Podcasts about Pleading

A distressed woman is seeking help after being denied access to her own home by her family. Despite being the rightful owner, her relatives have taken control of the house and refused to let her in. She is now appealing to the public for support to reclaim her property and restore her dignity.

At the end of each week, Mike Hosking takes you through the big-ticket items and lets you know what he makes of it all. The Māori Party: 1/10 They get a '1' because they are legitimately there because of votes, and that's democracy. As for the rest of the performance, they are a joke and an embarrassment to this country. The Greens: 2/10 They get a '2' and not a '1' only because they get more support in the polls. But the prospect of Labour letting them round a Cabinet table? Book my ticket out. Trump: 3/10 One better than the Greens because to counter tariffs of others is not free trade, but it is understandable. As for the rest, he's mental. The Warriors: 7/10 Because three in a row is three in a row. And two more points this weekend, which on the Mike Hosking scoresheet, is four in a row. The America's Cup: 4/10 I never thought it was going to held here so I wasn't surprised, or disappointed. Although, in the spirit of being open for business, I would have liked to have seen a bit more enthusiasm from the Government. Pleading poverty is a poor man's game, not a go getter's. The jobs report: 2/10 Saddest story of the week for me. To have over half the country regretting their career is a study in lack of planning, or lack of action, or lack of living life to the full. LISTEN ABOVE FOR MIKE HOSKING'S FULL WEEK IN REVIEW See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Most Christians have heard the phrase “plead the blood of Jesus”… but few understand the legal power behind it.Today, Jim and John break down what it really means to plead the blood—and why it's not just symbolic, but an actual courtroom act in the spiritual realm. Drawing from The Blood and the Glory by Billye Brim and the powerful testimonies of missionary Cornelia Nuzum, this episode reveals why the blood of Jesus is still the most powerful weapon we have.When Satan accuses, the blood answers.What We Cover:

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A local army veteran died after being savagely beaten just blocks from his mothers home. Today, the family is asking for your help to find his killer. WWJ's Tracey McCaskill and Tony Ortiz have top news stories. (Photo courtesy Crime Stoppers of Michigan)

Join the Bad Girl, The One and Only Playa, and The Stars as they take a look at The Subway Guy turned convicted sex offender Jared Fogle. Jared Scott Fogle,, born August 23, 1977, is an American former spokesman for Subway restaurants and confessed serial child molester. Fogle appeared in Subway's advertising campaigns from 2000 to 2015 until an FBI investigation led to him being convicted of child sex tourism and possessing child pornography. While a student at Indiana University, Fogle lost 245 lb. between 1998 and 1999. Having frequented a Subway restaurant as part of his diet plan, he was hired to help advertise the company the following year. Fogle's popularity led to his appearances in over 300 commercials during his 15 years with Subway, alongside other media appearances. Allegations of Fogle having inappropriate relations with minors began in 2007 but did not gain traction until 2015 when the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) uncovered that he received child pornography from an associate. Pleading guilty to the child sex tourism and child pornography charges the same year, Fogle was sentenced to 15 years and 8 months in federal prison. He remains incarcerated at the Federal Correctional Institution, Englewood, as of 2025. Your True Crime Crew shies away from no controversy! Tune in on Monday, March 31st at 7 EST for this landmark episode! #jaredfogle #thesubwayguy #truecrime

Pleading with God through desperate prayers and waiting for Him to answer can create havoc in your spiritual journey unless you arm yourself with God's truth.   Amber Robinson, from our community group in West Cobb, Georgia, shares her journey of waiting patiently for her marriage partner, then subsequently struggling with infertility and waiting to get pregnant, and then painstakingly waiting to deliver her baby. This is a story that will leave you on the edge of your seat as you hear the Lord reveal His truths to Amber and encourage each of us to know He is always good, always sovereign, and always with us.   IN THIS EPISODE YOU WILL LEARN:   - If you give the enemy a seat at your table, his lies will begin to seem like truth. - God wants you to pray boldly and pray continually. - If you never had moments where you had to trust God, you would never know He is trustworthy.   Links:   The Circle Maker: Praying Circles Around Your Biggest Dreams and Greatest Fears by Mark Batterson   Don't Give The Enemy a Seat at Your Table by Louie Giglio   Listen to a similar story:  Ep. 99- Rachel H.:  “The Discipline of Waiting”, Ep. 90- Jenna Tyson: “The Gift of Waiting- A Story of Singleness”, Ep. 311- Meghan Brown: “The Goodness of God” Give to StoryTellers Live in honor of Amber and our past storytellers.    Become a Patreon Insider to access bonus content.   Shop for our When God Shows Up Bible Study series, including the newly released Discovering God in Stories of Faith!   Register for the local workshop being offered on April 9th in Birmingham: Finding God in the Details: A Guide to Discerning His Voice and Discovering Your Story

