‘Give back to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's.' And they were amazed at him.” – Mark 12:13–17 Introduction: When Our Allegiance Shifts Coleton began by connecting the ancient tension of Jesus' words to a very modern moment. He recalled the tragic event of September 10, 2025, when Charlie Kirk, a political activist, was shot and killed. What followed, Coleton said, was not just mourning, but division. Some celebrated, others grieved, and soon churches became battlefields of political expectation. In some congregations, people even walked out of worship services because their pastor didn't mention Charlie Kirk by name. Coleton made this sobering observation: “They didn't leave because Jesus wasn't worshiped. They didn't leave because the gospel wasn't preached. They left because another man's name wasn't mentioned.” And in doing so, Coleton said, “They rendered unto Caesar that which was God's.” They gave their allegiance — something meant for God alone — to another. We live in a time where the church wrestles to understand and live obediently to what Jesus says in this passage. Coleton gave background, teaching from Jesus, and challenges we face in obeying Jesus. 1. The Background: A Trap Disguised as a Question Coleton explained that this was no innocent question. The Pharisees and Herodians were political enemies — the Pharisees hated Roman control; the Herodians supported it. But they joined forces to trap Jesus. They asked, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar?” If Jesus said yes, He'd lose favor with His Jewish followers. If He said no, He'd be accused of rebellion against Rome. Either way, they thought they had Him. The Tax and Its Offense Coleton quoted historian Mark Strauss to give context: “The coin bore the image of Tiberius Caesar with the words ‘Son of the divine Augustus.' This was idolatry — a direct violation of the first and second commandments.” For Jews, paying this tax wasn't just about money — it was about worship. Would they honor God or bow to Caesar? Coleton summarized it like this: “The Pharisees and Herodians are forcing Jesus to pick a side. But Jesus refuses their categories — and instead shows that His kingdom transcends them.” 2. What We Learn from Jesus' Answer When Jesus said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's,” He wasn't being clever — He was being clear. Coleton said Jesus' words teach two essential truths. A. “Give to Caesar what is Caesar's” — Obedience without Idolatry Jesus acknowledges the legitimacy of human governments. Coleton quoted Mark Strauss again: “Jesus affirmed that Caesar has a legitimate claim, and so does God. Civil obedience does not contradict the obedience due to God — so long as God's rights are safeguarded.” That means we can pay taxes, show respect, obey laws, and honor leaders — as long as it doesn't lead us into disobedience to God. Coleton drew from Romans 13:1–7, where Paul commands believers to be subject to governing authorities because “there is no authority except that which God has established.” He reminded listeners: “You're not obeying Caesar because he deserves it — you're obeying God because He commands it.” The Egyptian Church Story Coleton shared a story from Pete Greig about the persecuted Coptic Christians in Egypt. When their churches were closed for nine years, they didn't riot. Instead, they turned every home into a church. When the ruler later walked the streets, he heard worship from every house and lifted the ban. “They gave Caesar the building, but they gave God their hearts,” Coleton said. “They rendered to Caesar what was Caesar's — but they never stopped giving to God what was God's.” That, he said, is true obedience: submission that never compromises worship. B. “Give to God what is God's” — Full Allegiance and Love “God gets the first and the most,” Coleton said. “Our heart, our mind, our strength, our time, our devotion — He gets it all first.” He reminded the church that even when rulers oppose God's ways, our loyalty remains fixed on Him. The early Christians refused to call Caesar “Lord,” even if it cost them their lives. Coleton quoted Bruce Shelley: “Had the Christians been willing to burn that pinch of incense and say ‘Caesar is Lord,' they could have worshiped Jesus freely. But they would not compromise.” “They would not render to Caesar what belonged to God,” Coleton emphasized. “Even if it cost them everything.” 3. The Challenge: When We Mix These Up Coleton said this is the heart of the problem today — we mix up what belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God. A. When We Don't Like Caesar When we dislike our leaders, we justify disobedience. We dishonor, refuse to pray, or speak with contempt — forgetting that Scripture commands us to pray for all in authority. “Paul told Timothy to pray and give thanks for kings — and he wrote that while Nero was emperor, lighting Christians on fire for dinner parties,” Coleton said. 1 Timothy 2:1–4: “Pray for kings and all those in authority… This pleases God our Savior.” We don't do this because leaders deserve it. “We do it because God deserves our obedience,” Coleton said. “We render to Caesar out of allegiance to God.” B. When We Like Caesar Too Much But Coleton warned that a greater danger is when we like Caesar too much. When we admire a political figure or government so deeply that we defend them even when they oppose God's Word. “We give Caesar what belongs to God,” he said. “And it looks spiritual because we think we're defending good values — but our loyalty has shifted.” Coleton gave examples: Evangelism: When we share more about politics than about Jesus. Loyalty: When we defend a politician more fiercely than we defend Christ. Apologetics: When we can argue politics better than we can explain the gospel. Time and Attention: When we consume more news than Scripture. Discipleship: When parents disciple kids politically, not spiritually. Identity: When we look more American than Christian. Faith and Hope: When we trust a government more than God's kingdom. “When that happens,” Coleton said, “We stop being Christians who live in America and become Americans who call themselves Christian.” 4. Implications: You Won't Fit Neatly Anywhere Coleton said if you truly follow Jesus, you won't fit perfectly in any political party. “Jesus didn't fit neatly with the conservatives or the liberals,” he said. “So neither will His followers.” He pointed out that the Pharisees (religious conservatives) and the Herodians (political progressives) both opposed Jesus — a sign that His kingdom doesn't conform to human categories. He quoted Rich Villodas: “If you are completely comfortable in any earthly political party, it's because you don't know who you are as a citizen in the Kingdom of Heaven.” And Tim Keller, who wrote: “Neither party embodies the full breadth of biblical ethics. Conservatives emphasize personal morality, liberals emphasize social justice — but the Bible calls for both. So Christians should not idolize one party or demonize the other.” Coleton summarized: “Our ultimate allegiance isn't to the right or the left — but to Jesus, and His kingdom alone.” 5. The Call: Give God What Is His Coleton closed with a reflective invitation. He asked listeners to pray and consider: Do you struggle to obey or respect leaders you dislike? Have you given more allegiance to political identity than to Jesus? Have you rendered unto Caesar what belongs to God — your hope, attention, loyalty, or love? He encouraged repentance — to re-center allegiance on God alone. Discussion Questions Why do you think Jesus refused to side with either the Pharisees or Herodians? What does that reveal about His kingdom? In what ways might modern Christians “render to Caesar what belongs to God”? What does healthy submission to governing authorities look like for believers today (Romans 13:1–7; 1 Timothy 2:1–4)? Where in your own life are you tempted to give more attention, hope, or loyalty to politics than to Jesus? How can our church model a better way — giving God our full allegiance while honoring human authorities appropriately?

