Hopelessness surrounds the peasants in Tomogi. Their daily practice of Christianity, much unlike ours in the modern western world, is both a crime and a death sentence. Along with this, their daily lives are filled with destitution, toil, and grime. Western Society cannot accurately depict the daily struggles of these men and women. We have in excess so much that we cannot give anything up. For people like Mokichi and Ichizo, faith was real. They volunteered to be hostages, and even under the pressure of torchure and temptation of escape they did not deny their faith. These Christians in Tomogi clinged to Jesus with everything they had. It completely blew my mind with the martyrdom of Mokichi and Ichizo, their resilience at the door of their deaths. Mokichi sung a hymn while strapped to a post in the midst of the sea "We're on our way to Paradise." The situation looked hopeless, but they knew how close they were to their reward.
It pains me to see this devotion. It convicts me to see I cannot make the same stand. I would crumble most certainly like KichijirÅ. The only thing that got these peasants through their days was their longing for heaven, the "Temple of Paradise." This is where all would be right. This is where relationship with the true Father would be made perfect. A catholic priest was no replacement for the true Father that these Christians trusted.
Western Christianity has a heresy like no other. We are being lulled to sleep. Our media and television desensitize us to coarse and filthy sins. Our familiarity with education makes us abhor school. We stand in front of a full closet and say that we have nothing to wear. We stand in front of a full fridge or pantry and exclaim that we have nothing to eat. We are thankful for nothing.
I am thankful for this proclamation in the previous chapter: Christ did not die for the good and beautiful . . . the hard thing is to die for the miserable and corrupt. Tomogi may have been destitute, an empty wasteland, filthy and putrid, but it was brimming with holy-ghost filled Christians. In America we may have clean and sanitary living conditions and food, excess of everything imaginable, latest technologies, instant access to information at all times, yet our hearts are miserable and wicked. When will our faith make us thankful? When will we forget our belongings and sell out to Christ? Why can't we find our ultimate satisfaction and Paradise in Christ? Surely then we would be "on our way to the Temple of Paradise."
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I commented on Becca's and Clabo's
It pains me to see this devotion. It convicts me to see I cannot make the same stand. I would crumble most certainly like KichijirÅ. The only thing that got these peasants through their days was their longing for heaven, the "Temple of Paradise." This is where all would be right. This is where relationship with the true Father would be made perfect. A catholic priest was no replacement for the true Father that these Christians trusted.
Western Christianity has a heresy like no other. We are being lulled to sleep. Our media and television desensitize us to coarse and filthy sins. Our familiarity with education makes us abhor school. We stand in front of a full closet and say that we have nothing to wear. We stand in front of a full fridge or pantry and exclaim that we have nothing to eat. We are thankful for nothing.
I am thankful for this proclamation in the previous chapter: Christ did not die for the good and beautiful . . . the hard thing is to die for the miserable and corrupt. Tomogi may have been destitute, an empty wasteland, filthy and putrid, but it was brimming with holy-ghost filled Christians. In America we may have clean and sanitary living conditions and food, excess of everything imaginable, latest technologies, instant access to information at all times, yet our hearts are miserable and wicked. When will our faith make us thankful? When will we forget our belongings and sell out to Christ? Why can't we find our ultimate satisfaction and Paradise in Christ? Surely then we would be "on our way to the Temple of Paradise."
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I commented on Becca's and Clabo's
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