I am more powerful than God

Yes. Satan said that and was banished from God’s presence. I’m okay with that.

The Christian god of the Bible is defined in many ways, and has been so, throughout history. Popular ideas of who God is have come and gone. But once the masses, however fractured, accept a version of God, he changes again. It has to be this way as the potential realm of the supernatural shrinks smaller and smaller with each scientific discovery and Google search.

Think back to the era around Jonathan Edwards (Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God), Issac Watts, John Newton, etc. At that time, God was quite the angry and jealous being, ready to strike you dead at a moment’s notice, yet somehow loving and wanting of your worship, at the same time. Edwards’ famous sermon graphically depicts how God would hang a man by his toes over the lake of fire, terrifying him into obedience, the gentleman knowing full well that God held all the cards, and could drop him whenever he so chose. And yet in the same sermon, Edwards unabashedly and passionately spoke of how much God loved the human race.

The cognitive dissonance is amazing. People bought it like crazy. Revival happened. Tent meetings and services lasted for weeks, people lying in the aisles, frothing at the mouth and repenting of their “sins.”

Then God softened. The Billy Sunday types slunk away from society and built their walled compounds – Christian universities. Bob Jones, Pensacola, Liberty, Hyles Anderson, Wheaton, etc. These universities trained their men to be apologists – assholes, really. They then sent them off to run IFB and other fundamentalist churches, preaching their hatred for “them” and their love for “us,” unless, of course, you were a woman.

Then God softened even more. The shrill Bryan Fischer, David Barton, Raphael Cruz, and Franklin Graham types grew even more afraid. The proof of their god, in the rest of society, was slipping away.

And who was to blame?


Yes. Me. My words. The words I put out online, in my own little corner of the e-niverse. I am turning people away from worshiping an asshole and singing about a dead guy being inside of them. Or so I have been accused of the same.

The problem is, if God is really as powerful as these people claim, able to turn the weather and kings’ hearts wherever he wills them, why do I matter?

If I do, I am more powerful than God.

And I’m okay with that. Truly. I’m not the most loving person in the universe (or e-niverse), but I’m thousands of times more loving than the god of the Bible.

Bring me coffee, hold the cream – unless you’re my father-in-law


Those of you who have been reading my words since the inception of Incongruous Circumspection, those of you who encouraged me to begin writing my thoughts on the virtual page, those of you who have, over the years, shared with me your stories of abuse, allowing me to expose those who hurt you so deeply, those of you who have worked your ass off, trying to get me to realize the error of my atheist ways, yes….even you, welcome. New readers, hello!

As has been my tradition, I will continue to expose my dear Mama and her lovely narcissistic letters to me and my family. I will still be accepting stories of abuse, whether it be sexual, spiritual, mental, physical, abuses of power, or any other sort of abuse that ends up hurting my readers, and needs to be exposed.

I will be writing personal letters to commenters who try to win me back to the bosom of Christ. I’ve checked. His bosom is rock hard and full of dust-caked sweat. It’s really not that great. Also, his blood tastes like blood, not wine. And, news flash, the last time I tried to get a carpet stain out of my pearly white Berber, it didn’t leave the rug as white as snow. Sorry.

I’ll be doing what I do best, as well – writing puff pieces about the chaos of my own home. Every time my kids yell at me and tell me I’m an idiot, you will know. Of course, I’ll spice it up to make me look like the good guy and they, gooder.  My bride, as ambitious, beautiful, brilliant, and successful as she is, will grace these pages as often as she allows. I love that woman and you will see it.

I hate those who hurt others. They will not be spared my ire. I love those who care for others. They will be praised here.

And I like craft beer (for sipping) and good coffee. I add cream to bad coffee. That is, all bad coffee, except my father-in-law’s. He makes the most vile coffee this side of the Mississippi, and yet I made the social faux pas of declaring it “the best damn coffee, this side of the Mississippi,” when I was but a stupid newlywed. I’ve been paying for that compliment ever since, having not the heart or the ovaries to tell him the truth. Then again, after 15-years, maybe I kinda like it in a self-flagellation sort of way.

In short, welcome.