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There is a flood, not created by God as was the other, but yet foreseen and detailed by Him before it came.

It has come now, its waters the effluvia of a new dementia, which like a plague, infests, invests and corrupts the thought of man. As pitiful as it is polluted, this needless but predicted profusion of the destructive waters is not some divine judgment inserted into the seething horrors of the inhumanity of man to man, but the cumulative consequence of a century of reckless, futile and increasingly  frantic fecklessnesses, as man, now using, now abusing, now losing the name of God, tries his hand at impure passions of the mind and body, yes and the spirit (cf. News 121, 122), as if to rule by his futility, the race and the universe (Revelation 13, II Thessalonians 2, cf. Biblical Blessings Ch. 2).

To be sure, God foretold it, and featured it in the prophetic literature; but unlike the former flood which man in increasingly ludicrous passion tries to distance, as it was predicted he would do at this near terminal juncture (cf. Answers to Questions Ch.  5, Joyful Jottings 12, in II Peter 3:3-5), this is not merely impactive from without, because man's imaginations is becoming more and more evil from his youth, now as then (Genesis 6). It is also retrospective inwardly, its philosophic, political, cultural and social preliminaries of man's own  making. They issue, like fungal spores, from the body which precedes! You see its horror preceding the return of the Messiah in Isaiah 59 in a detail showing once again the intense parallel between Israel as it neared its ancient devastation, and the realm of the  Gentiles today.

Culminating in the liberation of Christ coming in power (59:19-20, cf. Habakkuk 3, Joel 3, Isaiah 66, Deuteronomy 32), it brings relief to Israel following its substantial conversion to come (Zechariah 12:10ff., 14:1-5); and divine rule to the world, till it is sent unpacked, packing. The unruly, in the end, have always to be ruled; their own internal orders a scarifying comment on their outward desire to dismiss that very organisation by which they are able to live and have their being at all. However God is not mocked (Galatians 5:7). Sowing and reaping, as this scripture shows, are processes not limited to crops!

Yet His divine mercy (so well attested by John Masefield, that poet of eminent realms, in his delectable poem, The Everlasting Mercy), it is not lost. It is not inundated. It is not ruined, nor is it polluted. In its most intense purity, the moral reality proceeds in parallel to the intensive array of powerful programs on which man's cellular working and indeed physical continuation at all, is based, the DNA arriving, self-copying, the cells contriving, all programmed, the organs proceeding, all integrated in micro- and macro-circuitries innumerable, physiological, electrical, genetic, neurological, the last at first developmental on coded conditions, the neurons now reaching out in early phases, to find pathways, now organising roads and circuits, now sensitive to usage, now confining in kind, constructing viable accommodations, coded to relate, constrained to continue. The order is not lost because man is gifted with that inimitable invention of liberty to love and hate, himself, his neighbour or his God.

The certainties of the underlying physical conditions, coded and continuous, are not entirely at odds with the certainties of the moral realities; it is just that the latter take time, more time, enough time to be instructive as well, if need be through chronic hardening, as corruptive. Indeed, the DNA is ageing; and so is the world, fresh from its earlier vast resource superfluity, to find its polluted grandeurs reminding the human race that there is an end to this race, and there is an adjudication and there is a limit, and there is a Lord. It is not all fresh and wonderful by magic but by method; and its end is not by oddity but by decree.

The rupture of order in disease and devastation wrought by hatred or passion is not an oddity, nor has the Inventor of man forgotten to provide for the anguish of ageing souls, sailing they know not where, and for what reason. He has provided, spoken into the order of man's mind, spirit and DNA, as surely as when He constructed it. Did you think I was altogether such a one as you! He apostrophises the wicked in Psalm 50! (cf. SMR pp. 100-101). What madness unmans man, to imagine his mercy more profound than its creator's!

The mercy of God is not by things arising ruled out; but the one who ignores it is by oversight ruled out. There is in every house a door; and in the kingdom of heaven, there is a procedure, as in any lock, as in anything cared for and incorruptible; though man has little of this! He finds walking through the graciously open door a bore, obliterative of self-fulfilment or else he is readily possessed of other culturally fashioned confusions and diffusions, psychic bewilderments or paths of disfaith.

