Wheat From The Chaff Quotes

If love has taken us for a ride and passion made us ignore sham and swindle, the time has come to separate the wheat from the chaff and polish up diamonds of trust, neatly, day by day. ("Taken for a ride")

Newspaper editors are men who separate the wheat from the chaff, and then print the chaff.

You may not be the person your mother wants you to be, but you are you. Our job here is to try and separate the wheat from the chaff and figure out who you are and not who your mother thinks you are.

The nearer Christ comes to a heart, the more it becomes conscious of its guilt; it will then either ask for his mercy and find peace, or else it will turn against Him because it is not yet ready to give up its sinfulness. Thus He will separate the good from the bad, the wheat from the chaff. Man's reaction to this Divine Presence will be the test: either it will call out all the opposition of egotistic natures, or else galvanize them into a regeneration and a resurrection.

Editor: a person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed." Hubbard, Elbert

As she drove, she surprised herself with a sudden laugh. How blind, infinitely blind, she had been to think that men’s inability to see her forty-eight-year-old self was a regret or, worse, a failing on her own part. No, what it really was was a blessing, for that inability had separated the wheat from the chaff. The spotlight was indeed always there but only for someone perceptive enough, brave enough, mature enough to see it still shining above her head.

Who was I kidding? I'm a farmer, and farmers are natural segregationists. We separate the wheat from the chaff. I'm not Rudolf Hess, P. W. Botha, Capitol Records, or present-day U.S. of A. Those motherfuckers segregate because they want to hold on to power. I'm a farmer: we segregate in an effort to give every tree, every plant, every poor Mexican, every poor nigger, a chance for equal access to sunlight and water; we make sure every living organism has room to breathe.

In the nineteenth century the Industrial Revolution created new conditions and problems that none of the existing social, economic, and political models could cope with. Feudalism, monarchism, and traditional religions were not adapted to managing industrial metropolises, millions of uprooted workers, or the constantly changing nature of the modern economy. Consequently, humankind had to develop completely new models—liberal democracies, communist dictatorships, and fascist regimes—and it took more than a century of terrible wars and revolutions to experiment with these models, separate the wheat from the chaff, and implement the best solutions. Child labor in Dickensian coal mines, the First World War, and the Great Ukrainian Famine of 1932–33 constituted just a small part of the tuition fees humankind had to pay.

The sixth disciple is called Bartholomew. This quality is the imaginative faculty, which quality of the mind when once awake distinguishes one from the masses. An awakened imagination places the one so awakened head and shoulders above the average man, giving him the appearance of a beacon light in a world of darkness. No quality so separates man from man. as does the disciplined imagination This is the separation of the wheat from the chaff. Those who have given most to society are our artists, scientists, inventors and others with vivid imaginations.

Persuading them to join is not the problem, but separating the wheat from the chaff is harder.

We all behave like Maxwell’s demon. Organisms organize. In everyday experience lies the reason sober physicists across two centuries kept this cartoon fantasy alive. We sort the mail, build sand castles, solve jigsaw puzzles, separate wheat from chaff, rearrange chess pieces, collect stamps, alphabetize books, create symmetry, compose sonnets and sonatas, and put our rooms in order, and all this we do requires no great energy, as long as we can apply intelligence. We propagate structure (not just we humans but we who are alive). We disturb the tendency toward equilibrium. It would be absurd to attempt a thermodynamic accounting for such processes, but it is not absurd to say we are reducing entropy, piece by piece. Bit by bit. The original demon, discerning one molecules at a time, distinguishing fast from slow, and operating his little gateway, is sometimes described as “superintelligent,” but compared to a real organism it is an idiot savant. Not only do living things lessen the disorder in their environments; they are in themselves, their skeletons and their flesh, vesicles and membranes, shells and carapaces, leaves and blossoms, circulatory systems and metabolic pathways - miracles of pattern and structure. It sometimes seems as if curbing entropy is our quixotic purpose in the universe.

This time of contrast shall separate the wheat from the chaff. The wise will strive to manifest a brave new world, while the foolish and unkind will suffer for their lack of common sense. And when the storm finally subsides, many will wake up on the wrong side of history.

