Marathoner

There are as many reasons as there are addicts under the sun. Many were unknowingly given fentanyl believing that they were receiving their drug of choice, such as oxy pills. Disguising fentanyl as well-known prescription meds is one way to disguise them from being detected by law enforcement. That's how it started in this particular city a few years ago.

The most dangerous aspect in my estimation is addiction. Fentanyl addiction invariably leads to fatality since it doesn't take much of that drug to kill us. My first encounter with that happened a few years ago when a man climbed into a dumpster at our old location in the war zone. Witnesses said they watched him smoke "blues" (that's local terminology for fentanyl) before climbing into the dumpster; the man passed away in that dumpster afterward. A few weeks later, I encountered a man lying prone on the sidewalk. He was unresponsive. People in the area reported that he was seen smoking blues before lying down on the sidewalk. I had one of them call 911 while we administered two doses of Narcan to the man. Neither had any effect. His breathing was shallow so all I could do was pray that he would make it. I don't know if he did or not.

Fentanyl and it's much more potent replacement, nitazene, are both being made here in the U.S. This city has been one of a number of "ground zero" places in the country where these drugs are made and trafficked. We only recently acquired fentanyl test strips at the nonprofit where I work. Specialized testing is required to detect the different compounds which comprise fentanyl; this goes beyond the 12-drug panel we use to test new clients for other substances such as meth, MDMA, et. al. To complicate matters, those specialized fentanyl test strips cannot detect nitazene. I advocated for the fentanyl test strips, and now I'm keeping my eyes open for nitazene detection technology. Why test for these substances? We have a responsibility for the health and safety of all of our clients, and it's critical to know if anyone is using the deadliest drugs from which recovery is virtually unheard of. Narcan is powerless against them both.

When I encountered this teaching some time after the Lord called me, it struck me as odd. It's part of the "hell insurance" sales pitch. It's still as strange as it's ever been. Your understanding of that particular subject is identical to the brother who introduced me to the scriptures. What did he emphasize? The Body of Christ. This is also what the same brother taught me. It's worth noting that churches in the area considered him a nutcase for preaching such things. He continues to teach the same to this day. I don't belong to nor frequent any churches, brother. I fellowship with brethren in the course of carrying out my calling in Christ which sees me working at a temporary housing shelter for the homeless. I walked in their shoes for many years, so the Lord equipped me to serve them as a counselor.

I have isolated this last statement in your excellent post because it exposes rotten timbers which serve as the support system for bridges that will collapse catastrophically. I believe this ties into the OP and the resident theme because we do, in fact, have an active role to play in that work which the Lord is faithful to complete. Our faith is not a passive affair; however, to clear up any possible confusion, I am not obliquely referring to religious observances, rituals, nor perceived perfection on our part. Hardly, because such things are enterprises which this flesh may cling to eagerly. I refer to following the will and purpose of the Lord. If we were able to be perfect, then we wouldn't have any need for our Teacher to teach us His ways. If all we needed was ritual observance then we would have no need for anything else, would we? Ah, but if we listen to the voice of the Lord and pay heed to what He says, then all will be well with us. That's a paraphrase of Jeremiah 7:23 and is indicative of your sound assertion that God is immutable, and His counsel never changes. It truly is as simple as listening to His voice and obeying Him. I started on this post earlier but set it aside since I had some matters that required my immediate attention. Having returned, I note our brother @Vine Abider's post above and to be honest, it never occurred to me that the opportunity to mature lasts beyond our sojourn on this earth in this body of corruption. The process of maturation started in earnest after I had lost everything except for the life in this body, when I finally understood what the Lord requires of me: He requires everything. Knowing this --- when I was all but dead --- I said to the Lord, "I have destroyed this life, so I return it to Your hand, Lord." This was what the Lord required of me from the beginning. It took losing all of my possessions, money, family and friends, health, and that which had opened doors in this world in the past --- my ability to speak persuasively --- to finally arrive at the place where I was ready to mature. What did the Lord declare? My offering was acceptable in His sight, and so He proceeded to instruct me what to expect: He would speak, and I would hear His voice; He would speak, and I would do as He bid me to do. He would always be with me as He was at that moment; and then, when He was finished teaching me how to speak again and was pleased, He poured His Spirit upon me. Maturation continues onward for truly, I never stop learning about His ways. He is a willing and faithful Teacher.

Boundaries: Worthy Terms of Service More than adequate.

Having read the responses here, many have stated "being regenerated with His life within" in so many words. "Born again" is shorthand for that statement.

It's all too easy for us to encounter misunderstanding on this earth. We can be part of it... we can be the subject of it... or, we can witness it unfold. This is why we ought to strive to be civil and kind with one another. Having some insight into this --- I've watched matters transpire at work which were entirely avoidable --- I will always advocate the cause of mercy. There was a man who was prone to explosive fits of anger. The consensus was that he had to be discharged from our temporary housing shelter as soon as possible, but I had a different understanding. After he unloaded on me because he misunderstood a situation, he apologized afterward because the man saw that I have "been on his side" all along. I know the root cause of those explosive fits of anger: Early-stage dementia. He was easily overwhelmed if more than one person spoke to him at the same time, or they dumped the "big picture" into his lap which proved to be overwhelming. After discussing his case with others, I explained the secret to successfully navigating matters with this fellow; only deal with one situation at a time. Nuance takes time to discern, if we are able to discern it at all. That was face-to-face life which is much easier than it is on an internet forum.