The key is Christ, the word is the Bible, the salvation is by mercy, its reception is by faith, the provision is by grace, but what in all that is reasonable, would you expect ? That this earth, wonderful beyond imagination, its very sunsets a paradisiac profundity, its vast deeps a glory of motion and colour, grandeur and portraits of glory, its lakes a splendour of peace, its occupants a race disporting in their very selves a fusion of form and function, mind and spirit, which is yet not confusion, but co-ordination, so that the one does not dictate to the other, nor does it fail to relate, each in its domain able to act, reminded that it is not divine, yet divinely enabled: that this would be without cost or command, without condition or consequence, that liberty could look love in the face and spit on it, despise it, scorn it, abuse it, utilise it, and yet remain itself free ?

The answer to order is orderer, to organisation is organiser, to man is God. That answer for millenia has pounded like the breakers on the beach, but it itself, it does not break. The waters seem eternal, but they are made. The Gospel seems forever, but it races to its day. It was fashioned for time, made in eternity. Its sway is singular, but its day comes to a close (Ephesians 1:4, Galatians 1:6-9, Hebrews 2:1-3, Matthew 24:12ff.). "And then shall the end come ..."

It was forecast before it came (cf. TMR Ch. 3, Barbs, Arrows and Balms 17), the mercy of God being always the same, and its preliminaries are profound just as its end is endless for its recipients, but evacuative for its rejecters. Time and tide have their place, and there is a tide in the provision of truth in its honourable housing of grace, called the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which while it surges, does not ignore its task. Rejected, it leaves the scornful in the flood of circumstance, the inane auguries of the cultures, the asinine pretensions of the pompous, in the slime pits of hatred and in the illusions of grandeur which always, being unrealistic, become the crevices or crevasses at length,  of corruption.

But this, it is no dream, that the despisers of Divine Royalty are caught in their own nets, swept with the flotsam of philosophy, the jetsam of counter-currents numerous, swirling with the worldlings, to the depths undesired.

Pageantry of pretence replaces the Majesty of Truth, and the glory of God is demeaned by the little puddles of philosophy, each fascinated with itself, accounting something everything and one aspect all.

Let us consider then for a moment the enormity of the enterprises that would dispense, in our generation in the schools and colleges, often by political constraint, and see just ONE reason why man who is constructed for life, is dooming himself to die, and that not so much without ceremony, as without hope, for the books of the Great Assizes of the Great Constructor are not to shut before their writing is openly audited before the very bar of truth, and ended in destinies as certain as the orders to DNA in the first place, and as precisely attained:  those protective of their taints, being duly attainted.

After all, though man is earning his own devastation, the directions for its procedure as always, ultimately arise from the foreknowledge of God (cf. Romans 8:29ff., Ephesians 1:11). He misses nothing, knows all, receives some, would have all (Colossians 1:19ff.), but neither by force nor manipulation, only in truth.



(cf. A Spiritual Potpourri Ch. 8)

What then shall be said of this new Nineveh which is fallen, this rapacious, cruel, blood-letting delirium this dream to which Darwin laid claim, though others ministered to it not only in principle, but even in particular, before his name took a ride; for both Wallace and his own grand-father were deeply involved in much the same message; and for that matter, it has been the burden of naturalism since its infancy, in the infancy of the race, as seen in our last chapter and its references.

WE make, our PROCESS is our maker, our INGREDIENTS are our God, our BRICKS are our building, and our CLAY is really bricks. So does reductionism create its Reductionist Symphony, or as it is better named, its Fabrication Fantasy. The Creator is dismissed, though life itself is progressively being dismissed in this rampageous rollick, and bitterness is the taste in the slag.

But what is this particular concession to  weakness, this deadly delirium that oppresses the thoughts, corrupts the actions and makes desperate the pride of man ?

Organic evolution, or naturalistic fantasy, consider it.