There are no forbidden questions in science, no matters to sensitive or delicate to be probed, no sacred truths. That openness to new ideas, combined with the most rigorous, skeptical scrutiny of all ideas, sifts the wheat from the chaff. It makes no difference how smart, august, or beloved you are. You must prove your case in the face of determined, expert criticism. Diversity and debate are valued. Opinions are encouraged to contend–substantively and in depth.

Even a true story is a fiction, Paul knew. It is the comforting tool we use to organize the chaotic world around us into something comprehensible. It is the cognitive machine that separates the wheat of emotion from the chaff of sensation.

Among the gifts of the Spirit, scarcely is one of greater practical usefulness than the gift of discernment. This gift should be highly valued and frankly sought as being almost indispensable in these critical times. This gift will enable us to distinguish the chaff from the wheat and to divide the manifestations of the flesh from the operations of the Spirit.

Asked about the role of America’s newspaper publishers, later, when they opposed him editorially, he answered, “Their job is to separate the wheat from the chaff and then print the chaff.

Notwithstanding much cant and hypocrisy—chaff which I find it difficult to separate from my wheat, but for which I am as sorry as any man—I will breathe freely and stretch myself in this respect, it is such a relief to both the moral and physical system; and I am resolved that I will not through humility become the devil's attorney. I will endeavor to speak a good word for the truth.

They shall stand there to be judged, but not to be acquitted. Fear shall lay hold upon them there; they shall not stand their ground; they shall flee away; they shall not stand in their own defence; for they shall blush and be covered with eternal contempt. Well may the saints long for heaven, for no evil men shall dwell there, "nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous." All our congregations upon earth are mixed. Every Church hath one devil in it. The tares grow in the same furrows as the wheat. There is no floor which is as yet thoroughly purged from chaff.

Jiu Jitsu is meant to serve us, not the other way around. It is meant to make you more of whatever it is you already are. It is meant to separate the wheat from the chaff. It is meant to bring to conscious attention all that once went unseen. It is meant to make you more loving. It is meant to make you more wise, but less certain. It is meant to make us humble, yet supremely confident. It is meant to remind us of our frailty while simultaneously making us feel invincible.

A classic is a work which gives pleasure to the minority which is intensely and permanently interested in literature. It lives on because the minority, eager to renew the sensation of pleasure, is eternally curious and is therefore engaged in an eternal process of rediscovery. A classic does not survive because of any ethical reason it does not survive because it conforms to certain canons, or because neglect would kill it. It survived because it is a source of pleasure and because the passionate few can no more neglect it then a bee can neglect a flower. The passionate few do not read "the right things" because they are right. That is to put the cart before the horse "the right things" are the right things solely because the passionate few like reading them … Nobody at all is quite in a position to choose with certainty among modern works. To sift the wheat from the chaff is a process that takes an exceedingly long time. Modern works have to pass before the bar of the taste of successive Generations; whereas, with Classics, which have been through the ordeal, almost the reverse is the case. Your taste has to pass before the bar of the classics. That is the point. If you differ with a classic, it is you who are wrong, and not the book. If you differ with a modern work, you may be wrong or you may be right, but no judge is authoritative to decide your taste is unformed. It needs guidance and it needs authoritative guidance. Arnold Bennett, Literary Taste: How to Form It, as quoted by S. I. Hayakawa

In the nineteenth century the Industrial Revolution created new conditions and problems that none of the existing social, economic, and political models could cope with. Feudalism, monarchism, and traditional religions were not adapted to managing industrial metropolises, millions of uprooted workers, or the constantly changing nature of the modern economy. Consequently, humankind had to develop completely new models—liberal democracies, communist dictatorships, and fascist regimes—and it took more than a century of terrible wars and revolutions to experiment with these models, separate the wheat from the chaff, and implement the best solutions.

For example, the fact that school is boring, arduous, and full of busywork might hinder students’ ability to learn. But to the extent that school is primarily about credentialing, its goal is to separate the wheat (good future worker bees) from the chaff (slackers, daydreamers, etc.). And if school were easy or fun, it wouldn’t serve this function very well. If there were a way to fast-forward all the learning (and retention) that actually takes place in school—for example, by giving students a magic pill that taught them everything in an instant—we would still need to subject them to boring lectures and nitpicky tests in order to credential them.

