The thing is that even when we are holy it is His holiness, it is the spirit powering us. There’s no sense in which the Christian can stand on their own righteousness or holiness; we rely entirely on the Spirit's life and grace.
So the only sense in which one can say they are holier than another is if they claim the spirit is powering them more. But on what basis does one make that claim? To speak of a gradient of personal holiness is to treat a reflected light as an internal property.
The moment holiness is weaponized as a comparative metric, it ceases to be holiness and becomes a spiritual currency. A mirror cannot boast that it is brighter than the mirror next to it; it can only acknowledge the sun.
If God is infinitely intelligent, and the architecture of creation possesses deep moral, spiritual, and philosophical complexity, then evil cannot be a joke. The Bible grasped this perfectly but the Quran did not.
The vision of the Devil in the Bible is pervasive and terrifyingly sophisticated.
Look at his entrance in Eden. His opening move isn’t violence. It is a masterclass in textual criticism. He introduces the concept of interpretation by asking (“Did God really say…?”), driving a wedge between the text and the intent of the Speaker.
In the heavenly courtroom of Job, he walks in as a cold, cynical prosecutor and makes a hypothesis about human nature: that no creature loves God genuinely, that all devotion is mercenary, that if the benefits are removed all the worship will collapse.
But the pinnacle of his intellect is in the wilderness, when he quotes Psalm 91 to Jesus. Think about the sheer depth of that manipulation. He pulls a specific, intimate covenantal promise, “He will give his angels charge over you,” and weaponizes it as a psychological trap.
He is so deeply literate that he uses God’s own poetry as a weapon. Jesus doesn’t win by engaging in an academic debate or out-theologizing him. He wins through total, unyielding obedience. A currency the Devil’s intellect cannot process.
Now look at the Quran. The poverty is absolute and incredibly obvious. Nothing epitomizes it better than the Islamic imagination of the fall of the Devil.
It is literally just cosmic racism. Iblis (the devil) refuses to bow to Adam simply because Adam is made of clay and he is made of fire (Surah 38:76) 😂. His grand rebellion isn’t an existential challenge to the justice of the Almighty. It’s an elementary school temper tantrum over material lineage.
Even when he tempts Adam in the garden, he doesn’t deconstruct God’s character. He just falsely promises they will become immortal kings (Surah 20:120). It is flat, horizontal, and completely devoid of psychological depth.
The narrative plummets from lazy theology into outright absurdity in the Hadiths. The great adversary of the cosmos is reduced to a localized, physical nuisance who urinates in your ears if you oversleep, lives in the bridge of your nose while you snooze, and eats with his left hand.
This is the ultimate indictment. It reads exactly like the folklore and superstition of an oral-culture imagination. Muhammad was illiterate, and it really shows.
A mind limited to the immediate anxieties and sensory desires of 7th-century Arabian trade routes could never conceive of a multi-layered, structural antagonist. You see it here, and you see it in how he imagines eternity: a paradise that is just the saturation of earthly appetites, filled with oases and virgins. It is a system designed by an illiterate to compensate a desert warrior, not to transform a human soul.
Why does this matter at all? Because to win a war, you have to know the adversary.
The Bible presents a darkness so sophisticated it requires a crucifixion to defeat it. Islam presents a darkness so pedestrian you can conquer it with a nasal rinse.
Muslims will cope by claiming the Bible simply overestimates evil. But look around you! Look at how ideological deception drives industrialized slaughter. At how elegantly we deceive ourselves. Evil is not a cartoonish nuisance confused by which hand you eat with. It is an apex, invisible intelligence. By shrinking the adversary into a joke, Islam shrinks the solution into a farce. If your devil is an illiterate’s caricature, your salvation is too.
@AriaBlackthorne I appreciate NKJV for giving the same basic sentence structure as found in KJV but with more modern-day English. That being said, it does kinda change certain words that I feel shouldn’t be changed, but at least reading it aloud is a lot easier.
Nobody asks why beauty exists, but everyone asks why suffering does. The question nobody asks is the one that changes everything.
Modern physics confirms that the universe has an undeniable, finely tuned order: the gravitational constant is calibrated so precisely that a deviation of 1 in 10^40 collapses everything.
The human eye processes 10 million colors. DNA encodes more information per cubic millimeter than any human technology has approached. This is all magnificent, the designer’s track record is not in question.