It is ideationally evacuative,

procedurally vacuous,

sphere fudging (cf. Repent or Perish Ch. 7),

dysfunctional (littered with  the inoperative baggage with which its exponents weigh the partially constructed for countless generations),

anti-evidential (the Cambrian 'Age' more plenteous than the present in design, according to Gould),

contra-clinical (it is not evoked in experiment, however vast the  intelligence resources that seek to stimulate)

unit-obsessive (cf. Stepping Out for Christ Ch. 9, Spiritual Refreshings Ch. 13),

synthetically inept,

chronologically-calamitous as noted above for the Cambrian,

information-intrusive (assuming what is contrary to the law on information increment),

magically-extrusive (you get from a model which lacks a relevant sphere and region of action, its results),

reductionistically-compulsive, never satisfied with man as he is, only the frenzy and fizz,

ultra-labour, imagining that imagination will do the works which power must accomplish,

sub-constructional, letting buildings build themselves, as if it were the most natural thing in the world,

supra-conceptual, allowing conceptions to come from non-conceptual premises,

sub-rational, using reason to abort it,

anti-verificatory, on all sides contrary to experimental results, or implications,

ultra-extrapolative, allowing variations in the command provisions to do service as command creators,

pseudo-systematic, assuming systematic consequences where system is the thing to create,

technically-trivialising, as if the whole of technology can be produced without technician's art or head, mind or method,

scientifically spurious, arising not from facts noted but contrary to evidence attested,

methodologically obfuscatory, forcing theory on fact, not funding theory through fact by imagination,

interface-obliterative, allowing absenteeism in the ranks of progressive, processive interchange to be by imagination only, never by known, noted or even logically grounded means,

logically illiterate, wanting something continually from nothing, at the first absolutely, then procedurally,

simplistically substituting fiasco for functionality,

magic for toil,

the unattested for the invested,

the vacuous for the virtuous,

dreams for dynamic,

constituting in its vagueness,

a dearth of detail,

fulfulling the definition of myth, and

the signature of the spurious,

the by-pass of procedure and

the inversion of method,

engineering the rampagings of the flood of the irrelevant as if this were the builders of the beautiful,

substituting lore for law,

gore for imagination,

as if cruelty constructs,

and collation for command, as if nearness necessitates,

or juxta-position propositionalises.


Hoyle and Gould arise

Pall-bearers: for

Darwin is dead,

and all attempts to do it differently

can find no womb, nor body,

neither flesh nor function, to carry them:

for all is aborted, and the child is gone
(cf. Wake Up World! ... Ch. 6).


Syntactically spurious, it is

organisationally oblivious,


mind-masking misuse of mind:

it composes itself,

an anti-science anti-logism,

defective in detail,

a code for the codeless,

implanting surreptiously

an invisible chip

in the forehead of nature,

which for that matter lacks one,

making it the more intrusive.

Witless, it is conveying knowledge to the amorphous,

function to the meaningless,

unity to the chaotic,

direction to the undirected,

dynamic to the undesigned,

lordliness to the unenlightened and unenlightenable,

light to the darkness,

even the light of mind to the profusion of events,

of will to the dirge of the undirected,

invention to the uninventive, and

progress to the regressive.


So spurious is this fury of fantasy, that some come seeking

extra-terrestrial agents in its defeat

excluded middles that machinate

instead of propelled progressives

that yet lie inert,

or chambers of cogitation that are are sub-moronic,

that arise with the products of mind incandescent,

to charter the course, in eloquent dumbness,

worse than dead, never alive:

no, now we have from some,

 spectres that beckon,

intelligence for intellectual results,

as if mind had returned to the theorist,

but not reason,

for all things delimited are systematic components,

requiring the source of their composition,

its synthetic organiser, its law-maker and its life,

so that it might be, and being, act.


More alive than its respondents,

the perpetual question lies unanswered in shame,

the Maker of it all, sub-system and producer,

arrow and quiver,

in whatever progressivist splash of cognition,

to make it be and work, and work together,

with the language of life,

the command of construction and

the advantage of existence:

but this avoided, the theories pulse

in profound confusion,

in impure contusion,

bruised battering rams attacking

an immovable wall of intransigeant truth.