She takes the money and stuffs it into a pocket.  “You can find your way from here?” he asks. She grins. “I’m not a yellow card. I don’t have anything to fear.” Hock Seng makes himself smile in return, thinking that she does not know how little anyone cares to separate wheat from chaff, when all anyone wants to do is burn a field.

In the nineteenth century the Industrial Revolution created new conditions and problems that none of the existing social, economic and political models could cope with. Feudalism, monarchism and traditional religions were not adapted to managing industrial metropolises, millions of uprooted workers, or the constantly changing nature of the modern economy. Consequently humankind had to develop completely new models – liberal democracies, communist dictatorships and fascist regimes – and it took more than a century of terrible wars and revolutions to experiment with these models, separate the wheat from the chaff, and implement the best solutions. Child labour in Dickensian coal mines, the First World War and the Great Ukrainian Famine of 1932–3 constituted just a small part of the tuition fees humankind paid.

I find it impossible, therefore, to imagine a growing and maturing church or individual Christian doing without the Psalms. And that is why (to be frank) a fair amount of contemporary Christian music has worried me for some time. The last generation in the Western churches has seen an enormous explosion in “Christian music,” with hundreds of new songs written and sung, often with great devotion and energy. That is wonderful; like all new movements, it will no doubt need to shake down and sift out the wheat from the chaff, but one would much rather have all these new signs of life than the sterile repetition of stale traditions. Until very recently, though, the kind of traditions from which this new music has emerged, traditions that think of themselves as “biblical,” after all, would always have included solid doses of psalmody. If that has changed, the sooner it changes back the better, with, of course, all the resources of fresh musical treatments upon which to draw. To worship without using the Psalms is to risk planting seeds that will never take root.

Paul was an attorney. And this was what his as yet brief career in the law had done to his brain. He was comforted by minutiae. His mortal fears could be assuaged only by an encyclopedic command of detail. Paul was a professional builder of narratives. He was a teller of concise tales. His work was to take a series of isolated events and, shearing from them their dross, craft from them a progression. The morning’s discrete images—a routine labor, a clumsy error, a grasping arm, a crowded street, a spark of fire, a blood-speckled child, a dripping corpse—could be assembled into a story. There would be a beginning, a middle, and an end. Stories reach conclusions, and then they go away. Such is their desperately needed magic. That day’s story, once told in his mind, could be wrapped up, put aside, and recalled only when necessary. The properly assembled narrative would guard his mind from the terror of raw memory. Even a true story is a fiction, Paul knew. It is the comforting tool we use to organize the chaotic world around us into something comprehensible. It is the cognitive machine that separates the wheat of emotion from the chaff of sensation. The real world is overfull with incidents, brimming over with occurrences. In our stories, we disregard most of them until clear reason and motivation emerge. Every story is an invention, a technological device not unlike the very one that on that morning had seared a man’s skin from his bones. A good story could be put to no less dangerous a purpose. As an attorney, the tales that Paul told were moral ones. There existed, in his narratives, only the injured and their abusers. The slandered and the liars. The swindled and the thieves. Paul constructed these characters painstakingly until the righteousness of his plaintiff—or his defendant—became overwhelming. It was not the job of a litigator to determine facts; it was his job to construct a story from those facts by which a clear moral conclusion would be unavoidable. That was the business of Paul’s stories: to present an undeniable view of the world. And then to vanish, once the world had been so organized and a profit fairly earned.

As he throws himself into one scheme after another, he draws lessons that improve his focus and judgment. He knits what he learns into mental models of investing, which he then uses to size up more complex opportunities and find his way through the weeds, plucking the telling details from masses of irrelevant information to reach the payoff at the end. These behaviors are what psychologists call “rule learning” and “structure building.” People who as a matter of habit extract underlying principles or rules from new experiences are more successful learners than those who take their experiences at face value, failing to infer lessons that can be applied later in similar situations. Likewise, people who single out salient concepts from the less important information they encounter in new material and who link these key ideas into a mental structure are more successful learners than those who cannot separate wheat from chaff and understand how the wheat is made into flour.