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 18 Even if you know who you crawl into bed with, be surprised. In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.   You will never see tomorrow's sunrise or yesterday's night. Caught In the Middle My clothing melted away as I slowly made my way to the bed. On the far side, Mercy reclined with some degree of expectation and happiness on her face. Her hands were cuffed over her head and her thighs showed some degree of vaginal stimulation by Rio. Last night Rio had taken it slow and gentle with her. Tonight, I imagined that Rio was going to tear a chunk off, so to speak. On the closer side of the bed rested Brandi (on the outside), Opal, Paige and Barbie Lynn. Barbie Lynn was pretending to be disinterested, throwing a yawn into the act; Paige's eyes were riveted on me; Opal acted as if she was smitten with me as well; and Brandi knew something was going on but wasn't sure what it was. Poor Paige was about to be ambushed. "Hey, my petit Принцесса," I simmered at Paige as I crawled up the bed toward her. It was clear she wanted to be center stage tonight, but she kept dragging along her body issues she'd felt thrust upon her years ago. A woman doesn't have to be busting out of a D-cup, have an hourglass shape, or the face of a Victoria's Secret model to pull a man's eye in for a feast. I got to Paige's ankles and the confidence of her smile shown through. She pulled her legs up and prepared to slip off her panties. "No you don't," I cautioned her as I grabbed her ankles and pulled her down toward me. "What did you call her?" Brandi chimed in. "I'm pretty sure that means 'Princess' in Russian," I replied in a husky voice, my eyes still soaking up Paige's beauty. "I once saw a Swedish art house film translated over to Russian in a Bangkok theater." "That's freaky-weird," Mercy remarked, running her fingers along her collar. "You can recall a word from a film in a language you don't even understand." "It had to do with a woman," Barbie Lynn grinned at Mercy before turning to me. "He's like that, and I love him for it." Paige looked from Mercy to Barbie Lynn to me, and that was her mistake. "Hey!" Paige squawked as Barbie Lynn and Opal grabbed her wrists and forearms, maneuvering them over her head. She struggled with Barbie Lynn and Opal but they were far more athletic than she was. I settled in between her legs and began kissing the insides of her upper thighs. "No," Paige began moaning as Barbie Lynn and Opal began sucking on her breasts through her sheer bra. Rio came striding into the room still stark naked but now carrying a large bowl of Neapolitan ice cream covered in chocolate syrup and a cherry. She rounded the bed and stutter-stepped. "Crap," she muttered. "Take this," Rio put the bowl on Mercy's quivering stomach, "I've got to get something for my Spank-o-matic." Spank-o-matic was her pet name for Barbie Lynn. Opal moved her lips up Paige's chest to her throat. Barbie Lynn, on the other side, jumped past Opal by going straight from the nipple to the ear. Since Opal was on her side, Brandi was able to straddle her and lean over to Paige's chest. She rolled up Paige's bra, temporarily pinching those pale pink nipples. "Iiieee!" Paige jolted. "Watch, her protests were buried by Opal's lips clamping down on Paige's and their tongues starting to play tag. Brandi continued her attack on Paige by popping her mouth over the breast closest to Barbie Lynn and swirling the nipple with her tongue, Opal had been doing a good job showing Brandi how to share pleasure. "Good God!" Brandi exalted. "This one tastes like cherries." Paige stifled a sob as Brandi went down for a second taste. I imagine Paige wanted me to discover this inventive little twist. I began rubbing her panties with my nose and kissing her panty covered cunt. I rolled my lips back and forth over her cunt. "Why are you doing this to me?" Paige whimpered once she broke her lips free from Opal's embrace. "Honey, do you think none of us noticed how much you make Zane smile?" Barbie Lynn drawled. "It isn't like he'd tell us what turned him on about you, Paige, so Barbie and I decided to find out for ourselves," Opal added. "Zane?" Paige begged for understanding. "I had no part of this, but once I saw Opal and Barbie Lynn closing in for the kill, I decided to play along because, quite frankly, you are so tasty," I confessed. "Brandi, please, I can't think straight with you nipping at my breasts like that," Paige pleaded. "Umm," Brandi mumbled before releasing her suction on Paige's breast. "Tell me what flavor the other one is. Is it cherry too?" Never more than an inch away, Brandi fell back to Paige's pale but painfully aroused nipple. "No," Paige wailed. "I want Zane to find out, ah, strawberry," she finally gasped out. "Let me sample it first, Brandi," I requested. Brandi shot me a peek down past her naked breast and gave me a wink. Barbie Lynn took advantage of Paige's distress, kissing her deeply and passionately. "Honey," Barbie panted to Paige, "is there anywhere else you want to be?" "I, no," Paige managed to get out. Opal tilted Paige's head toward her and took in a full kiss. "You are so eminently fuckable," Opal purred. Before Paige could respond, Barbie Lynn drew Paige back in. Within seconds, Paige was working in a three-way tug-of-passion with Opal and Barbie Lynn tongues. Brandi was letting her tongue wander from Paige's right nipple down to her belly and below until we kissed. Before and after that we worked down her panties until I finally cast them aside. I did a push up, Brandi wiggled underneath me, pressing her delicious tush against my raging rod, and I switched positions to where Brandi had been. Her left nipple really did taste like strawberries. I figured she'd used strawberry jam in a light enough glaze that its sugary redness was perfectly camouflaged by the pale pink of her areolas, freaking clever girl. Paige tilted her head away from her playmates long enough to see if I was the participant in question and if I enjoyed the experience. "Umm, damn clever," I murmured. "I've never thought of doing that before." Her eyes positively flared triumphantly at the news. "Well," Paige gasped, "you have only a, mediocre, intellect," she finished purring because Opal and Barbie Lynn's fingers and lips were driving her to distraction. "I still don't understand." Paige struggled for a breath between amorous attentions. "You pretty, pretty girl," Opal soothed seductively. "You are the most beautiful creature here tonight. Tomorrow morning the contest goes on, but tonight you are the Grand Prize winner, mainly, you've won us," she indicated herself, Barbie Lynn and Brandi. For other girls, they had often been called beautiful, pretty, and had reason to believe they were the hottest woman in the room. That had never been Paige; she had pride and pride to spare but that had always been based on her smarts. Her smarts were how she had ensnared me and while she knew I saw her as a beautiful creature, she largely believed I was alone in that assessment, until now. The borderline panic that had been residing inside Paige evaporated as all that energy turned into boiling sexual expression. It wasn't until Brandi was sucking deeply on her cunt that Paige realized I'd withdrawn to the foot of the bed. "Zane?" she panted as she raised her head once more and looked for me. "Paige, trust me; you are doing fantastic without me. Besides, we have most of the night. Once they have had all they can take from you, you are all mine," I grinned wickedly. She lowered her head back slowly and let Barbie Lynn and Opal hold her down and dominate her affections. "Mercy, wouldn't it be nice if some hottie wanted you as much as those bitches want Paige?" Rio teased her playmate. Mercy's immediate reaction was drowned out by her shudder as Rio dolloped a spoon full of ice cream onto her breast just above the nipple. The 'near miss' was torture enough for the girl. "Yes, one does," shivered Mercy. "Have you been letting someone else sample your goodies which are rightfully mine?" Rio quizzed her as she lapped up the ice cream as it melted toward Mercy's neck. "No," Mercy squeaked. "The only hottie in my life is you." "Wait; did I give you permission to speak?" Rio changed the direction of her attack. "Yes," Mercy gulped, "I mean, you asked me a question." Rio shimmied up until she was resting her crotch on Mercy's hips. She then took Mercy's nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, twisting them and pulling them up painfully. "That definitely sounded like you were being a smart-ass," Rio declared authoritatively. "Were you being a smart-ass, my cum-bunny?" "Eeep!" Mercy squealed from the pain. "Which answer do you want to hear?" Rio's eyes grew wide. She rolled her body forward until they were breast to breast and chin to chin. "Oh, yes, you are being a clever little wench. No matter what I say, you are going to say the opposite because you want me to take ownership of your lush, big-titties body, don't you?" Rio teased. "Yes?" Mercy hesitantly guessed. "Sorry, but you can't piss me off tonight, you annoying cunt," Rio taunted. Of course, 'annoy' was Rio and Mercy's key word for loving one another. "I've already got something horrible planned for this evening and you aren't going to distract me." Mercy noticeably perked up at that announcement. "I promise this is going to tear you up inside and out too," Rio gloated. Rio dismounted Mercy and scampered to her personal toy drawer. She gathered up several preselected goods and strode confidently back to Mercy's side. "Zane, I could use a hand," she called out as her goods spilled out of her hands. Mercy looked on attentively but didn't risk Rio's wrath by speaking. "Sure, what do you need?" I inquired as I crawled over carefully so as not to disturb the ladies on my side of the bed. Rio lubed up a slender steel vibrator. "Here, hold this (a vibrator) in place," Rio directed me to press the device's point against Mercy's clit with the trigger on her belly. I did it and was curious to figure out what Rio had planned. Rio presented her 'normal' strap-on, grinned at me, then started rubbing it on Mercy. I had to smile at her imagination but I had a feeling Mercy hadn't totally clued in yet to what the plan was. Rio began pouring lubricant over the artificial cock, the other vibrator, and then over a small series of anal beads, anal beads? When did I get anal beads? "AK!" Mercy gasped as the first bead was pushed in. "What was that?" "Shut up, Ass-angel," Rio smirked, "only a few more to go, so suck it up and be my bitch." As this new form of sexual expression was going on before me, a thought occurred. "Rio, you borrowed my credit card and car, didn't you?" I whispered. Rio's response was a maniacal grin. Mercy on the other hand, "Zane, I'm sorry," then Rio slapped Mercy's thigh, "Ow! She said she had your, Ouch!, permission." "I'm cool with it, Mercy, but Rio's license was suspended so next time you need to do the driving," I consoled the girl. Rio was too happy with herself to become overly upset with our little conversation. As if she was trying to prove how crazy/inventive she could be, Rio began putting the strap-on on, Mercy. Even as she fitted it snugly in place the realization was coming over Mercy. She desperately wanted to ask Rio something but was too torn up by Rio's glee to ruin the moment. Rio stroked Mercy's artificial cock a few times to make sure it was totally lubricated. "Okay," Rio cooed to Mercy as she mounted her stomach, "I'm going to make this easy on you because you are annoyingly child-like. When I rub your breasts," Rio let her hands settle and caress Mercy's tits, "it means I want you to pump me slow and easy." "When I pull your delicious nipples like this," Rio yanked and Mercy bucked up and grunted in pain, "I want you to hammer me as hard as you can. Does any part of my instructions confuse your little mind?" Mercy shook her head, indicating her understanding, but a definite sense of joy was coming over her countenance. She knew how good being penetrated felt and Rio trusted her to return the favor. Only when Rio's hip rotations rubbed the dildo into Rio's cunt did Mercy protest. "Rio, that's your, your cunt?" Mercy pleaded softly. Remaining incredibly unpredictable, Rio leaned down to Mercy's face and kissed her with tenderness. "Mercy-babe, I haven't been a virgin for some time. Stupid shit-long ago-let's not talk about it right now," Rio whispered. "Rio, I lo, I've never found anyone more annoying than you," Mercy breathed back. "I never thought I would." "That's your problem," Rio laughed quietly. "It is my job to do all the thinking while you look all hot, sweaty, and sexy. Am I going to have to hammer your tight asshole to make my point clear?" "Please?" Mercy perked up. Rio responded with some serious tongue-on-tongue play accompanied by intense mammary stimulation before speaking. "Maybe," Rio teased, "but someone has to get my rocks off before I contemplate anything else, so get to it." Rio began a series of rotations and presses to work the strap-on further into her cunt. After a few motions, Mercy fell into a sympathetic rhythm and was rocking up when Rio stopped, making Rio's ride one continuous penetration. Rio kept an intense eye-lock with Mercy as she took the plastic cock. She playfully tugged at her own lower lip as her breathing picked up a pace. "I think you've been fucking dozens of other sluts behind my back," Rio expressed deeply. "So have you been jumping some poor girl in the showers? Do you press them up against the wall and tear up those untouched cunts, or do you bend them over facing the wall and bugger those virgin assholes? " "No, no, I haven't," Mercy whimpered. "But you've wanted to," Rio teased her through increasingly hearty pants. "No, Mercy gulped. "So, you've never wanted to bend me over a sofa out there and make me squeal with pleasure?" Rio persisted in a mysterious tone. Mercy squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. "So if I ordered you to surprise me some night, jump me, bend me over and stir me up inside like only a wanton fuck-bunny could, you wouldn't do what I commanded, my Whore?" Rio taunted. "No," Mercy replied desperately as she looked upon Rio's face once more, "I would do that for you." "Do you know why?" Rio whispered. Mercy had no thoughts she could articulate. "You'll do it because you are Mine, I own you and you will do whatever is necessary to make me happy. You are going to tell me every dark little secret you hide in the horniest, sexiest part of your mind; every fantasy you have, every thought that makes you wet, and I'm going to make you live them out. You won't try to hide any from me because you know that if you lie, when I figure them out eventually, and I will figure them all out, I'm simply going to fulfill them with some other hottie I pick up instead of you. Is that what you want?" "No," Mercy whispered. "So every kinky, freaked-out, sexy over-the-top thing you want to do, you are going to tell me about, even though you know I'm going to force you to do it?" Rio scolded. "Yes," Mercy continued quietly. "If you don't tell me or you refuse to do what I say, I'm going to start selling you to motorcycle gangs and frat parties and find someone I can trust instead. All you can do is obey because I have total control over you, and if you don't you know how crazy I can be; clear enough for you, Butt-Slut?" Rio closed the trap. "I'll do whatever you want," Mercy responded; liberated by Rio from any guilt she might have. Now she could still be the Good Girl, only now she was one forced to do bad things against her will. Rio would soak up all the 'badness' in their relationship, be the one she could blame, and Mercy found that overwhelmingly, annoying. It was enough to make Mercy want to annoy Rio for years and years to come. "Good girl," Rio stroked her cheek. "Enough talking; shut the fuck up and start pounding this cunt until I squirt and scream." Mercy was a moment too slow so Rio began working over her nipples energetically and painfully. It got the desired effect; Mercy propelled her hips up so forcefully Rio rose over an inch off the dildo. "Wow, better than a whole year of horse-riding lessons," Rio giggled. "Oh, before I forget, I have one more treat for my personal prostitute." She reached down to the top of the vibrator and cut it on to the medium setting, shooting a jolt straight to Mercy's clit. "Oh, God!" Mercy gasped. "You are so annoying I had to think of something special just for you, Butter-cunt. I bet those vibrations feel great against that juicy clit of yours," Rio teased, and Mercy nodded vigorously in response. I had to consider that it wasn't two weeks ago that fundamentalist Mercy had been weeping on top of me, crying that her life was over because I had gently masturbated her once. Now she was working out 1,001 Nights of Pleasure with one of the greatest perverts I knew, who says you never see miracles anymore? As turned my attention back to Paige's prize, I noted a small black wooden paddle Rio must have tossed Barbie Lynn's way right behind her rump. Feeling inspired, I rolled back to Mercy and Rio, reached around to retrieve the lube, and began slinking up on Barbie from behind. Barbie Lynn was totally drawn into the play around Paige so ignored me. Opal and Barbie Lynn were orchestrating sensitive excitement from the top of Paige's pale haired head to the flat plain that flowed from her ribs down past her hips. Barbie Lynn had told me she was familiar with other female students before she met me. I would have bet that Opal had experimented a time or two. That the two of them could make such compassionate love to Paige was a surprising marvel to me. Paige's normally translucent flesh was blushed red with blood at every point her top two lovers had tantalized with all their kisses and licks. I was sure that if Paige could have found her voice, she would have been singing out to the Heavens with joy. The cause of her physical incapacity was Brandi, who was experimenting on her own style of cunt-licking. I studied Brandi for a minute before I knew what her technique was. She'd flit her tongue back and forth like a tiny motorboat for several seconds then switch to a slow probing action for twice as long before returning to the rapid-fire motion. The result was that Paige would amp up but before she could spike, Brandi would let her cool down before driving her to even greater heights closer to climax once more. I guess I can be a bit of a bastard. The girls were going along so wonderfully yet I still felt I had to indulge in my swelling need. I settled on my knees behind Barbie Lynn and brushed the paddle across that so-perfect ass. She taunted me with that ass, pushing back toward me, increasing its vulnerability, but kept her primary attention on Paige. I repeat: Barbie Lynn is beyond awesome. I reached back and paddled her once. Barbie Lynn took a deep breath but didn't relent. The second spank was harder and the third harder still. It was the fourth one that did the trick. "Oh, God, Yes," Barbie Lynn exclaimed. The great thing was that her body rocked forward and her ginormous breasts brushed over Paige's face. Paige was excited, not lost in orgasm. It took her maybe three milliseconds to latch onto one of Barbie Lynn's tits and engulf an areola in her mouth. Chewing on that nipple came a few seconds later. Barbie Lynn began moaning up a storm and stroking Paige's hair, Opal grinned and fell ravenously on Paige's left nipple, and Brandi went over to full-on clitoral assault mode. Paige gamely held on for almost a minute before she let Barbie Lynn go and proclaimed her immense pleasure. "Oh, all of you, oh, God, I, I can't take, Oh Fuck, Zane!" she ended up screaming. Huh? I had done nearly nothing this session and still there was my undeserved name on a woman's lips. If the girls had resented me I would have totally understood. Instead, Barbie Lynn looked over her shoulder, rubbed a hand along the paddle resting on her ass and smiled. Opal laughed musically. Brandi was beset by Paige's orgasm though. Paige's stocking clad thighs were wrapped tightly around Brandi's head as she thrashed and undulated over the sheets. Brandi kept lapping like a champ because Paige was a copious ejaculator, as I could attest. "Damn, Zane, you can pick 'em," Opal congratulated me. "What? This plan wasn't mine," I confessed. "No, I mean your luck in picking out bed partners is better than mine," Opal explained. "Oh, you were missing a few nights ago. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you. Who did you home in on?" I asked. "Cappadocia," Opal told me. Uh-oh. "I don't think Cappy is ready for a bi-sexual encounter. Besides, she's far too aggressive for you right now," I informed her. "Yeah, we figured that out. We both tried being on top all the time and things sort of fell apart," Opal related to me. "We both did agree you are one hell of a primer for virgins." "Thanks, that's very kind of you," I jibbed. "Oh, wow," Brandi gasped out, finally released by Paige. "That was wild." Brandi backed away from Paige's cunt on all fours before rolling over and resting the back of her head on Paige's thigh. "She's yummy," Brandi giggled. "We should get her over for shower time." Paige was now splayed out, limp, and looking up at the ceiling. "I, I, Paige rasped. "Yes, Sugah?" Barbie Lynn purred down at Paige. "I, I have to do this again," Paige worked out. She followed that up by wrapping a hand into the hair at the back of Barbie Lynn's head and pulling her in for a kiss. "Woot!" Opal shouted. "We got another one. Zane, who is next on the menu?" "How about Vivian?" Brandi suggested. "Okay, ladies, there is no menu. We are not stalking girls down for bi-sexual trysts, and if we were interested in anyone, we should ask Paige for her opinion first," I countered. Paige rapidly disentangled from Barbie Lynn and propped herself up excitedly on her elbows. "Cordelia," she declared defiantly. "Cordelia Dresden, I've always had this secret thing for her, which also involves a little bondage and having her tell me I'm smarter than she is as I torture her with an ostrich feather," Paige finished with a wicked smile. "Thought this out much?" Opal snickered. "Just because Zane was the first person to see me as the devastatingly beautiful woman I am doesn't mean I haven't made contingency plans for when the inevitable happened," Paige was smarmy right back. "Paige, you were sure Zane would take you to his bed?" Barbie Lynn said. "As I recall, those were some shaky few minutes you two had." "Inevitable?" Paige scoffed. "I never doubted for a moment. In fact, I already have him trained." Even Brandi looked askance at that declaration but Paige beamed victoriously. "Zane," Paige grinned sweetly. "Bouncy, bouncy." I sighed, reached over Barbie Lynn, hooked one arm under Paige's arm and around her back while the other was reaching between her legs. I hefted her up and pulled her over on top until she comfortably straddled me. Paige glowed like the Sun. "Holy crap," Opal giggled. "Bouncy, bouncy," Brandi perked up and spoke to me. I wasn't sure what I'd do or say but it turned out I didn't matter. "No, you don't," Paige scolded Brandi. "Get your own command phrase; this phrase is mine." "What happens now?" Brandi prodded. I had the feeling that actual intercourse fascinated her. Paige turned her head away from the woman and looked down on me. She crashed upon my frame in slow motion until she was resting her chin on the top of my sternum and we had to strain to keep eye contact. "Please, Zane, take your mighty cock and put it in my tight, wet cunt. Make me tingle from the tip of my toes up to the ends of my white hairs on the crown of my head," Paige playfully pleaded. "Be gentle because my new-found friends have left me tender and hyper-sensitive all-over." Mighty cock, it isn't like my buddy attracts amorous attention from sequoias or something. My cock is a highly valued member of the team, but come on now, it is a freaking piece of meat. I can certainly get the job done without, Paige looks up and licks her lips while she pants like a famished huntress. Suddenly the last three years of my maturity lose their blood supply as it rushes elsewhere. Oh, well. I'll recall what I was bitching about later. "Okay," I grinned. "Maneuver up and I'll work it in." "I'll help!" Brandi excitedly volunteered. Before I could politely decline, Brand landed on my left leg and was pushing Paige's ass up. Paige was far more amused with the situation than I was and reconciled Brandi's movements with her desires to rise up from straddling to kneeling with one leg up. Brandi took the opportunity to stroke my cock, raised it to the vertical, and dragged it over Paige's cunt. She rested my cock a little far back, or so I thought. Paige thought so too. "Not the ass!" she squeaked. "Not the Butt!" "You want it in your, Brandi hesitated. "Her cunt," Barbie Lynn filled her in. "Yes, it looks so delicate," Brandi wondered. "Well, yes," Paige snipped, "but Zane has taken my virginity. My anus is even smaller than my cunt, and it isn't like Zane isn't already going to pass Cleopatra's Needle through something the size of a dime as it stands." "Did you just call Zane a needle-cock?" snickered Opal. "No," I groaned. "Cleopatra's Needle is an obelisk, like Washington's Monument, except only one-twentieth the size." "Yep," Rio panted from her side of the bed, "she definitely called him 'needle-cock'." "I don't care what you gals call it," Barbie Lynn chuckled. "He can stick me with that cock anytime." "Tell me you love me, Zane," Paige sighed. "I can't. You are absolutely wonderful to me but I can't lie to you even though I think it would make you happy to hear those words," I frowned sadly. "Why can't it be you and me?" she asked but her fatigued smile betrayed no anger. "Eh, the tired old romantic tale: boy loves girl but girl can't, or won't, show affection for him," I related. "How about this story instead," Paige's smile grew. "A post-Apocalyptic tale where you, me, and a select group of other genetically superior women retreat to a remote coastal island, fend off the end of the world, and set about repopulating the Earth over, and over, and over again." "Wait; if I agree does this mean you are going to plot out a way to bring about the end of civilization as we know it?" I questioned. What I didn't question was the reality that Paige would never have children of her own womb, but hell, this was her fantasy; right? "I know where your mind is, Zane Braxton," Paige said softly with tears brimming in her eyes but that smile still on her lips, "and that makes you a wonderful, wonderful man." "Now, please, bouncy, bouncy," that mischievous glint returned to her countenance. In some stories this would be the trigger for me to ram my thunderous love pylon deep into her womb. Or, I could hug her tight and let us express our emotions in some open, healing manner. In my reality, I was still somewhat of a tool to Paige, an object that brought her happiness and fulfillment. I was almost a human person of worth to her too. Paige had arrangements, not friendships, and controlled those relationships with mental domination. I know it would have surprised her and brought forth a torrent of denial if I showed she trusted me, as exhibited by her actions of the past few minutes. Rarely did one love their power drill or hammer and you certainly didn't get all teary-eyed when you read their mind correctly. Brandi steadied and reinforced my cock with a hand as Paige worked her way down. I held Paige by the hips to keep her from trying to move too fast. She was busy concentrating, undoubtedly committing the sensations to memory, I kind of like really smart women. "What does it feel like?" Brandi questioned Paige timidly. "If, you have never been, penetrated, you couldn't understand," Paige panted. "Don't worry about it," Opal cooed to her friend. "We are sophomores so we have nearly three years with Zane here at school. That is plenty of time to talk him into doing the deed." "That shouldn't be hard," Brandi giggled. "I've seen Zane scoping me out. He wants me." "Ha," laughed Barbie Lynn. "If it was that easy, there wouldn't be a virgin in this room. Zane could have woken up that part of me ten times over if his wanting my body was all it took." "Pop your cherry!" Rio shouted, close to climax. "Call it what it is, you dumb bimbo, oh, fuck!" She twisted Mercy's nipples with a violence that caused me pain by just looking. That cued Mercy to pound up into Rio unmercifully. Rio released Mercy's breasts and put her hands to torturing her own nipples. Her orgasm came in seconds. With sheer force of will, Rio fought off her physical spasms until she was body to body with Mercy, Rio's hands cupping Mercy's face and her lips planting fast kisses on Mercy's lips, nose, and eyes. "You are mine, mine, mine," Rio exulted with animalistic fury magically melded with heartwarming compassion. It was coaxed along by the vibrator to her clit, sending Mercy off to her own orgasm. "God mother-fucking damn, Rio," Mercy screamed, "Own, own me; make me yours." "I'm tattooing, your ass, this weekend," Rio whispered and groaned. On my side of the sexual diorama, Paige was still screwing herself down my cock, though Brandi had less to do but more to think about. "I can't decide when I want Zane to do the deed for me," Brandi wondered. "No," I breathed heavily, eyes still on Paige and her radiance, "Brandi, you and I will figure things out when the time is right." "Or you tie him down and ride him like Paige," Opal giggled. "Bouncy, bouncy," Paige panted through her chuckle, "It is not just a catchy jingle. It is the recipe for romantic success." "You talk too much, Princess," I emphasized with a thrust deep into her womb, "I think it is time to start your interrogation." She sizzled and I had a dark desire to feel her body heat burn me so we quickly figured out how we could get along. "Roll over, Pound cake," Rio ordered as she worked the strap-on off Mercy. "I've got all sorts of issues to work out and your priceless backside is my destination of choice. Buck up, Buttercup, stick out that ass and get ready for some furious pent-up teenage aggression." I was stunning that the friction Mercy generated as she spun over in the sheets didn't set the bed on fire. She wasn't on all fours but her ass was raised at a four-five degree angle and quivering in her desire. Rio affixed her tool of choice before allowing her gaze to bask in Mercy's splendor. It took her several seconds before she draped her body over Mercy's back. "I'm going to become so bored with this view," Rio teased, "in about fifty or sixty years." Mercy flexed and undulated her back, ass and thighs against Rio's body. Together the two lovers moaned sensually. "I lied to you," Rio panted into Mercy's ear. "I'm not going to get tired of your body in fifty or sixty years. I'm going to fuck you to death before you hit thirty." Mercy gave some sort of guttural reply which she accentuated by driving her posterior against Rio's artificial cock. It slid up between Mercy's cheeks as opposed to going into her anus but Mercy was certainly energetic enough to keep thrusting. Sometimes I wasn't sure which one was leading the other down the road to impassioned insanity. Afterglow The whispering in my ear had woken me up. I shifted my head toward the noise and saw Paige's elfin head cloaked by her fine white hair. In her slumber, Paige had brought one hand up to her chin and took slow nibbles out of the tip of her thumb. Her body was curled up in a near-fetal ball with her other arm vanishing beneath the sheets. Paige's lips parted and she moaned. "Oh, right there, Brandi, yum, yeah, right there." She rotated the shoulder of her downturned arm and her hips rocked gently beneath the covers, certainly driving those attached fingers against her cunt. She went back to nibbling her thumb and slowly quieted down. Paige was in the middle of the bed so I had to raise my head to peek past her sublime form to see Rio and Mercy who were both facing away, Rio was closer to me with her arms wrapped around and cradling Mercy. Fingers stroked my stomach bringing my head to the other side. Barbie Lynn was snuggled up against me and both her hands rested on my stomach, though only one was rubbing against my abs. The only problem was that Barbie Lynn regularly slept on her side with one hand on me and the other resting under the pillow, plus both hands on my stomach were lefties. I shifted slightly, looked over and tracked the moving hand back to the arm that led to a slumbering Vivian. I swear to God I did nothing to deserve this. I had to think about this for a few seconds. Finally I decided on a little clarity. "Vivian," I whispered as I tapped her hand. From experience I knew she woke slowly so I was patient. "Umm," she smiled dreamily at me. A three-count later her eyes focused enough to match my gaze. "You are in my bed and while I don't mind, I want to make sure you are doubly okay with this," I requested softly. "Opal and Brandi woke me up when they left," Vivian informed me, "and I felt, alone and left out. Are you okay with me being here? Are you going to be able to control yourself?" A few things made sense now. Vivian and her boyfriend had fallen into the habit of cuddling on one of their beds. Before long they were falling asleep comfortably in each other's arms. He woke up, high school boy's hormones racing, and she took a few moments too long to realize what was going on. I gave her bonus points for not hating the guy for taking her virginity and stealing away the bedtime comfort of lying with another person she yearned for. "Vivian, you have my permission to crash on my bed anytime," I smiled warmly. "Barbie Lynn will keep me in check. If you ever want to join me and no one else is around, I keep some restraints, left dresser, second drawer." "I don't want to tie you down, Zane," she whispered. "Restraints are not only about holding someone down but empowering the other partner. You get to feel comfortable close to me, I don't mind you being close to me one bit, and I don't have to worry about doing something I'll regret," I related. "You learned all of this in rural Thailand?" Vivian mused. "They are an ancient and scholarly people," I countered. "Are we okay?" "We are okay," she responded. "Great," muttered Barbie Lynn, "let's go to sleep because if I wake up, Vivian, I'm going to make you hold my head in your lap while Zane pleasures me from behind." Vivian grinned, rested her head, and closed her eyes. I laid back down and let my vision darken behind sleepy lids. I really felt like hammering Barbie's delicious ass but I knew she was tired and needed her sleep. Besides, she had only said that because she wanted Vivian to go to sleep. "Honey," Barbie Lynn whispered words sweeter than fresh cane sugar, "you had best give me all the long, hard strokes I can stand in the morning or I'm going to leave my own set of teeth and claw marks all over that wonderful body of yours." Normally I should accept the warning and fall asleep immediately but since it is a well proven fact that I have no sense where sex and sensuality are concerned, I was awake for quite a while. When I did wake up, it was brought about by Barbie Lynn rolling away from me. "Vivian," Barbie whispered kindly. Once Vivian was appropriately responsive, "Vivian, I'm about to wake Zane up and make him take that damn fine cock and use those powerful strokes I love to fill up my ass with cum until I scream." "You might want to go back to your sofa until he lifts me to climax," she advised. "On second thought, make that two screams, I'm feeling extra horny this morning." Isn't it wonderful that I get no say in where my cock is going or when I'm going there? I mean, it's not like I'm an adult or we are currently residing in my room. Wait, I am!! I'm sick and tired of this shit and I'm putting my foot down! Barbie Lynn rubs her scrumptious ass cheeks against my thigh and moans like my bitch in heat. I Man-Up; I'll set her straight as soon as I finish fucking her, damn it! Okay, I'll set her straight when I finish fucking her twice, but that's all she's getting from me. Barbie Lynn languidly gets onto her elbows and knees, favoring the sore one. She scoops the tube of lube from under the pillow and pushes it back to me as Vivian shakes her head, scoots off the bed, and makes her way to the exit. I pour some lube onto my palm then rub my hands together to warm it up because I don't want to cruelly use something cold on her vulnerable flesh. "Zane, I need this so bad," Barbie Lynn purrs. "Hammer me, hammer me twice and make me scream." "Oh," I growl, "I intend to." I'm going to nail her good then give her a piece of my mind. "Baby, I know you are taking Iona home this weekend so can you sneak away during lunch and sex me up one more time?" she pleads with a voice rich with need. "Of course I will, Babe," I reply. And then I'll give her a piece of my mind, damn it! "What's wrong, Zane?" Rio asked as she watched me strip my bed. She wasn't offering to help. "Man," I sighed, "sometimes I think I'm nothing more than a tool for sexual release on this campus." "That's surprisingly accurate," she chuckled. "I'm stunned you realized it so quickly." "Realized what?" Iona grinned as she glided into the room, unusually chipper. "Zane realized he's a sex toy, a pleasure slave to our whims," Rio pontificated. Mercy sighed slightly and came over to help me with the bed, as did Iona, and she hadn't even made the mess. "The willingness to give of yourself does not indicate a surrender of your will," Iona countered. "Zane gives and gives freely, without expectation of return." "He is your mirror image if you think about it," Iona continued. "With Zane it is pleasure and with you it is pain." Now you never know which way Rio will go with something like this; Iona was like a kid sister to her but I wasn't totally sure Rio hadn't experimented with patricide, matricide and infanticide along with cannibalism. "Damn, Iona," Rio came up and wrap her arms around Iona's waist from behind, "that's real cool." "Ah, you are welcome?" Iona smiled but with uncertainty. "How about I give you Mercy for a night? You know, a snuggle buddy for you to sleep with. We could dress her in an appropriate nightgown and she could be like a big warm teddy bear for you to cuddle with." "I would rather have Zane dressed up as a cuddly teddy bear," Iona glanced to me. "Oh, hell, no!" I declared. "I have my pride, ya know." "Get over it, Zane," Rio laughed. "You are the only guy I know whose home page is linked to both gay and lesbian porn sites." I am? How the fuck did that happen? "Would you do that for me, please?" Iona pleaded playfully. I had to avoid answering no matter what. "Iona, I've decided to designate you as my heir," I surprised her. "We'll do that Monday." "I already knew that," Iona stated evenly. "It was posted on your website yesterday." "What!" I squawked. "Am I bugged? Am I carrying a wire? How do people figure out these things?" "Cordelia," all the women in the room said simultaneously. Yep, I'm going to have to fix her little red wagon. I wonder if she has my home wired for surveillance as well. "Iona, what would you do with all that money? Zane's got a boatload of money; right?" Mercy broke in. "I don't know," Iona began; "Maybe make a trust for Christian World Charities or something like that." "Bitch," Rio recoiled, "do you know what Zane's family does? He's a freaking gazillionaire." "Rio," Iona swiveled so that she was facing Rio, "there is no such number and Zane's family mines copper, cobalt, chromium and manganese, primarily." "Dummy, that's the parent company," Rio scoffed, heady with her one-time mental superiority over Iona. "They build spaceships." "That's silly," Iona countered. "No one builds spaceships anymore. Do you mean rockets?" "Yeah," Rio groaned with impatience, "they build rockets that put satellites in orbit, spacecraft components, space-age ceramics, non-integrated circuit computers, and crap like that." Iona looked to me for some clarity. "I don't know," I shrugged. "I had a collage of the solar system in my room when I was five; I went to the NASA facility in Florida once a year; I've been to that space facility in Russia once; and I've seen a rocket launched from this site in South America. I figured all kids did stuff like that." Then something occurred to me. "Rio, how do you know all this about me?" I inquired. "Eh," Rio grunted. "In that first week I considered kidnapping you so I wanted to figure out what you were worth so I would know how much to ask for." "How much is he worth?" Mercy asked. "Enough so that his people wouldn't call in the FBI, they would call in some former Spetznaz and simply kill me instead of paying the ransom," Rio chuckled. "Yeah," I laughed too, "I recall Dad saying that he'd 'met up' with some South African Commandos when he was not much older than I am now. He sent them Christmas presents every year until he died." "Zane, I'm not sure I want that much money," Iona worried. "Well, you've met Aunt Jill and we both know she couldn't handle it," I countered. "What, what, what about Rio, Oh, My God, what am I saying? That would be nuts," Iona fretted. Rio gasped. "Hey!" Rio shouted. "What's wrong with me?" "You are totally insane with an annoying lack of impulse control," Mercy stated clinically. Rio's mouth dropped open and she gawked at her 'toy'. "Pound cake!" she barked at Mercy. Mercy perked up and looked ready to throw herself on the bed and at Rio's mercy. "No," I intervened. "We have to get to breakfast and I can hear Vivian pacing like mad just beyond the screens. She deserves better from us. Now let's get going." Everyone was remarkably behaved until we got into the elevator and the door shut. "Are you sure you are the right person for this job?" Vivian asked Mercy as the doors shut. "What?" Mercy gulped. "What do you mean?" "Yeah, what the fuck do you mean by that, ya Cunt?" Rio interjected both her words and her body into the conversation. "Mercy and I are doing just fine." "You shower together, sleep together, stick all kinds of things in one another; I'm neither blind nor stupid," Vivian growled out. "I'm sorry," Mercy mumbled. "Oh, I don't blame you. They got to you before this 'guardian' thing happened. It is simply unfortunate that you ended up as Rio's minder and now we will have to deal with it," Vivian responded without heat or condemnation (toward Mercy). "Are you going to turn her in?" I had to ask. "Forcing Mercy to face the condemnation and ridicule of those who have no clue to her situation would not be the Christian thing to do," Vivian sincerely related. "I will not let Mercy fall into depravity. She and I will work together to save her soul." Rio didn't trust her and looked ready to pounce. On the other hand, I was truly impressed and believed her. "What is your plan?" Iona joined in. "Vivian, you wouldn't bring this up if you didn't have a plan." "I am creating a list of Christian works, not the Bible, Rio, that the two of them could read together for half an hour before bedtime," Vivian enlightened us. In the short-term it sounded naive but if you took into account the almost three years Mercy and Rio could be here together it was rather clever. "Blow it out your ass!" Rio growled back. "No, Rio, you will do it," I demanded. I had never demanded anything of her before. I'd asked, begged and suggested but I had never told her 'do this or else'. I was now. Rio and I locked gazes. She felt betrayed and pissed. "Fuck you," Rio snapped at me. "You don't tell me what to do." "You'll do what I tell you to do now," I insisted. "Or what?" she sneered. I could feel Iona cringing beside me. Mercy was afraid and looked trapped. Vivian was taking the exchange with interest. "Or nothing. I am not going to hold anything over your head but I'm also going to fight to keep you from fucking up your life," I kept at it. "It is what friends do." There was a pause. "Glenda, you suck," Rio declared quietly. That quavering in Rio's resolve was Mercy's cue. "I'll do the readings," Mercy said. "Rio, if you want to wait in the bedroom for me, well I'm fine with that, if that is what you want to do." "Gurr," Rio mumbled. "Fine, I'll do it, but if I hear even one chorus of Kumbaya, I'm skewering someone with a pool stick." "Thank you, Vivian got out. "Not a word," Rio warned. "Not another damn word, from any of you." Mercy shot me a look and I could see she finally got it. You let Rio run amok for 90% of the time so that you could coax Rio toward stability the other 10% without her rebelling. I didn't want to make Rio sane; I was sure she was happy being fucking nuts. I only wanted her to be a 'fucking nuts' that didn't make her destroy her life and drive away the people that really cared for her. What can I say? I'm selfish. Rio fills a void in my life and I didn't want to see her fall away into the darkness the way my Mom did. Aliens, Vampires and Werewolves, maybe not. To make the right decision requires a combination of confidence, knowledge, and luck. A little nonsequitur: I once asked my close associates why they believed in God. Rio said: "Well, I can't very well be a convincing Satanist if I don't give lip service to the Other Guy." Iona put it this way: "The Universe makes sense. It is our roadmap for Ascension and a fuller understanding of God's Love." Christina reasoned: "I've seen Evil so there must be Good." Heaven s take was: "Because I prayed for death but Christina came; and I prayed for you (Zane) to go but you stayed." Hope expounded: "Because I live in a country that allows me to own a K11 assault rifle for home defense." No one wants to ask Hope if she has the official rifle of the R O K Army with her at school, or if she actually has the grenades that go with it. What good would it do; it isn't like we would try to take it away from her. Most of us like living too much. Chastity observed: "Firefighters, organ donors, Christian converts in Iran, with so many people giving for no material gain, that indicates to me a higher purpose for mankind, a struggle between right and wrong." Faith rebutted: "Belief in Christ cannot be given a definition. If you define it, it ceases being faith." Barbie Lynn: sweetly gave me a peppermint and smiled. She had to look no farther than the fate that had brought us together and the joy we shared; she didn't need words. Paige resolved: "Only something with infinite precision and power could bring about the Big Bang. The day they can give a name to that force, I will gladly surrender my faith." Cordelia said: "Let me think about my reply. Why do you believe in God?" (Like I'd ever tell her.) Cappadocia lamented: "What an empty and lonely thing life must be, if these few years are all we have?" Opal s mind was made up: "I always have and never heard an argument that would make me think differently." Brandi chided: "It was how I was raised. But the first time you kissed my stomach, I had my own personal religious experience (giggle)." And Now, Back to the Story! Breakfast unfolded pretty much like it had a week ago, with the added bonus of poisonous glares between clumps of students, bandages, bruises, and the sense of unease that comes from unresolved conflict. After all, neither Christina nor Rhaine had won. This was acceptable to most of the sane crowd as the alternative would have been to make the school unbearable to the other half of the student body so that they left. Instead, we got to bask in the chilly civility that Christian politeness dictated. At least I wasn't (too) worried about a pack of girls ambushing me. As was becoming her habit, Gabrielle Black had devoured her food in less than four minutes and paced the perimeter of the Dining Room floor, her eyes dodging about with no discernible pattern. I kept an eye on her because she worried me in a way that went far beyond hormones. "Zane?" Iona repeated. I had barely registered her first request for a moment of my time. "Yes, Hon?" I smiled down at her. She looked happy for the eye contact but worried about what she had to say. "Zane, there are two other candidates for Freshman Class President, Mhain Reynard and Millicent Pierce," Iona informed me. "Millicent?" grumbled Rio. "Zane saved her ass and now she's kicking sand in his face? The bitch." "Millicent is free to do what she wants. She may have wanted to be nominated before all this chaos came about. I'm not going to begrudge her having political ambitions," I told them. "Zane, I don't think you understand what this means," Iona worried. "Sure I do; Millicent and I are going to split the Pro-Christina vote. There will be a run-off. If it is Millicent and I, Mhain's votes will go to her and I lose. If it is Mhain and Millicent, my votes will go to Millicent and she wins. If it is Mhain and I, it will be a toss-up. Essentially, Millicent can definitely defeat Mhain but I can't." "This sounds like a job for the NSA," Rio glared off to where Millicent was sitting. I don't think Rio knew what Mhain looked like. NSA referred to Rio's title as my in-house assassin, Ninja Stripper Angel. "Don't worry," I patted Rio on the shoulder, "I got this, Bro." When I got up, Rio followed me nonetheless. Chancellor Bazz was absent for the second day in a row so the highest authority seemed to be Doctor Scarlett, the Vice Chancellor. Gabrielle noted my movement but didn't deviate from her path. Mrs. Cunningham was closest but seeing neither authority figure appeared nervous, she too went about her rounds. Mind you, girls are moving around the Dining Hall all the time but I'm special, being a troublemaking, devious male. I rounded a table and walked over to Millicent, who was warned of my approach by an associate. She twisted in her chair and waited for the flavor of my greeting. "Hey, Millicent, I want to congratulate you on your nomination and I hope you get the votes to be on the ballot," I said as I extended my hand. She shook it and smiled. "Thank you, Zane. Good luck to you too," she replied. "How about we have a debate a few nights before the election? Interested?" I pondered. "That would be great," Millicent agreed. "We can request the Assembly Hall but we'll need to figure out who should be moderator." "We'll figure it out," I nodded. "I'm going to say 'hi' to Mhain as well." "I will come along," Millicent informed me as she stood up and stepped to my side. "Hi, Rio." "Eat shit and die, you ungrateful whore," Rio snarled back at Millicent, who backed off. "Zane should have left you for Bazz to fuck over." Millicent's crowd was shocked, then outraged. "Cool it, Rio." I stroked her arm. "You and I do what we do for our own ends and not for the accolades of others." I turned to her, "Right?" Rio took a deep breath. "You are such a dumb blonde," she smirked at me. "I get my thirty pieces of silver up front." "Thanks, Babe," I grinned at Rio. I looked back to Millicent. "I'm still going to see Mhain if you want to tag along with me and Rio." "I'm feeling fearless with a positive outlook on life so I'll risk it," Millicent smiled. Yeah, beating Millicent in this election was going to be fun, right up there with waking up on the