No Longer An Enemy.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels."My Sister wished to know if you speak Mandarin," the brother translated for me."Hi, I'm Cáel," I greeted him. "Who are you guys?" He looked to one of the two goons holding on to me. I received a painful kidney punch. I discovered a whole new super-power. It hurt for about two seconds then nothing."I asked you a question," he repeated."No, I don't speak Mandarin," I lied so well it came across as a dour confession."Yet you know the secretive language of the Earth & Sky," he stated."Yes, I do. I have a thing for dead languages. Maybe in a few more years, I'll pick up your Mother Tongue as well," I bantered.No punishment was immediately meted out, so I suspected no one close to me, besides him, spoke much if any English. Jian Bob (my new name for him) didn't relay my insult. I wasn't worth it. He went straight for the reason for our get-together."You are going to die, Mr. Nyilas. That is a given," J B began."We both know you have done enough damage to our cause to be worthy of elimination a hundred times over. I'm going to show you respect by not lying to you about your possible fate. What you can do is save your young companion. We understand you two are close," he appealed in a very polite manner. Aya snickered."Cáel, these people are mentally challenged," she giggled to me, "or hideously misinformed.""I know, I know," I smiled down at Aya. "Still, they have gone through a great deal of effort to insult our intellect today, so let's humor them a little longer." Jian Bob issued several casual orders.In short order, a third man had hold of me by the jaw with one hand while trying to hold my eyelids open with the other. One guard held her by the shoulders. A second held her right hand, extending her ring finger. A third man held a knife to her top knuckle. A forth stood close with a small blowtorch."She may be a small person, Mr. Nyilas, but she can still die by the Death of a Thousand cuts," he explained."I love you, Aya," I told her softly."I love you too, Fehér mén," she succeeding in keeping most of the fear from her voice.Neither one of us could stop this. Aya certainly didn't expect me to compromise the Host for her benefit. She was as much an Amazon as the first Epona."First, I wish to know what alerted you to the attack at the Summer Camp," Bob began the interrogation."We know you were responsible. We want to know what happened." I looked into his eyes and waited patiently. He nodded to the guard, who shoved my face toward Aya's extended finger until I was less than a foot away."Do it." The Order came in Mandarin.The guard cut the top part of the digit off, one knuckle. I looked at the flesh and bone being cut away. In a clinical manner, I noted how sharp the blade was. I saw the blood shoot forth and heard Aya's little voice cry out in pain. I was pulled back and pointed at Jian Bob again."Do I need to repeat the question for you?" he said."No, I caught it the first time," I grimaced. "It tells me that you haven't the slightest idea who you are fucking with." Bob made a slight hand gesture and the blowtorch cauterized Aya's stump. Her little lungs belted out a terrible screech that wound down as her feet gave out and she hung limply in the guard's grip."Revive her." The blowtorch guy, clearly not his first day on the job, snapped some smelling salts under her noise. Aya revived, sobbing and in a great deal of pain."Cáel," she whimpered. "I have found my stillness. I'll be okay now." Her sobs subsided."Shall we try this again?" J B remained coolly polite, almost urbane."Nah," I joked, "we are both pretty good over here.""Again." The Mandarin order came. Off went another digit of her ring finger. This time her scream was much more exuberant and forceful. We all know it hurt like Hell, but the world had turned."He's going to kill all of you," Aya snickered while she sobbed. "You are all going to die.""Mu, what is the little girl saying?" she asked Jian Bob, real name Mu."She is stating her belief that Cáel will somehow kill us all," he and his sister shared the joke. "Let us see what her tune is when they start in on her left hand," the woman smiled at her sibling.That implied they'd cut off her right thumb and fingers, digit by digit, until one, or both of us cracked. The man nodded and Aya's nub was burned again. Her scream was more of a cleansing shout."Cáel, do you think I will have a nice horse to ride when I join Epona's herds, or will I get a pony?" Aya whimpered."Not a clue," I began before Mu had the face-hugging guard apply a finger strike to my solar plexus. Alal's gift had allowed me to partially organize my brain functions. Coping with pain was a whole lot easier now, but I had to be careful to monitor it because pain was Nature's way of letting you know that there was something wrong with your body."What color would you like me to pick up and have waiting for you," punch, "when you finally take yourself to the cliffs?""Again.""This is accomplishing nothing," the senior bald Mo Fo grumbled. "He clearly cares nothing for the child and has been trained in counter-interrogation techniques.""There is nothing to indicate that," Mu bristled."Xiàsh, burn the tip of his left forefinger," senior necromancer commanded. The guy holding my face coordinated with the men holding my arms to free me of my bonds and wrestle my left arm forward. I didn't bother resisting.It didn't take the commandoes long to figure I had stopped caring. On came the flame and the pain. Oh, I screamed. The pain was real. What had changed was my ability to shuffle it off to an isolated memory file to be tackled later. The bald creep stepped into my field of vision. His eyes were windows to the abyss. My "spirit" sight opened my eyes to the truly inhuman sections of his mind and soul."See, normal techniques will not be affective. We will do it, " and they realized the enormity of their mistake by assuming I was paralyzed by the pain. I broke free of the guy on my left and began twisting around the guy on my right. I wasn't getting away, I was going for his QCW O5. I knew their favorite martial arts styles and their weaponry now.The guy I was rolling behind realized what I was doing (going for his gun), but mistook my intentions. I wasn't trying to get away, or steal the gun (still strapped to his body). That cockhead even helped me out by lurching ground-ward. I swung the gun up, hit the selector and fired two quick bursts.The first three rounds hit Mr. Blowtorch in his right thigh, shredding it. The second burst caught Mr. Knife guy in the crotch, a triple 21mm castration. Had Blowtorch Guy not been busy trying to keep the strands of his right hip connected to his right leg, he could have stopped the blood fountaining from his buddies shattered groin. That was the end of my joy.I was born to the ground and the guy whose gun I'd borrowed pulled away. I hit the concrete surface hard. That was only the beginning of my issues. Radiating from the floor was cold beyond cold. I had the sensation of falling into the heart of a cold, dead star. How I even knew what the felt like was an impossibility."He feels very cold," protested one of the two guards, in Mandarin; pulling me back to my feet groused."If your incompetence has led to his terminal condition," the male twin threatened. I felt the approach of the female twin, her reaching for me. A new intense pain seared me to the cores of my bones. Before she yanked my hair up, my body reignited.I found myself stared into her pitiless eyes that regarded me with the casual callousness of a veterinarian preparing to put down some rabid stray dog. She ran three fingers over my cheek."What are you babbling about?" she snapped at the two commandoes. "If anything, he is feverish.""Zhen, have him sedated," Chief Necromancer demanded. "Mu, now we will do this my way." Once more I was bound. Someone stabbed a needle into my right triceps. That was a mere discomfort. If I had any consolation, it was hearing Mu ordering the execution of the two men I'd shot.They didn't have the time and facilities to tend to their immediate emergency needs and taking them to a trauma center wasn't going to happen. Those two went into body bags. I had to assume they would be joining us on the plane, though they'd be in the cargo compartment."What are you smiling at?" I heard Zhen snapping before my world collapsed down to a pinhole of light."Lady, I don't know what you said," Aya declared happily. "You are probably angry that Cáel has already killed two of you and we haven't even got off the ground yet." I heard a sound I couldn't make out followed by another and finally a third. That resulted in an Aya-squeak. Ah, she'd tried to hit Aya and Aya had dodged the first two blows. Good girl."Cáel isn't going to like you doing that," Aya chirped."Aya's a winner," I mumbled. I wasn't in control of my senses when they dragged me onto a waiting jet. I wasn't worried. With Aya at my side, I was invincible.DreamingI looked at her face, so youthful, beautiful in her own way, yet far from innocent. She bore a terrible weight. The armor she was wearing, that of a heavy horseman of the steppe, was a leather coat, chain links over her vulnerable regions (throat, underarms and skirt), with the rest being covered by darkened bronze plates.Her iron helmet was open-faced with mobile plates covering her cheeks as well as the sides and the back of her neck; it bore a white horse-hair plume, it was the only feature of her panoply that would draw any special attention her way. She carried no shield. Instead, she wielded a powerful horn & sinew composite recurve bow. She used her knees to rise up on her mount and fire over the mare's head.Similarly attired women rode close to either side of this young woman. Both were older; one in her early forties and the other ~ late thirties. The one to the left bore a lance, not in the couched fashion most people today are familiar with, but used in a double-handed over-head fighting style.The woman to the right fought with a strange blade. It wasn't saber ~ an ancestor of that blade perhaps. It was about a meter long, no hand guard, single-edged except for the top 4 cm on the back side which was equally sharp. Her left hand remained free. I think I saw her purpose. If the young woman got into difficulty, her guardian on the right could pull her horse away and lead the woman to safety.Behind and beside those three rode perhaps three hundred of their sisters. Those in the center were as heavily armored as those three. On each flank were the lighter, faster bow-women, on smaller steeds. The women in the center rode larger mounts that were good for carrying weight and pushing home a charge, while the flanking steppe ponies were virtually tireless.In the center, identified only by her long golden-mane helm, was the Golden Mare ~ War Leader of the Host. The Amazons didn't fly pennants or carry banners. They judged the course of battle by that woman's head movements (the mane was quite long) and the shrill horn blasts unique to the Amazons.Let the barbarians have the all too common deep booming horns calls and their totems raised high for the world to see. Let the Romans keep their trumpets and Legion standards. Amazons had been putting those fools in their graves from time immemorial. Right now, those horns had summoned the Host to a trot.The Hun, Attila, had tasked the Sarmatian Chieftain, under whose banner they rode, to deal with another crisis, the third this short day. Once more, they directed their horses over Catalaunian Fields. The Ostrogoth had gotten themselves into a world of trouble, those filthy, stinking Germans (why was I even thinking that way?)First the Amazons had ridden forth on Attila's right, reinforcing the allied Germanic tribes on the Right Wing in their attempt to force a wedge between Aetius' Romans and King Sangiban's Alans. They'd shown the fools the way, but the supporting Gepids cavalry was too timid and by the time they began to approach, the Golden Mare had been forced to sound 'retire'.The Roman auxiliary cavalry, though of poor quality, had plugged the gap. The Host were too few and too valuable (in their estimation) to die holding a position that their 'allies' might not rescue them from. Next, they had been directed to attack the center of the Alan cavalry line in support of the Huns.Despite the cowardice of their king, the Alans were hardy fighters and too accustomed to the style of steppe warfare that the Host practiced to be lured away from their position. Arrows were exchanged and brief, brutal skirmishes developed, but no advantage was gained. With their mounts exhausted, the Golden Mare had ordered the Host to retired to their camp to water their horses and refill their quivers.That bit of common sense and tactical wisdom placed them in their present crisis. Their Ostrogoth allies had been beating themselves against their Visigoth cousins all afternoon, charging up the same cursed slope that any sane commander would have found a way to flank. No, the Germans had failed seven times using the same plan, so they tried an eighth.Miraculously, they had gained a toehold on the ridgeline and killed the Visigothic King. Like a mob of mindless farmers, the Ostrogoths stopped to celebrate their 'victory' and taunt the Visigoths with the mutilated body of their fallen leader. The Visigoths had been properly incensed and counter-attacked. That's what Princes were for, to avenge their fallen Sires.As the Host exited the Hunnic laager, they'd seen the calamity unfold. The wavering Visigoth infantry had stiffened their line. Believing the Ostrogoths would press forward, the Horse-tail banner of Attila himself broke away from the central Hunnic body, pivoted to his left and thundered into the Visigoth's exposed flank.In the din of battle, it may have looked to the Great Warlord that he had a vanishing opportunity for victory. From the valley below, it was much clearer to the Amazons that the moment to break the Visigothic infantry had passed. The Huns were too tired; their mounts frothing from a long, hot afternoon of battle. Without a swift follow-through, the attack was doomed.At that point, headlong flight for the Amazons wasn't possible. Their long term survival hung on the Hunnic King keeping his Germanic 'allies' in line. They were still somewhere in eastern Roman Gaul, with the Rhine to ford and a land thick with perpetually vicious, blood-thirsty, crotch-scratching, flea-bitten Germanic barbarians to cross before they saw the green rolling hills of home again.No, the Golden Mare, and that young lady knew they had to do something to stem the tide of this disaster for another hour, then darkness would force the combatants to separate so they could try their hand at battle the next day. As the Golden Mare rode to the Sarmatian Chieftain, a rider came through the dust from Attila. The Visigothic cavalry had returned with a vengeance and the Ostrogoths were folding up.The Sarmatians (with their attached Amazons) were to 'somehow' repair the situation. As the Chieftain, the Golden Mare and three Sarmatian tribal leaders hastily discussed the actions. They saw the Hunnic Right, under hard pressure from the Roman attack, beginning to disintegrate. Of immediate concern was the rift opening up between the retreating Hunnic Gepids and the Hunnic horsemen holding the center.King Sangiban had finally discovered his manhood. The Alans attacked through that gap in the Hunnic lines and a rout was in the offing. The Sarmatian Leader decided he had to answer Attila's call. The Golden Mare offered to take her Amazons and whichever tribal leader volunteered first to ride with her against the Alans.She drew her sword and held it aloft then motioned the Sarmatians to look at her shadow."We will hold them off until the length of our swords double (the shadow). Then we are all on our own," she offered. There was no further discussion necessary. There was nothing else to say. The Host and their allies had the fresher horses and full quivers.The Alans had numbers but no heavy horse present, yet. The Host had answered Attila's call to war and now, nearly a year away from their homes in the forested steppe lands of modern-day Bukovina. At that moment they were wondering how few of them would ever see their horse herds roaming free this side of life.That was where my vision came in ~ that woman was 'Ishara', the last of my major bloodline of the first Ishara and this was the last hour of her life. The other two women were the only other two members of that vanishing bloodline. One was her aunt and the other a cousin. Despite the dire peril to their lineage, they joined their sisters in battle.Even though they were outnumber 2 to 1, the Amazons swept aside the first burst of Alans, scattering their bands and hunting the slowest of them down. Rushing alone to fill the gaping hole in the main battle lines was to abandon all tactical sense. Eighty Amazon heavy horse and perhaps twenty more Sarmatians ~ they were integrated now ~ alone simply weren't enough.For the roughly 300 lightly armored horse-archers, it would be a pointless suicide and that was not the Amazon way. Instead, they scattered the initial Alan rush then gently trotted back down the slope. Of course, the Alans regrouped and followed. It was the battle pulse of steppe skirmishing.By simply existing, they turned the rushing wave of that first Alan charge into a slowly strengthening tide. The Alans' mounts were tired and in need of water. Their quivers were nearly empty and some were seen at the top of the slope looting the quivers of the fallen. Whenever they could, the Amazons killed those clever souls.Killing an archer closer to you who only had two arrows left wasn't as economical as killing the one who was both dismounted, thus an easier shot, and about to have fifteen bolts to use against you. Without the constant harassment, the Gepids were able to keep their retreat orderly. In turn, the other Germanics farther to the right kept their mobs relatively intact as well.Their success earned them the inevitable enemy reaction. From his vantage point, the Roman Aetius saw the vulnerable and unsupported position the Amazons held. If he could push past the Amazon screen, he could still achieve a route instead of accepting a mere victory for his side. The solution was a force of

Live reaction to Jalen Brunson's injury full Pleading with Yankee fans not to take the Juan Soto bait. Live reaction to Jalen Brunson's injury. 2861 Fri, 07 Mar 2025 06:56:31 +0000 0GsiYxABU4fFjcCRV3aX7zxcXm9Ngn40 sports,basketball,baseball Keith McPherson sports,basketball,baseball Live reaction to Jalen Brunson's injury Keith McPherson, weeknights 7p-midnight on WFAN, is a die-hard Yankees and Nets fan. Born and raised in Monmouth County, you can understand where his Nets love comes from. His dedication to the Yankees is proof that he's always been destined to work at WFAN. Keith played football at James Madison University and Monmouth University, and had stops at the MLB Fan Cave, MTV, Roc Nation, and Jomboy Media before landing at The Fan. 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. Sports Basketball Baseball False https://player.amperwavepodcasting.com?feed-link=http

When you lead THAT School, Start With The CROWN, amid the chaos! Partner with Ken to bring the award-winning Ruthless Equity to your school/district!  Check out ⁠⁠The Virtual PD Experience ⁠⁠with Ken Williams Check out ⁠⁠The In-Person PD Experience⁠⁠ with Ken Williams⁠⁠Click here ⁠⁠to grab the 2023 IBPA Benjamin Franklin Silver Award Winner  Ruthless Equity: Disrupt The Status-Quo And Ensure Learning For ALL Students. It is a game-changer, baby! For A Signed Copy of Ruthless Equity: go to ⁠⁠https://www.unfoldthesoul.com/store⁠⁠ and order the book there.Get 20% off orders of 20 or more copies of Ruthless Equity: Go to ⁠⁠https://www.unfoldthesoul.com/bulk20⁠⁠⁠⁠Click here⁠⁠ to access everything I do and every FREE resource I have! Remember to save me as a contact!Follow me on: Twitter: https://twitter.com/unfoldthesoul Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kenspeaks/ LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/feed/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/unfoldthesoul/To schedule a talk with Ken about speaking, coaching, or consulting: ⁠⁠https://www.unfoldthesoul.com/contact⁠⁠Visit The Unfold The Soul Shop: ⁠⁠https://www.unfoldthesoul.com/store⁠⁠Please⁠⁠ leave a review of my book⁠⁠, Ruthless Equity, on Amazon. Thank you!!!

