For they that are such serve not our Lord Jesus Christ, but their own belly
Who: mintroyalcowboy and 13th_crusader open to anyone in/near the Church.
Where: St. Peter's Church
When: Late evening to Midnight after Youma!Pip's run-in with Jan.
Rating: PG-13 (for Pious Godphile of the 13th Order)
Summary: Seeking refuge after filling his belly, the beguiling french beast takes sanctuary in the Church, only to find a Godly dessert awaiting him.
the log:
Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things to you, to me indeed is not grievous, but for you it is safe.
Beware of dogs, beware of evil workers, beware of the concision. For we are the circumcision, which worship God in the spirit, and rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh---Though I myself have reasons for such confidence.
The Epistle of Paul to the Philippians read in the undertone of the lone Archbishop at the podium. Another Mass without an attendance, yet he had come to do this just to have something of habit-forming in his time here, besides scouring for food and saving his own neck from certain peril.
His cherubic voice carried by the sheer resounding nature of the holy building, where whispers from the front or back could be carried to the ear. It was a place built with assurance that God's voice would be heard, no matter how small or grand it may be.
Maxwell brushed a hand through his gold-threaded hair before he trailed his delicate fingertips lovingly across the ancient parchment paper and recited like the very song of the saints.
Brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample. For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things.
For our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ: Who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly vile bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.
A heavy sigh burdened his fragile shoulders, the cold of the Holy Sanctum bringing forth a chill upon him. It was late now, wasn't it? Oh how time felt so meaningless here. Yet time in itself, was meaningless to the Most High. Shutting the large scribes, the sound echoed across the pews. And about to turn in for the night, he simply.. rested his arms upon the hard-back cover, and stared into the auditorium... Just allowing himself to imagine his men and women there filling those empty seats of righteousness.
Where: St. Peter's Church
When: Late evening to Midnight after Youma!Pip's run-in with Jan.
Rating: PG-13 (for Pious Godphile of the 13th Order)
Summary: Seeking refuge after filling his belly, the beguiling french beast takes sanctuary in the Church, only to find a Godly dessert awaiting him.
the log:
Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things to you, to me indeed is not grievous, but for you it is safe.
Beware of dogs, beware of evil workers, beware of the concision. For we are the circumcision, which worship God in the spirit, and rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh---Though I myself have reasons for such confidence.
The Epistle of Paul to the Philippians read in the undertone of the lone Archbishop at the podium. Another Mass without an attendance, yet he had come to do this just to have something of habit-forming in his time here, besides scouring for food and saving his own neck from certain peril.
His cherubic voice carried by the sheer resounding nature of the holy building, where whispers from the front or back could be carried to the ear. It was a place built with assurance that God's voice would be heard, no matter how small or grand it may be.
Maxwell brushed a hand through his gold-threaded hair before he trailed his delicate fingertips lovingly across the ancient parchment paper and recited like the very song of the saints.
Brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample. For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things.
For our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ: Who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly vile bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.
A heavy sigh burdened his fragile shoulders, the cold of the Holy Sanctum bringing forth a chill upon him. It was late now, wasn't it? Oh how time felt so meaningless here. Yet time in itself, was meaningless to the Most High. Shutting the large scribes, the sound echoed across the pews. And about to turn in for the night, he simply.. rested his arms upon the hard-back cover, and stared into the auditorium... Just allowing himself to imagine his men and women there filling those empty seats of righteousness.