Send us a textThis question wracks many with doubt. It is one that has been attempted to be answered for millennia. The long answer attempts to dissect this complex question into smaller and more congruent pieces. Is God good? Many life philosophies attempt to prove God isn't good, or simply isn't there at all. The Bible has a vast amount of writing on this subject. There is a God, and He is good. Does God allow bad things on this Earth? Yes. He does not snap these things out of existence. That also does not make Him bad. Pain and suffering are presented as tools, first as consequence of mankind, and then as causes intended to inspire you to draw closer to goodness, and therefore God. Evil is another concept altogether. The Bible speaks of God destroying evil once during the flood. Then, God sent His Son to atone for the sins of man. Jesus's sacrifice on the cross and subsequent resurrection is the victory over evil. No power can hold God. Context is important when you consider eternity. A light momentary affliction is nothing compared to what is to come. =====Searching for answers to life's questions? Need help finding a church? Drop us a line. We would love to help you find a congregation that practices the love of Christ. The Extra Mile Podcast is a work of Milwaukee Ave Church of Christ in Lubbock, TX. Assembly times:9:30 AM - Classes for all ages10:30 AM - Sunday Morning Assembly5:00 PM - Sunday Evening Assembly7:00 PM - Wednesday Evening AssemblyEmail us:  the.emile.pod@gmail.comInstagram: @extramilepodcastSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/546CHn6Qvdh807yhYC5sHL?si=j6-jHRTiRh6_Non9E9URagApple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-extra-mile-podcast/id1550189689Google Play: https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5idXp6c3Byb3V0LmNvbS8xMjgwNTI1LnJzcwWe would love to hear from you! Email: the.emile.pod@gmail.com Instagram: @extramilepodcast

Welcome to Real Life... Church for Everyone. As we gather this week both in-person and remotely, join us with Ajay Smith and today's message entitled, "How Could a Good God Create Hell?" TODAY'S MESSAGE All life heads in one direction, towards the final things, but we spend a lot of time putting it out of mind. How does this life end? What should we think about heaven and hell? WE WELCOME YOU... ...each week, join us via our Sunday Sermon podcast, on online broadcast on Facebook & YouTube every Sunday morning, or in person at Real Life | LA. Visit reallife.la to learn more, request prayer, or to connect directly with someone at Real Life. May God bless you in miraculous ways today!

In our suffering we can question if God is real and wonder if He cares. If God is good and powerful, then why is there suffering? Join us as we walk through the story of Joseph and see the incredible, encouraging way God used Joseph's hardships to transform him and turn his situation for good. God doesn't always answer us in the way we expect but knowing that He is good gives us hope. Join us as we put the question of suffering on the table.

One of the hardest parts of life is the suffering and sorrow that consistently happens to each and every person.  Why would a good and loving God allow horrific tragedies to happen to His people?  And since evil very obviously exists in our world, is it true that God really is good and loving?  In […]

In our suffering we can question if God is real and wonder if He cares. If God is good and powerful, then why is there suffering? Join us as we walk through the story of Joseph and see the incredible, encouraging way God used Joseph's hardships to transform him and turn his situation for good. God doesn't always answer us in the way we expect but knowing that He is good gives us hope. Join us as we put the question of suffering on the table.

Watch Dr. Jeff Schreve from From His Heart To support this ministry financially, visit: https://www.lightsource.com/donate/863/29

In this life, everyone suffers. But why would a God who is good and loving allow horrific tragedies to happen … especially to His people? It can make some question if God is, in fact, good and loving. In this enlightening message, Pastor Jeff Schreve explains the comforting truth found in scripture about why God allows suffering and how we are to respond to the suffering we endure and see around it. Learn from His perspective of love and mercy. To support this ministry financially, visit: https://www.lightsource.com/donate/863/29

As you look on the sorrow, suffering and evil in the world, it's easy to ask why would a good and loving God allow horrific tragedies to happen to His people. Despite all the tragedy is God really is good and loving? In this message titled, HOW COULD A GOOD GOD ALLOW SO MUCH SUFFERING, Pastor Jeff Schreve shares the truth about what God says is to be our perspective on the suffering in this world through the His lens of love and mercy. This encouraging message is from the series, LIFE'S BIG QUESTIONS.

One of the hardest parts of life is the suffering and sorrow that consistently happens to each and every person. Why would a good and loving God allow horrific tragedies to happen to His people? In this enlightening message, Pastor Jeff Schreve shows us the truth about what God says is to be our perspective on the suffering in this world through the His lens of love and mercy. It's called, HOW COULD A GOOD GOD ALLOW SO MUCH SUFFERING and it's from the series, LIFE'S BIG QUESTIONS.

In Psalm 119:65-88, the Psalmist praises the Lord for sending affliction in his life because it taught him to depend on God's Word. This Psalm assures us that we serve a good God who accomplishes good things in us through seasons of suffering. Devotionables #851 - Good Affliction From Our Good God Psalm 119:65-88 The Psalms Devotionables is a ministry of The Ninth & O Baptist Church in Louisville, KY.  naobc.org

As fear and tension rise around immigration enforcement in North Texas, Rev. Eric Folkerth has helped lead an interfaith clergy vigil outside the Dallas ICE field office—an act of prayerful presence in the face of injustice.In this episode of Good God, George Mason talks with Rev. Folkerth about what happens at these weekly gatherings, how they began, and why he believes prayer can be both faithful and prophetic. Together they discuss the growing anxiety among immigrants, the tragic shooting that drew national attention to the Dallas ICE facility, and the moral toll of policies that harm both migrants and public servants.Grounded in scripture and compassion, their conversation calls people of faith to resist fear, welcome the stranger, and embody moral courage in public life.Rev. Eric Folkerth is senior pastor of Kessler Park United Methodist Church in Dallas. A longtime minister, musician, and activist, he's known for his work at the intersection of faith and justice.