If a surgeon has performed ten thousand flawless operations and you are on his table, you do not demand explanations for every incision. Excellence earns the right to say “I know what I’m doing” before the full explanation arrives. Past precision earns theological trust for the parts we cannot yet explain.
It also proves capability: if this God can build something as complex as DNA, then he has the technical capacity to end suffering. The question is not if, but when.
A hidden premise is buried inside the very popular complaint about suffering. When we ask why God allows suffering, we assume we deserve better. We demand perfection now, before the final act of history.
The Christian framework refuses that assumption, it posits that sin is not merely a behavioral lapse correctable with effort; it is an ontological distortion, a fracture in our nature, and a chosen distance from the source of all coherence. The world we experience is not random cruelty; it is the accurate shape of that distance. The farther from the light you go, the darker it gets. That is the factual architecture. In this sense the staggering question is not why we suffer, but why, given what we are, anything beautiful exists at all.
What we have now is a mediated reality. God governs through instruments and delegated systems; the sun for light, the rain for growth. This is God operating behind a veil, and the reason is mercy. To drop the veil and introduce his full presence into a fractured world would mean immediate consumption by absolute justice.
To end all suffering this second would require either importing evil into the final perfect state, or executing final judgment immediately, closing the door on everyone not yet reconciled. The pause before the last act is not negligence, it is a stay of execution, the widest mercy available, keeping the door open for reconciliation before the final reality sets in.
Revelation 21 promises he will wipe every tear from every eye. This is not a general amnesty where wrongs are administratively cleared, but something personal, individual, and complete. If a single person in the new creation carries unaddressed grief over what God allowed, the system fails. The promise is therefore not a mere comfort verse, but it is a contractual commitment from a God with the full capacity to keep it.
In the New Jerusalem, the delegation stops. There is no sun or moon, for God himself is the light of the city. He removes the veil and gives all of himself. What we are living in now, with its suffering and its waiting, is simply the scaffolding. Scaffolding has rough edges by nature, and that is not an indictment of the architect.
Starting to realize that every part of my life that is not laid down before God and dedicated to Him will eventually become sinful, one way or another.
How foolish of me to assume that, in the warzone that is my heart, there might be neutral ground.
The claim that the God of the Bible is evil is not just wrong, it is self-defeating, philosophically incoherent, and collapses the moment you actually read the book you are critiquing.
First, if you are going to prosecute the God of the Bible, you must engage the God the Bible actually presents, not the straw deity of internet atheism.
The Bible’s God is Trinitarian, self-sufficient, existing in loving relationship within himself before creation, lacking nothing, and needing no one. James says every good thing, sleep, pleasure, beauty, laughter, comes from him. That framing is is crucial.
If “God is evil” what is the comparative moral standard. What do you compare him to? If the universe is purposeless matter, then morality is just your nervous system firing preferences. You are just filing a complaint with no court, no law, and no standing.
If however your moral standard is real and binding across all people, then congratulations. You have just accidentally argued for the existence of a moral lawgiver. The accusation is either incoherent or it proves God exists.
But to go deeper, the terror of a needy, lonely, wounded God making capricious decisions is a terror we can rationalize since is just human pathology at cosmic scale. That is explainable.
What should make us pause is the terror of the God who lacks nothing, who gains nothing from punishing anyone and who was complete and satisfied before you drew your first breath. When THAT God judges, it cannot be ego. He has nothing to win.
Which means when the biblical God acts in severity, it is because justice is real and he is its embodiment. The atheist is prosecuting a deity that does not exist in the text they are quoting.
And who even has the right to determine what a people deserve? Who has the sight to weigh the full arc of a civilization’s corruption, the downstream of unchecked evil, the futures that never happen because judgment didn’t come?
The critic sits in a courtroom with a fraction of the evidence, and demands the verdict is overturned and that is baseless epistemic arrogance.
But most crucially, every other religion’s God stays hidden; conveniently invisible, and safe from examination. The God of the Bible, uniquely, when accused, enters the dock.
He becomes human. He submits to the conditions of his own creation, walks in it for thirty three years, and is examined at close range by people who wanted to destroy him. Roman judges, religious prosecutors, crowds, betrayers etc. All hostile witnesses with murderous intent scrutinising his every word and deed.
