Religion - Tumblr Posts
Intraibi Mundus ad Dei/The Book Of Job/Writing Thing No. 2
“Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him—”
“Did you not slaughter my family like lambs?
Have you not murdered my men like cattle?
My friends spoke in abstraction that you deem imperfect, but is this not further abstraction?
I am not to be the axle upon which this world spins, and yet this you have made so.
I am not a symbol,
I am not an argument,
I am not a justification,
I am a man. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Job beheld God, standing in the midst of the whirlwind. He stared blankly back.
“I’m God, jackass. My way or the highway.”
Elliot didn't look up at the woman, didn't move, didn't even seem to acknowledge her presence other than an answer. "I am thinking of Adam's human children. Cain, really. Is it bad that I feel a certain kinship with him?"
Hair in his eyes, down to his shoulders, brown as freshly tilled earth. As a freshly dug grave. How similar did the two look? One a child of God, the other the child of the first sin. Hundreds of thousands of years between them, and yet?
When Elliot accepted that he was treated more like an annoying younger sibling then an offspring by Adam, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel jealous. Was that sin? Feeling something out of your control, something that is not your fault, because of the actions of another?
A snippet of something I wrote in a character AI Hazbin Hotel chat. Of all things. I...
I love poetry but I'm horrible at writing it
Like, my stepdad plays the song "son of a sinner" by this dude called Jelly Roll. My little brother sings it every time. But every time he does, the way he tries to throw his voice down like a pre-T trans guy and mimic the singer's voice, when he tried to sing "I'm just a long-haired son of a sinner", every time he does it sounds like "son of a saint"
The themes are there. You understand them.
i get muslims cause if a dude showed up and started spreading the word of god id be like "ok, sure, another prophet", but then if he said "i am his son" then id be atleast a little weirded out too
I won't often reblog stuff like this but hot damn that's spicy. And I agree with all of it.
quiet, quiet
sanctuary
Doing the stations of the cross is weird because most of it isn’t in the Bible, it’s just a collection of short Jesus angst fics.
repression, and the guilt it causes when you're not with me - an annie x reader drabble
Feelings are easily ignored one would think, especially if the aggravator is locked away in a stone made of clear crystal. When you can see her but not touch her, talk to her but get no reply, overthinking sets in and guilt surrounding your relationship with Annie is embedded to to bone.
The stone floors all look the same. From room to room, the bumps and lines are all in the exact same place. Dents and crevasses paint a marble of patterns on the walls, almost identical to the room next to it, and the one opposite. Even if we move into a different room, they all look the same. The beaten, worn stone turns more battered the more you’re in the room. Like your mere presence is enough to make stone regret and cave into itself. Like your mere presence causes confident stone to pull away and retreat into dirt.
The guard that frequents this room pays attention to more than just her stone. She hears, she listens. Every word spoken is captured by the guard’s ear. She knows everything, she sees it too. Their watchful eyes burn into your back when you visit her. You can’t say more than simple ‘hellos’ and ‘I’ve been good’. Their sorrow glares and the glances full of regret and shame. Every movement shows what you really are. Every shift, every stance - it gives you away. Shows your true self to them and they can’t help but look away, filled with disgust. They ought to have you removed from her care.
All of the lingering feelings. All of the thoughts about her that never leave no matter how much you focus on other things. It all leads back to her. Your stupid Annie. So, you vowed to leave them in this room. You vowed to not think about her unless you were with her. You vowed to not smell her hair, to hear her laugh, to say her name. Unless you were with her.
Her lifeless expression seen under the stone never wavered. Her face never moved, not an inch. Her shoulders tense and her legs stiff. For even she knows what you are. You never hid it with her. Despite her mundane choice of words and her nonchalant attitude, the shame and guilt vanished in the moments you were with her. Those perpetual, repulsive thoughts seemingly disappeared when you were with her. She let you get it all out, “Repressing feelings is never a good thing”, she would say, to try and coax more feelings out of you. It’s ironic now. All that talk about being free and letting go, and she went and suppressed herself inside a stone. One that can’t be broken. At least she’s free from all of your guilt.
But the guilt and shame hunts you down. The knowledge of your moments together, all your hushed sighs and the rustled bed sheets, always found you. Like a poltergeist with a nasty attachment to you. It pushed doors open, the creaks reminding you of the bed bouncing. It opens windows and the wind blowing in howls like a subtle moan. You’ll never escape it.
And everyone knows. They see it clear as day. They whisper about you in the dining hall. They gossip and glare as you walk past, heading for the cold, dark room. Where else would you be? No other room holds your heart inside it. You follow the everlasting hallways to her room. The abstract patterns in the stone ways start to bend and form words. Even the walls know. They’ve seen everything. Every touch, every fuck, and every stare, even those not reciprocated. The words etched into the walls bore back at you. They scream, they holler, they shout. They’ve seen the guilt and heard every repressed thought of her. No act of reconciliation goes unnoticed. Every attempt to get her out of that god forsaken stone.
You come to the door, but it’s broken open, hinges barely holding onto the wall. The room sits empty, no guard to listen in on all your intimate and private moments with her. But where is she? Her stone lays shattered across the floor. The pieces scattered everywhere and the stone concrete floors are drenched in wet slime. The feeling disgusts you, it’s all too familiar for you to handle. Yet, she’s gone. But you mustn't think of where she could be. She isn’t with you anymore, so you cannot think of her. You vowed not to.
