Wednesday, 25 May 2016

It's Going to be Entertaining

When Our Leaders Spend Too Much Time in Latrines

The more one thinks about trans-genderism the more it becomes a hoot.  Now we know that it's not polite to laugh at pagans and what they get up to.  Well, not polite in a PC kind of way.

Our defence for laughing and mocking the pagans is that such holy levity occurs in Scripture.  Take, for example, Elijah's divinely inspired hooting at the priests of Baal as they tried their darndest to get their idol to hear them and do something.  You remember what went down.

The challenge God, through His prophet, put to the people gathered on Mount Carmel was simple enough: if Baal was truly god, then follow him, but if Yahweh was God, then bow before Him.  It's time, said Elijah, to stop betting the field and backing both.  It's one or the other.

So, Elijah gave them a contest.  Let two massive sacrifices be prepared on two altars.  Then we will have a contest to authenticate who is truly divine: Yahweh or Baal.  We will see which deity answers by fire out of heaven and burns up the sacrifice.  The devotees of Baal were up for it.
Then Elijah said to the prophets of Baal, “Choose for yourselves one bull and prepare it first, for you are many, and call upon the name of your god, but put no fire to it.” And they took the bull that was given them, and they prepared it and called upon the name of Baal from morning until noon, saying, “O Baal, answer us!” But there was no voice, and no one answered. And they limped round the altar that they had made.  [I Kings 18: 25,26]
Elijah (whose name incidentally means, "Yahweh is my God") engaged in some holy mockery:

And at noon Elijah mocked them, saying, “Cry aloud, for he is a god. Either he is musing, or he is relieving himself, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.” And they cried aloud and cut themselves after their custom with swords and lances, until the blood gushed out upon them. And as midday passed, they raved on until the time of the offering of the oblation, but there was no voice. No one answered; no one paid attention.  [I Kings 18: 27]
The abiding challenge to our culture is, "Stop limping between two opinions".  If God is the Lord, follow Him.  But if Man is divine, follow him.  Mockery of the Man-is-god school by Christian warriors is an apt and holy response.  Here is an example.  Trans-genderism is going to provide heaps of opportunities for mockery and parody.  Bear in mind that the dancing, self-cutting prophets of this new order are no longer whackos at the back of the sanatorium, they are our up front lords and masters--Obama, Clinton, Merkel, Trumpo, and their ilk.

So here's where they have got to: gender is not biological, it is not genetic.  Rather, it is what is contained between your two ears.  Gender is a function of what you think you are.  Gender is a matter of one's own identity.  Everyone has a nouveau human right to one's own identity.  Narcissism on steroids.  No, this is not a logical consequence to a bunch of rotten premises on our part. This is not a reductio ad absurdum on the part of far-seeing Christians.  Rather it is what our lords and masters are now actually declaring to be the case.  And not content with just prophetically pronouncing to the watching world, they are insisting that it be reflected by law in all human activity and experience, including--particularly including--when it comes to our most private activities--urinating and defecating.

This is an ignominious overreach--just like the prophets of Baal when they got sucked into a competition with Yahweh.  Unbelief has snookered itself. Given enough rope it always hangs itself. Today we identify as male.  Next week we identify as female.  Our lords and masters have provided no tests of genuineness (such as constancy of one's gender identity, which, would be a contradiction in terms).  Nor could they, for they have already cut away that ground from under their own feet.  Gender is purely what one identifies (thinks oneself) to be.  If someone identifies as a transgenderist, with the peculiarity of changing gender daily, so be it.

When Baal didn't answer, Elijah mocked his prophets telling them to try harder.  So, we join in mocking all the trans-genderists amongst us, along with their political and public advocates, challenging them to try harder.  If one's gender identity is whatever one thinks oneself to be, then prove it.  Prove it by changing your mind about your gender as often as you change your socks.  Prove it by exploring other self-identifying beingness--cows, ants, dragons.  Come on--get serious.  Dance a bit harder and cut yourselves a bit more.  If Baal is god, serve him!  Whole hog.  No limping between two opinions.

New Zealand's national identity is tied up with our world champion rugby team, the All Blacks.  Selection for that team must now be open to persons of each and every gender.  Any female who identifies as male today or tomorrow should be eligible.  And the reverse, of course.  Any male who identifies as female in his cute little head should be eligible for our national women's rugby team.  And then there are those glorious Olympic medals that pagans like to salivate over and kiss reverently.  New Zealand has a world and Olympic shot put champion--a female, Val Adams, who has competed against females, except one Belorussian chick who went on steroids, and thumped our local champion.  Eventually, however, she was exposed and stripped of her medal.  It was returned to Val, who had been cheated.  No longer.

Any and every male shot putter can now enter the female competition by throwing down the transgender card.  Bad luck, Val.  You believe in human rights don't you?  You believe that people have a state-enforced right to be whatever they want to be, and to hold whatever identity they choose, don't you?.  Man up, Val--both metaphorically and in a trans-genderist way.

Every politician now dancing around, celebrating the trans-genderist cause, should be asked repeatedly and publicly whether they stand for such things--which of course they must, or be hooted off stage.  The possibilities of reductio ad absurdum are legion.  It's going to be a fun time.

Holy mockery is the order of the day.

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