Bread plays favorites. From the earliest times, it acts as a social marker, sifting the poor from the wealthy, the cereal from the chaff. The exceptional from the mediocre. Wheat becomes more acceptable than rye; farmers talk of losing their 'rye teeth' as their economic status improves. Barley is for the most destitute, the coarse grain grinding down molars until the nerves are exposed. Breads with the added richness of eggs and milk and butter become the luxuries of princes. Only paupers eat dark bread adulterated with peas and left to sour, or purchase horse-bread instead of man-bread, often baked with the floor sweepings, because it costs a third less than the cheapest whole-meal loaves. When brown bread makes it to the tables of the prosperous, it is as trenchers- plates- stacked high with fish and meat and vegetables and soaked with gravy. The trenchers are then thrown outside, where the dogs and beggars fight over them. Crusts are chipped off the rolls of the rich, both to make it easier to chew and to aid in digestion. Peasants must work all the more to eat, even in the act of eating itself, jaws exhausted from biting through thick crusts and heavy crumb. There is no lightness for them. No whiteness at all. And it is the whiteness every man wants. Pure, white flour. Only white bread blooms when baked, opening to the heat like a rose. Only a king should be allowed such beauty, because he has been blessed by his God. So wouldn't he be surprised- no, filled with horror- to find white bread the food of all men today, and even more so the food of the common people. It is the least expensive on the shelf at the supermarket, ninety-nine cents a loaf for the storebrand. It is smeared with sweetened fruit and devoured by schoolchildren, used for tea sandwiches by the affluent, donated to soup kitchens for the needy, and shunned by the artisan. Yes, the irony of all ironies, the hearty, dark bread once considered fit only for thieves and livestock is now some of the most prized of all.

In writing The Exciting Story of Cuba I tried not to judge or take sides. I tell the events as they happened and attempt to take a neutral or reasonable political position; however I am also convinced that both sides will disagree with some of my views. Hopefully this is not just one more dry history book, but rather a presentation of interesting stories of Cuba. Unfortunately, Cuba is still a divided country with extreme political leanings and loyalties. Cubans, in both the United States and on the island, are a proud people who frequently find it difficult to reach a middle ground. Research into recent history demonstrates that the people who fled from Castro, and those who still support him, see things in a very different light. It is said that, “To the victor go the spoils,” and in this case, both sides have experienced both victory and defeat. Thus, events are recorded in two very different ways. Americans have also played a major role in Cuban history. However, to be very clear, not everything America has done was right, nor was it always wrong, since special interest groups frequently influenced events in Washington. The consequential actions of the United States as they pertain to Cuban affairs reflect this. In the end, it is the reader’s conclusion that counts, but my attempt is to separate the wheat from the chaff and to clarify the brine as much as possible, but always with a sense of responsibility mixed with humor. The nature of this book is definitely historical and therefore can be used as a reference source that, although not footnoted, can easily be cross-referenced with standard textbooks as well as historical novels. It contains photographs, stories and information not readily found in other books about Cuban history.

Instead of teaching us to be curious, they taught us to critique. Instead of teaching us to learn from other people of faith, they taught us to protect ourselves from being led astray. Instead of helping us discern and sift the wheat from the chaff, they trained us to defend ourselves against anything that fell outside our circle.

She does not know how little anyone cares to separate wheat from chaff, when all anyone wants to do is burn a field.

Love is the sacrament of life; it sets Virtue where virtue was not; cleanses men Of all the vile pollutions of this world; It is the fire which purges gold from dross, It is the fan which winnows wheat from chaff, It is the spring which in some wintry soil Makes innocence to blossom like a rose. The days are over when God walked with men, But Love, which is his image, holds his place. When a man loves a woman, then he knows God’s secret, and the secret of the world. There is no house so lowly or so mean, Which, if their hearts be pure who live in it, Love will not enter; but if bloody murder Knock at the Palace gate and is let in, Love like a wounded thing creeps out and dies. This is the punishment God sets on sin. The wicked cannot love.

Your mother asked about his family, because we are southern and asking about someone’s family is the only way we can distinguish the chaff from the wheat.

As for myself, because I am not great, I allow a wide berth of behaviors and missteps by my loved ones. Beggars can’t be choosers, everybody goes home #nofriendsleftbehind, I don’t care what you do as long as we can talk about it later. But I respect separating the righteous wheat from the pointless chaff.