In this episode of Extraordinary Living with Bill and Roger, the discussion centers on the common misconception that one must be 'cleaned up' before coming to the Lord. Bill draws parallels to the biblical story of the Prodigal Son to emphasize that God's love and acceptance are unconditional. He shares his personal testimony from his youth through his spiritual rebirth, highlighting the transformative power of experiencing the love of Jesus and receiving the Holy Spirit. This episode concludes with a call to faith and an invitation to partner with our ministry.   EPISODE HIGHLIGHTS:   00:00 Introduction: Misconceptions About Coming to the Lord 00:25 Welcome to Extraordinary Living 00:41 The Power of God's Word 01:42 Personal Testimony: High School Days 05:16 Marriage and Early Challenges 08:32 Spiritual Awakening: Walk to Emmaus 11:58 The Parable of the Lost Son 22:14 Invitation to Accept Jesus 25:19 Partnering with Bill and Roger Ministries     Connect with Bill & Roger Ministries: www.billandroger.com Email: roger@billandroger.com

Have you ever asked God for a sign? Pleading that He would show you that He is trustworthy and reliable. When we find ourselves in these situations, we are likely fearing the unknown. We wallow in fear, feel stuck, fall behind, and wonder where to turn. In these moments, we may turn to other means to find a solution to mend and give us some temporary hope. But if we would simply turn to Christ, we would discover that we don't need a sign. Listen in as we dive into Jesus' second sign and ask these three key questions: will you believe without conditions? Will you ask without doubt? And will you trust without wavering?

In this episode of 'Extraordinary Living with Bill and Roger,' the focus is on the spiritual battle believers face and the power of spoken words and pleading the blood of Jesus. Bill Gruhlkey explains that Satan has no legal right over those who have accepted Jesus, emphasizing the importance of vocalizing faith to counteract spiritual attacks. Using scripture and personal stories, he illustrates how declaring the blood of Jesus can provide protection and reverse curses. Additionally, the episode discusses the significant impact of words on various aspects of life and encourages viewers to speak positively and pray effectively over their loved ones and situations.    EPISODE HIGHLIGHTS:   00:00 Understanding Spiritual Battles 00:23 Introduction to Extraordinary Living 01:18 The Power of Pleading the Blood 04:28 Examples of Faith in Action 08:21 The Impact of Words 13:27 Testimony of Divine Protection 20:38 The Power of Words in Scripture 26:09 Closing Remarks and Ministry Information     Connect with Bill & Roger Ministries: www.billandroger.com Email: roger@billandroger.com

Jenny Morrison calls through with a message for Matt!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

A very abbreviated interview with the Rev Jerry McAfee. The Mn Dept of Education is pleading the 5th every time a House committee asks them about the Food Fraud scandal. Great news for GLers, there is a new law proposing a return to gas cans that actually work. Patrick with his weekly sports report. Johnny Heidt with guitar news. Heard On The Show: ‘Unrealistic' meal counts focus of expert testimony at Feeding Our Future trial Parent's Bill of Rights introduced in Minnesota House Zelensky says no peace deal without Ukraine involvement Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Steve Bannon pleaded guilty on Tuesday to defrauding donors to a private effort to build a wall on the U.S. southern border, ending a case the conservative strategist decried as a "political persecution." Bannon, a longtime ally of President Donald Trump, pleaded guilty in state court in Manhattan to one count of scheme to defraud, a low-level felony. Spared from jail as part of a plea deal, he left court saying he "felt like a million bucks." In this conversation with Jimmy, Bannon insists the prosecution was politically motivated and his relatively light sentence proves how weak the case against him was. Plus segments on Donald Trump initiating negotiations to end the Ukraine War and an interview with former Seattle City Council member and Workers Strike Back founder Kshama Sawant. Also featuring Kurt Metzger and Stef Zamorano!

Welcome to The Times of Israel's Daily Briefing, your 20-minute audio update on what's happening in Israel, the Middle East and the Jewish world. Times of Israel founding editor David Horovitz joins host Jessica Steinberg for today's episode. With the return to Israel of the three most recently released hostages, several hostage families are receiving the first signs of life from their loved ones, including hostage Alon Ohel. Horovitz discusses the heartbreaking descriptions shared by Idit Ohel, Alon Ohel's mother, on the Sunday night news. Ohel broke down crying as she described her son's injuries and abuses, now known by the family as Ohel was held until Saturday with released hostages Or Levy and Eli Sharabi. Horovitz talks about Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's return home to Israel, where he and his cabinet summarily postponed the discussion of convening a state commission of inquiry into the failures that led to the October 7, 2023 Hamas attack, a commission that would presumably cause his government to fall. Horovitz also reviews Netanyahu's reactions to US President Donald Trump's ideas about the Gaza Strip, a plan that the prime minister seemingly didn't know about before arriving in the US last week, and how Trump's support of Israel is pushing Netanyahu forward on his goals in Gaza. Please see today's ongoing live blog for more updates. Subscribe to The Times of Israel Daily Briefing on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. This episode was produced by the Pod-Waves. For further reading: Pleading for his release, mother says hostage Alon Ohel is wounded, chained in Hamas tunnels At rowdy meeting, cabinet delays for 3 months decision on state inquiry into Gaza war PM returns to court for criminal trial testimony, says he faces medical ‘challenges’ Trump’s ‘Extreme Makeover: Gaza Edition’ has many flaws. One of the worst is its absent morality IMAGE: In Kfar Saba in February 2025, a protestor holding images of hostages, Tsahi Idan, left, included in the first stage of the exchange, while hostage Alon Ohel, right, is not (Credit: Danor Aharon)See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Brent Leatherwood of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission talks about the work of his organization ministering in Washington DC, and the several of the pro-life, pro-family and religious liberty policies they are advocating before Congress and the Supreme Court. Mission Network News' Ruth Kramer updates us on the unrest in the Congo, the suspending of USAID funding to NGO's, and how churches and ministries overseas are stepping into these situations.  Faith Radio podcasts are made possible by your support. Give now: Click here

Sunday, Feb 2, 2025Fred BennettHebrews 12:24

Website: https://saltmustflow.comOTHER PLATFORMSRumble: https://rumble.com/c/SaltyCrackerYouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@SaltyCrackerTwitter/X: https://x.com/SaltyCracker9Locals: https://saltycracker.locals.com/SUPPORT SALTYWebsite: https://saltmustflow.com/support/SubscribeStar: https://www.subscribestar.com/salty-crackerCash App: https://cash.app/$saltmustflowMerchandise: https://saltmustflow.com/shop/Mrs. Salty's Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChnZMOno3rthe1LHvcxufdwMusic by: https://incompetech.com/ Crinoline Dreams In Your Arms--Disclaimer-- These are the opinions and ramblings of a foul-mouthed lunatic. They are for entertainment purposes only and are probably wrong. You listen at your own risk.

Post gazette Evan Johnson calls in to talk with Larry and John about Steelworkers' plea to Trump.

Discerning the roles we are to play in the lives of others; distinguishing your drainers from your fillers; investing in relationships that pay more than they cost (based on various Scriptural passages) To support this ministry financially, visit: https://www.oneplace.com/donate/1213/29

Support our channel & Become a Partner ⇨  https://www.missiondelafe.org/   Listen on Podcast Spotify Podcast ⇨ https://spoti.fi/3RBKdq3Apple Podcast ⇨ https://apple.co/3evzCuuConnect with ushttps://www.facebook.com/delafetestimonieshttps://www.instagram.com/delafetestimonies/Connect with Alejandro:Youtube ⇨ youtube.com/@2blessedalexInstagram ⇨ instagram.com/2blessedalexCredits:Testimony by Alejandro AcevedoDirected by Eric Villatoro Interviewed by Eric VillatoroEdited By Joshua GayleAudio Mixed by Paul Nicholas Testimony Recorded in CaliforniaDelafé Testimonies is a global evangelistic project with the mission of creating the world's largest archive of Jesus testimonies until His return. Our vision is to save souls, build community, and set people free through the testimony of Jesus.Chapters00:00 Introduction02:11 My Mom Becomes Addicted to Meth04:14 Turning to the Streets at 12 After My Parents Split Up06:22 Getting Set Up By a Friend 09:59 Carrying Guns, Committing Robberies14:01 Trying to Be a Better Person15:35 Getting Arrested, Facing 28 Years in Prison18:04 Giving My Life to Jesus in Jail20:15 Trusting God With My Case24:25 Pleading for the Mercy of the Court30:55 The Day of My Sentencing36:02 Meeting My Wife Online While in Prison38:10 Getting Released from Prison Three Years Early42:24 Life After Prison48:18 Who is Jesus To You?48:45 Prayer49:47 Final Words"I Realized I Needed God After Being Arrested for THIS…"

