Let us draw near to the fire of martyred Lawrence, that our cold hearts may be warmed thereby. The merciless tyrant, understanding him to be not only a minister of the sacraments, but a distributor also of the Church riches, promised to himself a double prey, by the apprehension of one soul. First, with the rake of avarice to scrape to himself the treasure of poor Christians; then with the fiery fork of tyranny, so to toss and turmoil them, that they should wax weary of their profession. With furious face and cruel countenance, the greedy wolf demanded where this Lawrence had bestowed the substance of the Church: who, craving three days' respite, promised to declare where the treasure might be had.
In the meantime, he caused a good number of poor Christians to be congregated. So, when the day of his answer was come, the persecutor strictly charged him to stand to his promise. Then valiant Lawrence, stretching out his arms over the poor, said:
"These are the precious treasure of the Church; these are the treasure indeed, in whom the faith of Christ reigneth, in whom Jesus Christ hath His mansion-place. What more precious jewels can Christ have, than those in whom He hath promised to dwell? For so it is written, 'I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.' And again, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' What greater riches can Christ our Master possess, than the poor people in whom He loveth to be seen?"
"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."
JW: I don't think...since I'm still drinking and he's in rehab figuring things out right now...that I'd be the best person for him to hang out with. Ya know?...
Worthiness versus Unworthiness.
And what is it a matter of purely? Repentance, blood and a short walk.
"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field."
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it."
Our Father is that 'man.' He is that merchant.
Jesus told him, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow Me.” When the young man heard this, he went away in sorrow, because he had great wealth.…
All he had.
Everything he had.
His possessions...given to the poor.
Purchases. Redemptions. Deeds. Great wealth. Coming for sinners & guess who's coming for dinner? The last penny.
Sorrow.
We have nothing in this world comparable to what God has stored up for us in heaven.
Nothing of value.
Not one thing you can take with you.
Changes of heart. Faith. Hope in Salvation. Love...A Brother we're blessed to have never beheld with our eyes, the eyes that might cause us to sin. Shared spirit. Blood across generations. Water that flows continuously from a well that will never run dry.
“Therefore every teacher of the law who has become a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old.”
Those who understand that the New Testament is in the Old Testament concealed and the Old Testament is in the New Testament revealed understand what this means.
It took me forever to understand this utterance. Such a simple sentence. It connects everything together.
Widows & Orphans we are charged with the care of.
Widows like Israel, the adulteress woman unfaithful to God, who has therefore brought into his fold the Gentiles...the orphans without a Father until the departure of Christ from this planet.
"Mass is a plain denial of the death and passion
of Christ."
"Mass was useless and absurd."
John Clark set up a bill on the church door, wherein he called the pope Antichrist. For this offence he was repeatedly whipped, and then branded on the forehead. Going afterward to Mentz, in Lorraine, he demolished some images, for which he had his right hand and nose cut off, and his arms and breast torn with pincers. He sustained these cruelties with amazing fortitude, and was even sufficiently cool to sing the One hundredth and fifteenth Psalm, which expressly forbids idolatry.
When you speak truth it incenses the wolves in the building churches to the point where they take your life with such rage...and yet...
If they martyr you they ensure your Salvation. If they torture you they make your clothing in heaven white as snow for in your suffering you are like Him. If they have mercy on you and convert themselves they offer themselves up to Salvation.
There is no wrong turn when He leads the way in your life.
"Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
The Last Fight of the Gladiators:
After this fortunate victory over the Goths a "triumph," as it was called, was celebrated at Rome. For
hundreds of years successful generals had been awarded this great honor on their return from a victorious
campaign. Upon such occasions the city was given up for days to the marching of troops laden with spoils,
and who dragged after them prisoners of war, among whom were often captive kings and conquered
generals. This was to be the last Roman triumph, for it celebrated the last Roman victory. Although it had
been won by Stilicho, the general, it was the boy emperor, Honorius, who took the credit, entering Rome in
the car of victory, and driving to the Capitol amid the shouts of the populace. Afterward, as was customary
on such occasions, there were bloody combats in the Colosseum, where gladiators, armed with swords and
spears, fought as furiously as if they were on the field of battle.
The first part of the bloody entertainment was finished; the bodies of the dead were dragged off with hooks,
and the reddened sand covered with a fresh, clean layer. After this had been done the gates in the wall of the
arena were thrown open, and a number of tall, well-formed men in the prime of youth and strength came
forward. Some carried swords, others three-pronged spears and nets. They marched once around the walls,
and stopping before the emperor, held up their weapons at arm's length, and with one voice sounded out their
greeting, Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant! "Hail, Caesar, those about to die salute thee!"
The combats now began again; the glatiators with nets tried to entangle those with swords, and when they
succeeded mercilessly stabbed their antagonists to death with the three-pronged spear. When a glatiator had
wounded his adversary, and had him lying helpless at his feet, he looked up at the eager faces of the
spectators, and cried out, Hoc habet! "He has it!" and awaited the pleasure of the audience to kill or spare.
If the spectators held out their hands toward him, with thumbs upward, the defeated man was taken away, to
recover if possible from his wounds. But if the fatal signal of "thumbs down" was given, the conquered was
to be slain; and if he showed any reluctance to present his neck for the death blow, there was a scornful shout
from the galleries, Recipe ferrum! "Receive the steel!" Privileged persons among the audience would even
descend into the arena, to better witness the death agonies of some unusually brave victim, before his corpse
was dragged out at the death gate.
The show went on; many had been slain, and the people, madly excited by the desperate bravery of those
who continued to fight, shouted their applause. But suddenly there was an interruption. A rudely clad, robed
figure appeared for a moment among the audience, and then boldly leaped down into the arena. He was seen
to be a man of rough but imposing presence, bareheaded and with sun-browned face. Without hesitating an
instant he advanced upon two gladiators engaged in a life-and-death struggle, and laying his hand upon one
of them sternly reproved him for shedding innocent blood, and then, turning toward the thousands of angry
faces ranged around him, called upon them in a solemn, deep-toned voice which resounded through the deep
inclosure. These were his words: "Do not requite God's mercy in turning away the swords of your enemies
by murdering each other!"
Angry shouts and cries at once drowned his voice: "This is no place for preaching!--the old customs of Rome
must be observed!--On, gladiators!" Thrusting aside the stranger, the gladiators would have again attacked
each other, but the man stood between, holding them apart, and trying in vain to be heard. "Sedition!
sedition! down with him!" was then the cry; and the gladiators, enraged at the interference of an outsider
with their chosen vocation, at once stabbed him to death. Stones, or whatever missiles came to hand, also
rained down upon him from the furious people, and thus he perished, in the midst of the arena.
His dress showed him to be one of the hermits who vowed themselves to a holy life of prayer and self-denial,
and who were reverenced by even the thoughtless and combat-loving Romans. The few who knew him told
how he had come from the wilds of Asia on a pilgrimage, to visit the churches and keep his Christmas at
Rome; they knew he was a holy man, and that his name was Telemachus-no more. His spirit had been stirred
by the sight of thousands flocking to see men slaughter one another, and in his simple-hearted zeal he had
tried to convince them of the cruelty and wickedness of their conduct. He had died, but not in vain. His work
was accomplished at the moment he was struck down, for the shock of such a death before their eyes turned
the hearts of the people: they saw the hideous aspects of the favorite vice to which they had blindly
surrendered themselves; and from the day Telemachus fell dead in the Colosseum, no other fight of
gladiators was ever held there.
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