And as he separated the memories out over the course of his life, like wheat from chaff, all that was good and warm and childhood seemed to slide onto the imperial side of the ledger, and all that was violent, anguished, and upsetting piled up in a heap around the dark incidents that eventually led to the most inescapable disruptions of all: war and revolution. But his light-suffused memories stayed with him; they were the jewels he would sew into the hem of his mind and carry with him out of Russia. He had to remember them because no one else would.

The Internet also threatens democracy by making it easier for falsehoods related to politics to gain credence and multiply, giving aid and comfort to the enemies of common sense, decency, and truth. It is good for democracy that the digital media allow more and more of us to become producers as well as consumers of political opinions and information. It is not good when, as consumers, we make no effort to question what we read, compare it to other sources, and attempt to separate the wheat from the chaff. Some of the new producers are among our finest journalists, while others are apparently devoted to making Orwellian prophecies come true. As consumers of their wares, we need to set our bunk detectors on high.

she does not know how little anyone cares to separate wheat from chaff, when all anyone wants to do is burn a field.

Each person interviewing a candidate would vote “hire” or “don’t hire,” with no “maybes” allowed. Six months later, the newly integrated employees would be evaluated by their managers on their performance: below, meets, or exceeds expectations. The company could then calculate the accuracy, or HBA, of each interviewer. If a manager had approved ten candidates and, six months out, eight of them were performing at or above expectations, her HBA would be .800, and she’d get to stay involved in the recruitment push. This simple technique has at least four great benefits: First, it separates the wheat from the chaff among your interviewers—the

Slow down and remember this: Most things make no difference. Being busy is a form of laziness—lazy thinking and indiscriminate action. Being overwhelmed is often as unproductive as doing nothing, and is far more unpleasant. Being selective—doing less—is the path of the productive. Focus on the important few and ignore the rest. Of course, before you can separate the wheat from the chaff and eliminate activities in a new environment (whether a new job or an entrepreneurial venture), you will need to try a lot to identify what pulls the most weight. Throw it all up on the wall and see what sticks. That’s part of the process, but it should not take more than a month or two. It’s easy to get caught in a flood of minutiae, and the key to not feeling rushed is remembering that lack of time is actually lack of priorities. Take time to stop and smell the roses, or—in this case—to count the pea pods. The 9–5 Illusion and Parkinson’s Law I saw a bank that said “24-Hour Banking,” but I don’t have that much time.

Islands, being harder to get to, naturally separated some of the wheat from the chaff, which was the entire philosophy behind places like Nantucket, where children grew up entitled to private beaches and loud pants.

Islands, being harder to get to, naturally separated some of the wheat from the chaff, which was the entire philosophy behind places like Nantucket, where children grew up feeling entitled to private beaches and loud pants.

And even now the axe lieth at the root of the trees: every tree therefore that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Mt3.11 I indeed baptize you in water unto repentance: but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptize you in the Holy Spirit and [in] fire: Mt3.12 whose fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly cleanse his threshing-floor; and he will gather his wheat into the garner, but the chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire. Mt3.13 Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to the Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him. Mt3.14 But John would have hindered him, saying, I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me? Mt3.15 But Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer [it] now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffereth him. Mt3.16

The provision of news and information, for example, has been ‘dumbed down’ to a previously unimaginable degree, and the line between Hollywood fiction and journalistic fact is increasingly blurry. Between the latest action blockbuster and a Fox News ‘embedded’ exclusive – or, at an ‘advanced’ level, between some sentimental Oscar-bait and a John Simpson BBC news report – locating the line is no easy task.20 In search of the facts, sceptical and curious citizens turn to the web for scraps of truth, and struggle to separate the journalistic wheat from the chaff. But their eagerness to educate themselves and their hostility to the mainstream, corporate- and state-owned media assures us that the rational pursuit of objective reality hasn’t been forsaken in a world of hyper-propaganda and philosophical relativism.

So, without doubt, and much more, is the speech of God (if there be any such thing as the speech of God) to be distinguished from that of the wisest of men; agreeable to Jer. xxiii. 28, 29. God having there been reproving the false prophets that prophesied in his name and pretended that what they spake was his word, when indeed it was their own word, says, “The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath my word, let him speak my word faithfully. What is the chaff to the wheat? saith the Lord. Is not my word like as a fire? saith the Lord; and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?” 2.

