Black Fridays Don’t Matter

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The Mayflower was not the first English ship to reach America.

The Pilgrims were Calvinists (Puritans). Not all on board the Mayflower were Puritans.

More than half of the settlers died the first winter in Massachusetts.

The Indians of Massachusetts were barely present, following a plague of European origin.

Samoset was the first indigenous person to greet the pilgrims in March of 1621.

He greeted them in English which he had learned from traders off the Maine coast.

 Samoset returned with Squanto (Tisquantum) 6 days later.

Squanto had lived in Spain and England before he met the Pilgrims.

He spoke fluent English, which he had learned in London in the early 1600’s.

He was not living with his birth-tribe (the Pawtuxet) when he met the Puritans.

He was a Christian, having received the Gospel while in Europe.

Squanto said he wanted to go to the heaven of the Puritans when he died.

They ate more venison at the harvest feast than turkey.

They also ate fish.

Go check primary sources

Times have changed
And we’ve often rewound the clock
Since the Puritans got a shock
When they landed on Plymouth Rock.
But today; any shock they should try to stem
‘Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock,
Plymouth Rock would land on them…

Tulips for the Fire

TULIPfire

God arose and wrung His hands.
“Those Calvinists have got it wrong;
my will is shackled by human sin
and their chains are far too strong.

I gave them all free will—it’s true…
some choose to scorn my sacred Word.
I guess I don’t know what to do;
their human plans are undeterred

while my designs are all aborted;
no more need for intake lists.
My plans made void, my Truth distorted
by crypto-hyper-Calvinists . . .”

Distressed by celestial impotence
His angels wept and veiled their faces;
for there is nothing God can do
when man His perfect plan effaces.

The Lord continued, in His sorrow
acknowledging ineptitude:
“I’m guilty and my outlook’s narrow
in other words: I’m screwed . . .

Man is king—while I, poor servant,
exist to bless his mortal dreams.
Genie of the Bible bottle,
I facilitate their schemes.”

God sighed. “Oh that my wisdom could
redeem the lost, and punish sin
but I’m unable to get through.
(Besides, I’m semi-Pelagian.)

Humankind can vote me out,
fashion me anew from clay.
I will evolve to suit their fancy
growing with them day by day.

I want to help them— but it’s hard.
I just can’t do predestination.
Mortals twist my righteous plans
into abomination.

I’m no rigid righteous Sovereign—
don’t believe that Puritan hype.
I’m your life coach, here to offer
motivational tripe.

I’d love to finish what I started
but humankind won’t acquiesce.
First I need to ask permission
so our plans might coalesce.

Calvinism misinterprets
My essential need to please;
(sinful self-important twerplets—
ignorant of my unease…)

Tulip-breeding Dutch reformers
Sottish lairds and heretics
Presbyterian misnomers
reading the Bible for kicks

will never comprehend my purpose.
I am sworn to placate Man!
Offering my selfless service,
I’m doing the best that I can!

So burn a candle, say a prayer.
Let me prosper, help and bless you.
Intervene? I’d never dare.
I’m mainly here to confess to.”

Tulips for the Fire

TULIPfire

God arose and wrung His hands.
“Those Calvinists have got it wrong;
my will is shackled by human sin
and their chains are far too strong.

I gave them all free will—it’s true…
some choose to scorn my sacred Word.
I guess I don’t know what to do;
their human plans are undeterred

while my designs are all aborted;
no more need for intake lists.
My plans made void, my Truth distorted
by crypto-hyper-Calvinists . . .”

Distressed by celestial impotence
His angels wept and veiled their faces;
for there is nothing God can do
when man His perfect plan effaces.

The Lord continued, in His sorrow
acknowledging ineptitude:
“I’m guilty and my outlook’s narrow
in other words: I’m screwed . . .

Man is king—while I, poor servant,
exist to bless his mortal dreams.
Genie of the Bible bottle,
I facilitate their schemes.”

God sighed. “Oh that my wisdom could
redeem the lost, and punish sin
but I’m unable to get through.
(Besides, I’m semi-Pelagian.)

Humankind can vote me out,
fashion me anew from clay.
I will evolve to suit their fancy
growing with them day by day.

I want to help them— but it’s hard.
I just can’t do predestination.
Mortals twist my righteous plans
into abomination.

I’m no rigid righteous Sovereign—
don’t believe that Puritan hype.
I’m your life coach, here to offer
motivational tripe.

I’d love to finish what I started
but humankind won’t acquiesce.
First I need to ask permission
so our plans might coalesce.

Calvinism misinterprets
My essential need to please;
(sinful self-important twerplets—
ignorant of my unease…)

Tulip-breeding Dutch reformers
Sottish lairds and heretics
Presbyterian misnomers
reading the Bible for kicks

will never comprehend my purpose.
I am sworn to placate Man!
Offering my selfless service,
I’m doing the best that I can!

So burn a candle, say a prayer.
Let me prosper, help and bless you.
Intervene? I’d never dare.
I’m mainly here to confess to.”

 

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