Their common feature is

a corpulent corpse of confusion and incoherence,

that infects academia like SARS,

except that it then confuses the order to


anti-science reverse syndrome,

insisting on inscrutable causes,

without ground, without evidence,

without adequacy, without self-attestation

for the mightiest work

without hands or with them,

that ever wrought engineering consequences

on this earth,

which alike, calls as result, for its thrust

of glorious intricacy into the void

that knew nothing, not even the term.


This is what it is, this organic evolution.

Creation, on the other hand, by its very nature,

has no preliminary but the mind and might of the Creator,

which is precisely the evidence,

exactly the attestation.


A sandal on the beach, alike,

before being present,

has but void, no name, no power,

no transition;

but once mind and might have played in their production,

there it is, crafted only when it is done,

and the impulse of power sated,

it leaves no thought of waves of air or sea,

leaving the manufacturer's mark of relevance,

relationship, total facility and specialised construction:

for sandals to not construct their straps by the sea,

while wind and wave rot the material,

while features are defeated and

craft is silent.

If they did,

then a new universe,

where craft was potted and spotted,

and moved its discourse into action

by being prepared and implanted,

would be this one:

but this one it is not,

for as with writing this book,

it is not there,

and I act,

and it is there,

and though chapters succeed one another,

none helps the next,

for it merely fits the theme chosen,

and leaves no vapour trail,

vapid or otherwise

of its coming to be.


But what of this evolutionary despotism,

this insistence without attestation,

this theory without channels of input,

this self-aggrandisement of creation,

this self-conscious chapter of man's thought,

which making itself

imagines it has made the rest ?



It is infatuated with reductionism so profound

that form fashions itself

thought creates itself without ground

thought indeed makes thought irrelevant,

reason and rationality superfluous,

concept fashioning irrevocable commands

from a smuggled-in God,

nameless, necessary but deprived of majesty,

murdered in thought,

mocked in mind,

made as if to slave without acknowledgement,

salve as if no Saviour,

to signify without assignment,

to instal progress without purpose,

cohesion without command,

while commands litter the littoral of the cell,

like intractable evidence,

unaligned with desire,

mirroring the commands of Genesis

with the commandments of DNA.


In its impotent perversity,

this inept and contra-evidential theory

installs effectual  brilliance while brightness is crucified,

its blood discolouring

the obfuscatory extravaganzas

of the mentors of confusion,

the masters of illusion,

who, starting with nothing,

want everything,

or beginning with everything,

want to snip off the tags.


Here truth is fallen in the street (Isaiah 59:14);

Equity lies broken in its blood,

while magic competes with myth,

children's stories bearing the mantle of knowledge;

and the rank abandon

that makes of dreams an escape,

settles with all the aplomb

of the pedant

into the bombed-out

sanctuary of the savant,

who has not yet noticed

that his tower is rubble.


Sipping his tea,

in oblivion of all reality,

functioning by dream,

he sits in the sallow sunlight where

the dust has not yet settled on the devastation that has been wrought.


Just as there is the biblical picture

(Romans 1:17ff., Isaiah 59, Jeremiah 2:27, II Timothy 4:4),

of all this proud decadence,

so it is in the contemporary portrait, culture's sculpture

for the end of the Age, discerned, declared millennia in advance,

by divine command, this time written in a book,

the book of the Lord (Isaiah 8:20, 34:16, Matthew 5:17-20).


Yet ravished with the beauty of creation,

and his own place in it,

the maladroit theorist of naturalism,

spendthrift of his heritage,

disdaining evidence,

defying reason,

though often witless of its wisdom,

has its components

arrive by air mail from the void,

while now exponent of dreams

now misled,

always confused, abused by his fellow-conspirators,

deluded and deceived,

is as worthy of pity as the beaten slave,

and trusting in such undivine divinities of nullity,

without repentance,

as sure of judgments

fit for the truant from eternity

and the magnificence of the majesty

of the all-sufficient One

whose splendour continues

not least in His own production

of the liberty to ignore His grandeur and

deplore His creation.

What then ?

While making game of glory and vanity of virtue;

these are as apt for pathos

as the bombed victims

of earlier dreams,

also based on power,

the assumption of the divine

by the futile processes of continuance.