Those who feel the generous are being taken advantage of by the greedy completely miss generosity’s most valuable unintended consequence: it is by far the easiest and quickest way to separate the wheat from the chaff — who are very effectively winnowed out by their lightweight responses to real virtue.

These particular beliefs are being challenged—God as supernatural being up there, out there; humans as the center and point of creation; Christianity as the true religion; Christianity as singularly about individual salvation; the Bible as consistent, not contradictory; you can add to the list. Christians in our day are being pressed to reflect on cherished beliefs. Their foundations are shaking. Some seize the opportunity. Others dig in and resent the challenge of this inner, theological work. Jesus references the “winnowing fan that separates the grain from the chaff” (Matt 3:12). Isn’t this a part of what you do? You help parishioners separate the wheat from the chaff, letting go what’s not alive and retaining what’s lifegiving. Each letting go is a loss. Each one is an experience of dying. It’s grief work. It’s hospice chaplaincy. With patience and tender care you invite members to grieve the loss of what was but no longer contains vitality for them.

Now connect your own spirit with that of a spiritual guide. Ask the Divine to help you separate the wheat from the chaff, your own emotions from those of others. Ask it to show you how your emotional field looks right now. Where are the stretch marks, folds, and holes? Where are the areas that are armored, nailed shut, unwieldy? You might see distorted shapes or blotchy areas, or energetic cords that look like garden hoses; the latter connote links between you and others through which energy is bled, dumped, or exchanged. On the opposite end of these cords, you might discover people you know, images of the deceased, or the gray shadows of unfamiliar spirits.

Actually, creativity, although rare in most small business management, is one of the traits that separates the wheat from the chaff in this

(“For behold, the day is coming, burning like a furnace; and all the arrogant and every evildoer will be chaff; and the day that is coming will set them ablaze,” says the Lord of hosts, “so that it will leave them neither root nor branch.” – Mal. 4:1) “Just then the bottomless pit opened very near where I stood. Smoke billowed and spewed from the mouth of the pit along with coals of fire and hideous noises. The heavenly attendants were commanded to ‘Gather my wheat into the storehouse.’ (His winnowing fork is in His hand to thoroughly clear His threshing floor, and to gather the wheat into His barn; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire. – Luke 3:17) And with that I saw many caught up and carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. (For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ

There is a danger the wheat might burn with the chaff.

We thrive in information-thick worlds because of our marvelous and everyday capacities to select, edit, single out, structure, highlight, group, pair, merge, harmonize, synthesize, focus, organize, condense, reduce, boil down, choose, categorize, catalog, classify, list, abstract, scan, look into, idealize, isolate, discriminate, distinguish, screen, pigeonhole, pick over, sort, integrate, blend, inspect, filter, lump, skip, smooth, chunk, average, approximate, cluster, aggregate, outline, summarize, itemize, review, dip into, flip through, browse, glance into, leaf through, skim, refine, enumerate, glean, synopsize, winnow the wheat from the chaff, and separate the sheep from the goats.

The just man need have no fear, but the evildoer has good cause to tremble. For plague is the flail of God and the world His threshing-floor, and implacably He will thresh out His harvest until the wheat is separated from the chaff.

Our intense human desire to avoid ambiguity, to pinpoint the true and to discard the false, to separate the wheat from the chaff, tends to make us seek and believe in very sharp answers to questions that have none.

