The Gravity of Your Situation

Gravity isn't real. It's the weight of my own doubt that pulls my pants to the ground. Science gave me a belt and some options: suspenders, elastic waist bands, buttons and zippers. I'm not interested. Why depend on band-aids for a symptom when you can use your will to fix the cause? Why turn to science for what can be answered in the soul? The Kingdom of God is within me and angels don't even wear pants.

We can beat this thing, God and I. Holiness starts with my shame being covered, so why would God design a force to pull my pants off? I simply don't believe it.

You can throw as many apples in the air as you want, Mr. Newton. I don't trust fruit either. That's what started this whole clothing thing in the first place. Humanity's fall began with some fruit on a tree. Fruit's fall began with some human under a tree. It's no coincidence; you've all been duped! You can bet that snake was hanging out at both trees, insidiously flinging apples and half-truths.

Hath God said?