And the verdict returned by even his enemies: “I find no fault in this man”. The most morally examined life in human history belongs to the accused. You want to meet the God of the Bible? You already can. His name is Jesus. Judge him there, on the ground, in the flesh, and then come back with your accusation.
The concept of evil applied to this God is a man essentially standing in a house built by someone else, breathing air he did not make, using a moral vocabulary he cannot justify, and pointing at the architect and calling him wicked. The irony is hilarious and the case collapses, because the God being accused already answered it in person.
Really interesting but there is an important distinction we must all remember. Muhammad founded a religion but Jesus dismantled one.
Muhammad came and built a precise, and elaborate sustem with five pillars, six articles of faith and thousands of verses of Quranic instruction. There are 114 surahs governing everything from prayer posture to which foot enters a bathroom first. The Hadith collections, Bukhari, Muslim, Abu Dawud, catalogue the Prophet’s every act so believers could replicate them exactly. Kiss the stone because he kissed it. Sleep on your right side because he slept on his right side. The religion is the center and compliance is worship. The men in this video show the system working as designed.
Jesus does the opposite.
A Samaritan woman asks him the most religious question possible, which mountain is the correct place to worship? Jerusalem or Gerizim? Temple or shrine? He doesn’t answer the question. He dissolves it. “God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth.” He establishes that the location was never the emphasis.
His disciples ask him how to pray. He says go to your room, shut the door, and don’t perform. Your Father sees in secret. In a world where prayer was public theatre, the longer, the louder, the holier; Jesus told his followers to disappear.
He walked into the Temple, the most sacred religious structure in Judaism, and turned over the tables.
He healed on the Sabbath, repeatedly, and when the religious authorities objected, he looked them in the eye and told them the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.
He saved his most ferocious language; not for prostitutes, not for tax collectors, not for Roman soldiers, but for the most religious men in the room. “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites.” He said this seven times in one speech.
This is clearly not a man building a religion, this is a man burning religiosity to the ground.
And then, at the end, he doesn’t say: “here is the system”, or “follow the steps”. He says: “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
He makes a personal invitation to all of us imploring us to come to a person and not a system. He adds why he is worth coming to, “my yoke is easy and my burden is light”. That is the difference between religion and redemption. That is also why, if peace and sanity for your soul is what you’re actually looking for, Jesus is the only one worth following.
I was in the middle of a prayer of repentance one day and, in a fit of piety, I asked God a question I wasn’t expecting to ask: why would you do this to yourself? Why, God? Why keep working with people like us?
It is the same question you ask a friend who keeps going back to a partner who keeps hurting them. At some point, love stops looking noble and starts looking desperate.
You pull them aside and ask: don’t you have options? Don’t you have self-respect?
And the uncomfortable truth is that a God who permanently forgives, without explanation, raises exactly that question. A theology built on grace alone, with no account of what grace costs, eventually produces a God who looks less like love and more like a God with nowhere better to go.
This is why Jesus is not optional. He is not the soft, sentimental addition to a theology that already works. He is the answer to the most uncomfortable question the whole system raises.
The cross doesn’t just accomplish forgiveness. It explains it. It gives it dignity. Because now when you ask God “don’t you have self-esteem?”, the answer is a man on a hill, arms open, paying the highest price love has ever demanded, fully aware of what He was doing and doing it anyway.
Without the cross, divine forgiveness is embarrassing. It looks like a God who cannot help Himself. With it, the staying is no longer weakness. It is the most costly, deliberate, dignified act in human history. He didn’t stay because He had no options. He stayed and showed you exactly what it cost Him.
Every religion has mercy. Only one has a mechanism. Only one points to a hill, a date, and a body and says, that is what it cost.
Hayden Christensen was 23 when Revenge of the Sith came out. He was 42 when he returned to the role in Ahsoka.
For 17 of the 19 years in between, he was effectively exiled from the franchise and from Hollywood.
The exile was not voluntary at first. Christensen was the focal point of the cultural backlash against the Star Wars prequels in the mid-2000s. The performances were mocked. The dialogue was mocked. The acting choices were mocked. He was 22 years old playing the most analyzed character in cinema history and the analysis decided he had failed.
He kept working for a few years. Jumper in 2008. Takers in 2010. A handful of smaller films. None of them landed. By 2012, the offers were drying up and Christensen had largely stepped back from acting. He moved to a farm in Ontario. He spent years out of public view. The Hollywood narrative was that he had been broken by the prequels.
