Archive | Essays RSS feed for this section

A few things about Camping’s #Rapture

21 May
Harold Camping in 2008

Image via Wikipedia

As I write it is May 21, 2011, about 11:40a.m. This time I have a really good reason to start the post this way. If you are reading this post that means that you either stayed and the #rapture didn’t take you, or maybe the #rapture only happened in Oakland, California, where Harold Camping‘s Family Radio is based on.

Oh.. hold on. I’m sorry. I just read that apparently, it is only supposed to happen at 6p.m. (in every country). I have been trying to get into Family Radio’s website, but I guess they’ve had an early #rapture experience. Nonetheless, 6p.m. has come and gone in the Pacific nations, and nothing has occurred. What then can we conclude about all this havoc?

Well let us return to Matthew 24:36

No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father

I think Jesus made it very clear that no one, not even Him, would know the day when He would return. If not even Jesus, who is God‘s son, knows the day, why then would Harold Camping, a self-proclaimed Bible-scholar, who hasn’t even been in a church for the past 23 years, would know the date?

I seriously cannot judge the man. Yesterday on Twitter I said this:

Apparently the world will end tomorrow. #whatdoyouthink ? I think he’s a crook using the name of GOD to become a millionaire.

Looking at it again, I see that I really shouldn’t have said so. I don’t know his reasons to make such a prediction. I don’t know if he really is a crook who used his mathematical and Biblical “skills” to fool people into buying into this lie. I don’t know if he actually believed what he was saying, and was certain that the end was near (although – just between us – he is 89, so maybe he really isn’t lying that much). All I know is that he was wrong. If Camping is such an expert of the Bible he would’ve known he was wrong.

I am not going to go into the details of the #Rapture, the real one, but here is a quick pick of what really will happen.

  • The saved ones will be taken. Yes, that part of the Rapture if true. Those who did not believe will stay for a second chance.
  • After that, there will be three and a half years of peace, followed by three and a half years of tribulation. This total seven years, which the Anti-Christ will rule the earth.
  • Then there are a thousand more years when Jesus will rule the Earth.

This is roughly written. There are way more fascinating details to the whole process, so I found a timeline that can explain way more than I can.

Anyway, I am on the expectations for tomorrow. I want to see how Mr. Camping is going to explain himself in this matter. Meanwhile I am praying for…



For Vengeance Belongs to God

1 May
A still of 2004 Osama bin Laden video

Image via Wikipedia

Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord.

Romans 12:19

As I write at this moment it is 11:04p.m. of May 1, 2011. An historic day for the United States; the man it most wanted to kill is finally dead. Osama Bin Laden is no more, and I can’t help but feel like this “great accomplishment” is nothing but vague words in the uproar of “Justice”, and that as quick as it came, the same way it will go.

Do not mistake me for making apologies for Bin Laden. On the contrary, as with the rest of the world I am a believer of freedom and justice and democracy, but not like the rest of the world I do believe in the utmost love that GOD has for all. I do mean ALL.

Jarell Wilson wrote in his short essay I am a Bad Patriot:

This event proves that we have so much more growing to do. In a way bin Laden has already won, he encited a nation to spend trillions of dollars, at the expense of its citizens, on weapons and a 700 mile long wall along its border with Mexico. The TSA’s new strict regulations. The giant Immigration debate. The burque ban.Without even being present at the attack he provoked a nation to sacrifice its children and its morality to prove that it won’t be pushed around. He got us to show that we could be just as hateful toward Muslims as we thought they were toward us.

As happy as I am for the security that Americans will go to sleep with, I can’t help but wonder how short-lived it will be. Yes, although dead, Osama has already won what he wanted. He broke a country and divided a world. Even with assuredness that “this is not a war against Islam,” we all know that reality is different than theory. This became a war against Islam. A war of prejudice.

What? Does that mean that I am defending Islam? No. I believe in GOD ALMIGHTY, and I know that JESUS CHRIST is my SAVIOUR, and that HE came so that all that believed him would have ETERNAL LIFE. Nevertheless, although the Islam wars against the Christian principle, we MUST NOT act likewise. 9/11 is much of a pain to me as to any other citizen of this world. However it is a shame that we justify so many years of war on the name of those who no longer can speak their minds.

IT IS A SHAME MY FELLOW CHRISTIANS THAT SO MUCH ENJOY THE DEATH OF ONE MORE LOST SOUL. The love of Christ once again didn’t reach one more. Remember that verse that say that God loved the world in such a way that He gave His only begotten son? Well guess what.. Osama, the Al-Qaeda and Muslims are all part of this world.