Have we tuned our ears to hear God's voice, or are we letting the noise drown Him out? What if He's already speaking to us? Join us as we learn to listen to the good Shepherd. EASY TO GIVE at Harmony, text any amount to (859) 459-0316 to get started (or give online @ my.harmonychurch.cc/give). Get the fill in the blank bulletins my.harmonychurch.cc/bulletins. OPENING ILLUSTRATION: So, I have a major problem. I've always played this joke on my kids that they will say something like, “Dad, we need to go soon” and I will pretend to mishear them and I'll say, “did you say we need a goat platoon?” They are always like, “Dad, that's not funny…” the problem is, now I'm starting to really not be able to hear them… Lol, I'm getting old! This isn't just an old person problem. The other day we were in our car on the way to school and one of my kids popped up from reading their book and said, “You need to do something about that hair.” I laughed and said, were you listening? I asked the question because we had just spent about 5 minutes talking about the hair and how I can look like a rooster at times! Lol, they hadn't heard a thing because they weren't listening… We all have times we don't listen so well, right? B But what happens when you don't listen to God? In this series, we are going to talk about “hearing from God” But I don't mean this in a generalized sense. I mean actually hearing the voice of God… ILLUSTRATION: Have you ever heard some one talk about “Hearing God” speak and thought, “that's a bunch of hocus pocus”? I think that a lot. I think LOTS of people misuse and abuse the notion of hearing from God. They use it to justify all kinds of junk… So, before we go too far into this short series, I want to do a few things today: First, I want to normalize hearing the voice of God. Hearing from God should be a normal part of the Christian experience and show you how even if you don't think this is your experience, it might be. b Second, I want to give us some VITAL guardrails. I want to protect us from weaponizing a part of what should be a normal piece of the Christian experience. 1. Is hearing from God normal or signs of a mental condition? :) Lol, come on, you know that's what some of you are thinking “hearing voices in your head Kent?” That's crazy… But you do know this appears to be the normal experience of people in the scripture, don't you? [Put up as one slide so I can move through fairly fast] Abraham (Call of Abram: Genesis 12:1-3, Covenant with God: Genesis 15:1-6, Pleading for Sodom: Genesis 18:22-33) Moses (Burning Bush: Exodus 3:1-6, Mount Sinai: Exodus 19-20, Tent of Meeting: Exodus 33:11) Jesus (Baptism: Matthew 3:17, Transfiguration: Luke 9:28-36, Prayer in Gethsemane: Matthew 26:36-44) Paul (Road to Damascus: Acts 9:3-6, Thorn in the Flesh: 2 Corinthians 12:7-9, Prayer in Prison: Acts 16:25) Not to mention  Old Testament: Adam & Eve, Noah, Hagar, Jacob, Joseph, Samuel, Job, Gideon, Manor & his wife (parents of Samson), Solomon, all the prophets, Balaam (a false prophet) New Testament: Zechariah, Mary, Joseph, Shepherds, The apostles, Stephen, Ananias, Cornelius, John the Baptist God seems to love to engage with His people… Listen to how Jesus says this: John 10:1-5, 14-16 “Very truly I tell you Pharisees, anyone who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. 2 The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5 But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger's voice.” 14 “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep. 16 I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd. ILLUSTRATION: There is a funny video on Youtube (youtube.com/watch?v=e45dVgWgV64) of this person trying to call this shepherds sheep over to them. They call with the same words he uses to call them. The sheep just ignore the person, but when the shepherd steps up and calls the sheep, all of the sudden their heads look up, they see him, and when they do, they come running to him. Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd” and that his sheep follow Him because they KNOW His voice! b But Kent, I've never heard a voice, I don't have visions or talk to really hot shrubbery, does that mean I'm not one of His sheep? Can I take the pressure off of you? There is a group out there of Christians that make everyone else feel like they don't hear from God - they say things like “The Lord told me I was supposed to buy this thing or do that thing” and they make it sound like God us up there as their personal administrative assistant telling them when to do everything… [reveal the below one line at a time] But I'll bet, if you say you've never heard God's voice that you have: Have you ever read something in the scripture and been moved by a thought that came over you? Have you ever been in a worship service and felt moved? Have you ever heard a sermon and felt like you were supposed to do something? b That's the voice of God ILLUSTRATION: for me, I always know it's the voice of God when it's something that Kent, in his Kentness wouldn't naturally do or think. I've felt like I was supposed to call someone and encourage them, that's not me. I one time was telling God I love Him and I felt like I heard Him say back, “I love you too” I just started weeping. I've felt like I was supposed to buy someone gas - that's not me, I'm more inclined to drive right by that person. I have a buddy who said he was thanking God for all the blessings he has and he heard God say, “what are you going to do with it?” For me, God's voice is not loud, it's not shouting at me, it's just quietly leading me like a shepherd. “hey, don't go over there…” or “hey, there's some really good grass over here…” Can I give you some Guardrails as we talk about this subject? Because I've seen, particularly spiritual leaders, abuse people with this… Guardrails to consider when learning to listen to God… If God has already spoken in the scripture about your situation - you don't need anything more (If you are waiting to hear God on whether to stay with your spouse or leave them for your mistress - God has already spoken on that…) Be humble and test the spirits (Not every idea/thing that comes into your mind is from God or even you.  Test what you are hearing against seasoned followers of Jesus and against the word of God) God does not tend to operate in either-or situations (Giving God the options of “God it's either this or it's that” - if you're truly inviting God to speak in your life, let Him speak what He wants to say, not your pre-populated answers) NEVER use what you believe God spoke to you as a means to beat others into submission - if God spoke it to you, He is more than capable of speaking it to them as well… ILLUSTRATION: Early on in ministry, I told a church that I felt God had told me we were supposed to move our congregation to a different building. I don't want to go into the specifics, but I felt like God convicted me, because in reality, I felt like we should make the move, but God had not directed me to do it. I confused my ego with God's direction and in the process, manipulated the sheep as though my words were from the shepherd. CLOSING ILLUSTRATION: Jesus is the good shepherd, and he laid down His life for you. My prayer as I was writing this sermon was not that people would learn a lot about listening to God, but that they would actually tune their ears to the God who is speaking to them. I have learned that as I age and my hearing actually gets worse, I have to lean in a little and actually listen to what people say. I have to really focus on it and when I do, I can understand them. What would it look like for you to tune your ears and your heart to God? One of the ways to do that is to lean into God, we are about to sing this song and I want to invite you to come up to the alter and lean into God. Pray and just tell Him, Jesus, if you want to speak, I'm listening. don't put any pressure on it, if you don't hear anything, that's alright. But what if you do? What if when you say, “I love you” He says, “I love you too!” Back. He has already said this to you! Come and give your life to Jesus!

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Transform your prayer life from self-centered to others-focused and witness the difference it makes