City Messages - Good God - Designer, Definer, Assigner by City|U Lubbock

Christine's parents learn to reconnect and explore. By Liminally Spaced. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.This story is a derivative of Sex Ed. Lessons, a 21-part tale at Explicit Novels podcast. Cathy could barely take the sensations coursing through her body. While she hadn't felt Sam's tongue on her cunt in over 15 years, she hadn't done this act with anyone in close to 20. Memories immediately rushed her mind, swirling in the endorphins, images and sensations of nights with her previous boyfriend. Orgasms. Pleasure. Fucking. Grinding. Lost in the feeling, she fell back into sense memory. Her hand dropped down into Sam's hair and gripped it hard.Sam groaned into her wet snatch. She felt it. His cock lurched. Cathy held his head still. Bracing herself with one hand on the headboard, her thighs and hips began to flex. Sam got the message. He held his tongue in position as his wife began to grind her throbbing cunt against it, fucking his face. "Oh my God" she moaned out long and loud as she directed her pleasure points onto his wet, pulsating tongue. It was like a bolt of lightning coiling up inside her body. She felt his hand grip her ass instinctively, just like she liked, just like the others had, and suddenly she began to shake and shudder, slipping over the edge into heat. Into pleasure. Into an explosive, body-wracking orgasm. Sam held her tight as she wriggled and jerked, grinding into his tongue. He felt wetness pour from her being; his wife, cumming into his mouth. Cumming on his face. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" she chanted. She rarely used curse words like that in front of him, and he found it highly erotic. His mind raced: when did she learn she liked this? Who was the first one to do it to her? How many men had she done it with? He had never been so hard in his entire life. Slowly the world came back into view, and Cathy collapsed off her husband onto the bed next to him, both their breaths coming hard and ragged. "Oh my Lord," he said between breaths, "that was so sexy." Cathy felt a warm glow pass through her; she had been worried for nothing. She looked down at her husband's thick, straining cock, flush with desire, almost painful looking. He wasn't lying. She reached for it, touching it. Holding it. She had just had the best orgasm of her life, but she was still wet. Still horny. She turned her face toward his, and made a single, syrupy request, the same she made on their honeymoon: "Fuck me, Sam." He smiled and turned quickly to the bedside table, retrieving a condom. He was on her in an instant, kissing, groping, squeezing. He positioned himself between her legs, but her sweet center wouldn't come to him easily. He struggled, first with the condom wrapper, then with the condom itself, its slippery latex never quite gaining purchase around the head of his desperate cock. "God, I really do hate these things," he said through clenched teeth. Cathy lay there, desperate to feel her husband push himself inside her, equally frustrated with the fact that they were still using condoms after almost 20 years of marriage. Then a thought came to her. They had already cracked open the door of her past, what could it hurt to crack it open a bit more, especially if she knew it would bring them both a wealth of new sensation and pleasure? "Sam, honey, I, I have an idea." He looked down at her, beautiful and wanton below him, and waited with bated breath to hear it. "What if you didn't use a condom, and pulled out just before you were going to cum?" Sam felt a hard throb between his legs. "But aren't you worried about; I mean what if you; " "It,” she paused, once again hesitant to broach this area of her own experiences, but something about the way he looked at her told her to continue on. "It's never been a problem for me, in the past." "You've, done that before?" Sam said almost breathlessly. He didn't even realize his hand started slowly pumping his cock. "Yes." "You've had a man inside you without a condom, and he pulled out before he finished?" "Yes. My ex and I, he didn't like condoms either. it was our solution to the birth control problem." "Then where did he finish?" She watched his hand stroke his cock long and hard. She felt her cunt throb. "On me." Sam gulped hard and felt himself start to sweat. "Where?" His wife looked him dead in the eye. "Wherever he wanted." That was all Sam could take. He hiked her legs up around his waist, and with gasping desperate breaths roaring out of them each like a blast furnace, he lined himself up at her wet, swollen entrance, and pushed. Moans erupted from the lovers as she took him full to the hilt. Electricity burst through the closed circuit of their bodies as they felt each other unencumbered for the first time in over 15 years. Sam began to thrust himself into his wife, long, hard, and joyously. He gave her everything he had, and her tight, sopping-wet cunt gripped him deliciously and demanded more. He and his wife were truly one once again, but as her slick, velvety walls stoked the fire building in his loins, all he could think about was the image of some other man pushing into his wife, fucking her, pleasing her the way he was right then and there. Her cunt squeezing her lover's cock the way she was squeezing his. Gripping her lover's waist with her legs and heels, egging him on, the same way she was gripping his. Taking everything her lover had, that way she was taking it from him, only for her lover to slip out of her at the height of his frenzied pleasure so her body could take two balls-full of hot cum the way she was about to take his. Sam couldn't help but wonder where her lover, lovers, had cum. He pictured his wife, another man's seed splashing across her stomach, scattered lewdly across her back and ass, dripping from her perfect breasts, maybe even her beautiful face. Had they cum on her face? Had these men fucked Sam's wife to the point of eruption, then pulled out and lurched their thick seed onto her face? Did she like it? Did she ask for it? Cathy's body was a hot cluster of firing nerve endings. Sam was fucking her with a passion she couldn't ever remember experiencing from him, and she was unable to stifle her pleasure-filled yelps, moans, and cries as he drove his thick cock into her over and over. It felt bigger. Thicker. She could feel her body stretch to accommodate it, rushing fresh rivers of her juices down to encourage him, to welcome his cock. A slight shift in position suddenly adjusted his angle of approach, and Cathy was overcome by intense, rushing pleasure as the head of his cock began to hit her in the exact right spot. She was going to cum again. "Oh yes, oh fuck, oh yes, baby, yes, baby; fuck me, fuck me!" She began to cry out almost involuntarily. Her body was strapped to a rocket that left the atmosphere in seconds, hung there in the transitional bliss of zero gravity for just a single sweet moment, and then exploded in a thick, strong orgasm. Cathy's body contracted and jerked beneath her husband's, but he never let go, never stopped thrusting as she soared through her second orgasm. It was the most purely erotic thing he had ever experienced, and it was the final straw for his own gallant constitution. Sam reared up off of her, his cock slipping out of her warm, tight center. Cathy gasped, looking at her husband towering over her like a Greek statue, flushed and in heat, his hard, proud cock reaching to the sky, slick with her juices. His hand grasped it, his eyes closed. She whispered a sultry "yes" and gasped as the first viscous rocket of his cum launched out of the tip and soared up her body. She felt the hot juice sear her collar bone, and it was only a fraction of a second before she felt the second spurt splash against her chin, stronger than the first. Her breath came hard and fast as she took in the sight of her strong, statuesque husband ejaculating all across her heaving body. Her cunt throbbed. This was nothing like the times her previous boyfriend had done it. That, though still sexy, was more about efficiency. This, well this was the hottest thing she had ever experienced. Sam looked down at the slithering body of his wife as he emptied his tight balls all over his bride. She looked like a dirty, sexy angel. An angel of love. An angel of sex. Thick white splatters of semen painted her from pubic bone to neck; this had to have been the biggest load he had ever shot. He wondered if it was the biggest load she'd ever received. The lovers looked at each other in silence for a moment, each breathing heavy, each taking in the experience they just had. "Was that ok?" Sam finally said. Cathy smiled. He was so adorable; he just fucked the shit out of her and he was still concerned with her own wellbeing. She loved him so much. He was amazing. "Yes, Sam," she said through a chuckle, "it was fucking amazing." Then the thought crossed her mind that she should check in with him as well. This was a new experience for both of them, but even more so for him, and if this new era of communication was going to continue, she needed to make sure it did. "Was it ok for you?" "You nailed it, honey: it was fucking amazing." They both burst out laughing at Sam's rare display of profanity. Sam slipped away for a moment and came back with a warm, wet towel. It felt good on her body as he gently wiped his cum from her skin. Cathy closed her eyes and realized she was having a first of her own. In all the times she had been with other men before Sam, in all the nights that ended with cum splashed on her naked body, she couldn't remember a single time where the man she was with helped with the clean-up, and definitely not as lovingly as Sam did. She had never in their relationship questioned her love and commitment to this man, and as they lie there in each other's arms, drifting off to sleep, she knew there was nothing but excitement and pleasure ahead of them on this new erotic adventure. She had told him what she wanted, she couldn't wait to find out what he wanted. And she had a pretty good idea of where to start. "Oh, fuck, oh, Fuck, yes; fuck me, fuck me!" Pastor Sam McGinnis had two hands full of his wife Cathy's pert ass, using it for leverage as he drove his rock hard cock into her tight, welcoming cunt from behind. For only the second time in over 15 years he was inside his wife bareback, and he didn't know how long he could last. He had missed the feeling of her silky juices sliding over his skin, her slick, tight walls gripping and spreading over the sensitive flesh of his cock, electrifying his body. Not since shortly after their wedding had he felt this sensation, when he got to empty his balls, unencumbered, into his lovely new bride. Cathy was allergic to birth control, so condoms were their only option, an option neither of them really liked, an option that was definitely a contributing factor to their decline in intimacy over the years. A decline that had continued until last night, when Cathy suggested an alternative, one that made Sam's cock harder than it had been in years. His beautiful wife wanted him to fuck her bareback, and then pull out of her at the last moment and shoot his orgasm on her body. It wasn't the activity itself that got Sam so excited, however, it was the fact that it was an activity she had done with at least one other man before she met Sam. He had been a virgin when they got together, but she had not been, and they never really talked about her sexual past. He had no idea how many men she had been with, or what they had done, or even really what she liked done to her. Until last night. Her suggestion; her request; had cracked open a door that Sam desperately wanted to open further. He had had a bit of a kink for hearing stories and experiences, ever since high school when his platonic female friends would spill all the lurid details of their horny experimentations to their non-threatening male friend. Now, he couldn't stop thinking about other men spraying his wife's hot, young body with thick semen, all the places she may have taken it, wanted it. He needed to know more. He needed to know what else she had experienced. What else she wanted. "Oh fuck, baby, that's it; I'm gonna cum, Sam; I'm gonna cum!" Cathy couldn't believe how turned on she was. There was a lot of doubt in her mind last night about whether opening up her sexual past to her husband was a good idea. She had never wanted to rub it in, never wanted him to feel bad about being a virgin when they met. But now, as she lay perched on her hands and knees on their mattress, bracing herself with one hand against the headboard, the thrusting of her husband's cock driving her full speed toward another orgasm, she wondered why she ever waited so long. She realized the peek into her past had revved Sam up greatly, and it was in that moment that she realized she had almost no idea what turned him on; really turned him on. His fantasies, his kinks, his fetishes, this new adventure they were on was meant to be all about communication, and communication was a two way street. Just the thought of learning new things about her husband, of helping him learn new things about himself, made her cunt gush. But what surprised her the most, what she hadn't expected, was how much re-living experiences from her own past turned her on. Cathy had started having her partners pull out and cum on her body purely as a solution to the birth control problem, but what Sam didn't know, and what she wasn't sure she was ready to share just yet, was that it wasn't just a necessity, it was something she liked. Feeling the searing heat of their sticky loads slap her skin, watching their bodies contort in ecstasy, gave her an intense erotic boost. She thought back to Sam's spurting cock the night before. Then further back to Tom. Then further still to Chris. To Lenny. Her body shuddered, her slick walls gripped and pulsed around her husband's thick, driving cock, and Cathy McGinnis, the pastor's wife, exploded in orgasm. Sam felt his wife convulse and let out a long, strong moan. He sucked in breath through clenched teeth as he drove into her. He wanted to steer her all the way through her pleasure, but the sensations around his swollen cock and the erratic, wild moans from his wriggling wife, were all too much. He let out a loud, desperate grunt of his own as he lost control. He slipped his drenched cock out of Cathy's still-spasming center with abandon, gripped, stroked, and lassoed thick white ropes of cum across his wife's back and all over her heart-shaped cheeks. Exhausted, the lovers both took a moment to catch their breath. Sam looked down on his work, at the white slippery streaks racing up his wife's back. He was impressed he could muster such volume after the previous night. She looked so sexy, splattered in his cream. It was something he never even thought to ask for, but was now quickly becoming something he was desperate to witness again. Cathy looked back over her shoulder, shooting him the most devilish smile he'd ever seen. "Umm; good morning, sweetie." she chuckled. His spent cock throbbed in his hand. Cathy's eyes caught the clock on their bedside table and shot wide. "Shit, we gotta get going!" Sam had completely lost track of time. It was Sunday morning, and he had a sermon to deliver. Church was the furthest thing from his mind, however. Cathy bounded up off the bed. Sam's eyes were glued to her as she padded off to the bathroom, a certain pep in her step, fresh semen cascading down her back. He heard the shower turn on. "What a woman," he thought. Watching her husband from the pews, Cathy had a hard time focusing on the sermon he was giving. Her mind was on the activities of the previous evening, and the activities of the morning. She wondered if it was wrong, sitting there in church day dreaming about fucking her husband, being fucked by him, about his hot cum spurting out all over her, but every time she caught his eye and saw him try to suppress a smirk she knew he was thinking the same thing. She was trying to keep her thoughts more Godly, but they just seemed to get dirtier. She thought about being up there with him tucked down behind the pulpit on her knees, taking him into her mouth while he evangelized, listening to his loud hallelujah when he finally filled her mouth with his cum. She shook it off; thinking about doing naughty things to her husband was one thing, but feeling herself get moist under the eyes of the lord made her feel a little strange. It would just have to wait till later. After the service, as the congregation mingled, Cathy made a B-line to Sandy. Sandy had been the one to give her the suggestion of opening up more with Sam, and she needed to tell her all about it. "Sandy!" she almost yelled, touching her on the shoulder. "Hey Cath, what's up?" Sandy was chatting with her husband Don and their best friend Kelly. "I just wanted to um, thank you, for the advice you gave me yesterday. It was, very productive." After a slight pause to try and remember what advice she gave, Sandy's eyes lit up, followed by a sly smile. "Oh! Of course; come with me, and tell me all about it!" Sandy excused herself from her husband and friend with a wink, and slipped away with Cathy. Don and Kelly looked at each other and smirked knowingly at each other. What Cathy didn't know is that Sandy had told them both all about the conversation they had had at the pool party. The three of them had met at Sandy and Don's for drinks that evening after the party. Their daughter Steph was out for the evening, as were Kelly's daughter Alex and her stepson Tim. They got to talking about the party, and about the new youth pastor Ginny. The girls agreed she was quite a hottie, and could tell by the way Don shifted around in his pants that he agreed as well. This led Sandy to recount her talk with Cathy, and got the three of them speculating on the love life of their pastor and his wife. Don's pants began to grow tighter, and the girls began to tease him, making their idle speculations naughtier and naughtier, until the teasing stopped, and the two women gleefully found themselves on the floor, between Don's legs, taking turns sucking his cock. This was not the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last. Unbeknownst to anyone in their church, these three had been regularly enjoying each other physically for years. Their fellow parishioners would surely be shocked to find out what these three had done with each other, and others. Cathay would be shocked as well if she knew discussion of her conversation with Sandy led to Don taking turns fucking the two friends, to Don throwing his cock repeatedly into Kelly's cunt while she slurped his wife's cunt, and ultimately to the two women giggling and cheering as Don's cum exuberantly spurted out all over them both. "So tell me all about it!" Sandy said, pulling Cathy into a secluded corner of the church. "Well, I,” she paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. She and Sandy were friends, but they'd never shared intimate details before. In fact Cathy hadn't shared intimate details of her love life with Sam to anyone ever. Girl talk about her sex life was something that she used to enjoy, but it seemingly died with her marriage to Sam. It was fun telling her best friend about whose dick she sucked in which backseat when she was younger, but sharing secrets about her marriage seemed wrong. But this wasn't just secrets and gossip, this was advice, wasn't it? Cathy remembered scrunching up her nose at Michelle Gillis when she explained the benefits of swallowing at the end of a blow job, and the satisfaction Cathy felt when she finally did it and realized Sherri was right. It had opened up a whole new door for her, one she soon discovered she really turned her on. It had actively made her love life better. She loved swallowing. She loved swallowing for Sam. She hadn't done it in years; she wanted to swallow for him right then and there. "Well, I'm allergic to birth control," she began again, "and we both hate condoms. After the party last night we were getting frisky and,” "Yes?" Sandy said, excited for what was to come next. "And I thought back to what I used to do before I met Sam. With, previous boyfriends." "Oh, really, what was it?" "Once I was comfortable with him we'd stop using condoms and he,” Cathy paused again, presented with a threshold of detail she had to choose how to cross. She decided to just go for it. “ he'd pull out and finish himself on my body." "Oh, nice!" Sandy exclaimed. "And that's something you used to like?" "Sandy, I used to love it." Cathy said forcefully. "Something about the power, the angle, the feeling," she could feel herself getting turned on just thinking about it. "Is that bad?" "Girl, trust me, I have had cum on every inch of my body, and loved it every time. No shame!" They both laughed at Sandy's graphic confession. Cathy blushed slightly, not only at the intimate sharing, but at the sudden image that flashed through her mind. An image of Don fucking Sandy hard, pulling out, and stroking thick spurts of white jizz all over her body. He was hot, she was hot; it was quite the image. "So that's what you did last night?" Sandy pushed on "And this morning," Cathy said with another embarrassed smile. "Hell yeah! And he liked it too?" "If volume and enthusiasm is any indication, yes he loved it." She said, both of them laughing. "That's excellent, Cathy, I'm so happy for you!" Sandy smiled and gave her a big hug. She couldn't wait to tell Don when they got home. The thought of their church leader spraying his lovely wife with his naughty nut was turning her on. She hoped Don would help her reenact it later that evening. "So how're you going to keep it going?" "I don't know, I feel like there are so many options; so many things we've never done together, I had been so nervous to talk about my past with him, but he seemed to be totally into it. I'm not sure where to go next." "Well that's easy," Sandy replied, "you ask him!" "Ask him what?" "Ask him what he likes! You told him what you like, time for him to do the same." "But he doesn't have much of a past," Cathy opined, "he was a virgin on our wedding night." "Sweetie," Sandy said, lowering her eyelids and cocking an eyebrow, "it doesn't matter what they say; everyone has a kink. Everyone has desires. Everyone has a past. It's just a matter of you coaxing it out of him." Cathy smiled, thanked her again, gave her a big hug, and they parted ways. Wandering idly through the foyer of the church, she thought about Sandy's words. It was true Sam was a virgin, but any discussion of sexual exploration ended with that. Surely he had some stories to tell, some secrets to reveal, just as she did. She felt a tingle in her belly at the possibility of discovering them. Looking into the sanctuary she saw Sam chatting with the new youth pastor Ginny. It was her first day at the church, and even now, dressed much more modest than she was at the pool party the previous day, she exuded a certain glow. She sure was a pretty girl, Cathy though. It was obvious Sam seemed to think so too. He was giggling like a teen boy with a crush. Cathy wasn't mad; she had no reason to ever think Sam would do anything inappropriate; but she was curious. Maybe this was something she would have to ask him about. "Oh yes, oh yes, fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Cathy was sweating. Her face was scrunched up in that lusty grimace that precedes ultimate pleasure, her body tense and wild as she rode Sam's face to orgasm. It was Wednesday, and after their new, exciting experiences the previous weekend, there was no lax coasting through date night; on the contrary, neither of them could wait for the day to roll around. They were both antsy through Monday and Tuesday, and for the first time in years found themselves flirting with each other. Quick comments, a pinch here or there, a grab when no one was looking, it was a shock they even made it to Wednesday, and they probably wouldn't have if their schedules had been lighter, or their daughter Christine had been less under foot. But Wednesday rolled around soon enough, Christine was out for the evening at the weekly youth group meeting, and the two excited lovers tumbled into their bedroom in a tornado of arms, lips, and tongues. "Oh my God" Cathy exclaimed in a long, warbling tone. She grabbed Sam's hair tight, felt her thighs flex around his head, and in an instant her body was awash with the explosive pleasure of orgasm. Her mouth hung open, body wracked with sensation, and the corner of her lips pulled into a wild smile. Being still lost in the heady space of cumming, Cathy couldn't see it, but beneath her dripping, still spasming cunt lips Sam was smiling too. Sam loved pleasuring his wife, and was happy she had opened up with him in a way that would allow him to do it more effectively. It was also plain to see that it wasn't just efficiency that he liked, as evident by his hard, straining cock. But it wasn't just the act that turned him on, it was the history she had with it. A history he was interested to learn more about. "Oh my God, that was amazing," Cathy cooed as she settled her head into the crook of Sam's neck, draping her arm across his chest, "you sir are very good at that." She kissed him. She could taste herself. She always liked the taste; it made her feel extra dirty. She couldn't remember the last time she had tasted herself on a man's lips. "I'm a fast learner," he said with a chuckle. He ran his hand over Cathy's ass as she tucked herself tight against him. "Apparently." "And what about you?" He began nervously. He wasn't sure about what he was about to ask, but the surge of blood to his cock told him to press on, "were you a fast learner, the first time you did that?" Cathy paused before she answered. This was going to be a full step over the threshold of their sexual pasts. Were they ready? She looked down at his proud cock standing straight and hard, even with no stimulation. "Yes," she said in a syrupy tone. Sam's cock twitched. She smiled. "When was it?" Sam continued, "the first time you did that?" "College," she said, idly scratching his chest hair. "Do you wanna tell me about it?" He was putting the ball in her court, or attempting to, but she wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Do you want me to?" It was a question dripping with possibility. "Yes," Sam said quietly. "Ok," she said, equally soft. She looked down at his cock, straining and hard, and watched it twitch again. Her hand began to slowly drift down his torso. "Can I touch you while I do it?" "Yes," Sam choked out. "My senior year of college I was, seeing this guy. Tom." "A boyfriend?" "Not quite. It was, I realize now it was all the fun parts of a relationship, but none of the commitment. I didn't realize that at the time." her hand lazily circled his bellybutton as she reminisced. She was going to make him work for it. "From school?" "No, he was, older." She saw Sam's cock twitch again. "How much older?" "A lot." Her hand inched lower, grazing through his pubic hair. "I had the apartment to myself one night, and Tom came over and we started fooling around." Her fingers began to dance across the skin of Sam's cock. "He used to love licking me,” she paused as she decided once again how much truth to inject into the story. She chose all of it. “because his wife never let him do it to her." "His wife?" Sam exclaimed, his rigid member bouncing right into the palm of Cathy's hand. "Um hmm." she cooed as she slowly started to stroke. "He told me they were divorced, but, I found out later that wasn't exactly true." Sam let out a long exhale through flared nostrils. He couldn't believe how hot this story was making him already. The thought of his good, Christian wife fucking an older married man, one who used to lick her cunt, caused his whole body to buzz. Cathy stroked him slowly, then at once felt a slickness beneath her thumb; his tip was leaking a river of slippery precum. Sam was enjoying this. A lot. She smiled and continued her tale. "So Tom had his head between my legs, eating my cunt," she chose the more vulgar word on purpose, and felt a receptive pulse in her palm. "Was he good?" Sam gasped, cutting her off. "He was amazing." she said with a smirk. Sam stifled a groan. She continued to touch him, to stroke him, as she talked. "He was eating my cunt, his hands running all over my body, really making me feel incredible, when all of a sudden he grabs my hips and rolls us both over so now I'm straddling him. I would have crushed his head if I hadn't sat up, so a push myself up, knees on either side of his head, and all at once there I am, riding his face." Sam moaned again and she felt him throb. She decided to back off the stroking for a minute and began cupping and rolling his plump balls in her hand. Tom used to love it when she did that. "At first he's licking me, torturing my clit, hitting it like a joy buzzer, and I'm just along for the ride, but then,” she paused as the memory came flooding back and she felt the slickness between her legs become more pronounced. “then he just kept his tongue still. I was confused for a second, but then I felt both his hands grip my ass and start pulling forward; he was telling me what he wanted. And so I started rocking my hips, grinding my clit against his still tongue; I was fucking his face." She decided to give him a little tease after this reveal, "Just like he had done to me many, many times." "Ugh." Sam groaned loudly at this last confession. Images of this older man holding his wife's young face in his hands while he pushed himself in and out of her mouth started a roiling boil inside his loins. "Then what?" "Well, I found myself a rhythm I liked, an angle I liked, and I just fucked him. I was in control for the first time ever, and it was exhilarating. I was gripping his hair, gripping at the headboard, anything I could find to grab onto, because it took me barely a minute to get right up to the edge." Cathy looked at Sam's dripping cock and smiled fondly as another memory came to the forefront of her mind. "But what put me over the edge, was when I looked behind me and saw that Tom's cock was rock-hard. And that's when my body exploded, and holding his head in place with each of my hands, I came all over Tom's mouth for the first time." "Did you love it?" Sam barely managed to verbalize. "It was like nothing I had ever experienced. I was glowing for days." Cathy cupped his balls while running her thumb up and down the underside of his cock, now slick with precum. She couldn't believe how much this was turning him on; how much it was turning her on. "You wanna know what happened next?" "God, yes," He gasped. "I was still in a daze from my orgasm. I barely even knew where I was. He rolled me off him, onto my back, still breathing heavily, spread my legs, hoisted me up onto his thighs and pushed his whole cock into me with one thrust." Sam's deep groan was all she needed as encouragement at this point. "And then he fucked me, long, deep, and good. The sensations were so overwhelming I was buzzing, and I started to cum again. And just when I was at the height of it, Tom slipped his cock out of me and burst his hot jizz all over my wriggling body. I could taste it on my lips." The image of his wife, mid-orgasm, slathered with the juice of another man was all he could take. In a flash, Sam had rolled Cathy over onto her back, swung her legs open, and in almost an exact recreation of her story, pushed his desperate cock deep into her cunt. He gripped her body tight and thrust hard, thrust wildly, sending his cock deep into her body over and over. Cries of encouragement echoed in his ears, the hot spring of pleasure coiling tight in his loins. Cathy was right there with him, speeding toward the cliff of release as her slick body gripped and grasped at her husband's driving cock. Rhythmic chants of "Yes, yes!" lept from her throat, and just as she reached her climax and her body began to tumble and spasm, Sam joined her over the edge, pulling out, leaning in, and peppering her heaving breasts and gasping stomach with thick ropes of hot cum. Sam looked down at his handiwork splattered across his wife's heaving diaphragm. Then they both collapsed to the bed in a heap of slick, gasping flesh. "Good God," Sam choked out. "You can say that again," Cathy concurred. They looked at each other and broke out laughing, then Sam leaned in and kissed her deep and hard. Their laughter never stopped. To be continued in part 3. By Liminally Spaced for Literotica.