Two things happened during those years that the Hollywood narrative missed.
The first was the cultural reassessment of the prequels. The generation that watched them as children grew up and rewatched them as adults. What had read as wooden dialogue in 2005 started to read as deliberate stylization. The political plot, which critics had dismissed as boring senate scenes, started to read as one of the most substantively serious treatments of how democracies collapse into autocracy ever put in a blockbuster. By 2017, the prequels were being rediscovered as the most thematically ambitious Star Wars films in the franchise.
The second was what Christensen was doing on the farm. He kept training. The lightsaber choreography he had learned for the prequels was technically demanding stage combat, taught to him by stunt coordinator Nick Gillard over months of rehearsal for each film. Christensen never stopped practicing it. When he came back to the choreography in 2022 for Obi-Wan Kenobi and 2023 for Ahsoka, the muscle memory was intact. He was technically better at 42 than he had been at 23, because he had spent 17 years quietly preparing for a return nobody had told him was coming.
The Ahsoka scene that the fan accounts keep posting is from the episode where Anakin confronts Ahsoka in the World Between Worlds. The choreography is fast, precise, and recognizable as the same combat style Christensen used in the prequels two decades earlier. The body knows what to do. The body has been keeping the role alive while the rest of the industry was writing him off.
What landed differently in the return is that Christensen at 42 has a stillness the 23-year-old version did not. The 23-year-old was performing Anakin's intensity. The 42-year-old is embodying it. The role finally fits the actor in a way it did not when he was first asked to carry it.
The audience that mocked him at 23 had also grown up. The audience that watched the return at 42 had spent fifteen years missing him without realizing it.
The exile turned out to be the preparation.
Never quite understood how we load the weight of cosmic intercession onto a woman who is supposed to be resting in the fullness of eternity, and call it honour.
Christ is equipped to intercede because intercession flows from who He is, not what He was assigned. Hebrews 7:25 does not say He intercedes because He was appointed to the role. It says He ever lives to intercede. The capacity and the nature are the same thing, you cannot separate them. That is precisely why His priesthood is indestructible. It is not a function He performs. It is a function He is.
Mary is not God. She is the most honoured creature in human history, and that is a glorious thing to be. But a creature’s intercession and the Great High Priest’s intercession are not the same thing at all. One is participation and the other is source.
And the main structural problem here is that a good priest is one whose presence draws you through himself to God.
Jesus escapes the risk of becoming a destination instead of a doorway because of the ontological union and oneness with the father. Which means ‘Intoxication’ or even ‘extremism’ (using these words loosely) with Jesus does not reroute you away from the Father. The excess and the destination are the same Person.
Mary does not have that escape hatch because she is a creature. Which means that any system positioning her as a primary address for filial confidence, protection, and the certainty of being heard, introduces exactly the structural bypass risk the priesthood of Christ was designed to permanently close.
You cannot simultaneously hold that Christ is the one mediator between God and man and then build a second reception desk and tell the whole Church they can be certain of being heard there.
The architecture does not hold.
Dear Democrats whining about Democracy: please explain to America how, out of 21 Congressional seats representing the 6 New England states, there are ZERO Republican Representatives, even though 40% of the electorate are registered Republicans, 48% in New Hampshire alone?
Roman Catholics: “The Bible doesn’t say that you’re saved from your sins by faith alone; it also requires good works from you.”
Meanwhile, the Bible:
Ephesians 2:8–9
“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”
Romans 3:28
“For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law.”
Romans 4:4–5
“Now to the one who works, his wages are not counted as a gift but as his due. And to the one who does not work but believes… his faith is counted as righteousness.”
Galatians 2:16
“A person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ…”
Galatians 3:10–11
“All who rely on works of the law are under a curse… the righteous shall live by faith.”
Philippians 3:9
“…not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ…”
Titus 3:5
“He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy…”
2 Timothy 1:9
“He saved us… not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace…”
Romans 11:6
“If it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works; otherwise grace would no longer be grace.”
John 6:28–29
“What must we do, to be doing the works of God?”
Jesus answered, “This is the work of God, that you believe…”
Acts 16:30–31
“What must I do to be saved?”
“Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved…”
And this is just a start.
The juxtaposition of faith and works—as it pertains to our right-standing before God—is painfully clear throughout the entire New Testament.
You’d have to intentionally ignore it to miss it.
We are saved by faith alone.
🤝