The Hoes and Bitches Need A Champion.Based on a post by FinalStand, in 13 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. ‘Once you go Black, you don't go back; unless you are an Amerindian, Arabic, Asian, Black, Indian, Latina, or White girl, or guy who has tried Black, then found sexual fulfillment with a non-Black person and created a blissful relationship with them'Introduction:Right off the bat, be warned that I'm using the 'N' words, nigger, niggah, my niggah, plus homie, thug, coon, buck, spook, spade and whatever other crude racial slurs that come to mind. This story plays to both Black and White stereotypes.Lastly, this story is rather flippant with the entire concept of sexual assault. Those who have red my previous tales know this is not my attitude at all. For the sake of this genre I had to grapple with the concept of forcing a woman and 'making them love that cock'Prelude:My tale begins as the Winter Man Saga 1300 years ago, about the year 700 AD. One small clan of my Swedish ancestors lost a brutal feud with their neighbors. Their farms were burned, animals slaughtered and their women and children taken as slaves. Only three young brother-warriors survived, wounded but unconquered. The victors chased them high into the mountains when a terrible winter storm struck.The three brothers were trudging across a glacier between the mountain peaks in Whiteout conditions. The lead brother stepped into a crevasse and slid to the bottom of the glacier. Not giving up on their last kinsman, the other two slid down into the darkness after him. At the roots of that glacier they found an ice cavern formed by snow that fell 100,000 years ago.They melted the ice for water with their body heat and in doing so, unleashed a demoness (virus) that no man had ever known and survived. The three men grew very sick, but their fierce desire for vengeance kept them from succumbing. When they emerged from their icy tomb, they discovered that several of their pursuers had frozen to death in the blizzard and the rest had returned to their stolen homes and purloined lands, thinking the three brothers were dead.In the dark of the long northern night, they snuck upon the Great Hall of their enemies. When one of the brothers saw his 'former' wife doing a slave's work, he revealed himself to her. She rejoiced at the return of her love; physically, then brought the three table scraps to survive on. In the process, they learned that their sisters were also alive and the sexual playthings of their male nemeses.Due to the depth of winter, stealing back their womenfolk wasn't possible. They'd all freeze to death if they didn't starve first. To repay their enemy's wickedness, one of the brother's snapped and raped one of the chief's daughters. He was possessed with an unearthly desire and held her in a stable for hours. Only when he was utterly spent did he fall asleep.She ran to her father and returned with many warriors. So the first of the brothers was taken. He was tortured and abused. For three long nights he suffered at the hands of his captors yet refused to admit any of his other brothers were still alive. After that third night, the chief's daughter sneaked past the sleeping guards of the chained man, and raped him.For the next five nights, while her father, brothers and husband slept, she raped and raped and raped that brother. On the fifth night, a sister-in-law caught her at it. The daughter pled for the other to spare her; that the man's sexual prowess had ensnared her. She even challenged her kinswoman to sample the 'fruit' before turning her in. Five women later, the brother cracked and told the women how to find his brothers.The night after the Spring Equinox Celebrations, the women of their enemy rose up and slaughtered all their adult menfolk at the behest of the three brothers, on the conditions that their youngest sons be spared and that the men continue to share their favors with all the womenfolk (who were not their kin).The Sammi ClanThe isolated region of the land of the Swedes kept my ancestors out of contact with the wider world for some time. Many generations later, a son of that clan came to lead a band of (female) Finns. His Swedish name is forgotten. The Finns called him Sami (the Exalted One, no shit). He and this band took to fur trading along the Eastern tributaries of the Volga.In time, this group became identified with the Varangian. The Sons of Sami intermarried with the Slavs, becoming Slavicized and the Sons of Sami became Samsonovs. They followed the Rus expansion into the eastern tributaries of the Volga reaching Nizhny Novgorod in the 10th century.Then came the Mongol Conquest, the Tartar Yoke, Rus reunification and the Russian drive across Siberia. The Samsonovs remained tightly clannish and uncomfortable in urban settings. That wanderlust led them across the Bering Straits into Alaska where their genetic abnormality, the gift of that ancient demoness (virus), slumbered in isolation and monogamy.After a thousand years, the tales of mass orgies with strange women and protective female war bands faded into obscurity. Then my Mom, the brilliant, driven eccentric came along. Once she became enraptured with her own Samsonov lover, she had to know the secret of Samsonov men's sexual prowess.With her burning intellect and educational background, she eventually figured it out. She was also amoral enough to keep the knowledge to herself and vengeful enough to plan to use our curse as a weapon.My Living Family·         Father, Nikolay 'Nik' Samsonov;·         Mother, Gayle Fonteneau Samsonov;·         The Triplets, Alexander 'Alex', Mikhail and Vladimir 'Vlad'; that's me.Sitting at the dinner table, I protested; ‘Mom, You actually expect me to believe my Father, Brothers and I have the genetic capability to addict every woman we have sex with to our schlongs? That's nuts!'Mom retorted; ‘As opposed to thinking the color, length and girth of a phallus makes any woman lose all sense of loyalty, morality and decorum so she can become a man's sex sleeve, whore, bitch, property? Yes, I do.'The lives of my family took an unexpected detour in the spring of this year. My great-aunt Matilda (Mattie) died and willed her estate to Mom. I had never met the woman while she was alive yet in death she would have a profound effect on all our lives. Mom's family was a mess; a crowded dingy with a madhouse of odd characters.Lionel was my eldest maternal uncle. He was a Big, Bulging Brain working as a Chief Technical Advisor for NASA; a solitary crusader for all Mankind. What was he a technical advisor for? If anything left terra firma for more than fifteen seconds, he knew every detail about it. That included volcanic eruptions too. When we were younger, he invited us to various volcanoes (both above and beneath the waves). Great guy.Cassius, my second uncle, was serving time in Indonesia for piracy. Mom said he was meaner than every saltwater crocodile that ever lived. The two times I'd met him, he'd been a lean, happy laconic kind of guy with a love for military history. Mom said he was a charismatic rebel who was possessed by an obsession to defy authority in all its forms.Dido was child number three; my Mom's older sister, married to an Evangelical Televangelist in Nebraska under an assumed name, Paula Richmond. She also had a MD in Psychiatry and a Master's in Public Communications (under her real name), which she kept secret from the fundamentalist congregation. The few times we met; she was the perfect mother. Secretly, we three sons wished she'd been our mother instead of our real mother. Mom said Aunt Dido was a master manipulator and wielded a cruel whip;Then there was Mom's twin, Uncle Theo, who never lived in one place, traveled all around the globe and had every law enforcement agency in the civilized world looking for him. We always receiving presents from him during all the normal holidays; like Michaelmas, Holy Week, the start of Lent, Martinmas (his favorite) and our birthdays; which arrived at random, unrelated times of the year and never from the same location.He was the only one we'd never met, but the one Mom loved the most. Dad suspected he was a narco-trafficker while Mom insisted he was too paranoid to be considered reliable for that line of work. Mom told us he'd spent his formative years killing people for Uncle Sam until one day he simply walked away from Fort Bragg and became an independent contractor.The Defense Department sent some fine, brave men from Joint Special Operation Command, to talk to Mom every few months. They made sure not to trip over the CIA and Homeland Security types who occasionally staked out our house. We boys guessed they came around every time Uncle Theo assassinated people. Mom taught us how to appreciate them in an elaborate ritual she called 'April Fool's, which became an 'any day of the year' activity.My Mom's father (I never met the guy) was a leader of a cult in Nevada. He went down, guns blazing during a DEA raid. Apparently his interests included both harems and marijuana production.Mom's mom? She left my Mother outside a dive bar in San Diego and was never seen again. She had doctorates in Biology and Physics as well as the reputation for being a certifiable Space Cadet. Mom insisted her mom hadn't abandoned her, she'd simply forgotten where she left her youngest daughter who was 15 at the time.After five days, Mom decided to join an Alternative Rock band instead of looking for the lady yet again. Seven years later, she was declared legally dead; though all her offspring believed she was still alive; somewhere; doing something.Then you had Dad's family. We had some characters on that side of the family, just not like Mom's. For starters, Samsonovs were bred for law enforcement. We'd been arresting bad guys since the 1500's. We'd been doing that in Alaska since the time of the tsars. When the Alaskan Territory was sold to the United States; well, my ancestors simply started writing their reports in English instead of Russian.Over the centuries, we had bagged serial killers, smugglers, poachers, drug dealers, domestic abusers and thieves. Mostly they arrested drunks and wackos. My Great Grandfather Petrov was a law enforcement legend in Alaska. Alone, he ran down a pack of murderous robbers in the dead of winter before they made it to 'safety' in the Yukon Territory.In the spring, they found them frozen solid, him leading five men, he recorded in his journal he'd killed the other three while apprehending the gang, back in chains. That pretty much defined the nature of my Father's family, no too many stellar geniuses, but always relentless past all norms of endurance and reason. The moment females were allowed in law enforcement, the womenfolk joined the profession.My Aunt Iliana was in the Coast Guard, that made her the 'Black sheep' in this clan. Taking the law out to the high seas was about as wild as Dad's family got. Dad was pretty much the standard issue for my kin. Big, Dad was 6' 5' and 290 lbs., and about as imaginative as a glacier. Why Mom married Dad had long been a mystery to his sons.Don't get me wrong. I loved my Dad, but the man used a grand total of twenty different sentences his entire life. The fewer words he had to speak, the happier he was. He was a nice guy, never drinking too much and I'd never seen him lose his temper. He smiled, was unerringly polite and had always been helpful and playful with us kids from our earliest memories.Grandpa, my great-aunts and -uncles, my aunts, uncles and cousins by blood were the exact same way. I mean that quite literally. We all pretty much looked alike as well. Those who married, married eccentrics. In our regular family get-togethers that translated over to the blood kin in one room saying and doing nothing (we were already cluing into some sort of primitive telepathy) and being very happy that way, while the married relations were in another room packing on the lunacy.There was no middle ground; you were either a silent, brooding peak in the Samsonov mountain range, or the aurora borealis. That left me and my brothers, we were triplets, in a precarious position. We looked like smaller versions of our Dad (we were still growing) yet were totally at the mercy of our Mother most of our young lives. Recall what I said about eccentrics and lunatic behavior. Mom was the Queen of the Asylum.Mom quickly fell in love with 'things' and she loved doing those things with family. Since Dad worked long hours, family meant my brothers and me. We could make passable pottery by age seven. Krav Maga? Screw this 'driving to some dojo in Anchorage' crap. Mom signed us up for a two week course in Israel and online lessons for a year. Archery, check. Rewiring our house and refitting all the plumbing, check.The three of us were SCA squires at age 12. Pleading to Dad was pointless. He'd smile, mess up our hair and remind us these excursions made our Mother happy aka he wasn't going to help us have normal lives. We had some ex-Green Beret guys teach us outdoor survival skills in Wyoming. We could pull wool, make thread and knit a set of pants and sweaters.I and my brothers had to memorize 1200 medically useful plants before we could get our Christmas presents when we were 14. We free-climbed mountains, ran 10Kms, kayaked, were proficient seamen on a sailing ship and learned how to navigate by the Sun, Moon and stars. Around the age of 15, we figured out that Mom had a ton of money squirreled away. There was no way Dad, with his civil servant's salary, could afford all this crazy shit.By the age of 18 we had such a crazy patchwork set of skills, we weren't sure what we would end up doing with our lives; though tracking down Uncle Theo and living a life on the run was looking more attractive every month. What we didn't have were great social lives. We all had girlfriends at one time, or another, but they never lasted.Right before any of us were about to get serious with any girl in high school, my Mom dragged us off; to things like a five day course on Renaissance artwork in Milan; that's Italy. We had to learn to speak Italian in three days, plus during the flight over. Mom made it easy for us. We could only speak Italian the entire time. Doing that at school was 'fun'. Dad? He smiled and said nothing for three days.Welcome to the Fonteneau House, Kingston, ArkansasAnyway, Mom's Great-aunt Mattie kicked the bucket and left her vast fortune in northwestern Arkansas to my Mom. The old bird hated the rest of the nutjobs in the clan, but adored my Mom (and Theo). Upon receiving the news, my brothers and I began thinking the same thing: banjo lessons, redneck stunts and girls in Daisy Dukes. By 'fortune' we were thinking a ramshackle Ozark shack sitting on a mountain top.Nope. Great-aunt Mattie was loaded. In fact, Mom's whole family had tons of money. They'd made a killing, quite literally, during the White expansion westward using various despicable means. They'd even been cursed by an entire Indian Tribe for bilking them off their land. Mom's family blamed that malediction for their bizarre behavior.That Arkansas home was actually the summer residence for the Fonteneau clan from a hundred years ago. Along with the palatial residence came thousands upon thousands of acres spread over a quarter of the state (and some land in Texas, Missouri and Oklahoma too).Tara, or the Biltmore estate, it was not, but it certainly had pretensions. It was a wide and roomy, rambling Victorian structure. The house proper (there were two barns, a stable, storage sheds, two garages, one attached and the other stand-alone, semi-attached servant quarters and four outlying hunting lodges) abutted the Kingston town limits.The place was big enough to require Mom to employ six staff;Phineas Cobb the third, an angry, sullen old White guy and his carbon-copy son, Phineas IV, were our two Wardens. That meant they took care of the outlying property which included hunting down poachers, interlopers and moonshiners (the competition, no doubt) and seeing to the upkeep of the various lodges, roads, trails and bridges around the place. Phineas the third and Mom; well, he cried and hugged Mom when he saw her, so we didn't know what to think of him and his son.Bebe Marston worked the stables and the twelve horses therein. She was a college dropout, White and 21; a woman at one of life's crossroads. Great Aunt Mattie brought her on a few months before she passed on. Bebe was a bit shy and distant around the menfolk. Mom treated Bebe like her long lost daughter; they got along fine.Thomas Freeman was the groundskeeper. Thomas seemed nice enough, a polite and somewhat deferential older Black man. I liked him. Mom fired him the moment the lawyer finished reading Maggie's Will. She believed the man was a back-biter, liar and a thief.Kamika Perry was the cook. She was a largish, plump Black woman with a large family in town. She was a tyrant in the kitchen but friendly and out-going everywhere else. She knew Mom from before; before what, we didn't know. She was close to Mom's age and was the niece of the former cook. She and Mom were cordial yet a tad formal.Nefertiti Cooke was the upstairs maid. She was a whip-tin attractive Black woman in her late-20s and joined Thomas heading out the door. Mom discharged her due to Nefertiti's sour attitude and general unwillingness to adhere to a work schedule.Anita Turner was our downstairs maid and overall manager of the other servants. Like Kamika, she knew Mom from her previous stay at the house, though Anita was already part of the staff back then. They acted like old friends though they understood the mistress-servant dynamics of their relationship.Mom solved our labor shortage by bringing in Mexicans (Hondurans actually). The two families divided up the nine rooms in the detached servants' quarters with Bebe, since Anita and Kamika lived in town and the Cobb's had their own cottage somewhere on the property.Hector Martinez became our new groundskeeper. He had a wife, Maria. Mom enrolled her in some online college courses so she could get a teaching license. They were both pretty young.Consuela Castro was our new upstairs maid. She was a single mother with a son, Gustavo (10), and a daughter, Isabo (6); they went to the local elementary school in town. Both families were very nice to us and seemed happy with their current circumstance. Since this job was their first go at being domestic servants, Mom told us to be patient and respectful while they learned the ropes from Anita and Mr. Cobb (only Mom could call him Phineas without pissing him off).My brothers and I, our Father, the Martinez's and the Castro's couldn't have predicted the shit-storm Mom was creating between our house and the dominant Black populace of Kingston along the great racial divide. The Hondurans had spent half their lives learning to keep their heads low when faced with discrimination. We didn't, nor did we know that Mom was acting with deliberate malice of forethought at that time.To help appreciate our understanding of the situation, we triplets had known a grand total of four Black people well enough to call them by their Christian names our entire lives. One was a crazy, older guy who had been a sniper at some point in his military career. By crazy, I meant he'd go off on tangents in mid conversation, or just stopping entirely. We all liked the guy.He and Granddad Samsonov were real tight. They'd served together in Vietnam and we boys suspected something bad had happened to them both, something which scarred and bound them together closer than brothers. He and Alexander went hunting all the time back in Alaska. All I knew was Morris (Grandpa's comrade-in-arms) was treated like family.That meant if Morris got in trouble, fifteen to twenty Samsonov's would show up to bail him out. That's what family meant. The other two were a retired Air Force couple, Parker and Mariana Carrington plus their infant William, that had moved in next door (that's 40 yards away in Alaska) when I was fourteen. They