Psalm 119:65-72 - Speaker: Josh MacAvoy - Psalm 119 is the longest song in the entire Bible; it has more verses than the entire book of Philippians, Ephesians or Galatians! This Psalm is a well-known acrostic poem, broken into 22 distinct segments (one for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet) with each segment being eight verses long and each verse in Hebrew starting with that associated letter. This Psalm is skillfully crafted and arranged to make it memorable as a teaching aide in communicating it's two dominant themes – (1) the call to delight in God's good word (2) in the middle of real-life struggles. In our time together tomorrow, we will look at one of these eight-verse segments, from verses 65-72, taking special note of the good from God and the good describing God in these verses.

In this message from our Reasons for God series, Andrew Chisholm explores the difficult question of suffering.

This week we share some good news from the SCCA Autocross community and are amazed by a wild 'Murican Mali-Mino. We love you!

On this episode, my guest is Stephen Jenkinson, culture activist and ceremonialist advocating a handmade life and eloquence. He is an author, a storyteller, a musician, sculptor and off-grid organic farmer. Stephen is the founder/ principal instructor of the Orphan Wisdom School in Canada, co-founded with his wife Nathalie Roy in 2010. Also a sought-after workshop leader, articulating matters of the heart, human suffering, confusions through ceremony.He is the author of several influential books, including Money and the Soul's Desires, Die Wise: A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul (2015), Come of Age: The Case for Elderhood in a Time of Trouble (2018), A Generation's Worth: Spirit Work While the Crisis Reigns (2021), and Reckoning (2022), co-written with Kimberly Ann Johnson. His most recent book, Matrimony: Ritual, Culture, and the Heart's Work, was released in August 2025. He is also involved in the musical project Nights of Grief & Mystery with singer-songwriter Gregory Hoskins, which has toured across North America, Europe, Australia, and New Zealand.Show Notes:* The Bone House of the Orphan Wisdom Enterprise* Matrimony: Ritual, Culture and the Heart's Work* The Wedding Industry* Romantic Sameness and Psychic Withering* The Two Tribes* The Roots of Hospitality* The Pompous Ending of Hospitality* Debt, And the Estrangement of the Stranger* More Than Human Hospitality* The Alchemy of the Orphan Wisdom SchoolHomework:Matrimony: Ritual, Culture, and the Heart's Work | PurchaseOrphan WisdomThe Scriptorium: Echoes of an Orphan WisdomTranscription:Chris: This is an interview that I've been wondering about for a long time in part, because Stephen was the first person I ever interviewed for the End of Tourism Podcast. In Oaxaca, Mexico, where I live Stephen and Natalie were visiting and were incredibly, incredibly generous. Stephen, in offering his voice as a way to raise up my questions to a level that deserve to be contended with.We spoke for about two and a half hours, if I remember correctly. And there was a lot in what you spoke to towards the second half of the interview that I think we're the first kind of iterations of the Matrimony book.We spoke a little bit about the stranger and trade, and it was kind of startling as someone trying to offer their first interview and suddenly hearing something [00:01:00] that I'd never heard before from Stephen. Right. And so it was quite impressive. And I'm grateful to be here now with y'all and to get to wonder about this a little more deeply with you Stephen.Stephen: Mm-hmm. Hmm.Chris: This is also a special occasion for the fact that for the first time in the history of the podcast, we have a live audience among us today. Strange doings. Some scholars and some stewards and caretakers of the Orphan Wisdom enterprise. So, thank you all as well for coming tonight and being willing to listen and put your ears to this.And so to begin, Stephen, I'm wondering if you'd be willing to let those who will be listening to this recording later on know where we're gathered in tonight?Stephen: Well, we're in... what's the name of this township?Nathalie: North Algona.Stephen: North Algona township on the borders, an eastern gate [00:02:00] of Algonquin Park. Strangely named place, given the fact that they were the first casualties of the park being established. And we're in a place that never should have been cleared - my farm. It should never have been cleared of the talls, the white pines that were here, but the admiralty was in need back in the day. And that's what happened there. And we're in a place that the Irish immigrants who came here after the famine called "Tramore," which more or less means "good-frigging luck farming."It doesn't technically mean that, but it absolutely means that. It actually means "sandy shore," which about covers the joint, and it's the only thing that covers the joint - would be sand. You have to import clay. Now, that's a joke in many farming places in the world, but if we wanted any clay, we'd have to bring it in and pay for the privilege.And the farm has been in [00:03:00] my, my responsibility for about 25 years now, pretty close to that. And the sheep, or those of them left because the coyotes have been around for the first time in their casualty-making way... They're just out here, I'm facing the field where they're milling around.And it's the very, very beginnings of the long cooling into cold, into frigid, which is our lot in this northern part of the hemisphere, even though it's still August, but it's clear that things have changed. And then, we're on a top of a little hill, which was the first place that I think that we may have convened a School here.It was a tipi, which is really worked very well considering we didn't live here, so we could put it up and put it down in the same weekend. [00:04:00] And right on this very hill, we were, in the early days, and we've replaced that tipi with another kind of wooden structure. A lot more wood in this one.This has been known as "The Teaching Hall" or "The Great Hall," or "The Hall" or "The Money Pit, as it was known for a little while, but it actually worked out pretty well. And it was I mean, people who've come from Scandinavia are knocked out by the kind of old-style, old-world visitation that the place seems to be to them.And I'd never really been before I had the idea what this should look like, but I just went from a kind of ancestral memory that was knocking about, which is a little different than your preferences, you know. You have different kinds of preferences you pass through stylistically through your life, but the ones that lay claim to you are the ones that are not interested in your [00:05:00] preferences. They're interested in your kind of inheritance and your lineage.So I'm more or less from the northern climes of Northern Europe, and so the place looks that way and I was lucky enough to still have my carving tools from the old days. And I've carved most of the beams and most of the posts that keep the place upright with a sort of sequence of beasts and dragons and ne'er-do-wells and very, very few humans, I think two, maybe, in the whole joint. Something like that. And then, mostly what festoons a deeply running human life is depicted here. And there's all kinds of stories, which I've never really sat down and spoken to at great length with anybody, but they're here.And I do deeply favour the idea that one day [00:06:00] somebody will stumble into this field, and I suppose, upon the remains of where we sit right now, and wonder "What the hell got into somebody?" That they made this mountain of timber moldering away, and that for a while what must have been, and when they finally find the footprint of, you know, its original dimensions and sort of do the wild math and what must have been going on in this sandy field, a million miles in away from its home.And wherever I am at that time, I'll be wondering the same thing.Audience: Hmm.Stephen: "What went on there?" Even though I was here for almost all of it. So, this was the home of the Orphan Wisdom School for more than a decade and still is the home of the Orphan Wisdom School, even if it's in advance, or in retreat [00:07:00] or in its doldrums. We'll see.And many things besides, we've had weddings in here, which is wherein I discovered "old-order matrimony," as I've come to call it, was having its way with me in the same way that the design of the place did. And it's also a grainery for our storage of corn. Keep it up off the ground and out of the hands of the varmints, you know, for a while.Well that's the beginning.Chris: Hmm. Hmm. Thank you Stephen.Stephen: Mm-hmm.Chris: You were mentioning the tipi where the school began. I remember sleeping in there the first time I came here. Never would I have thought for a million years that I'd be sitting here with you.Stephen: It's wild, isn't it?Chris: 12 years later.?: Yeah.Chris: And so next, I'd like to do my best in part over the course of the next perhaps hour or two to congratulate you on the release of [00:08:00] your new book, Matrimony: Ritual, Culture, and the Heart's Work.Stephen: Thank you.Chris: Mm-hmm. I'm grateful to say like many others that I've received a copy and have lent my eyes to your good words, and what is really an incredible achievement.For those who haven't had a chance to lay their eyes on it just yet, I'm wondering if you could let us in on why you wrote a book about matrimony in our time and where it stands a week out from its publication.Stephen: Well, maybe the answer begins with the question, "why did you write a book, having done so before?" And you would imagine that the stuff that goes into writing a book, you'd think that the author has hopes for some kind of redemptive, redeeming outcome, some kind of superlative that drops out the back end of the enterprise.And you know, this is [00:09:00] the seventh I've written. And I would have to say that's not really how it goes, and you don't really know what becomes of what you've written, even with the kind people who do respond, and the odd non-monetary prize that comes your way, which Die Wise gamed that.But I suppose, I wrote, at all partly to see what was there. You know, I had done these weddings and I was a little bit loathe to let go, to let the weddings turn entirely into something historical, something that was past, even though I probably sensed pretty clearly that I was at the end of my willingness to subject myself to the slings and arrows that came along with the enterprise, but it's a sweet sorrow, or there's a [00:10:00] wonder that goes along with the tangle of it all. And so, I wrote to find out what happened, as strange as that might sound to you. You can say, "well, you were there, you kind of knew what happened." But yes, I was witness to the thing, but there's the act of writing a book gives you the opportunity to sort of wonder in three-dimensions and well, the other thing I should say is I was naive and figured that the outfit who had published the, more or less prior two books to this one, would kind of inevitably be drawn to the fact that same guy. Basically, same voice, new articulation. And I was dumbfounded to find out that they weren't. And so, it's sort of smarted, you know?And I think what I did was I just set the whole [00:11:00] enterprise aside, partly to contend with the the depths of the disappointment in that regard, and also not wanting to get into the terrible fray of having to parse or paraphrase the book in some kind of elevator pitch-style to see if anybody else wanted to look at it. You know, such as my touchy sense of nobility sometimes, you know, that I just rather not be involved in the snarl of the marketplace any longer.So, I withdrew and I just set it aside but it wasn't that content to be set, set aside. And you know, to the book's credit, it bothered me every once in a while. It wasn't a book at the point where I was actually trying to engineer it, you know, and, and give it some kind of structure. I had piles of paper on the floor representing the allegation of chapters, trying to figure out what the relationship was [00:12:00] between any of these things.What conceivably should come before what. What the names of any of these things might be. Did they have an identity? Was I just imposing it? And all of that stuff I was going through at the same time as I was contending with a kind of reversal in fortune, personally. And so in part, it was a bit of a life raft to give me something to work on that I wouldn't have to research or dig around in the backyard for it and give me some sort of self-administered occupation for a while.Finally, I think there's a parallel with the Die Wise book, in that when it came to Die Wise, I came up with what I came up with largely because, in their absolute darkest, most unpromising hours, an awful lot of dying people, all of whom are dead now, [00:13:00] let me in on some sort of breach in the, the house of their lives.And I did feel that I had some obligation to them long-term, and that part of that obligation turned into writing Die Wise and touring and talking about that stuff for years and years, and making a real fuss as if I'd met them all, as if what happened is really true. Not just factually accurate, but deeply, abidingly, mandatorily true.So, although it may be the situation doesn't sound as extreme, but the truth is, when a number of younger - than me - people came to me and asked me to do their weddings, I, over the kind of medium-term thereafter, felt a not dissimilar obligation that the events that ensued from all of that not [00:14:00] be entrusted entirely to those relatively few people who attended. You know, you can call them "an audience," although I hope I changed that. Or you could call them "witnesses," which I hope I made them that.And see to it that there could be, not the authorized or official version of what happened, but to the view from here, so to speak, which is, as I sit where I am in the hall right now, I can look at the spot where I conducted much of this when I wasn't sacheting up and down the middle aisle where the trestle tables now are.And I wanted to give a kind of concerted voice to that enterprise. And I say "concerted voice" to give you a feel for the fact that I don't think this is a really an artifact. It's not a record. It's a exhortation that employs the things that happened to suggest that even though it is the way it is [00:15:00] ritually, impoverished as it is in our time and place, it has been otherwise within recoverable time and history. It has.And if that's true, and it is, then it seems to me at least is true that it could be otherwise again. And so, I made a fuss and I made a case based on that conviction.There's probably other reasons I can't think of right now. Oh, being not 25 anymore, and not having that many more books in me, the kind of wear and tear on your psyche of imposing order on the ramble, which is your recollection, which has only so many visitations available in it. Right? You can only do that so many times, I think. And I'm not a born writing person, you know, I come to it maniacally when I [00:16:00] do, and then when it's done, I don't linger over it so much.So then, when it's time to talk about it, I actually have to have a look, because the act of writing it is not the act of reading it. The act of writing is a huge delivery and deliverance at the same time. It's a huge gestation. And you can't do that to yourself, you know, over and over again, but you can take some chances, and look the thing in the eye. So, and I think some people who are there, they're kind of well-intended amongst them, will recognize themselves in the details of the book, beyond "this is what happened and so on." You know, they'll recognize themselves in the advocacy that's there, and the exhortations that are there, and the [00:17:00] case-making that I made and, and probably the praying because there's a good degree of prayerfulness in there, too.That's why.Chris: Thank you. bless this new one in the world. And what's the sense for you?Stephen: Oh, yes.Chris: It being a one-week old newborn. How's that landing in your days?Stephen: Well, it's still damp, you know. It's still squeaky, squeaky and damp. It's walking around like a newborn primate, you know, kind of swaying in the breeze and listening to port or to starboard according to whatever's going on.I don't know that it's so very self-conscious in the best sense of that term, yet. Even though I recorded the audio version, I don't think [00:18:00] it's my voice is found every nook and cranny at this point, yet. So, it's kind of new. It's not "news," but it is new to me, you know, and it's very early in terms of anybody responding to it.I mean, nobody around me has really taken me aside and say, "look, now I want to tell you about this book you wrote." It hasn't happened, and we'll see if it does, but I've done a few events on the other side of the ocean and hear so far, very few, maybe handful of interviews. And those are wonderful opportunities to hear something of what you came up with mismanaged by others, you know, misapprehend, you could say by others.No problem. I mean, it's absolutely no problem. And if you don't want that to happen, don't talk, don't write anything down. So, I don't mind a bit, you know, and the chances are very good that it'll turn into things I didn't have in mind [00:19:00] as people take it up, and regard their own weddings and marriages and plans and schemes and fears and, you know, family mishigas and all the rest of it through this particular lens, you know. They may pick up a pen or a computer (it's an odd expression, "pick up a computer"), and be in touch with me and let me know. "Yeah, that was, we tried it" or whatever they're going to do, because, I mean, maybe Die Wise provided a bit of an inkling of how one might be able to proceed otherwise in their dying time or in their families or their loved ones dying time.This is the book that most readily lends itself to people translating into something they could actually do, without a huge kind of psychic revolution or revolt stirring in them, at least not initially. This is as close as I come, probably, to writing a sequence of things [00:20:00] that could be considered "add-ons" to what people are already thinking about, that I don't force everybody else outta the house in order to make room for the ideas that are in the book. That may happen, anyway, but it wasn't really the intent. The intent was to say, you know, we are in those days when we're insanely preoccupied with the notion of a special event. We are on the receiving end of a considerable number of shards showing up without any notion really about what these shards remember or are memories of. And that's the principle contention I think that runs down the spine of the book, is that when we undertake matrimony, however indelicately, however by rote, you know, however mindlessly we may do it, [00:21:00] inadvertently, we call upon those shards nonetheless.And they're pretty unspectacular if you don't think about them very deeply, like the rice or confetti, like the aisle, like the procession up the aisle, like the giving away of someone, like the seating arrangement, like the spectacle seating arrangement rather than the ritual seating arrangement.And I mean, there's a fistful of them. And they're around and scholars aside maybe, nobody knows why they do them. Everybody just knows, "this is what a wedding is," but nobody knows why. And because nobody knows why, nobody really seems to know what a wedding is for, although they do proceed like they would know a wedding if they saw one. So, I make this a question to be really wondered about, and the shards are a way in. They're the kind of [00:22:00] breadcrumb trail through the forest. They're the little bits of broken something, which if you begin to handle just three or four of them, and kind of fit them together, and find something of the original shape and inflection of the original vessel, kind of enunciates, begins to murmur in your hands, and from it you can begin to infer some three-dimensionality to the original shape. And from the sense of the shape, you get a set sense of contour, and from the sense of contour, you get a sense of scale or size. And from that you get a sense of purpose, or function, or design. And from that you get a sense of some kind of serious magisterial insight into some of the fundament of human being that was manifest in the "old-order matrimony," [00:23:00] as I came to call it.So, who wouldn't wanna read that book?Chris: Mm-hmm.Thank you. Mm-hmm. Thank you, Stephen. Yeah. It reminds me, just before coming up here, maybe two weeks ago, I was in attending a wedding. And there was a host or mc, and initially just given what I was hearing over the microphone, it was hard to tell if he was hired or family or friends. And it turned out he was, in fact, a friend of the groom. And throughout the night he proceeded to take up that role as a kind of comedian.Audience: Mm-hmm.Chris: This was the idea, I guess. Mm-hmm. And he was buzzing and mumbling and swearing into the microphone, [00:24:00] and then finally minimizing the only remnant of traditional culture that showed up in the wedding. And his thing was, okay, so when can we get to the part where it's boom, boom, boom, right. And shot, shot, shot, whatever.Stephen: Right.Chris: There was so much that came up in my memories in part because I worked about a decade in Toronto in the wedding industry.Mm-hmm. Hospitality industry. Maybe a contradiction in terms, there. And there was one moment that really kind of summed it up. I kept coming back to this reading the book because it was everything that you wrote seemed to not only antithetical to this moment, but also an antidote.Anyways, it was in North Toronto and the [00:25:00] owner of the venue - it was a kind of movie theatre turned event venue - and there was a couple who was eventually going to get married there. They came in to do their tasting menu to see what they wanted to put on the menu for the dinner, for their wedding.And the owner was kind of this mafioso type. And he comes in and he sees them and he walks over and he says, "so, you're gonna get married at my wedding factory."Audience: Mm-hmm.Chris: In all sincerity.Stephen: Mm-hmm.Chris: Right.Without skipping a beat. Could you imagine?Stephen: Yeah.I could. I sure could.Chris: Yeah. Yeah.Stephen: I mean, don't forget, if these people weren't doing what the people wanted, they'd be outta business.Audience: Mm-hmm.Stephen: No, that's the thing. This is aiding and abetting. This is sleeping with the enemy, stylistically-speaking. [00:26:00] The fact that people "settle" (that's the term I would use for it), settle for this, the idea being that this somehow constitutes the most honest and authentic through line available to us is just jaw dropping. When you consider what allegedly this thing is supposed to be for. I mean, maybe we'll get into this, but I'll just leave this as a question for now. What is that moment allegedly doing?Not, what are the people in it allegedly doing? The moment itself, what is it? How is it different from us sitting here now talking about it? And how is it different from the gory frigging jet-fuelled aftermath of excess. And how's it different from the cursing alleged master of ceremonies? How can you [00:27:00] tell none of those things belong to this thing?And why do you have such a hard time imagining what doesAudience: Hmm mmChris: Well that leads me to my next question.Stephen: Ah, you're welcome.Chris: So, I've pulled a number of quotes from the book to read from over the course of the interview. And this one for anyone who's listening is on page 150. And you write Stephen,"Spiritually-speaking, most of the weddings in our corner of the world are endogamous affairs, inward-looking. What is, to me, most unnerving is that they can be spiritually-incestuous. The withering of psychic difference between people is the program of globalization. It is in the architecture of most things partaking of the internet, and it is in the homogeneity of our matrimony. [00:28:00] It is this very incestuous that matrimony was once crafted and entered into to avoid and subvert. Now, it grinds upon our differences until they are details.And so, this paragraph reminded me of a time in my youth when I seemed to be meeting couples who very eerily looked like each other. No blood or extended kin relation whatsoever, and yet they had very similar faces. And so as I get older, this kind of face fidelity aside, I continue to notice that people looking for companionship tend to base their search on similitude, on shared interests, customs, experiences, shared anything and everything. This, specifically, in opposition to those on the other side of the aisle or spectrum, to difference or divergence. And so, opposites don't attract anymore. I'm curious what you think this psychic [00:29:00] withering does to an achieve understanding of matrimony.Stephen: Well, I mean, let's wonder what it does to us, generally, first before we get to matrimony, let's say. It demonizes. Maybe that's too strong, but it certainly reconstitutes difference as some kind of affliction, some kind of not quite good enough, some kind of something that has to be overcome or overwhelmed on the road to, to what? On the road to sameness? So, if that's the goal, then are all of the differences between us, aberrations of some kind, if that's the goal? If that's the goal, are all the [00:30:00] differences between us, not God-given, but humanly misconstrued or worse? Humanly wrought? Do the differences between us conceivably then belong at all? Or is the principle object of the entire endeavor to marry yourself, trying to put up with the vague differences that the other person represents to you?I mean, I not very jokingly said years ago, that I coined a phrase that went something like "the compromise of infinity, which is other people." What does that mean? "The compromise of infinity, which is other people." Not to mention it's a pretty nice T-shirt. But what I meant by the [00:31:00] phrase is this: when you demonize difference in this fashion or when you go the other direction and lionize sameness, then one of the things that happens is that compromise becomes demonized, too. Compromise, by definition, is something you never should have done, right? Compromise is how much you surrender of yourself in order to get by. That's what all these things become. And before you know it, you're just beaten about the head and shoulders about "codependence" and you know, not being "true to yourself" as if being true to yourself is some kind of magic.I mean, the notion that "yourself is the best part of you" is just hilarious. I mean, when you think about it, like who's running amuck if yourself is what you're supposed to be? I ask you. Like, who's [00:32:00] doing the harm? Who's going mental if the self is such a good idea? So, of course, I'm maintaining here that I'm not persuaded that there is such a thing.I think it's a momentary lapse in judgment to have a self and to stick to it. That's the point I'm really making to kind of reify it until it turns ossified and dusty and bizarrely adamant like that estranged relative that lives in the basement of your house. Bizarrely, foreignly adamant, right? Like the house guest who just won't f**k off kind of thing.Okay, so "to thine own self be true," is it? Well, try being true to somebody else's self for ten minutes. Try that. [00:33:00] That's good at exercise for matrimony - being true to somebody else's self. You'll discover that their selves are not made in heaven, either. Either. I underscore it - either. I've completely lost track of the question you asked me.Chris: What are the consequences of the sameness on this anti-cultural sameness, and the program of it for an achieved understanding of matrimony.Stephen: Thank you. Well, I will fess up right now. I do so in the book. That's a terrible phrase. I swear I'd never say such a thing. "In my book... I say the following," but in this case, it's true. I did say this. I realized during the writing of it that I had made a tremendous tactical error in the convening of the event as I did it over the years, [00:34:00] and this is what it came to.I was very persuaded at the time of the story that appears in the chapter called "Salt and Indigo" in the book. I was very, very persuaded. I mean, listen, I made up the story (for what it's worth), okay, but I didn't make it up out of nothing. I made it up out of a kind of tribal memory that wouldn't quite let go.And in it, I was basically saying, here's these two tribes known principally for what they trade in and what they love most emphatically. They turn out to be the same thing. And I describe a circumstance in which they exchange things in a trade scenario, not a commerce scenario. And I'm using the chapter basically to make the case that matrimony's architecture derives in large measure from the sacraments of trade as manifest in that story. [00:35:00] Okay. And this is gonna sound obvious, but the fundamental requirement of the whole conceit that I came up with is that there are two tribes. Well, I thought to myself, "of course, there's always two tribes" at the time. And the two tribe-ness is reflected in when you come to the wedding site, you're typically asked (I hope you're still asked) " Are you family or friend of the groom or friend of the bride?" And you're seated "accordingly," right? That's the nominal, vestigial shard of this old tribal affiliation, that people came from over the rise, basically unknown to each other, to arrive at the kind of no man's land of matrimony, and proceeded accordingly. So, I put these things into motion in this very room and I sat people accordingly facing each other, not facing the alleged front of the room. [00:36:00] And of course, man, nobody knew where to look, because you raised your eyes and s**t. There's just humans across from you, just scads of them who you don't freaking know. And there's something about doing that to North Americas that just throws them. So, they're just looking at each other and then looking away, and looking at each other and looking away, and wondering what they're doing here and what it's for. And I'm going back and forth for three hours, orienting them as to what is is coming.Okay, so what's the miscalculation that I make? The miscalculation I made was assuming that by virtue of the seating arrangement, by virtue of me reminding them of the salt and indigo times, by virtue of the fact that they had a kind of allegiance of some sort or another to the people who are, for the moment, betrothed, that those distinctions and those affiliations together would congeal them, and constitute a [00:37:00] kind of tribal affiliation that they would intuitively be drawn towards as you would be drawn to heat on a cold winter's night.Only to discover, as I put the thing into motion that I was completely wrong about everything I just told you about. The nature of my error was this, virtually all of those people on one side of the room were fundamentally of the same tribe as the people on the other side of the room, apropos of your question, you see. They were card carrying members of the gray dominant culture of North America. Wow. The bleached, kind of amorphous, kind of rootless, ancestor-free... even regardless of whether their people came over in the last generation from the alleged old country. It doesn't really claim them.