Again, all you did with that blather was prove to me just how blind and deaf you are. So perhaps I can explain true faith to you in a way your materialistic understanding will appreciate. No guarantees you will understand it, however.
I've heard this sales pitch many times. Better babblers than you have tried to sell me these beautiful houses on the beach, and yet I have refused you every time. Can it be that you resent the fact that I was given the sturdy house upon the great rock overlooking the beach for free? The one you are too blind to see? The one that has never faltered and has weathered every storm, no matter how terrible and violent? The one I have been able to find refuge in and never had to pay a terrible price to live in, because a kind and honest man died in the process of building that home, because he loved me, my family, and my friends more than he loved himself?
We'd let you come in too, but you refuse to acknowledge our house and the great rock it sits upon exists. You refuse to do what it takes to climb up here, because you have had evil whisper in your ears that the rock is a lie, that it doesn't exist because you can't see it, and that those who live upon it are delusional. You continue to sell those terrible, rickety, shaky houses on the sand, because you love the pleasures the money you swindle from your customers will bring you in the here and now. You don't care what comes when the here and now is over. You don't care what will happen when the next storm comes in. You don't care that your boss is laughing at you for unwittingly following his plan, which was never to provide homes for the people on the beach at all, but to murder them. He is delighted that you gleefully set others up to die every time a storm comes in and flattens those homes, and resent anyone who tells you the truth of such things, because you are too much of a coward to face it yourself.
The houses you sell may look pretty on the outside. They may appear solid, reliable, and have easy access to the pleasures of the beach. But inside, the wood is rotting from termites and mold, the glass has become pitted from sand and salt in the air, the lead pipes are leaking poison into the water, the electricity is faulty, the gas is a fire hazard, and the roof is weak in various spots.
You get angry every time someone like me points out the unreliability of these homes on the sand, and yet refuse to do anything to fix that. You don't think of the lives that are lost because of your aiding and abetting the enemy for profit. You don't want to take any responsibility for it and face the truth. And you especially don't like hearing about my Father who built our home on the rock up above.
You will continue to keep this up, just to prove you're "right" in all of this, until the day that your home is washed away on the sand, while we're still up on the rock, still here, still alive, and wishing you hadn't been such a fool.
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