Down the hall, in yet another dull, gray room, shouts emerge and thuds vibrate the floor. You don’t bother to deal with that issue. You’re too preoccupied with the dilemma you face currently. For you are forever guilty without her. The room that encompassed your safety has vanished. Those repulsive thoughts flood back to you, clouding every corner of your mind. The shame can finally hunt you down and finish the job off. Footsteps come chasing towards you. They grow louder and louder as they inch closer. Finally, you’ll meet your end and be set free. A life without her is not one worth living. The walls spill out all of your secrets. The people gossip and whisper. The guilt grows louder.
Every inch of the building shakes. The walls, the floor, the door - everything. It rattles and rumbles. The walls finally start to crumble and break. The dirt seeps from the corners and the beams start to fall from the ceiling and crash onto the floor. You back out of the room. All your secrets being left in that room, setting you free. Freedom finds you, not guilt. The room has fallen and all your tainted vows fall with it. It’s all destroyed. You’re free to think. About her. About it all. Free to think about every touch, every fuck, and every reciprocated stare. And the smell of her hair, her laugh, and her name, Annie.
You hope, you dream that you get to be with her. To finally be free of the shackles you put yourself in. that room is no more and neither are your perpetual, repulsive thoughts. Simple eye contact is all you need. All the remnants of shame, guilt, and fear have since left you. You touch, you hold, you feel. She grabs you and you feel weightless. Her arms wrap around your neck and you two collapse to the floor. Her existence is enough to make you feel free.
Happy new years y'all, my resolution is to figure out wtf is going on with my religious identity crisis ♡♡♡ (and also post more)
The ony verse that i can remember from the top of my head is Revelation 22:13
finally! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
I've never seen Good Omens, which, in retrospect, seems extremely weird for me.
I already have a fascination with Abrahamic literature and film. Actually, I love all mythology, especially Greek. It's a special interest, I think. I have a hard time telling people I have a special interest in mythology because I'm an agnostic athiest and profoundly against religious institutions in practice. But as stories, they're brilliant tools for storytelling.
Do you like religion?
Yes.
Do you *like* religion?
No.
I also love the work I've seen from Neil Gaiman (which is admittedly not a lot), and I love the leads (Michael Sheen & David Tennant).
AND, I see that the neurodivergent community at large absolutely loves this show (and I presume the book as well), and I'm *the* neurodivergent. Neurodivergency wishes they were me.
So I'm thinking I should watch Good Omens.
Like it or not; those big, fancy oil paintings of Gods that you see in museums and places of worship are literally just fan art and no one will ever know which version is canon
Hello, Welcome to my Blog!
౨ৎ hello! my names nat and I’m 7teen.
౨ৎ grown men, homophobes, and racists pls dni
౨ৎ some artists I like are ethel cain, lana del rey, sky ferreira, melanie martinez, remy bond, billie eilish, blood orange, big thief, adrianne lenker, mediavolo, imogen heap, frou frou, bôa, mars argo, the neighborhood, jhené aiko, jeff buckley, the cardigans,kpop, etc.
my fave movies/ shows are: Jennifer’s Body, girl interrupted, young adults matter, I am Sam, bubble boy, Hilda Furacao, my id is gangnam beauty
other facts about me that I practice witchcraft, I like making edits, watching movies, and I’m an Aphrodite devotee.
My dad is a Christian but when at 8,after hearing the story of Isacc and Abraham, i asked if he would do something like that to me he said "No, I love you too much".What is God's love in front of your child?
A woman that dresses with modesty is a woman with value
How I feel when i’m wearing a cute modest outfit
<3
"Namazı dosdoğru kılın, zekâtı verin.
Kendiniz için her ne iyilik işlemiş olursanız,
Allah (c.c) katında onu bulursunuz.
Şüphesiz Allah (c.c) bütün yaptıklarınızı görür."
.
Bakara Suresi 110. Ayet
FURKAN SURESİ Mekke döneminde inmiştir. 68-70. âyetlerin Medine döneminde indiği konusunda bir rivayet de vardır. 77 âyettir. Sûre, adını ilk âyette geçen “elFurkân” kelimesinden almaktadır. Furkân, “hak ile batılı birbirinden ayıran”demek olup Kur’an’ın isimlerinden biridir. Sûre de temel konular olarak Hz.Peygamber’in tüm insanlığa gönderildiği, onun tebliğ sırasında karşılaştığı zorluklar ve şirkin kökünün kazınacağı, geçmiş ümmetlerin hayatlarından bazı örnekler de verilerek ele alınmaktadır.
Allah Teâlâ’nın yüceliğini, evrendeki hükümranlığının mutlaklığını vurgulayan ve O’nu ulûhiyyetine yakışmayan niteliklerden tenzih eden âyetlerle başlar; Kur’an’ın ilâhî kaynaklı ve Hz. Muhammed’in hak peygamber olduğu hususundaki kuşkuları reddeden açıklamalarla devam eder. Ortaya konan delillere rağmen bu gerçekleri inkâr edenlerin, inat ve inkârları yüzünden âhirette uğrayacakları âkıbet hakkında bilgi verilerek uyarılarda bulunulur. Özellikle Hz. Muhammed’in peygamberliğini inkâr edenlerin, onun beşerî sıfatlara sahip olduğunu ileri sürerek bu durumu kendisi için bir kusurmuş gibi değerlendirmeleri eleştirilir. Daha sonra Hz. Peygamber için bir teselli olması maksadıyla geçmiş peygamberlerin de bu tür düşmanca davranışlara mâruz kaldıklarına dair örnekler verilir. Allah’ın yaratıcılığı ve evren üzerindeki hükümranlığını konu alan âyetlerin ardından Allah’ın has kullarının iman, ibadet ve ahlâka dair güzel hasletlerinden örnekler verilir ve bunların âhirette elde edecekleri mutluluktan söz edilir.