[00:38:00]There were two tribes, but I was wrong about who they were. That was one tribe. Virtually everybody sitting in the room was one tribe.So, who's the other tribe? Answer is: me and the four or five people who were in on the structural delivery of this endeavour with me. We were the other tribe.We didn't stand a chance, you see?And I didn't pick up on that, and I didn't cast it accordingly and employ that, instead. I employed the conceit that I insisted was manifest and mobilized in the thing, instead of the manifest dilemma, which is that everybody who came knew what a wedding was, and me and four or five other people were yet to know if this could be one. That was the tribal difference, if you [00:39:00] will.So, it was kind of invisible, wasn't it? Even to me at the time. Or, I say, maybe especially to me at the time. And so, things often went the way they went, which was for however much fascination and willingness to consider that there might have been in the room, there was quite a bit more either flat affect and kind of lack of real fascination, or curiosity, or sometimes downright hostility and pushback. Yeah.So, all of that comes from the fact that I didn't credit as thoroughly as I should have done, the persistence in Anglo-North America of a kind of generic sameness that turned out to be what most people came here ancestrally to become. "Starting again" is recipe for culture [00:40:00] loss of a catastrophic order. The fantasy of starting again. Right?And we've talked about that in your podcast, and you and I have talked about it privately, apropos of your own family and everybody's sitting in this room knows what I'm talking about. And when does this show up? Does it show up, oh, when you're walking down the street? Does it show up when you're on the mountaintop? Does it show up in your peak experiences? And the answer is "maybe." It probably shows up most emphatically in those times when you have a feeling that something special is supposed to be so, and all you can get from the "supposed to" is the allegation of specialness.Audience: Mm-hmm.Stephen: And then, you look around in the context of matrimony and you see a kind of febral, kind of strained, the famous bridezilla stuff, all of that stuff. [00:41:00] You saw it in the hospitality industry, no doubt. You know, the kind of mania for perfection, as if perfection constitutes culture. Right? With every detail checked off in the checkbox, that's culture. You know, as if everything goes off without a hitch and there's no guffaws. And in fact, anybody could reasonably make the case, "Where do you think culture appears when the script finally goes f*****g sideways?" That's when. And when you find out what you're capable of, ceremonially.And generally speaking, I think most people discovered that their ceremonial illiteracy bordered on the bottomless.That's when you find out. Hmm.Chris: Wow.Stephen: Yeah. And that's why people, you know, in speech time, they reach in there and get that piece of paper, and just look at it. Mm-hmm. They don't even look up, terrified that they're gonna go off script for a minute as [00:42:00] if the Gods of Matrimony are a scripted proposition.Chris: Mm-hmm. Yeah. Thank you for sharing that with us, that degree of deep reflection and humility that I'm sure comes with it.Stephen: Mea Culpa, baby. Yeah, I was, I got that one totally wrong. Mm-hmm. And I didn't know it at the time. Meanwhile, like, how much can you transgress and have the consequences of doing so like spill out across the floor like a broken thermometer's mercury and not wise up.But of course, I was as driven as anybody. I was as driven to see if I could come through with what I promised to do the year before. And keeping your promise can make you into a maniac.Audience: Hmm hmm.Chris: But I imagine that, you [00:43:00] know, you wouldn't have been able to see that even years later if you didn't say yes in the first place.Stephen: Oh, yeah. Yeah. And I wouldn't have been able to make the errors.Chris: Right.Stephen: Right. Yeah. I mean, as errors go, this is not a mortal sin. Right, right. And you could chalk it up to being a legitimate miscalculation. Well, so? All I'm saying is, it turns out I was there too, and it turns out, even though I was allegedly the circus master of the enterprise, I wasn't free and clear of the things we were all contending with, the kind of mortality and sort of cultural ricketiness that were all heirs to. That's how I translated it, as it turns out.So, PS there was a moment, [00:44:00] which I don't remember which setting it was now, but there was a moment when the "maybe we'll see if she becomes a bride" bride's mother slid up to me during the course of the proceedings, and in a kind of stage whisper more or less hissed me as follows."Is this a real wedding?"I mean, that's not a question. Not in that setting, obviously not. That is an accusation. Right. And a withering one at that. And there was a tremendous amount of throw-down involved.So, was it? I mean, what we do know is that she did not go to any of the weddings [00:45:00] that she was thinking of at the time, and go to the front of the room where the celebrant is austerely standing there with the book, or the script, or the well-intentioned, or the self-penned vows and never hissed at him or her, "is this a real wedding?"Never once did she do that. We know that.Right.And I think we know why. But she was fairly persuaded she knew what a real wedding was. And all she was really persuaded by was the poverty of the weddings that she'd attended before that one. Well, I was as informed in that respect as she was, wasn't I? I just probably hadn't gone to as many reprobate weddings as she had, so she had more to deal with than I did, even though I was in the position of the line of fire.And I didn't respond too well to the question, I have to say. At the moment, I was rather combative. But I mean, you try to do [00:46:00] what I tried to do and not have a degree of fierceness to go along with your discernment, you know, just to see if you can drag this carcass across the threshold. Anyway, that happened too.Chris: Wow. Yeah. Dominant culture of North America.Stephen: Heard of it.Chris: Yeah. Well, in Matrimony, there's quite a bit in which you write about hospitality and radical hospitality. And I wanted to move in that direction a little bit, because in terms of these kind of marketplace rituals or ceremonies that you were mentioning you know, it's something that we might wonder, I think, as you have, how did it come to be this [00:47:00] way?And so I'd like to, if I can once again, quote from matrimony in which you speak to the etymology of hospitality. And so for those interested on page 88,"the word hospitality comes from hospitaller, meaning 'one who cares for the afflicted, the infirm, the needy.' There's that thread of our misgivings about being on the receiving end of hospitality. Pull on it. For the written history of the word, at least, it has meant, 'being on the receiving end of a kind of care you'd rather not need.'"End quote.Stephen: That's so great. I mean, before you go on with the quote. It's so great to know that the word, unexamined, just kind of leaks upside, doesn't it? Hospitality, I mean, nobody goes "Hospitality, ew." [00:48:00] And then, if you just quietly do the obvious math to yourself, there's so much awkwardness around hospitality.This awkwardness must have an origin, have a home. There must be some misgiving that goes along with the giving of hospitality, mustn't there be? How else to understand where that kind of ickiness is to be found. Right? And it turns out that the etymology is giving you the beginnings of a way of figuring it out what it is that you're on the receiving end of - a kind of succor that you wish you didn't need, which is why it's the root word for "hospital."Chris: Hmm hmm. Wow.Audience: Hmm.Chris: May I repeat that sentence please? Once more."For the written history of the word, at least, it has meant, [00:49:00] 'being on the receiving end of a kind of care you'd rather not need.'"And so this last part hits home for me as I imagine it does for many.And it feels like the orthodoxy of hospitality in our time is one based not only in transaction, but in debt. And if you offer hospitality to me, then I owe you hospitality.Stephen: Right.Chris: I'm indebted to you. And we are taught, in our time, that the worst thing to be in is in debt.Stephen: Right?Chris: And so people refuse both the desire to give as well as the learning skill of receiving. And this is continuing on page 88 now."But there's mystery afoot with this word. In its old Latin form, hospice meant both 'host' and 'guest.'"Stephen: Amazing. One. Either one, This is absolutely amazing. We're fairly sure that there's a [00:50:00] acres of difference between the giver of hospitality and the receiver that the repertoire is entirely different, that the skew between them is almost insurmountable, that they're not interchangeable in any way. But the history of the word immediately says, "really?" The history of the word, without question, says that "host" and "guest" are virtually the same, sitting in different places, being different people, more or less joined at the hip. I'll say more, but you go ahead with what you were gonna do. Sure.Chris: "In it's proto Indo-European origins, hospitality and hospice is a compound word: gosh + pot. And it meant something like [00:51:00] 'stranger/guest/host + powerful Lord.'It is amazing to me that ancestrally, the old word for guest, host, and stranger were all the same word. Potent ceremonial business, this is. In those days, the server and the serve were partners in something mysterious. This could be confusing, but only if you think of guest, host, and stranger as fixed identities.If you think of them as functions, as verbs, the confusion softens and begins to clear. The word hospice in its ancient root is telling us that each of the people gathered together in hospitality is bound to the others by formal etiquette, yes, but the bond is transacted through a subtle scheme of graces.Hospitality, it tells us, is a web of longing and belonging that binds people for a time, some hithereto unknown to each other is a clutch of mutually-binding elegances, you could say. In its ancient practice, [00:52:00] hospitality was a covenant. According to that accord, however we were with each other. That was how the Gods would be with us. We learn our hospitality by being on the receiving end of Godly administration. That's what giving thanks for members. We proceed with our kin in imitation of that example and in gratitude for it."Mm-hmm.And so today, among "secular" people, with the Gods ignored, this old-time hospitality seems endangered, if not fugitive. I'm curious how you imagine that this rupture arose, the ones that separated and commercialized the radical relationships between hosts and guests, that turned them from verbs to nouns and something like strangers to marketplace functions.[00:53:00]Stephen: Well, of course this is a huge question you've asked, and I'll see if I can unhuge it a bit.Chris: Uhhuh.Stephen: Let's go right to the heart of what happened. Just no preliminaries, just right to it.So, to underscore again, the beauty of the etymology. I've told you over and over again, the words will not fail you. And this is just a shining example, isn't it? That the fraternization is a matter of ceremonial alacrity that the affiliation between host and guest, which makes them partners in something, that something is the [00:54:00] evocation of a third thing that's neither one of them. It's the thing they've lent themselves to by virtue of submitting to being either a host or a guest. One.Two. You could say that in circumstances of high culture or highly-functioning culture, one of the principle attributes of that culture is that the fundament of its understanding, is that only with the advent of the stranger in their midst that the best of them comes forward.Okay, follow that. Yeah.So, this is a little counterintuitive for those of us who don't come from such places. We imagine that the advent of strangers in the midst of the people I'm describing would be an occasion where people hide their [00:55:00] best stuff away until the stranger disappears, and upon the disappearance of the stranger, the good stuff comes out again.You know?So, I'm just remembering just now, there's a moment in the New Testament where Jesus says something about the best wine and he's coming from exactly this page that we're talking about - not the page in the book, but this understanding. He said, you know, "serve your best wine first," unlike the standard, that prevails, right?So again, what a stranger does in real culture is call upon the cultural treasure of the host's culture, and provides the opportunity for that to come forward, right? By which you can understand... Let's say for simplicity's sake, there's two kinds of hospitality. There's probably all kinds of gradations, [00:56:00] but for the purposes of responding to what you've asked, there's two.One of them is based on kinship. Okay? So, family meal. So, everybody knows whose place is whose around the table, or it doesn't matter - you sit wherever you want. Or, when we're together, we speak shorthand. That's the shorthand of familiarity and affinity, right?Everybody knows what everybody's talking about. A lot of things get half-said or less, isn't it? And there's a certain fineness, isn't it? That comes with that kind of affinity. Of course, there is, and I'm not diminishing it at all. I'm just characterizing it as being of a certain frequency or calibre or charge. And the charge is that it trades on familiarity. It requires that. There's that kind of hospitality."Oh, sit wherever you want."Remember this one?[00:57:00]"We don't stand on ceremony here.""Oh, you're one of the family now." I just got here. What, what?But, of course, you can hear in the protestations the understanding, in that circumstance, that formality is an enemy to feeling good in this moment, isn't it? It feels stiff and starched and uncalled for or worse.It feels imported from elsewhere. It doesn't feel friendly. So, I'm giving you now beginnings of a differentiation between how cultures who really function as cultures understand what it means to be hospitable and what often prevails today, trading is a kind of low-grade warfare conducted against the strangeness of the stranger.The whole purpose of treating somebody like their family is to mitigate, and finally neutralize their [00:58:00] strangeness, so that for the purposes of the few hours in front of us all, there are no strangers here. Right? Okay.Then there's another kind, and intuitively you can feel what I'm saying. You've been there, you know exactly what I mean.There's another kind of circumstance where the etiquette that prevails is almost more emphatic, more tangible to you than the familiar one. That's the one where your mother or your weird aunt or whoever she might be, brings out certain kind of stuff that doesn't come out every day. And maybe you sit in a room that you don't often sit in. And maybe what gets cooked is stuff you haven't seen in a long time. And some part of you might be thinking, "What the hell is all this about?" And the answer is: it's about that guy in the [00:59:00] corner that you don't know.And your own ancestral culture told acres of stories whose central purpose was to convey to outsiders their understanding of what hospitality was. That is fundamentally what The Iliad and The Odyssey are often returning to and returning to and returning to.They even had a word for the ending of the formal hospitality that accrued, that arose around the care and treatment of strangers. It was called pomp or pompe, from which we get the word "pompous." And you think about what the word "pompous" means today.It means "nose in the air," doesn't it? Mm-hmm. It means "thinks really highly of oneself," isn't it? And it means "useless, encumbering, kind of [01:00:00] artificial kind of going through the motions stuff with a kind of aggrandizement for fun." That's what "pompous" means. Well, the people who gave us the word didn't mean that at all. This word was the word they used to describe the particular moment of hospitality when it was time for the stranger to leave.And when it was mutually acknowledged that the time for hospitality has come to an end, and the final act of hospitality is to accompany the stranger out of the house, out of the compound, out into the street, and provision them accordingly, and wish them well, and as is oftentimes practiced around here, standing in the street and waving them long after they disappear from view.This is pompous. This is what it actually means. Pretty frigging cool when you get corrected once in a while, isn't it? [01:01:00] Yeah.So, as I said, to be simplistic about it, there's at least a couple of kinds, and one of them treasures the advent of the stranger, understanding it to be the detonation point for the most elegant part of us to come forward.Now, those of us who don't come from such a place, we're just bamboozled and Shanghai'ed by the notion of formality, which we kind of eschew. You don't like formality when it comes to celebration, as if these two things are hostile, one to the other. But I'd like you to consider the real possibility that formality is grace under pressure, and that formality is there to give you a repertoire of response that rescues you from the gross limitations of your autobiography.[01:02:00]Next question. I mean, that's the beginning.Chris: Absolutely. Absolutely. Mm-hmm. Thank you once again, Stephen. So alongside the term or concept of "pompe," in which the the guest or stranger was led out of the house or to the entrance of the village, there was also the consideration around the enforcement of hospitality, which you write about in the book. And you write that"the enforcement of hospitality runs the palpable risk of violating or undoing the cultural value it is there to advocate for. Forcing people to share their good fortune with the less fortunate stretches, to the point of undoing the generosity of spirit that the culture holds dear. Enforcement of hospitality is a sign of the eclipse of hospitality, typically spawned by insecurity, contracted self-definition, and the darkening of the [01:03:00] stranger at the door.Instead, such places and times are more likely to encourage the practice of hospitality in subtle generous ways, often by generously treating the ungenerous."And so there seems to be a need for limits placed on hospitality, in terms of the "pompe," the maximum three days in which a stranger can be given hospitality, and concurrently a need to resist enforcing hospitality. This seems like a kind of high-wire act that hospitable cultures have to balance in order to recognize and realize an honorable way of being with a stranger. And so I'm wondering if you could speak to the possibility of how these limits might be practiced without being enforced. What might that look like in a culture that engages with, with such limits, but without prohibitions?Stephen: Mm-hmm. That's a very good question. [01:04:00] Well, I think your previous question was what happened? I think, in a nutshell, and I didn't really answer that, so maybe see how I can use this question to answer the one that you asked before: what happened? So, there's no doubt in my mind that something happened that it's kind of demonstrable, if only with the benefit of hindsight.Audience: Right.Stephen: Or we can feel our way around the edges of the absence of the goneness of that thing that gives us some feel for the original shape of that thing.So you could say I'm trafficking in "ideals," here, and after a fashion, maybe, yeah. But the notion of "ideals," when it's used in this slanderous way suggests that "it was never like that."Chris: Mm-hmm.Stephen: And I suggest to you it's been like that in a lot of places, and there's a lot of places where it's still like that, although globalization [01:05:00] may be the coup de grâce performed upon this capacity. Okay. But anyway.Okay. So what happened? Well, you see in the circumstance that I described, apropos of the stranger, the stranger is in on it. The stranger's principle responsibility is to be the vector for this sort of grandiose generosity coming forward, and to experience that in a burdensome and unreciprocated fashion, until you realize that their willingness to do that is their reciprocity. Everybody doesn't get to do everything at once. You can't give and receive at the same time. You know what that's called? "Secret Santa at school," isn't it?That's where nobody owes nobody nothing at the end. That's what we're all after. I mean, one of your questions, you know, pointed to that, that there's a kind of, [01:06:00] what do you call that, teeter-totter balance between what people did for each other and what they received for each other. Right. And nobody feels slighted in any way, perfect balance, et cetera.Well, the circumstance here has nothing of the kind going with it. The circumstance we're describing now is one in which the hospitality is clearly unequal in terms of who's eating whose food, for example, in terms of the absolutely frustrated notion of reciprocity, that in fact you undo your end of the hospitality by trying to pay back, or give back, or pay at all, or break even, or not feel the burden of "God, you've been on the take for fricking hours here now." And if you really look in the face of the host, I mean, they're just getting started and you can't, you can't take it anymore.[01:07:00]So, one of the ways that we contend with this is through habits of speech. So, if somebody comes around with seconds. They say, "would you like a little more?"And you say, "I'm good. I'm good. I'm good." You see, "I'm good" is code for what? "F**k off." That's what it's code for. It's a little strong. It's a little strong. What I mean is, when "I'm good" comes to town, it means I don't need you and what you have. Good God, you're not there because you need it you knucklehead. You're there because they need it, because their culture needs an opportunity to remember itself. Right?Okay. So what happened? Because you're making it sound like a pretty good thing, really. Like who would say, "I think we've had enough of this hospitality thing, don't you? Let's try, oh, [01:08:00] keeping our s**t to ourselves. That sounds like a good alternative. Let's give it a week or two, see how it rolls." Never happened. Nobody decided to do this - this change, I don't think. I think the change happened, and sometime long after people realized that the change had had taken place. And it's very simple. The change, I think, went something like this.As long as the guest is in on it, there's a shared and mutually-held understanding that doesn't make them the same. It makes them to use the quote from the book "partners," okay, with different tasks to bring this thing to light, to make it so. What does that require? A mutually-held understanding in vivo as it's happening, what it is.Okay. [01:09:00] So, that the stranger who's not part of the host culture... sorry, let me say this differently.The culture of the stranger has made the culture of the host available to the stranger no matter how personally adept he or she may be at receiving. Did you follow that?Audience: A little.Stephen: Okay. Say it again?Audience: Yes, please.Stephen: Okay. The acculturation, the cultured sophistication of the stranger is at work in his or her strangerhood. Okay. He or she's not at home, but their cultural training helps them understand what their obligations are in terms of this arrangement we've been describing here.Okay, so I think the rupture takes place [01:10:00] when the culturation of one side or the other fails to make the other discernible to the one.One more time?When something happens whereby the acculturation of one of the partners makes the identity, the presence, and the valence of the other one untranslatable. Untranslatable.I could give you an example from what I call " the etiquette of trade," or the... what was the word? Not etiquette. What's the other word?Chris: The covenant?Stephen: Okay, " covenant of trade" we'll call it. So, imagine that people are sitting across from each other, two partners in a trade. Okay? [01:11:00] Imagine that they have one thing to sell or move or exchange and somebody has something else.How does this work? Not "what are the mechanics?" That can be another discussion, but, if this works, how does it work? Not "how does it happen?" How does it actually achieve what they're after? Maybe it's something like this.I have this pottery, and even though you're not a potter, but somebody in your extended family back home was, and you watched what they went through to make a fricking pot, okay?You watched how their hands seized up, because the clay leached all the moisture out of the hands. You distinctly remember that - how the old lady's hands looked cracked and worn, and so from the work of making vessels of hospitality, okay? [01:12:00] It doesn't matter that you didn't make it yourself. The point is you recognize in the item something we could call "cultural patrimony."You recognize the deep-runningness of the culture opposite you as manifest and embodied in this item for trade. Okay? So, the person doesn't have to "sell you" because your cultural sophistication makes this pot on the other side available to you for the deeply venerable thing that it is. Follow what I'm saying?Okay. So, you know what I'm gonna say next? When something happens, the items across from you cease to speak, cease to have their stories come along with them, cease to be available. There's something about your cultural atrophy that you project onto the [01:13:00] item that you don't recognize.You don't recognize it's valence, it's proprieties, it's value, it's deep-running worth and so on. Something happened, okay? And because you're not making your own stuff back home or any part of it. And so now, when you're in a circumstance like this and you're just trying to get this pot, but you know nothing about it, then the enterprise becomes, "Okay, so what do you have to part with to obtain the pot?"And the next thing is, you pretend you're not interested in obtaining the pot to obtain the pot. That becomes part of the deal. And then, the person on the making end feels the deep running slight of your disinterest, or your vague involvement in the proceedings, or maybe the worst: when it's not things you're going back and forth with, but there's a third thing called money, which nobody makes, [01:14:00] which you're not reminded of your grandma or anyone else's with the money. And then, money becomes the ghost of the original understanding of the cultural patrimony that sat between you. That's what happened, I'm fairly sure: the advent, the estrangement that comes with the stranger, instead of the opportunity to be your cultural best when the stranger comes.And then of course, it bleeds through all kinds of transactions beyond the "obvious material ones." So, it's a rupture in translatability, isn't it?Chris: You understand this to happen or have happened historically, culturally, et cetera, with matrimony as well?Stephen: Oh, absolutely. Yeah.Yeah. This is why, for example, things like the fetishization of virginity.Audience: Mm-hmm. [01:15:00]Stephen: I think it's traceable directly to what we're talking about. How so? Oh, this is a whole other long thing, but the very short version would be this.Do you really believe that through all of human history until the recent liberation, that people have forever fetishized the virginity of a young woman and jealously defended it, the "men" in particular, and that it became a commodity to trade back and forth in, and that it had to be prodded and poked at to determine its intactness? And this was deemed to be, you know, honourable behavior?Do you really think that's the people you come from, that they would've do that to the most cherished of their [01:16:00] own, barely pubescent girls? Come on now. I'm not saying it didn't happen and doesn't still happen. I'm not saying that. I'm saying, God almighty, something happened for that to be so.And I'm trying to allude to you now what I think took place. Then all of a sudden, the hymen takes the place of the pottery, doesn't it? And it becomes universally translatable. Doesn't it? It becomes a kind of a ghosted artifact of a culturally-intact time. It's as close as you can get.Hence, this allegation of its purity, or the association with purity, and so on. [01:17:00] I mean, there's lots to say, but that gives you a feel for what might have happened there.Chris: Thank you, Stephen. Thank you for being so generous with your considerations here.Stephen: You see why I had to write a book, eh?Audience: Mm-hmm.Stephen: There was too much bouncing around. Like I had to just keep track of my own thoughts on the matter.But can you imagine all of this at play in the year, oh, I don't know, 2022, trying to put into motion a redemptive passion play called "matrimony," with all of this at play? Not with all of this in my mind, but with all of this actually disfiguring the anticipation of the proceedings for the people who came.Can you imagine? Can you imagine trying to pull it off, and [01:18:00] contending overtly with all these things and trying to make room for them in a moment that's supposed to be allegedly - get ready for it - happy.I should have raised my rates on the first day, trying to pull that off.But anyway.Okay, you go now,Chris: Maybe now you'll have the opportunity.Stephen: No, man. No. I'm out of the running for that. "Pompe" has come and come and gone. Mm.Chris: So, in matrimony, Stephen, you write that"the brevity, the brevity of modern ceremonies is really there to make sure that nothing happens, nothing of substance, nothing of consequence, no alchemy, no mystery, no crazy other world stuff. That overreach there in its scripted heart tells me that deep in the rayon-wrapped bosom of that special day, the modern wedding is scared [01:19:00] silly of something happening. That's because it has an ages-old abandoned memory of a time when a wedding was a place where the Gods came around, where human testing and trying and making was at hand, when the dead lingered in the wings awaiting their turn to testify and inveigh."Gorgeous. Gorgeous.Audience: Mm-hmm.Chris: And so I'm curious ifStephen: "Rayon-wrapped bosom." That's not, that's not shabby.Chris: "Rayon-wrapped bosom of that special day." Yeah.So, I'm curious do you think the more-than-human world practices matrimony, and if so, what, if anything, might you have learned about matrimony from the more-than-human world?Stephen: I would say the reverse. I would say, we practice the more-than-human world in matrimony, not that the more-than-human world practices matrimony. We practice them, [01:20:00] matrimonially.Next. Okay. Or no? I just gonna say that, that's pretty good.Well, where do we get our best stuff from? Let's just wonder that. Do we get our best stuff from being our best? Well, where does that come from? And this is a bit of a barbershop mirrors situation here, isn't it? To, to back, back, back, back.If you're thinking of time, you can kind of get lost in that generation before, or before, before, before. And it starts to sound like one of them biblical genealogies. But if you think of it as sort of the flash point of multiple presences, if you think of it that way, then you come to [01:21:00] credit the real possibility that your best stuff comes from you being remembered by those who came before you.Audience: Hmm.Stephen: Now just let that sit for a second, because what I just said is logically-incompatible.Okay? You're being remembered by people who came before you. That's not supposed to work. It doesn't work that way. Right?"Anticipated," maybe, but "remembered?" How? Well, if you credit the possibility of multiple beginnings, that's how. Okay. I'm saying that your best stuff, your best thoughts, not the most noble necessarily. I would mean the most timely, [01:22:00] the ones that seem most needed, suddenly.You could take credit and sure. Why, why not? Because ostensibly, it arrives here through you, but if you're frank with yourself, you know that you didn't do that on command, right? I mean, you could say, I just thought of it, but you know in your heart that it was thought of and came to you.I don't think there's any difference between saying that and saying you were thought of.Audience: Mm-hmm.Stephen: So, that's what I think the rudiments of old-order matrimony are. They are old people and their benefactors in the food chain and spiritually speaking. Old people and their benefactors, the best part of them [01:23:00] willed to us, entrusted and willed to us. So, when you are willing to enter into the notion that old-order matrimony is older than you, older than your feelings for the other person, older than your love, and your commitment, and your willingness to make the vows and all that stuff, then you're crediting the possibility that your love is not the beginning of anything.You see. Your love is the advent of something, and I use that word deliberately in its Christian notion, right? It's the oncomingness, the eruption into the present day of something, which turns out to be hugely needed and deeply unsuspected at the same time.I used to ask in the school, "can you [01:24:00] have a memory of something you have no lived experience of?" I think that's what the best part of you is. I'm not saying the rest of you is shite. I'm not saying that. You could say that, but I am saying that when I say "the best part of you," that needs a lot of translating, doesn't it?But the gist of it is that the best part of you is entrusted to you. It's not your creation, it's your burden, your obligation, your best chance to get it right. And that's who we are to those who came before us. We are their chance to get it right, and matrimony is one of the places where you practice the gentle art of getting it right.[01:25:00] Another decent reason to write a book.Chris: So, gorgeous. Wow. Thank you Stephen. I might have one more question.Stephen: Okay. I might have one more answer. Let's see.Chris: Alright. Would I be able to ask if dear Nathalie Roy could join us up here alongside your good man.So, returning to Matrimony: Ritual, Culture and the Heart's Work. On page 94, [01:26:00] Stephen, you write that"hospitality of the radical kind is