were in their early thirties and wanted to start a family. The woman had been pregnant with her second child when we left.My Mom and another neighbor trundled her off to a clinic during her first birth. Dad had driven fifty miles in a blizzard to get her husband, so he could witness his firstborn come into the world. The man worked as a fishing boat mechanic and had gotten stuck at work when his wife went into early labor. It was the Alaskan way to look after one another.I never much thought about minorities. There were nearly as many Native Alaskans attending my schools as White folk. The Natives knew my family going back eight generations. I had a few cousins who were 'First Peoples'. Minority? Majority? We were Alaskans and that was that.Again, I didn't think much about there being a social and economic racial crevasse when I showed up in Kingston, Arkansas. I probably would have been totally blind-sided about it if Dad hadn't done his due diligence and went to the Kingston Police Station and Davis County Sheriff's Office to report his status as an Alaskan State Trooper and register his firearms.Since we didn't know what to look for, we missed the obvious signs of trouble. The Black police officer that Dad talked to was; impolite. He informed Dad there would be no 'courtesy' given despite Dad's professionalism, i.e. he wasn't permitted to carry any of his licensed firearms. The Sheriff's department was very different.We met the Sheriff and the man got Dad to be about as verbose as I'd ever seen him. The Sheriff verified Dad's story, gave him a 90 Day permit for his sidearm and told him to make no never mind over the Town cops' hostility. He certainly seemed pleased Dad had three big, strong, strapping boys and gave Dad an application to join his department.That night, Dad informed us all at the dining room table he was considering the Sheriff's job offer. Mom was secretly pleased (like her sister, she IS an evil mastermind and master manipulator). Anita, Bebe and Kamika were eating with us as well, Mom insisted all the help do so (the Hondurans weren't with us yet), and I detected a hint of worry in their posture. I would have thought 'us' staying in the house, thus their continued employment, would be seen as a good thing.Welcome To Kingston.That night, over some late night cocoa, Mom gave the family the regional 4-1-1. Kingston was 75% Black, 20% White and 5% other. The rest of Davis County was 95% White and 5% Black and other. In Kingston, the Blacks ruled the town. All elected officials and police officers were Black. The Sheriff's department had a few Black officers, but was mostly White.It would have been all White except a combined lawsuit by Southern Poverty Law Center and N Double A CP, forced the County to 'integrate'. I asked the logical question: why hadn't the town been forced to integrate too? Mom told me that wasn't how things worked in the Lower 48. Here, Blacks couldn't discriminate; they could only be discriminated against.The Federal government said so. I was sensing shades of Uncle Theo in Mom's blanket assessment of things. My brothers and I were wrong. Mom was right. We were entering White Man's Hell aka Big Black Cock Country. Of course, Mom wasn't sadistic, or masochistic. She had a tidbit of knowledge no one this side of British Columbia was aware of, a Secret Weapon.Dad applied for and got the job of Senior Deputy, which riled some of the other (read: Black) deputies, but Dad's extensive experience and easy-going manner eased his entry into the unit. Mom remained Mom, an unconventional, beautiful, free-spirited kook. She made no effort to make friends. I was the boldest of the triplets so I asked her why.‘Do you know how your Father's family would rather hack of a hand than go back on their word?' she gazed at me intently. I nodded. When she said 'Father' instead of 'Dad', this was our cue that this was a Major Life lesson we had best memorize. ‘These people aren't like that. They will take that which is not theirs, break trusts, sully families and lie to your face.'‘These women are all bold-faced whores, cock-hungry tramps and sluts who get abortions because they don't know what color the daddy is. The males are either the kind of men who would sleep with those kinds of women, or gutless wonders who won't fight for their rights as boyfriends, brothers, fathers, fiancés and spouses.'‘This is a colored thing, right?' I guessed. I wanted to be wrong.‘Got it in one,' Mom patted me on the shoulder. ‘Most White men in town are spineless wimps, Black men jump on whatever cunt they can crack open and women of either color put up with it, even beg for it. I know because I was once like them.'‘You and Dad?' I worried. Mom gave a deep, hearty laugh.‘That is not going to be a problem, I promise you. The only man for me is your Father,' she smiled. ‘I had plenty of lovers before your Dad. Since one month after I met him, I've never been with another man, or woman, or even wanted one.' More than I wanted to know, but good news none the less.While we were moving in the small amount of belongs that had followed us from Arkansas, two Kingston cops stopped by to see what we were doing. I had spent my entire life around law enforcement who knew about me and my clan. They were always friends and people we could trust. Kingston PD was a rude awakening we weren't in Alaska anymore.They were brusque and intimidating. Their real purpose was to remind my family the house was part of the town, even if the back acreage was not. Mom snorted at their pale deception. She asked to see their warrant. They asked if there was some reason they might need one. Mom politely asked them to leave as they were trespassing.They basked in their defiance. What could Mom really do? If she went all redneck and produced a gun, they'd lock her up, pointing weapons at law enforcement was stupid. Sadly for the cops, familiarity breeds understanding too. Mom gave us the April Fools' signal. Alexander, our oldest triplet, moved the cargo truck so it blocked the officers' view of their patrol car.While Mom looked peeved, feeding the Black cops sense of empowerment, my youngest triplet Mikhail and I (Vladimir) stripped their car of all easily removable parts; the dash-cam went first. They wanted to loiter around on our property? We let them behave stupidly. We dumped the parts and our work gloves in a packing box and carried it right past them.We walked straight out the back too. There was a burning barrel which we made prompt use of, for the oily gloves and box. We had spares. Mikhail tended the fire as I picked up a broken cinder block, a heavy-duty trash bag and walked a few hundred yards to the bog near the creek that ran through our property, county land. The bag and contents went into the bog.I used a branch to make sure it sunk deep before returning. Cleaning off my boots with the outdoor hose completed my destruction of evidence. Ten minutes later a member of the Arkansas Highway Patrol stopped by to see what the problem was. Mom had called them before the sabotage had even begun. She didn't know these two personally, but she knew from earlier visits to her aunt that these two were going to give us 'attitude'.Calling the Sheriff's Department would only cause a standoff where the police had the upper hand, the whole town jurisdiction thing. By the time the HP arrived, Alexander had left with the truck so when the Highway Patrolman began expressing concern for my Mom's civil rights, the two buck butt-bandits made to leave. That didn't work out well for them.First came the circus of the discovery they were missing key parts of their vehicle and the lack of an explanation of how that had happened. Mom wouldn't let the town cops search her place. She happily let the Highway Patrolman (who happened to be Black too) look around. We'd used the hose and the burning barrel because moving was nasty, sweaty work, especially in the Arkansas summer heat.The two policemen blamed us, the triplets. Mom asked them when, in the cops thirty minute trespass, had her 'little angels' stolen the parts, why we would do such a criminal thing, and if they knew where the parts might be. The Highway patrolman was kind of curious about the length of their stay as well.The cops lied, Mom went inside and brought back the camcorder that had taken in the entire event. They were caught in the lie and all they could claim was the cargo truck had been strategically placed to block a visual to their car; as we unloaded our truck. Mom even got the Highway Patrolman to co-sign her complaint to the Arkansas State Police Criminal Investigations department.Mom knew this one wouldn't go anywhere. She had lived with cops long enough to know the value of building up a case file. Alexander was off returning the truck in another county, so he was safe. Mom called him and Dad so they could hook up before Alexander came home. She counted on the cops to be petty and they were.Alexander was on a motorcycle. When he got pulled, the city cops pulled in front of him. Dad stopped as well. Despite their continuing pressure to make Dad leave, they had no legal grounds to do so, he was Alexander's father, who would be responsible for Alex's ride if they took him into custody. Being an off-duty sheriff's deputy wasn't good enough, yet Dad's point was telling.Cops always pull up behind a suspect, not ahead of them unless they want to ignore the dash-cam evidence. Dad had pulled up in his Sheriff's vehicle behind Alexander and his dash-cam was recording everything. They let Alexander off with a Warning Ticket and departed giving father and son dirty looks. School was five days off. We checked out the property for two days. The third morning my brothers and I, on motorcycles, decided to explore Kingston.Having never before confronted such blatant racism, we weren't afraid, we were furious. We hadn't done anything to anybody. We were from Alaskan-Russian stock and had never owned a person ever, as far as we knew. We certainly weren't invested in this whole 'Black slavery, White guilt' issue. Those who gave us attitude about 'White privilege' didn't care for our counter, that saying all White people were alike was equally racist.As Mom had warned us, Black people couldn't be racist; just ask them. Mind you, many of the town's Black residents were friendly and helpful. They just weren't friendly enough to defend us from the 'haters'. At the end of the first day, Mikhail nearly got in a fight with five members of the Black post-high school crowd who were fucking with, and sitting on, our bikes.Where we came from, that was rude in the extreme. When he appeared to be alone, they were boisterous enough. When Alexander and I stepped out of the pool hall (we'd been made unwelcome there), they backed off from their threatening rhetoric. They still wouldn't leave, or get off our bikes. The three versus five odds didn't deter us.It was the lack of faith in the local justice system that encouraged Alexander and me to hold Mikhail back. We had an answer to their intransience, crowding. It takes a great deal of cool to have three guys, all over six feet tall and 220 lbs. lean in on you while you are sitting down. When the current bastard was dealt with, we moved to the next. Before the group could figure a way to thwart us, we had retrieved our bikes and were headed home.The next day, we took Mom's 2012 Shelby V8 Mustang out for a drive. We found the three spots in town the 'White folk' hung out in. We had the Country Western Redneck posse' section of town, pseudo-riche Southerner clique downtown region, and the movie theater (theoretically neutral turf). The saner White middle class had departed for safer pastures, they had established their own municipality a few miles outside of town).The rednecks welcomed our physicality. We were attempting to fit in until they began talking about all those damn 'niggahs'. Alexander broke down after a bit and asked what a 'niggah' was. It was a 'coon'. Since that was of no help, we asked what a 'coon' was.The regulars found our naiveté amusing. It took us three minutes of running a verbal obstacle course to piece together that 'niggahs' was their inbred pronunciation of 'niggers' (a term we knew from TV and movies) which was idiot slang for a Black person. We were 'crackahs', idiot slang for crackers aka White people. Hispanics were 'beeners'; yeah, right.We also learned that the favorite activities for teenage rednecks was knocking over mailboxes as they sped down the road, beating up White girls who sucked Black cock and beating up 'niggahs' who touched White girls. My analysis was that these yahoos were long on talk and short on action.I wasn't a fashion icon yet I could tell these boys could use a bath and some fresh clothes. The girls who hung around this crowd looked about as loyal as salmon during spawning season. At 18, we were hardly experienced, but we weren't desperate virgins either. Girls we had just been introduced to, flirting with us and suggesting later sexual rendezvouses were a definite turn-off because God knows who else they'd been doing it with.That led us to the riche clique. Among the guys; half were snobbish closet gays who weren't our thing. The other half were rich straight guys pretending to be rednecks. Rich White girls pretended to be friends with the rich Black girls. They were used to being pampered by their rich White boyfriends while eyeing every Black stud that crossed their path.Until they realized Samsonov = Fonteneau, they were snide. After that, they tried to convince us we were all (distantly) related. Bloodlines and riches were not the basis for what we called friends so we politely postponed any celebrations.The Cineplex was a hunting ground for all ages. White women I was pretty sure were married to someone else engaged in sexual liaisons with Blacks; be they teens, business types, or lay-abouts. We had no idea if these were random hook-ups, or affairs and we didn't really care.Having wasted nine hours of our lives we definitely wanted back, we ended up rendezvousing with Mom and Dad at his boss's, the Sheriff's, place. Whatever else he was, Robert ‘Big Bob' Carson wasn't an underpaid county employee. His home was nice, expansive, relatively new and sitting on four wonderful acres of land, half woodland/half professionally maintained lawn and gardens. He had an expansive deck with a built-in grill, hot tub and pool out back.My brothers and I had been under the impression this would be an office outing. It ended up being our two families; the five of us, Big Bob and his daughter, Brandy Crystal Carson. There was no Mamma Carson in sight and a lack of family pictures was noticed by us and our Mom. Dad and Bob (it was tough to call him Big Bob when Dad was bigger than he was) were deep in conversation at the outdoor grill when I arrived.‘Vlad, come out here,' my Dad called to me in his easy going manner.‘Brandy!' Bob shouted. I promptly showed up. Dad wasn't a passionate disciplinarian. I didn't hustle out of fear. I hurried out because I wanted my Dad to look good in front of the Sheriff. ‘Hello Vlad,' Big Bob greeted me. ‘You are a strapping lad, big like your Daddy.'That was a bit odd. I had only heard one person call my Father 'Daddy'. That was my Mom when she was feeling frisky. Mom walked around the house naked when the mood struck her (even when we had guests over) and had few compunctions about hopping into Dad's lap when she wanted attention. That was a common enough occurrence that 'us' boys had learned to sneak out of the room quietly before we were ten.Only in the last two years had we figured out part of Mom's bizarre sexual behavior was caused by Dad being utterly clueless where women were concerned. He could spot a shoplifter at a glance, or an expired car registration at fifty feet on a moonless night. I had seen a car saleswoman hit on Dad when he was getting his newest pick-up. She did everything but flash her tits and do a striptease; it all went right over Dad's head.‘Brandy! Get your ass down here!' Bob bellowed. She must have been most of the way to us because she materialized five seconds later.‘Yes Daddy,' Brandy sounded bored. I was too busy gawking to see Big Bob's reaction to his daughter's insolence.Brandy was beyond gorgeous (according to my personal standards). She had pale-blonde hair in a ponytail that clearly went past her shoulder blades. Her caramel skin was the beneficiary of countless sessions with a tanning booth. Her eyes were the darkest blue I'd ever seen. Breasts, Jesus, they were large and firm. I could tell that because she had on a pink crop-top and no bra. I could almost see the bottoms of each orb.Her stomach was muscled with a thin layer of fatty tissue to give her real womanly curves and she had curves to spare. Her waist was narrow and her hips were wide, complimenting her breast size. She had on super-short, cut-off, 'faded-almost-to-White' denim jeans that accentuated her dark skin. Her ass was to die for. A bit big but well-muscled, each a perfect hemisphere.Her thighs and calves were the product of consistent exercise. Hot, hot, hot. She had on white tennis socks (no shoes) that finished off her delectable image.‘Brandy, this is Vladimir, Senior Deputy Samsonov's son. He's going to be your boyfriend this year,' Bob announced. I had a feeling this wasn't open for debate, in his mind.‘What!' Brandy squawked.‘What?' I looked to my Dad.‘What the fuck?' Brandy turned and glared at me. I would have enjoyed her breasts bouncing more if I hadn't been eyeballing my patriarch.‘Dad?' I kept my voice calm. Brandy was fantastic looking, but I didn't want anyone dictating my social life, period. I was eighteen. Besides, Brandy was turning out to have a far less appealing personality, Pretty Princess syndrome.‘Brandy, Vladimir's a nice boy. His father is 'good people',' Bob laid out his case.How did he know I was a good boy? He was taking a lot on faith.‘I don't want to date this loser,' Brandy shouted. 'Loser'? She didn't knew me either.‘If you don't keep Vlad as your boyfriend, then no cheerleading and no dance team,' Bob glared at his daughter. This clash of wills made no sense to me.‘No way!' Brandy glanced back at her Dad, protested loudly and stomped her foot on the wooden deck.‘Well then, you need to be home at 3:20 pm every school day,' Bob threatened. ‘And I'll make sure to check up on you.' Before I could wonder about Big Bob's abuse of power, I noted the state of the art security system, cyber-nanny.Brandy turned on me in a furor. Her face was screwed up with anger, her fists were clenched and I was working double-time to not ogle the cleave she enhanced by leaning forward. Man, she hated me for reasons I couldn't fathom. I disgusted her which I didn't get either. Plenty of non-relative women had called me good-looking and handsome.I had a healthy, well-defined physique, nice thick, blonde hair and the common sense to keep my body and clothes clean and casual. My only downside I'd ever been told about was my size, I was tall for my age and 'cut'. Brandy was 5' 4'. I was 6' 2'. I had stormy grey eyes, light blonde hair the color of wheat and skin spared the ravages of acne.‘Brandy, I am as uncomfortable and surprised about this as you are,' I tried to placate her. ‘Do you want to talk about it?' She forced herself to appear calm.‘Fine Victor,' she grumbled. Worse than getting my name wrong was the look of viciousness that glimmered in her eyes. ‘We'll make Daddy happy and be a cookie-cutter couple.'‘Dad?' I tried to exit this fiasco with some decorum.‘You'll do fine son,' he responded. That wasn't helpful.‘I'll see you Monday morning, Victor,' Brandy snidely mocked me before leaving. I turned to follow her thunderous retreat.Running after her would have felt pathetic so my sedate pursuit meant she put some distance between us. She ran right into Mom, who grabbed her arm.‘I'm warning you right now,' Mom hissed. ‘Don't have sex with any of my sons.'‘That won't be a problem,' Brandy snorted. I was filth in her mind