Dear reader, I guess there’s a chance – just the tiniest chance – that I might hunt you down. Beforehand I’d always let such a frivolous impulse fade but these days – and I am not proud of this – the pictures lurking in the corners of my mind are gaining in colour, detail and intensity. I fight them, I really do, but the scenario seems to have a life of its own, slowly taking shape and maybe dreaming of the day it gets unleashed into the real world. Becomes flesh and blood, if you like. And despite my very best efforts at restraint, I’m afraid I’ve already started... planning. You know, plotting a bit. Gathering details about your movements and habits. That sort of thing. And if I’m pushed, I might admit to lingering on the finer points of your demise, perhaps even gorging on the sight of your stricken face as I finally take centre stage in your life. You see, I guess I’m just tired of your lack of appreciation. Let’s face it, I’m not exactly the first name on your Christmas card list. I’m still waiting for you to swing by for a cuppa and a few kind words. Hey, a simple email would have been enough. Don’t you know how precious a bit of encouragement can be? And here’s the rub: for as long as I can remember I have been on my knees in front of you only to be treated like the invisible man. You’ve repeatedly ignored my imploring face and open arms, although occasionally you’ve stopped and dallied, causing my heart to skitter wildly. I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to be noticed. It’s so... nourishing. After all, a flower can’t bloom in the dark. But then it dawns on me that you’re not committed to our fledgling relationship. In fact, it’s just a flirtation and soon you’ll be skipping on your merry way. Whatever trifling affection you have shown, it’s clear you’ll never bang the drum for little old me. And don’t think I don’t know about the others. The ones you fawn over. Just tell me – why are you so in thrall with their rampant mediocrity? Hell, maybe they’ve somehow infected you, skewed your take on things and made you unable to sort the wheat from the chaff. Perhaps I should offer condolences but the fact remains that kneeling before you with my heart in my hands only seems to result in you jumping into bed with them. Do you not understand how much love I’ve lavished on you? Call me tetchy, but some days you simply seem unworthy of my great sacrifice. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. All is not lost. For here we are again meeting as equals and this time I know I have your attention. I can only hope you have lost the desire to bait me, or God forbid, spit in my face. So help me. Accept my tender embrace. Or one day, dear reader, you might find the invisible man taking shape right in front of your disbelieving eyes. And you’d only have yourself to blame.

A discerning believer is constrained to rationally weigh the teachings of the churches and the interpretations of their respective Bibles in order to try to make a decision on the proper path to take. To the discerning seeker, the question of believing becomes more than just a question of blind faith. How do you separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak? The substantial (and long overdue) question surely must be asked at one time or another. If indeed there is an almighty, living, omnipotent, Alpha and Omega Christian God, would He not have at least provided us with a way of determining the one true and final Bible? Is there “a true” Christian word of God deducible by way of reasoning or logic? This question is the subject of this book. Is there a one and only Bible that can form the basis of the sola scriptura doctrine? Incredibly, as we shall shortly see, God in fact did foresee this dilemma and actually provided a solution for it by sealing the Authorised Bible.

The number of Thine own complete, Sum up and make an end; Sift clean the chaff, and house the wheat— And then, O Lord, descend. “Descend, and solve by that descent, This mystery of life; Where good and ill, together blent, Wage an undying strife. “For rivers twain are gushing still, And pour a mingled flood; Good in the very depths of ill— Ill in the heart of good. “The last are first, the first are last, As angel eyes behold; These from the sheepcote sternly cast, Those welcomed to the fold. “No Christian home, no pastor’s eye, No preacher’s vocal zeal, Moved Thy dear martyr to defy The prison and the wheel. “Forth from the heathen ranks she stepped The forfeit throne to claim Of Christian souls who had not kept Their birthright and their name. “Grace formed her out of sinful dust; She knelt a soul defiled; She rose in all the faith and trust And sweetness of a child. “And in the freshness of that love She preached by word and deed, The mysteries of the world above— Her new-found glorious creed. “And running, in a little hour, Of life the course complete, She reached the throne of endless power, And sits at Jesus’ feet. “Her spirit there, her body here, Make one the earth and sky; We use her name, we touch her bier, We know her God is nigh.

If today the plague is in your midst, that is because the hour has struck for taking thought. The just man need have no fear, but the evildoer has good cause to tremble. For plague is the flail of God and the world His threshing-floor, and implacably He will thresh out His harvest until the wheat is separated from the chaff. There will be more chaff than wheat, few chosen of the many called. Yet this calamity was not willed by God. Too long this world of ours has connived at evil, too long has it counted on the divine mercy, on God’s forgiveness. Repentance was enough, men thought; nothing was forbidden. Everyone felt comfortably assured; when the day came, he would surely turn from his sins and repent. Pending that day, the easiest course was to surrender all along the line; divine compassion would do the rest. For a long while God gazed down on this town with eyes of compassion; but He grew weary of waiting, His eternal hope was too long deferred, and now He has turned His face away from us. And so, God’s light withdrawn, we walk in darkness, in the thick darkness of this plague.