with Ps Josiah Wall

FAITH IS… with Pastor Rick Stevens – A significant part of the action in Revelation involves judgment. In vivid and horrifying detail, we get a glimpse of God's awesome judgment of evil. Does this mean God is vindictive, just looking for a reason to get us? Does God enjoy the terrible attacks poured out in the seal, trumpet, and bowl judgments? Why would a good God do such things?

Be blessed as you enjoy this Wednesday Sermon from Brother Darrell Mercer at Faith Fellowship Church in Louisville, Kentucky.There is a Good God and a Bad Devil and they never trade places.

Send us a textWhen life shatters our expectations, where do we find God in the wreckage? This question burns at the heart of Kim Kiser's story—a journey that began with a profound spiritual vision at age 30 and culminated in becoming a widow at 43 with seven children to raise alone.Kim's transparent account of her husband Rob's unexpected death following what should have been routine heart surgery pulls back the curtain on grief's raw reality. While doctors initially diagnosed blocked arteries, they discovered multiple blood clots in his lungs during surgery. Despite medical intervention and countless prayers, Rob died ten days later, leaving Kim facing her worst fear.The authenticity with which Kim discusses her coping mechanisms resonates deeply. For six years, she pushed down her questions and pain, staying busy with raising her children and even opening a bakery with friends, all while wrestling with Romans 8:28—how could her husband's death possibly "work together for good"? This theological tension remained unresolved as she continued going through the motions of faith while harboring deep questions.The turning point came through complete surrender. In a moment of brutal honesty with God, Kim poured out her anger, confusion, and pain—and instead of the condemnation she feared, she experienced profound peace. This breakthrough revealed that the "good" promised in Scripture wasn't about improved circumstances but about transformation into Christ's image.Perhaps most surprising is Kim's revelation that her experience with loss gave her a new perspective on death itself. Having walked through that valley, she no longer fears it for herself or loved ones. Drawing parallels to biblical figures like Joseph who endured years of suffering before seeing God's purpose, Kim reminds us that when we're in the middle of our story, we can't just "turn the page" to see how it ends.Ready to discover where God is in your own struggle? Kim's book "Where is the Good God? Finding Good in Our Grief, Sorrow and Disappointment" explores these themes with depth and compassion. Join us in embracing the truth that on this broken planet, suffering might be normal—but it doesn't have to determine who we become.

