The Name of my Family: Valerius
The Name of my Family: Valerius
An ancestor of mine: Emperor Valerius Liscenious, whose vicious hate for Christianity caused the murder of thousands of martyrs; is the namesake I carry. I do believe in curses being passed to the third and fourth generation of them that hate God; and have broken the curse, but only by The Blood of The Lamb. Not that Emperor Valerius (or his legacy) mean anything to me, other than, "Wow, that's cool," from most who learn of it. I don't believe that men are ever perfect, in this life, nor that they should be worshipped; especially leaders, who everyone seems to feel that it is their duty to find some 'dirt' on. Probably partly due to the way that the commoners used to go on about their rulers being great, or ascribing magical powers to them. We are under the curse that we build for ourselves, when we disobey The Lord, Who told us to pray for leaders, everywhere, so that all men might serve Him in peace. He walked the walk.
Yes, police (and even the military) are ministers of God, on our behalf. God sets up one ruler, takes him down and puts up another. He still runs the whole show, but allows us to stew in pots that we have filled. Thank God that He has given us His Grace, through Jesus, the only way out of this sinking cesspool called earth. That's Who we need to talk about. He lives in our actions. He walks (and talks) in our flesh.
I own a gun, and wouldn't hesitate to use it, were someone to enter my house unwanted, or otherwise threaten my family. I believe that Jesus said that if we didn't own a gun, that we should sell our coat, and buy one. I agree. If more people owned guns and the criminals knew that, there'd be a lot less crime. Many European countries enjoy far less crime than we do, partly because of the gun ownership (required by law) and partly because national service in the military is mandatory for all able-bodied citizens. I guess that when the only 'dissident' population is infirm, the meetings go kinda' slow. They learn how to walk, from those who've been there, and then came back to help them.
My dad fought in WWII. He got his left kneecap torn off by a German artillery shell, near the end of the war. There were Jews, Christians, Catholics, agnostics, Native Americans and who knows, maybe even Satanists and Mormons out there, fighting against a common enemy: tyranny. I thank God for him, and pray daily for his salvation. He's 86 years old, and we're going to look at a retirement home, next week. He can't walk so well anymore. He was a USPS Letter Carrier for 31 years, even though he only had one kneecap. When I was young, I remember how much he was silent, most of the time. I had a rough go of it trying to catch up to him when I followed along, now and then, on his mail route. He walked the walk.
We came to this country to seek our fortunes in 'new territory,' America. We decided that taxation without representation was ridiculous. Now we have more taxes and even less representation. Our elected officials think that the 'special interest' groups speak for all Americans. I think that they just talk, talk, talk; but don't walk the walk. Too many fools walking around doing all the talking. It is the meek, the downtrodden few, who are quiet, most of the time, that you have to watch out for. One day they get their belly-full of someone or something and then, LOOKOUT; they're un-stoppable. My dad is that way. Well maybe not so much any more, but he talks about the walk that he had. I honor my dad. He is my hero. Always will be.
