Call it what you would like, ...this is not a ministry,
though it might still minister to a Few.
Don't get any ideas!
I do not wish to be associated with anything calling itself "Christian". The "Christians" who's paths I have had the misfortune to cross, and those at large in the Tare Barns, have failed to take up their crosses as commanded by Jesus Christ. I had preached myself into anemia warning the Saints of the deception and trouble approaching the walls. The walls are now as empty as the sky. And Watchmen take their places among the flock of the wilderness camp called the true house of God.
If one is ministered to by the contents of this site, it is not by reason of this site nor of its administrator. It is by reason of a sovereign and holy God which has wrought His will in the lives of the browsers. To God be the glory. Amen.
To some, this site may be considered to be an afterthought, a recurring nightmare or a lost cause. So be it. To some, it may be the musings of an old plowman. Well, this plowman hasn't forgotten the rows he's plowed, the miles he's walked as a servant nor has he forgotten the seeds that had been planted deep into his own life. A gracious God has allowed this 'has-been' to yet encourage a few. May it bring our Father glory as it is still His work.
The plowman gives glory, praise and thanks to a God who once called him to a task. A task that led him into blood and fire. And out the other side with his Master's Truth rooted deep within him. And the plowman prays, that the deep cutting and pruning have borne fruit fitting for the Vinedresser to savor and be glorified in. For the plowman has done nothing to merit any praise from God or man. He is unprofitable and has done his duty.
So let the old man muse. Love it or hate it. Stay a while. Or... go somewhere else.