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Geoff and Marie's Good Life: Part 15The Live Sex ShowGeoffrey performs in public.Based on posts by Only In My Mind, in 15 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.We were sitting cuddling together on the sofa when Colin arrived, with Mia in tow. Angie had offered to cook that afternoon and we were trying to decide what we fancied. I suggested a chilli con carne with rice. Angie decided otherwise."Kids," she called. They wandered in from the kitchen with glasses of milk and a chocolate biscuit each."If I go shopping for ingredients, would you two help me cook tea tonight?" The two teens shared a look and agreed. "Right," she announced, standing up. "Go and sort out your homework with grandad; I'll go shopping."I stood and went to get my wallet. She glared at me. "Go on. Do it," she challenged me. "I bloody dare you to offer me money to get food for the people I care about."I carefully closed the drawer and apologized for my insensitivity. "I just don't want you to think that we take you for granted," I explained.Her expression softened. "And if I ever feel that way, I'll say something, but right now it's my turn to give. Please allow me that."I went and pulled her into a hug. "Sorry Angie. You know I wouldn't deliberately upset you. Am I forgiven?"She returned my hug. "You were never in trouble. I was just reminding you that we're family now and I want to contribute too."She gave me another squeeze, a brief kiss and she left. I turned to the kids, who had watched our exchange, fascinated. "What?" I asked.Colin shook his head. "Not sure about this whole adult relationship stuff," he griped. "They are all weird." Mia smiled at his comment, but didn't argue. To be fair, the lad had a point."Okay." I clapped my hands. "Homework?"It turned out that they were studying climate change. Their teacher had given the class three questions and they were free to choose which one to answer. I suggested that Colin and Mia avoided answering the same question so they weren't accused of copying, and sent them off to the study.Angie was back and in the kitchen laying out her ingredients when the teens finally reappeared. Colin, ever the gentleman, had allowed Mia to use our laptop for her slides, while he had used my tablet. That was fine; it wasn't as though we regularly used our devices to cruise porn sites. Besides, I had made sure that Marie knew to use private tabs if she was viewing adult content. The kids were old enough to start learning about relationships. Images of explicit sex were not on their agenda for some years to come.I sent them in to the kitchen and, with their permission, went to check over their homework. I was reassured. If I had seen job applications written that thoughtfully, they both definitely would have qualified for an interview.I joined the others in the kitchen, only to find that I was redundant. Colin was slicing an onion, Mia was chopping mushrooms and Angie was trimming what looked like a pork fillet. She looked up and shook he head, smiling. "The sous chefs are doing fine," she explained. "I want them to feel confident that they can work without being micro-managed."I watched Colin. He was doing well. Slow, perhaps, but careful. Mia was taking equal care to have all the slices of mushroom a similar thickness."Shall I set the table then?" I suggested. The consensus was that yes, I could perhaps make myself useful that way."Set for a starter, main and dessert, please," Angie advised me. "We have a full menu planned.""Wine?""A nice white, maybe an oaked chardonnay," suggested Colin. "I checked on my phone," he explained, in response to my surprised expression.I grunted and went to set about my assigned tasks, and that was how Marie found me when she returned from work. "That's my job when you're the cook," she observed."I have been supplanted by our wicked betrothed and her evil teen minions," I sulked."That's nice, dear," she said, absently, as she bustled about putting her coat away.We went into the kitchen together once I had finished. My wife walked up behind Angie and gave her a big hug. "Geoffrey is feeling emasculated," she told her friend. The minions looked on in amusement.Angie gave a derisive snort. "It's my turn to cook with the kids because I'm here today. Geoff can take his turn any day.""There you go, Geoff," my wife reassured me. "We still enjoy your cooking, it's just that Angie gets less opportunity." Seeing as how I was only pretending to be upset, it was easy to pretend that all was forgiven. I accepted the explanation with a kiss for both of my girls and went off in search of a bottle of wine.I sat and red, while Marie and Angie caught up in the kitchen. Marie joined me ten minutes later. "Angie's bursting to tell me about her day, but all she dare say in front of the kids is that you and she had a pleasant afternoon."I glanced at the door. "I don't think we should have this conversation here and now. If one of the youngsters walks in, the guilty silence will just be uncomfortable for everyone. So how was your day?"And so we sat and I listened to her accounts of generous donors, sweet natured old ladies and the occasional twat who tried to bargain down the price on the ticket. For Fuck's sake! It's a charity shop. And Marie was clear; the worst offenders were most obviously not short of change. They were just tight bastards. Not that my beloved ever capitulated. She would just smile sweetly and remind them where they were, pointing out that they were welcome to try the same approach in John Lewis with her full support.We made the occasional foray to the kitchen but our offers of help were politely, but firmly, rebuffed. To be fair, the atmosphere was relaxed. I asked about the menu and, after looking to the chef for approval, Mia ran through it. "We are starting with cubes of baked breaded brie on a bed of salad with a lingonberry relish. Then there is pork stroganoff with green vegetables and rice. For dessert we are having individual warm pear frangipane tartlets with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream." She paused. "Oh, yes," she continued. "If anyone is still hungry there's a selection of cheeses as well as olives, and some nice bread to go with dipping oils and vinegars."I did a quick calculation in my head. "At today's prices, I reckon that meal would come in at about £50 plus per head just in a country pub." Mia just grinned at me. I carried on. "Can I afford to get used to eating like this?"I looked around the kitchen brigade and saw three unreasonably happy cooks. Angie was obviously less demanding of the children and seemed thrilled to be able to pass on her knowledge. Colin just loved cooking and Mia seemed to be determined to learn so that she could help her mum.I turned to Angie. "This all smells wonderful. Wendy and Linda should both be here well before six. Is that okay, Chef?"Angie looked at her team. "Starters on the pass for six o'clock.""Yes Chef!" They shouted in unison. We shook our heads and left them to it.Wendy arrived first. Mia had sent her a text to say that they were eating at our place again. Wendy tried to apologize for intruding but we, particularly Marie, were having none of it. "We love having Mia with us. I know she's very mature but, as Colin is here anyway, it makes no sense for her to be at home, alone," my wife told her. "In addition, Angie is doing a cookery masterclass and she is way more tolerant of the kids than she is with me, so it's easier just to let them get on with it."Mia must have heard her mum's voice because she left the kitchen, briefly, to give her mum a hug before apologizing. "Sorry mum, but I need to turn the tarts so they brown evenly." And, with that, she dashed back to the kitchen. We led a bemused Wendy to the living room, sat her down and asked about her day. Her eyes filled as she explained just how grateful she was not to come home to have to start cooking a meal, even just for one night. She had a decent job in the Civil Service so money wasn't too much of a problem. She just struggled finding time to be the wage earner, housekeeper and mum. She felt guilty too that Mia seemed to feel obliged to sacrifice her spare time to help around the house rather than being a teenager.Marie glanced at me. We're not telepathic but I was certain we were thinking the same thing. Wendy was so caught up in being the perfect single parent, she had forgotten how to be Wendy.We never really got the chance, that evening anyway, to pursue that thought as we heard the front door open to herald our daughter's arrival. What followed, by then, seemed oddly familiar. Hearing his mother greeting us, Colin emerged from the kitchen, hugged his mum, and promptly departed, shouting over his shoulder, "Sorry mum. Got to dash. I can't let the rice overcook. Love you."Linda appeared as flummoxed as Wendy had. "I don't know what it is about this house, but there always seems to be something odd going on just lately." Wendy looked at her in surprise. "What?" my daughter retorted. "How many other throuple weddings have you been invited to? Even more particularly, how many with a Star Wars dress code?" She shook her head. "Christ, I hope it isn't genetic; otherwise I'm well and truly fucked!" She put her hand to her mouth guiltily and checked to see that neither of the youngsters had overheard. "Sorry all. That just slipped out," she apologized. "I've had a weird day at work too. Some half-wit manager wanted me to;” She did the 'air-quotes' with her fingers. "; Expedite a delivery to an important client in Nice.""Let's sit down and you can vent in comfort," I suggested. I led our daughter through and Marie followed with Wendy. "Now, go on. Story so far, idiot, big words, France. New readers start here."She explained that, in order to cover his ass for something that his team had screwed up, said half-wit tried to make it Linda's problem to solve. The vehicle in question was already in France and the driver had to observe French law. The only way to 'expedite' the delivery would be to exceed his permitted hours or fly another driver out to take over; neither was going to happen. Being Marie's daughter, of course she just picked up the phone and asked the operations manager for a cost code for the air fare from Gatwick to Lyon. Apparently the idiot had just assumed that Linda, being a woman could just, who knows? Make it go away?Ops manager had obviously queried the request and Linda, quite disingenuously, told him. It was not well received. She sighed. "On the upside, I got the problem back where it belongs. On the other hand, now I have to watch my back in case he tries to retaliate." She took a deep breath and sat back. "Thank you." We must have looked puzzled. "For just listening and not telling me what I should have done," she explained. She thought for a moment. "This place is still weird though."As she finished that thought, Colin appeared from the kitchen with a white napkin over his arm, to invite us take our places at the table. Linda looked at me. "See?" She mouthed. I could only grin in reply.We took our seats as directed and were joined by Angie and Mia. Colin disappeared to the kitchen and returned with the bottle of wine I had selected and placed in the fridge earlier. Handing it to me to open he returned to the kitchen. Angie cleared her throat. "Wendy, Linda; would you be prepared to let Mia and Colin have a small glass of wine with their meal? They have put their hearts into preparing it; it seems unfair that they miss out on that one component."Mia sat, apparently startled, and watched as her mother considered Angie's request. Wendy nodded slowly. "That seems fair. I'd rather she experienced alcohol in a civilized setting like this." She looked around the table. "Rather than getting hammered at her first student party at Uni."Linda nodded in agreement. "I'll get some glasses for them." Colin reappeared carrying three plates that he placed in front of Angie, Marie and Wendy. He made the journey again, this time serving Linda, Mia and me. He made the final trip for his own starter. As he sat, I reached across and poured a half measure of wine into his glass. He looked to his mum for reassurance. She smiled in acknowledgement. I poured a similar glass for Mia and then shared the remainder amongst the adults.I picked up my glass. "Ladies, Colin, a toast to the Chef and her crew." We four non-cooks raised our glasses in tribute; the cooks acknowledged our compliment and then joined in the toast. Then we attacked the food. The brie was delicious and matched beautifully with the sweet fruit jam. I watched surreptitiously as Colin finished a mouthful and self-consciously took a sip of wine. His brow furrowed as he reconciled the flavors of the wine and the food. He went back to his food looking thoughtful. We finished the starter and complimented the cooks on the flavor and the presentation. It had looked as good as it tasted.We moved onto the main course. Angie and Mia plated up in the kitchen, while Colin worked 'front of house'. Again, the meal was delicious. Angie's version was discs of pork in an onion and mushroom sauce made with crème fraiche, Dijon mustard and smoked paprika, finished with a hint of lemon juice. The plain white rice was perfect for soaking up the sauce.Colin sipped his wine again. "It tastes different with this course," he commented. "It still works but in a different way." He looked to Mia for opinion."Is it because the lingonberry was so sweet that the wine tasted sharper?" She asked me.I shrugged. "Probably. It might even be something to do with the lactic acid in the crème fraiche. What matters is whether you like it.""I do," she smiled and turned to Angie. "Thank you;” She hesitated. "I'm sorry. But I don't know what to call you.""Grangie," offered Colin."Or Angie," suggested our fiancée.Wendy seemed uncomfortable. "Isn't that a bit familiar? Wouldn't Mrs. and your surname be more appropriate?""Technically," interjected Linda. "If you were going to insist that we stand on ceremony, Mia should address Angie as Professor Weston." She frowned at the thought. "Nope. This place is weird enough already. Angie or Grangie. He's Geoff or grandad; that's Marie or grandma and I'm Linda. We want you and Mia to be comfortable here."Mia considered. "Thank you Angie for getting mum and Linda to let us have wine with the meal.""You both earned it dear," Angie assured her. "Now. Desserts, I think."Again, the two girls plated as Colin served. The tartlets looked amazing; a light short crust pastry filled with an almond flavored sponge topped with poached pear cubes. On each plate there was a swirl of chocolate sauce over a generous quenelle of vanilla ice-cream, starting to melt where it touched the still warm tart. I knew where Angie had gone shopping for the ingredients for the meal, and the small fragrant black specks confirmed that she had not economized on cheap ice-cream. This was made with actual vanilla pods. The aroma from the plate was amazing; it was all that I could do not to dive straight in. Still, manners required that I wait until everyone was served, so that's what I did.Once Colin was seated, we began. The taste was amazing. I glanced towards Angie in inquiry. "Star anise as well as cinnamon," she clarified. I nodded, impressed, and turned back to my dessert and savored the remainder. I watched as Colin took another sip of his wine and then Mia as she followed suit. Colin actually shuddered. Mia merely looked disappointed."Have a sip of water," I suggested. "And then wait a couple of minutes after you've finished eating."After the seven plates were all but polished clean, we thanked our catering team. It had been an absolutely lovely meal and the final course had been a triumph. Linda and Marie stood to clear the table, but returned immediately to sit with our guests and chat as we finished our wine."I've never eaten like that before," Wendy admitted."At home, you mean?" Asked Linda.Wendy shook her head. "Ever. My husband didn't like 'fancy foreign muck' so it was fish and chips, takeaways or just ready meals." Her voice cracked with emotion. "Even now, most of our meals are out of the freezer. I can boil potatoes and grill sausages and reheat tinned or frozen veg. My dad just liked the same old stuff too, so that's all my mum taught me. That's about my limit. At this moment," she admitted, sadly, "Mia's almost certainly a better cook than I am."Angie surprised me. She isn't always the most diplomatic of us. "Being untutored is not the same as being a failure." She reached for Wendy's hand. "Tell us how we can help, and between us, you have a group of capable cooks here who are happy to teach you whatever we can."Marie and I finished our drinks and Linda joined us in the kitchen. The brigade had washed and tidied as they went so there was only really the crockery to deal with. That went in the dishwasher. We cleaned the hob and worktops and sorted out the saucepans then returned to the living room. The teens had disappeared, leaving Angie and Wendy talking about food.When Wendy confessed that she would struggle to even shop for a meal such as we'd just had, Linda made a contribution. "A girl I work with wanted to branch out from the same old stuff she always cooks, so she orders from one of those on-line delivery companies. She swears by them now." She picked up her phone. "I can call her and if you decide to do it and say she recommended them to you, then you'll both get a discount."Wendy looked uncertain. The poor woman had no self-confidence at all. Linda left the room and returned two minutes later scrolling on her phone. "Here," she said, passing her phone to Wendy. "Jan told me how to install their app. Pick four meals for two people from this menu list and you'll get everything you need delivered next week, along with recipe cards. Jan said the instructions are dead simple and she's actually learning to cook from doing it."Wend called for Mia to come and choose with her and, together they picked four meals that they thought they might enjoy cooking together. While they did, Colin and I chatted about his first experience of wine with a meal. "It tasted nice, except with dessert," he told me. "Would a sweeter wine have been nicer?""Probably," I acknowledged. "There's a lot of snobbery and nonsense about wine, but some types do go with some foods better than others. I didn't find it clashed to the extent that you did, so personal preference and experience play a part too."At that point Mia called him over to see what she and her mum had chosen for the following week. He pointed to one selection. "Grandma makes that sometimes. It's ace."Wendy passed the phone back to Linda and the pair completed the sign up and the first order, making sure to claim the discount. Wendy seemed conflicted. "I'm a bit nervous about having to make something I've never done before," she confessed. "But I'm excited at the same time.""Think of this," my wife suggested. "As long as you have a loaf of bread, a tin of baked beans and some cheese in the house, even if it all goes horribly wrong, at least you won't starve."The conversations about food carried on until Wendy looked at her watch. "Oh goodness," she exclaimed. "Look at the time!" And after collecting Mia and thanking us for our hospitality, within ten minutes they were gone.Linda pulled me into the kitchen. "That poor girl's husband did a proper number on her: the bastard," she spat. "She copes okay at work because she knows her job. But as a person;” She paused, speechless."I know, sweetheart. We all do. And she's such a lovely woman too."She stared at me, suspiciously. "Are you three planning something?""No," I answered, sort of honestly. "But if an opportunity presents itself, we would probably try to help her see what a worthy person she is."

Hi. On today's episode, Katy, Cody, and Jonathan discuss the Supreme Court legalizing racial profiling, ICE raiding a Hyundai plant, and the peace administration making a Department of War, doing war crimes, and declaring war on American cities.As always, we recorded right before that big thing that happened.PATREON: https://patreon.com/somemorenewsMERCH: https://shop.somemorenews.comYOUTUBE MEMBERSHIP: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvlj0IzjSnNoduQF0l3VGng/join#SupremeCourt #DepartmentOfWar #evenmorenewsSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Today's podcast opens us up to the nature of the Devil. Allhis plans towards us are onto death alone, but when we choose and trust God, we are rest assured of life and His glory.Be encouraged to hold fast to your Integrity as aChristian, and as always, be transformed as you listen! Scriptures Used: Bible Verses: John 10:10 | Acts 12:4 | Acts10:38 | Acts 3:6 | Acts 14:7-10 | Job 2:9 | Romans 4:17 | Exodus 1:12 | Genesis 39: 16-20 | Genesis 40:2-5. _________Subscribe and share this podcast with your family and friends.Have questions? Send us an email via info@icgcholyghosttemple.org and we will be glad to assist you.

This sermon was preached by Tim Lambros on July 27th, 2025.

We will continue to tell the world how Good God is and how much He loves them!faithbucks.com

Pastor Luke wraps up our 'You Asked' series by addressing God and the problem of evil.

We all have questions we're afraid to ask, but the church should be a place for our questions and the answer. For example, how can a good God allow suffering? God allows suffering because he loves us; God defeats evil because he loves us. For resources and media, visit https://vintagechurchnola.com/series/questions-you-have-(but-are-afraid-to-ask/#Welcome2Vintage #Questions #Answers #ToughTopics #ProblemofEvil #Suffering 

Garth Heckman The David Alliance TDAgiantSlayer@Gmail.com    You know those certain type of guys… they always have a motive… They hold a door for a girl, they ask the woman if she needs help, they pick there young girl for their group exercise. Or the guy who is always trying to make a buck.. no matter on who or how or whom it will hurt… In a way we as followers of Christ are to be the exact same way…      Mark 10:17 Now as He was going out on the road, one came running, knelt before Him, and asked Him, “Good Teacher, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?” Ok first off this is a very very important question… maybe the biggest question you could ask with the greatest of consequences if you get it wrong… But Jesus almost ignores it and says…  18 So Jesus said to him, “Why do you call Me good? No one is good but One, that is, God. 19 You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery,' ‘Do not murder,' ‘Do not steal,' ‘Do not bear false witness,' ‘Do not defraud,' ‘Honor your father and your mother.' ” 20 And he answered and said to Him, “Teacher, all these things I have kept from my youth.” *Jesus never calls him out. I believe this guy really kept all the commandments. He was the super uber good guy. Everyone would look at him and say “I wish I could be like him”. Mothers were always saying to their sons “I wish you were more like that young man… he keeps all the commandments”… But did you miss what is going on here?  VERSE 18 So Jesus said to him, “Why do you call Me good? No one is good but One, that is, God. DID YOU CATCH IT… Jesus is stating in a backward way that he is God… Hey skippy, why do you call me good? Because only God is good… thus do you really think I am good? Do you really think I am God? If so, lets see if you do and test that theory. If I am good aka God, then here is what you do   21 Then Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, “One thing you lack: Go your way, sell whatever you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, take up the cross, and follow Me.” 22 But he was sad at this word, and went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions. Look there are some blatant bold and obvious things God is doing here. He is saying its not enough to follow the law. It is not enough to be good, I have to be God. I have to be God in your life which means I sit on the throne of your life and not your reputation, not your money, not your goals or your family or your job or your relationships or your whatever it is… If I am really God, then I come first in all things… it is not enough to just follow the rules.  How many of us fall into that trap - we treat God as good, but not as God. 

What does it mean to be Good with God? Life can bring some challenging moments, but how you think about yourself and the world around you will shape your experience. Genesis 1-2 explains that humanity is called to partner with a good god, bearing His image, so that all creation may flourish. How does living with a good God change your worldview? And what happens when we go looking for Good without God?MESSAGE NOTES: https://www.bible.com/events/49475304GROUP STUDY LINK HERE: https://www.canyonridge.org/studies-category/good-with-godRESOURCES: https://www.canyonridge.orgBLOG: https://canyonridge.org/blogs/

The following sermon was chosen as a 'staff-pick' on SermonAudio: Title: Ultimate Good Through Drawing Near to Our Good God Subtitle: 2025 - BJU Bible Conference Speaker: Dr. Mark Minnick Broadcaster: Bob Jones University Event: Special Meeting Date: 2/20/2025 Bible: Psalm 73:28 Length: 40 min.

The condition of our hearts determines the fruit we bear. Rocky or shallow ground may produce little growth, but God desires to cultivate deep roots in us through His Word and Spirit. In this message by Eli Klimchuk he reveals what God loves, what He hates, and how we can prepare our hearts as fertile soil for His purposes. Matthew 13:3-8, 18-23, Philippians 2:6-11, Proverbs 6:16-19, John 3:16, Romans 5:8, Psalm 103:11, Psalm 37:28, 2 Peter 3:9, 1 Peter 5:8, John 10:10, Luke 6:27-31, Galatians 5:22-23, Galatians 6:9, Philippians 1:6  Don't forget to LIKE, COMMENT, & SUBSCRIBE for more biblical teachings!   Please follow our websites for more! = Website: http://www.newlifechurchsf.org/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/NewLifeSF/ Youtube: https://youtu.be/7Ig-qXgVAmE/ Pastor Alex Klimchuk New Life Church 500 S 1st Ave Sioux Falls, SD 57104