On today's Bible Answer Man broadcast (12/26/24), Hank answers the following questions:Genesis tells of Adam living over 900 years old whereas today 100 years would be a long life. Does the Bible address this change in lifespan? Jim - Jackson, TN (0:45)How can I know whether a preacher is teaching truth? Christopher - Fort Campbell, KY (4:20)Why are there no angels today who are rebelling against God like those who rebelled with Satan? LeeAnn - Fayetteville, NC (7:02)I've heard you say that Judas performed miracles and cast out demons, but I can't in Scripture where he did these things Genova - St. Louis, MO (15:13)How is it possible that Saul could conjure up Samuel's spirit? Frank - Farmington, NM (19:12)The Bible says a thousand years on Earth is like a day in heaven, does that mean that in our time the Earth was created in 6,000 years? Frank - Farmington, NM (21:52)My wife is reading a book about pleading the blood of Jesus for protection and healing. Is this teaching biblical? Larry - Hudsonville, MI (23:51)

The Denver Broncos missed out on their chance to make it to the postseason with a loss on Thursday night. With the playoffs still in reach, is it time to panic? Kelly and Ty are joined by Mike Carmellini (@Mike_Carmellini) to recap the Broncos loss to the Los Angeles Chargers, give their games of the week, and preview the Broncos upcoming game against the Cincinnati Bengals. Mike also gives a rundown on his upcoming show Mike'D Up and the trio give their unpopular Christmas/Holiday opinions.Follow us on Twitter!Kelly: @ilovetalibTy: @tyflyguy15Podcast: @in_com_plete_2E-mail: in_com_plete@outlook.com

