Repost: Amos and American [Wealthy] Christianity 

Originally posted on Patheos’ Marcus Borg here

I have been thinking a lot lately about what I wish every Christian knew. On my list: I wish all Christians, especially American Christians, knew the book of Amos.

My reasons are both personal and more than personal. Amos was responsible for one of the three major conversions in my life. Two were intellectual and religious: a conversion to the study of religion and an experiential conversion to the conviction that God is real. The third was political: from the conservative political orientation I absorbed while I was growing up to what I have learned from the Bible and Jesus.

Amos was the trigger. In my junior year in college in a political philosophy course, we spent a week on Amos. The encounter stunned me. Speaking in the name of God, he passionately indicted the powerful and wealthy of his time because they had created an economic system that privileged them and inflicted misery and suffering on most of the population.

Prior to that class, I had no idea that there was anything like this in the Bible. Yet I had grown up with the Bible and had memorized more verses than anybody I knew. But nobody had ever asked me to read Amos or any of the prophets. I knew of them primarily through isolated verses that we understood to be prophecies of the coming of Jesus. The prophets were “predictors” of events centuries in the future from their point in time. It had not occurred to me that Amos and the prophets in general might have had a message for their own time and place. Continue reading

An Open Letter to Lynn Beyak from a Privileged White Woman

Couldn’t have said it better. Beautifully written about a heinous topic. Thank you for voicing the words better than most of us ever could. I will share this to my blog so word is spread. Who knows… Might convince more white people to wake the f*** up!

No More Hate

Ms. Beyak,

What the hell are you thinking?  One white, non-residential school raised, woman of age and experience to another.  Seriously.  What the hell are you thinking?

This CBC news article crossed my feeds this morning.  For some time, I thought, I’ll just let aboriginal Canadians fill you in.  After all, the residential school experience is their story to tell.  Then I thought, oh no white lady who never had to go through residential school, you are mine.  You walk around in that skin, looking like me, reaping all the privilege that your powerful position and your colour lays upon your doorstep.  No.  You are mine.  Why should other people have to deal with you?

So, you want to “focus on the good” of the residential school experience.  You want people to look at the silver lining.  Some children received an education.  Some children learned valuable lessons about…

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SWTOR Fanfic: Decipher the SIS 1

Chapter 1: I Let You Leave… Why?


After Lana and Theron parted ways, Theron looked at Crimsèn and smiled bitterly. “What a ride, huh? If you’d told me when we met all the ups and downs we’d go through together, I’d have called you crazy,” he says and then says lightly, “Maybe I called you crazy anyway. I don’t remember anymore. Between all my family fun with Revan and the Grand Master, and then, well, you…”
Crimsèn cuts in and asked gently, “Care to finish that thought?”

Theron replied, “I won’t lie: You’ve been one of the two real bright spots in all of this.”

“Two,” Crimsèn asks, “What do you mean?”

Theron said sadly, “Well, look, there isn’t any easy way to say this, but… I mean, we both knew this would have to end eventually… The Republic exonerated me, so I’m back in the fold. And they gave me a new job A big one.”

Crimsèn replied then, “I guess I can see where this is leading…”

Theron nods. He says sadly, “Soon as we rejoin the fleet and make the jump to light-speed, that’s it. No more truce. You and I, we probably won’t exchange another word ever again.”

Crimsèn replies, “Who needs words,” before pulling Theron into his arms and kissing him in the darkness of Yavin IV’s jungles. Then… they simply parted ways.

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