As I finish this it’s 11:21p.m. History is being written a this very moment. Unfortunately history is about to get darker and grimmer. As Jesus said himself, as he was being taken away:

Put your sword back in its place! Everyone who uses a sword will be killed by a sword.

Matthew 26:52

There Will Come Soft Rains

2 Jul

There Will Come Soft Rains

Ray Bradbury

In the living room the voice-clock sang, Tick-tock, seven o’clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven o’clock! As if it were afraid that nobody would. The morning house lay empty. The clock ticked on, repeating and repeating its sounds into the emptiness. Seven-nine, breakfast time, seven-nine.

In the kitchen the breakfast stove gave a hissing sigh and ejected from its warm interior eight pieces of perfectly browned toast, eight eggs sunny side up, sixteen slices of bacon, two coffees and two cool glasses of milk.

“Today is August 4, 2026,” said a second voice from the kitchen ceiling, “in the city of Allendale, California.” It repeated the date three times for memory’s sake. “Today is Mr. Featherstone’s birthday. Today is the anniversary of Tilita’s marriage. Insurance is payable, as are the water, gas, and light bills.”

Somewhere in the walls, relays clicked, memory tapes glided under electric eyes.

Eight-one, tick-tock, eight-one o’clock, off to school, off to work, run, run, eight-one! But no doors slammed, no carpets took the soft thread of rubber heels. It was raining outside. Continue reading

Interview with a Wolf

2 Jul

Eu escrevi essa estória ano passado para escola. Enjoy


By Fabio Lima

Little Red Riding Hood, basket in hand.
The Wolf’s in the woods, he makes his own plans.
You going to Grandma’s with a basket of treats
and you don’t see his shadow as it slithers and creeps.”

Linda A. Copp

The way to the house was quiet. I passed the woods, and went on the road to the beast. Far from the people a wolf lives, blaming himself for a work he did. Work done at the first house of a village. The house described in the verses that opened this story. Who’s him? The Wolf who killed Little Red Riding Hood.

I knocked on the door and waited a little before he finally opened it. The Wolf looked sad, a bit depressed – I would say – but he’s still a big and ferocious wolf. His dark brown furs gave him the aspect of indestructible, but his eyes showed a shaken creature.

I got in, and we went to the living room. The house was not big, but comfortable for him. We sat in his sofa, I thanked for the opportunity and he started his story.

“That face scares me all day long. Cursed day I decided to eat that little girl, that Little Red Riding Hood girl.”

“It was a great day, except for me. I was hungry; I would eat a horse if I could. I had had my last meal three days prior to that one, and my stomach was asking hopelessly for food. So I decided to walk in the wood, hoping to have success in find something to eat. Nothing… the woodcutters were close, and I could not approach.

I was going back to the road, when I saw her. That black-haired girl – with blue eyes – looked at me, and went towards my direction saying a happy ‘Hello’. I was hungry, my brain wasn’t working, I wanted to eat, and I saw my opportunity. I wanted to have my little dinner at that moment. She would not have chance, but then I remembered that he woodcutters were too close.

I thought it wasn’t too cruel, to be real. My only chance to have a decent meal in days and I couldn’t… until I thought again. A perfect and unfailing plan came to my mind, and I filled myself with hope.

I decided to ask where she was going. It was simple. I could follow her and finally have my dinner. The problem is, she could maybe be afraid – what I found out she wasn’t. As I asked, she answered me with a kind of pride.

‘I’m going to my grandmother’s house. She’s ill, and I’m taking this basket with food to her.’

My eyes were bright. Two meals were best than one. ‘It would a piece of cake’ I thought.

“Does you grandmother live far from here?” I asked.

“Yes, she lives in the village after the woods.” she answered. ‘’But, I’m taking this road, because it’s the shorter way to her house.

When I heard this, I had the confirmation that I would have a banquet in that day. She was so naïve. Unfortunately to her, and fortunately to me, she was taking the longest road. Then I asked:

“How does the house look like? Be sure to not get lost.”

I knew it would work. Concern gives thrust to kids, especially Little Red Riding Hood. Next she would give me the best description of the house she could have given, and as she did I smiled inside.

“Oh! Don’t worry. It’s the first house when you get in the village. Unmistakable! I won’t get lost. Now I need to go, bye!”

As she said bye I hurried to take the other road – which was the shortest to the village. Another chance like that one would not appear two times. I knew the way, I knew what to do, and I knew how hungry I was, so nothing would stop me now. Today I wish I had stopped at that point.

In the walk – or jog – to the village I thought in all the possibilities to kill and eat both, the girl and the grandma. I knew the old lady was sick, which would make it easy to finish her. But the little girl… she was naïve, but not stupid. It’s not hard to find that a wolf wants to eat you. I didn’t have time to keep thinking, because as I looked forward I saw the house.

It was a beautiful place. Light-blue windows, with wood-cut walls. That house looked calm. It was a house of peace, which I turned in a house of death.

I knocked. A thick voice questioned “Who’s there?” Pretending that I was her grandchild, I made a tin voice and answered “It’s Little Red Riding Hood, your granddaughter. I’m here to bring this basket of food to you.”

The woman bought it so easy. She told me to push the door, because it was open. I went inside, and looked to the place. Then, I went to her room. As she saw me, tears started to fall from her eyes. She tried to scream, but her sickness stopped her to do so. I could se despair; I could see she knew it was her end.

She died fast. You know, a bite on the neck is an instantaneous death. I ate her all up, leaving her clothes to trick the girl, who was coming. I cleaned the entire place, dressed up, and went to grandma’s bed. In some minutes I heard a knock on the door. I wondered how quickly it would be. I did the same as the girl’s grandmother did.

“Who’s there?” I asked with a thick voice too.

“It’s Little Red Riding Hood, your granddaughter. I’m here to bring this basket of food that my mom sent to you” – that girl was close to be my prey, but she was so happy.

“Push the door, my darling. I’m in my room”

She came by, almost singing. She asked if I was better, and to not show all my face I said that not much. She approached, and I could see she was a little cared. And then the girl made the questions.

“Grandma, why do you have so big ears?”

“The better to hear you,” I was insecure if it would work.

“Grandma, why do you have so big eyes?” at this time she gave a little step back

“The better to see you, darling,” I thought in giving up, but before it she made the third and worse question.

“Grandma, why do you have so big mouth?”

“The better to eat you” I roared. It was it, it would be done soon. I bit her arm and she fell down.

I got up the bed. She was screaming, crying, begging for compassion. That face stopped me for a second. How cruel I was. She was just a girl, but it was too late. Se would tell everybody about me. I had to get that done, and I did. One just bite in the neck, and the color in her eyes went away.

She was dead, and her blood on the entire floor. I couldn’t eat all the body. It was killing me, that I killed so beautiful and innocent creature. I left her rests in the house and came back to my place.

The local police found the dead girl – or what was left of her – two days later, and since then people is afraid of me. I’m afraid of me. I would give anything to have her back alive. But I can’t, and I’m sorry for it.

I was condemned to pass the rest of my life having these memories, and worse than ever, I was condemned to immortality. My family, my friends, and all the people in the woods passed away, but I’m still here, slave of the fear.

I’ll forever be the Wolf, who killed Little Red Riding Hood and her grandma, and my story will be passed from generation to generation, until I had paid enough to maybe die in peace.

On the Marionette Theatre

1 Jul

On the Marionette Theatre

by Heinrich von Kleist

Translated by Idris Parry

One evening in the winter of 1801 I met an old friend in a public park. He had recently been appointed principal dancer at the local theatre and was enjoying immense popularity with the audiences. I told him I had been surprised to see him more than once at the marionette theatre which had been put up in the market-place to entertain the public with dramatic burlesques interspersed with song and dance. He assured me that the mute gestures of these puppets gave him much satisfaction and told me bluntly that any dancer who wished to perfect his art could learn a lot from them.

From the way he said this I could see it wasn’t something which had just come into his mind, so I sat down to question him more closely about his reasons for this remarkable assertion.

He asked me if I hadn’t in fact found some of the dance movements of the puppets (and particularly of the smaller ones) very graceful. This I couldn’t deny. A group of four peasants dancing the rondo in quick time couldn’t have been painted more delicately by Teniers.

I inquired about the mechanism of these figures. I wanted to know how it is possible, without having a maze of strings attached to one’s fingers, to move the separate limbs and extremities in the rhythm of the dance. His answer was that I must not imagine each limb as being individually positioned and moved by the operator in the various phases of the dance. Each movement, he told me, has its centre of gravity; it is enough to control this within the puppet. The limbs, which are only pendulums, then follow mechanically of their own accord, without further help. He added that this movement is very simple. When the centre of gravity is moved in a straight line, the limbs describe curves. Often shaken in a purely haphazard way, the puppet falls into a kind of rhythmic movement which resembles dance.

This observation seemed to me to throw some light at last on the enjoyment he said he got from the marionette theatre, but I was far from guessing the inferences he would draw from it later.

Continue reading