“I think my hope is that by this time next year, we would have survived this. … The hope is to survive. … It's really hard to think beyond that.” “We need to repent from apathy. We need to fight this normalization of a genocide.” —Rev. Dr. Munther Issac, from the episode In the long history of conflict in the Middle East, both Jews and Palestinians have felt and continue to feel the existential threat of genocide. There remains so much to be spoken and heard about the experience of each side of this conflict. Today we're exploring a Palestinian perspective. Ministering in present-day Bethlehem, pastor, theologian, author, and advocate Rev. Dr. Munther Isaac joins Mark Labberton to reflect on the state of the conflict between Israel and Palestine, now a year following Isaac's bracing and sobering Christmas sermon, which was graphically represented in a sculptural manger scene of “Christ in the Rubble”—a crèche depicting the newborn Jesus amid the debris of Palestinian concrete, wood, and rebar. Together they discuss the experience, emotions, and response of Palestinians after fourteen months of war; the Christian responsibility to speak against injustice of all kinds as an act of faith; the contours of loving God, loving neighbours, and loving enemies in the Sermon on the Mount; what theology can bring comfort in the midst of suffering; just war theory versus the justice of God; the hope for survival; and the Advent hope that emerges from darkness. A Message from Mark Labberton Since October 7 of 2023, the world has been gripped by the affairs that have been unfolding in the Middle East between Israel and Palestine. And the world is eager, anxious, fearful, angry, and divided over these affairs. All of this is extremely complicated. And yet, as a friend said to me once about apartheid (I'm paraphrasing): It's not just that it's complicated (which it is), it's actually also very simple: that we refuse to live as Christian people. By that, he was not trying to form any sort of reductionism. He was simply trying to say, Are we willing to live our faith? Are we willing to live out the identity of the people of God in the context of places of great division and violence and evil? The Middle East is fraught historically with these debates, and certainly since the of the nation-state of Israel in 1947, there has been this ongoing anguish and understandable existential crisis that Jews have experienced both inside Israel and around the world because of the ongoing anti-Semitic hatred that seems to exist in so many places and over such a long, long period of time. Today we have the privilege of hearing from one of the most outstanding Christian voices, a Palestinian Christian pastor, Rev. Dr. Munther Isaac, who is the pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem. He is also academic dean of the Bethlehem Bible College and a director of the highly acclaimed and influential conference called Christ at the Checkpoint. Munther in this last year has been the voice of Christian pleading. Pleading for an end to the war, pleading for the end to violence, pleading for the end to all of the militarism that has decimated parts of Israel, but also, and even more profoundly, the decimation that has leveled approximately 70 percent of all Palestinian homes in Gaza. This kind of devastation, the loss of forty-five thousand lives and more in Palestine, has riveted the world's attention. And Munther has been a person who has consistently spoken out in places all around the United States and in various parts of the world, trying to call for an end to the war and for a practice of Christian identity that would seek to love our neighbours, as Jesus taught us in the Sermon on the Mount, including sometimes also loving our enemies. The reason for the interview with Munther today is because of the one-year anniversary of Something that occurred in their church in Bethlehem, a crèche with a small baby lying in the Palestinian rubble. Seeing and understanding and looking at Christmas through the lens of that great collision between the bringer of peace, Jesus Christ, and the reality of war. In the meantime, we have a great chance to welcome a brother in Christ ministering with many suffering people in the Middle East, Jew and Gentile, and certainly Palestinian Christians. About Munther Isaac Rev. Dr. Munther Isaac is a Palestinian Christian pastor and theologian. He now pastors the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem and the Lutheran Church in Beit Sahour. He is also the academic dean of Bethlehem Bible College, and is the director of the highly acclaimed and influential Christ at the Checkpoint conferences. Munther is passionate about issues related to Palestinian theology. He speaks locally and internationally and has published numerous articles on issues related to the theology of the land, Palestinian Christians and Palestinian theology, holistic mission, and reconciliation. His latest book, Christ in the Rubble: Faith, the Bible, and the Genocide in Gaza (get your copy via Amazon or Eerdmans), will appear in March 2025. He is also the author of The Other Side of the Wall, From Land to Lands, from Eden to the Renewed Earth, An Introduction to Palestinian Theology (in Arabic), a commentary on the book of Daniel (in Arabic), and more recently he has published a book on women's ordination in the church, also in Arabic. He is involved in many reconciliation and interfaith forums. He is also a Kairos Palestine board member. Munther originally studied civil engineering in Birzeit University in Palestine. He then obtained a master in biblical studies from Westminster Theological Seminary and then a PhD from the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies. Munther is married to Rudaina, an architect, and together they have two boys: Karam and Zaid. Follow him on X @muntherisaac. Show Notes The complexity of conflict in Palestine, Israel, and the Middle East “It's very simple: We refuse to live as Christian people.” Get your copy of Christ in the Rubble: Faith, the Bible, and the Genocide in Gaza via Amazon or Eerdmans “Christ in the Rubble”—the one-year anniversary Munther Isaac's Christmas sermon, “Christ Under the Rubble” Video A Letter from all churches in Bethlehem: “No war” “ I can't believe how used we got to the idea of children being killed.” “We need to repent from apathy. We need to fight this normalization of a genocide that's taking place in front of the whole world to see.” Fourteen months of non-stop bombing “We're still feeling the anger.” ”We're still feeling the pain. We're still feeling the anger. And in a strange way, even more fearful of what is to come, given that it seems that to the world, Palestinians are less human.” “We couldn't go to church as normal.” “ It's our calling to continue as people of faith. To call for a change, and to call for things to be different in our world, even to call for accountability. And of course, I feel that my message should be first to the church, because I'm a Christian minister.  I don't like to lecture other religions about how they should respond. And I feel that the church could have done more.” Freedom to speak out: “You can't say these things in public.” Anti-Semitism and hatred toward Jews “ This kind of hatred and prejudice toward the Jews, which led to the horrors of the Holocaust, to me, it stems from the idea of ‘we're superior, we're better, we're entitled,' and blaming someone else. It comes from a position of righteousness and lack of humility. And certainly Jews have always been the victim of such hatred and blame.” “ At the same time, we as Palestinians cannot but wonder why is it us that we're paying the price for what happened on someone else's land? We're paying the price.” Loving God, loving neighbours, and loving enemies Jesus's politically charged environment Violence, just wWar theory, and “the justice of God” Using children as human shields for militants “ We cannot again bypass what Jesus was challenging us to do, even if it's not easy at all. It was Jesus who confirmed that loving God and loving neighbour summarizes everything. It wasn't like I came up with this novel thing, but I think we somehow found other ways to define what it means to be a Christian.” “What theology would bring comfort?” Matthew 25, judgment, and ministering to Jesus through “the least of these” “ ‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake.' So he's clearly talking about victims of unjust structures, those who are thirsty for justice, those who are hungry.” Hopes for peace “I'm going to be very real, Mark. I think my hope is that by this time next year, we would have survived this.” “They estimate that 70 percent of the homes of two million people are destroyed.” Violence and destruction connected to a biblical argument about the legitimacy of Palestinian genocide The vulnerability of Israel and the vulnerability of Palestine “ And it's important to say these things. Because if we don't say them, then we … leave the task of imagination to those who are radical—to the extremists and exclusivists.” Munther Isaac's thoughts on the Zionist movement Advent reflections on the darkness at the centre, from which hope and life might emerge Production Credits Conversing is produced and distributed in partnership with Comment magazine and Fuller Seminary.

Second from our speaker.

In this episode, we look at finding silence amidst the noise of Christmas!

Judges 8:4-28 Following the awesome victory that God gave into the hands of Gideon His servant – 135,000 Midianites lay dead.  Not content with this victory over the host, Midian pursued the 15,000 that remained and slew them dead.  The two Midianite kings, Zebah and Zalmunna, were the last two enemies to be destroyed. This sermon is a plea from God for the same zeal to be enacted on behalf of His people toward sin.  We must deal thoroughly and decisively with sin in our lives until every last Midianite is slain.  Let us heed the command of God and go up to the fight in the grace and power of the Holy Spirit.  

THE ART OF ADVENT - Pleading Psalm 130 Greg Davis | December 1, 2024

Angelina Jolie has apparently cut hated Brad Pitt off from their kids, and sources said the actor is now so desperate that he's ready to beg his ex to let him see their children, RadarOnline.com can reveal! "With the holidays coming, he's feeling the heartbreak even more and he's now saying he's willing to do whatever it takes to get some time with them even if it means swallowing his pride and asking Angelina to show some mercy." As RadarOnline.com has reported, the 60-year-old Fight Club star's relationship with Maddox, 23; Pax, 20; Zahara, 19; Shiloh, 18; and 16-year-old twins Vivienne and Knox is in the toilet while his legal wrangling with their famous mom continues to rage.Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In this episode, we perceive sparks fly in a domestic quarrel, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Kalithogai 89, penned by Maruthan Ilanaakanaar. The verse is situated in the ‘Marutham' or ‘Farmlands landscape' and relates a heated exchange between a couple.

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the deep the low the pleading tone with which I sang another's love - #3966 by chair house 241023.mp3the deep the low the pleading tone with which I sang another's love■ピアノ万葉集の新しいセレクションアルバム「月の光の森」をリリースしました。またまた傑作の予感です。世界中のどこにも存在しないピアノ曲集です。あ..

Step into the rich and vibrant garden of Puritan wisdom with Charles Spurgeon, one of the most beloved preachers and authors in recent Christian history. In Flowers from a Puritan's Garden, Spurgeon prayerfully selects and expands upon the profound insights and analogies gleaned from Thomas Manton's sermons. Each “flower” in this garden is a spiritual truth, lovingly cultivated and presented with Spurgeon's signature warmth, wit, and pastoral care. Whether you are a long-time admirer of Puritan writings or new to their influence, Flowers from a Puritan's Garden offers a refreshing and spiritually nourishing read. Perfect for daily devotions, personal study, or as a gift to those seeking encouragement in their Christian journey, this book will help readers to see the beauty of God's truth as it applies to our lives. Discover the timeless beauty of following Christ through the eyes of one of history's greatest preachers, and allow the truths in these pages to blossom in your heart. About the Author Charles Haddon (C. H.) Spurgeon (1834-1892) was a British Baptist preacher. He started preaching at age 16 and quickly became famous. He is still known as the “Prince of Preachers” and frequently had more than 10,000 people present to hear him preach at the Metropolitan Tabernacle in London. His sermons were printed in newspapers, translated into many languages, and published in many books.

Today - On Monday morning in Phoenix, Peggy Judd was placed on probation after pleading guilty in a Maricopa County courtroom. The charges were related to her actions during the 2022 General Election.Support the show: https://www.myheraldreview.com/site/forms/subscription_services/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode, we listen to an animated conversation between two women, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Kalithogai 60, penned by Kabilar. The verse is situated in the ‘Kurinji' or ‘Mountains landscape' and presents a situation where the confidante pleads the man's case in the court of the lady's mind!

Hosts: Shane, Tanis, Pyrnassius, and Xurdones Harvest Hollow, RuneScape’s new Halloween hub arrives for the first time. It brings skilling, cheap Prayer training, the maize maze, and boss pet overrides. This event learns from past events and we discuss engagement and whether it hits the spot. For detailed show notes visit update.rsbandb.com. You can also check out the forums for detailed discussion on each episode.Duration: 1:34:28

Responding to questions from listeners about whether Christians must plead guilty if having committed a crime, is a Christian obligated to obey all traffic laws, and what's with that scene between Jesus and John the Baptist in "The Chosen"? Visit wwutt.com for all our videos!

Mamta Kafle Bhatt, 28, was reported missing by her husband, Naresh Bhatt, on August 5th, 2024, although she had already been missing for several days. Following a series of unusual events and substantial evidence, Naresh was arrested for concealing a body. However, Mamta remains unlocated. The Police Department is requesting anyone who had contact with or spoke to Naresh Bhatt between July 28th, 2024 – August 5th, 2024, to please contact the Manassas Park Police Department, 703-361-1136   Watch the Youtube version (Sources in the Description) https://youtu.be/lPG6cRTsoNk   Check out my website and submit cases www.danellehallantc.com   Follow my socials! facebook.com/danellehallan Instagram.com/danellehallanyt https://www.tiktok.com/@danellehallan   HURRICANE RELIEF None of the organizations I mentioned work with YouTube fundraising, so here are the links if you are able to donate or volunteer. UNITED CAJUN NAVY https://unitedcajunnavy.org SAMARITANS PURSE https://www.samaritanspurse.org

Wednesday – 09/15/2024 – Pleading Our Case

Big Up To Rappers Preventing Crime Rappers have gone from telling stories about crimes to actively preventing them. Listen to hear about a new side quest The Game has gone on Let Down Goes To Patti Labelle Having To Perform In The Blistering Heat Patti LaBelle performed at a conference on a day with a high of 103 degrees and had to cry out for water during her performanceSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.