As there, it is as if to capture glory in maintenance

or origin in existence,

force being made the substitute for truth,

delusion for knowledge,

and power the provision of nothing,

its astute application a thing of nullity,

so that we have

Cadillacs on the lawn,

a mere matter of oil-change,

and that is all there is to it!



 Alike for conquered and oppressors,

this muddled cultural collation

writhes its agonies of thought,

its servitors and fiefs

obliterating in irksome irrationality

what builds their myths,

while building the myths themselves,

by the very instrument they ignore:

matters of ideational application,

not in defiance of reason in the work of their construction,

only its null rational content

and shameless collision with its own mentor.


Reason is orphaned,

science is shelved,

while science falsely so-called

proliferates like a virus,

gloating over its pandemic:

for this virus is an ideational one,

its scenario is spiritual,

pride its script, reason on vacation,

yet called back

only able to surmise and apprise,

in vain imaginations

without substance or signification,

as it seeks to destroy what the Builder built,

esteeming itself wise as it desolates, and

bright as it institutes darkness.


Did not the Bible long ago,

say it would be so,

looking from the first,

to the last,

when history’s thrust past,

man would sally down the slalom way,

thinking that passing the flags was

creating the course!

In their ultimates as in their course,

what did they do but become

“futile in their thoughts,”

“their foolish hearts …darkened”,

so that “professing to be wise

they became fools and changed the glory

of the incorruptible God”

into the facilities of natural things.


So it was and has been,

so it is and has to be,

since it is written,

just as now man is smitten

with this spiritual pathology,

pawn of deceit,

repository of unreason

not from circuitries,

but liberties abused

his mind in chains,

his method mere ashes,

scientific method itself

a prisoner in the depths

of the sea of alienated mind.




The adversary himself, mad with fear,

is thus thrusting these as one of

his dying efforts

for oblivion from all truth,

like Hitler at Stalingrad (Revelation 12:16-17),

passionately spewing out soldiers to their fate.


As to the adversary himself,

his distress is warranted,

his delusions despicable,

his end as forecast,

as has been the case for

all the rest of the parameters of pollution,

and the terminus of these inveterate tirades

against truth:

and this end, it rises like the scurrying waters

of the swift-incoming tidal plain,

that in rushing thrust,

overflow all in its path.





But this, it is not the path for mankind.


 All this anti-programmatic pulsation,

this arbitrary nescience,

is itself pre-programmed,

not with the indifference of necessity,

but with the necessity of truth,

and is part of the annunciation pattern (Answers to Questions Ch. 5),

for the return of the Redeemer who having made all,

has made provision for all, in which some nestle, and others find

ground for blasting from their radio-active souls.


For many, a form of godliness

coincides with a norm of godlessness,

and surrounded by the sycophants of culture,

they turn to myths,

not only as a form of thought (II Timothy 4:4),

but as a phase of philosophy

(II Peter 3:3-5, Joyful Jottings 12),

the ultimate end of the god-removalists

in figure or word,

surrounded by precisely

the social demolitions (cf. II Timothy 3:1-5, esp. 2, and see News 51),

the blood flood (Revelation 6 predicting this so 'contemporary' release in various phases),

and the evil inundations

(Revelation 12, Matthew 24:1ff.),

which both provide

their own comment

and are part of the script

of the divine Commander,

the celestial Commentator,

whose difference is not only His power and precedence,

or even indeed His prescience, but His compassion.


It is He

whose word continues

like a hovering helicopter

to offer escape

from the disastrous dynamics of demolition

(Hebrews 2:1-4, 6:18-20, II Corinthians 6:1ff., Hebrews 3:7ff., Psalm 95:7),

ready for those who act,

while it is still called 'today' (Hebrews 3:13).


As meanwhile

the drift becomes a downrush,

the Falls approaching,

the dynamic dynamic,

clothed in words,

covered with grace,

profound in glory,

continues to call, Mercy!


As the helicopter of holiness hovers,

so the cord of faith falls to the waiting hands,

red with repentance, and unbegrimed in its newness,

ready for the vertical ascent (Ephesians 2:6),

the only option,

now as always (Galatians 1:6-9, 3:1-13, Ephesians 2:8, Titus 2:4-3:7).