miércoles, 3 de enero de 2018

Goteo de morfina católica (Michael Voris)

Duración 6:01 minutos


When Pope Francis said the Church is like a field hospital, it was an apology that liberals and dissidents in the Church ran wild with, using it as an excuse to say those rigid, hard teachings never had to be talked about. They're just a bunch of rules and doctrines that modern man has no real need for. The Church of Nice ran at breakneck speed to embrace the pope's mantra which it happily turned into a pile of nonsense about Holy Communion for all and gay sex for anyone.

What the Church of Nice has completely missed with the analogy is that hospitals are not for staying in. They are places you go to get better, not move into and pitch your tent. Getting better is hard work. My dad, for example, is in rehab right now after almost three weeks in the hospital fighting a bad case of pneumonia. Getting physically well is hard work. You've got to work at it — do all kinds of things you don't want to do. You've got to get poked and stuck and bothered at all hours and have blood sucked out of you and fresh blood pumped into you. You can't eat when you want to and have to eat when you don't want to. Things happen not at your speed but at the speed the staff is able to get to it. You need help doing the most basic private things and feel like your dignity is completely taken away. Such is the nature of getting better physically.

Likewise, spiritual healing is usually not a pleasant process. In fact, it's quite often downright difficult. You have to look in the mirror and realize who you really are down deep — a miserable sinner incapable of helping yourself who needs the Divine Physician to heal you. We all have a killer disease and without being in the hospital the diagnosis is death — period. And in that hospital, it's hard work, really hard work. Years of spiritual wounds and psychological scar tissue and pain of built-up resentments covered over with pustules of the infection of guilt always oozing with insufficient antibodies to ever be restored to full health.

Everyone without exception requires a stay in this hospital — some longer stays than others, some much more intense procedures to undergo, but no one gets better without a protracted stay in Catholic General. And here's the issue: The Church of Nice, with its overarching non-stop emphasis on your feelings, is staffed with incompetents and nincompoops who actually kill people in their wards. They don't get souls better. They stick them on a psychological-spiritual morphine drip, and it is a slow death where the hard work is never done because their sin is excused and deflected from, and excuses are made up until they become so anesthetized that they just accept their fate as the will of God — that God made them that way, and they are content. And "that way" means not just gay but also living in adultery or cohabiting or thinking that all religions are the same, and everyone goes to Heaven and adherence to the commandments is optional or passé. There is never the challenge offered to heal. There is never a diagnosis offered beyond "things are okay, God understands." And consequently, there is never any true spiritual healing, painful as it is, that occurs.

The reality of spiritual disease is never uncovered, never treated, and the infection remains, festering, preventing a true union with God, which is ironic since this is the same crowd that never shuts their mouths about "an encounter with Jesus." But they hold out a false encounter with a fake Jesus much like a quack doctor never cures anything. Their spiritual placebos make them numb and keep them dumb. And then when it's time to pull the sheet over their dead carcass, the hospital chaplain arrives on the scene for the funeral assuring all the loved ones that the dead person is in Heaven. These "practitioners" will one day get called into the CEO's office and be required to give an accounting for all the patients who died on their watch.

The morphine drip has got to get unplugged and people made to face the reality of their diagnosis.

Michael Voris


Duración 5:24 minutos