![]() ![]() Her knees went weak for confidence so even though her friends said that she should "call it what it is,” she simply fell deeper in love and when he’d raise his fists and ask her just who in the hell she thinks that she is, she’d tell him it was all about Jesus, and submit. ![]() Call it the first among equals and crown out the diadem and if you love her slow enough you'll start to swallow your own press so somehow the neck is still to blame. Call it community and constantly second-guess them.Ĭall it the bride and make sure she gives you headship. Call it an unconscionably reasonable explanation.Ĭall it covenant and constantly call their commitment into question. Call it clearly, exegetically rooted in creation. Call it a misappropriation of their calling: calling command into consideration. Call it a calloused conscience that condescends your vocation. Call it whatever your spiritual gift of communication can call it to quantifiably convert converts into consumers – call it replication. Call it the second coming, call it consummation. We were a byproduct of the benefit of the doubt – compliments of the congregation consistently consenting itself to sit beneath the smallest, syncretistic decisions (rebranded as resurgence, sold as ecumenicism). Traditionalistically berating traditionalists who failed to exists beneath the solas - and another leg that simply felt like power against my jawbone. When I became the center of my gospel, I was tongue deep, rudder dead center, worshipping between one leg out in front of me – expository, annotating, complimentarian masturbating, tradition praising.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |