The Parable of the Pretender


All the days of his life, he believed, he did not waiver. Nor did he listen to the voices of opposition, for he was a man of pride. His people suffered under the bondage of a cruel taskmaster, and he did not forgive. It became his passion, his mission, to scale the heights of all creation, and to sit upon the right hand of the seat of power. For even in his youth, he swore before men that he would exact revenge, and mete out his justice…and no one would stand in his way.

But far from the land of his youth he would travel, and winnow his way through friend and foe, to discover those who could be used in his quest for glory. He learned at the feet of liars, he sat in the seat of scoffers, and embraced the principalities of this world that he believed he could manipulate. And all the world sat in awe as he rose undefeated, a man for the seasons, a man of the oppressed. But his kind sat quiet, as he lied to them, and made the oppressed believe he was one of them.

And among these, he deceived a great mass who professed allegiance to an ideal. They were sincere in their ways, clinging to the old ways, and standing firm in them from generation to generation. And these tested the new leader, but could not discern, because their hearts were hardened and cold to the things of the Light, and all they knew was a form. They worshiped with a passion without peace, and swore by a 500 year old language, oblivious to the Truth. They chanted the oppressor’s words and made him their own, though he was far from one of them. So they were easily deceived by the Liar. All the while the world watched, and they too were deceived, because those whom they had held in high esteem worshiped the image and the ideal, rather than worship at the altar of the true God. Few woke from their slumber, and these proclaimed the heresy, but far too few rose in wisdom to be believed by the masses.

And, yet another of their brethryn became ineffective because they set their minds on another standard. They had a form of godliness, but their ways did not reflect the Master. They dressed in denim and declared it holy. They wore their hair in knots and called it modest. They worshiped the flag instead of their Maker, and coveted the words of a 500 year old text until ignorance reigned in their understanding. They listened to the words of deceivers, so they too were deceived. A great many left their first love, despising their own natures, making gods of men, and holding high a religion the Master never taught. When some woke from their slumber, they discovered that their love of tradition had suppressed their power, and those who watched from afar- counting on their guidance- sat in dismay and gave up all hope.

And, yet another people watched as the world passed by, their hopes set on the things of this world. They worshiped at the altar of numbers, and counted their blessings in wealth. But the world is not made of silver and gold, but on a word, and from that word all creation stems. They did not care who held the will of the people, for their minds were set on things below. And they prospered, until the Pretender appeared. Then they sat helpless as their wealth slipped through their fingers into other hands, and the world changed without a shot.

But…there was a remnant. And a remnant can choose to follow after another, forsaking those things that lead to bondage and slavery. And these fought the Pretender and his minions of Deception. Even now they hold fast to the things above, knowing that the weapons of their warfare will destroy the words of the Pretender. For we know the world was formed by the word, and it is the word that gives life. As they follow the truth, the Truth exposes lies, and the Pretender is exposed. But many have been so deceived, they cannot see the truth. For they embraced a lie, and now that the truth is revealed, they would rather choose darkness than Light.

Beware the darkness, where nothing can live, and where no man nor woman will escape.

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About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, entrepreneur, and disciple- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. This blog is an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of my posts, thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple.wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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