I was the same, brother. Until the harvest comes, only the Lord knows the difference between tares and wheat. It's impossible for us to distinguish the difference until both reach maturity.

This isn't the first time that a language barrier and misunderstanding has surfaced on the forum. It's already been established that @Your closest friendnt is orthodox in his understanding of scripture; what needs to be repeated for the benefit of readers is that English isn't this member's native language. Because of this, misunderstandings on the forum are a constant issue. It ought to be abundantly clear that the English syntax of our friend's posts doesn't always make sense to us; this is not due to a shortcoming on his part. I'm grieved whenever a member seeks to accuse our friend of things which aren't true. This is different than disagreement, yes? It is.

I caution against judgment that uses "true" or "genuine" as a means of separating one from the other. This invariably involves one's concept of true or genuine and is best described as a lens of belief. If something runs afoul of someone's lens of belief, then this dictates the judgment that follows. The example of wheat and tares is an important lesson for us. The species called "tares" is indistinguishable from wheat until the mature stage arrives; that time is the harvest. I have witnessed unrighteousness judgment where some were denounced as false when in truth, time proved that was error. It underscores the teaching of the Lord to examine our own selves.

Unless they are livestock guardian dogs, coyotes and other predators generally operate with impunity. Even a smaller LGD is too much for coyotes. My six-month-old puppy chased coyotes with the adults. He was fearless. When we brought him home after being weaned at 3 months, he joined the adults and barked at coyotes that night. He was adorable.

The answer? Great Pyrenees. Coyotes are terrified of them. So are bears.

The best kind of clothing to give.

I didn't see an option that fits me, brother. Much like kindness and love, giving to our neighbor is not limited to a specific time nor place. It's similar to the Sabbath: the Lord is my rest at all times, never limited to one particular day. I am with Him always, and He is with me always; nothing can separate me from the Lord. I say nothing with regard to what others do for truly, who am I to judge? Let us examine ourselves instead of picking at others, which is most assuredly what the Lord teaches us to do. My "personal" reasons for initially avoiding all holidays lost it's validity a very long time ago. I got over that because the Lord helped me focus upon serving others and being a testimony. The inverse narcissism of severe depression (it is indeed inverse narcissism!) eventually disappeared because I wasn't gazing at myself. Praise the Lord! There's nothing wrong with remembering and sharing testimony, for that is how the Lord uses me to reach the suffering and walk beside those who find themselves under the power of this flesh. An example speaks more loudly than promises.

What am I? A new creation in Jesus Christ.

Better safe than sorry, yes?

If duct tape doesn't address the problem, then burn it with fire.

Disco?

As a postscript, my love of super-hot chiles and spicy food started during those days. That's how she would entice me to eat: she would steam some tamales stuffed with hot chiles purchased from families in the village (tamales are an old tradition), and then pour blazing hot sauce on them... The aroma of hot chiles had the effect of activating the desire to eat, so I would eat as much as I could keep down. Believe it or not, super-hot chiles were the key to keeping food down. However, it had to be tamales... which, as I discovered later, are an excellent convalescent food... and those tamales could only be stuffed with hot chiles. I could also eat a little green chile stew spiced up to a degree that was beyond my adopted mother to deal with. That's what the super-hot chile sauce was for, yes? It was for me. It kept me alive.

I share a somewhat similar experience in common. @Vine Abider is familiar with what happened over a decade ago when I was close to the grave. I will touch upon it briefly with the benefit of hindsight for the reader. I had been homeless for many years (close to two decades) by the time I was brought to the ranch of a widow in the mountains of this state where I live. I was indeed brought there, for I was in California when word of this woman's plight reached me. I won't go into those details here; as soon as I heard, I called her and we spoke for a few hours about what was going on. It was dire. I arranged my way from CA to the front gate of her land in the mountains here. After the danger to her life was over and I was assured of her safety, I planned to see my way out. After a lengthy discussion, it was decided that I would remain because she surely needed help with livestock and managing her land. We had developed a strong bond anyway so this wasn't a difficult decision by any means; she was like a mother to me, and I was like a son to her. That was when the illness started. It was subtle at first... I would feel nauseous whenever food was put in front of me, and eating was becoming a very painful affair... but I pushed through it because I was learning the ropes of being a shepherd and building trust and experience with her livestock guardian dogs. They were all too easy to love and work with. Over time, the illness lost subtlety and moved into waking up with dry heaves in the morning. I would go outdoors to work and found myself fighting to prevent myself from passing out in the sun; I also experienced difficulty with breathing. I had no way of knowing how renovating the ancient barns on her land (there were two) and restoring them to a serviceable state exposed me to fungal pathogens, and that I was afflicted with fungal pneumonia more than once during the two years I was sick. Those barns were already there when she acquired the property. There's no telling how old they actually were. I grew so weak, and lost so much weight, that every day was the fight of my life to keep working in whatever capacity I could manage. By the time I was bedridden, teeth started falling out of my mouth (infections) and my hair --- normally entirely too thick --- was wispy and falling out in clumps. I could barely keep food down and in the end, I lost the sensation of hunger and thirst. She had to nag me and entice me to drink water and eat food. People in the nearby village (her land was about a mile distant on the border of a national wilderness area) urged her to get rid of me before I expired in her house. I was a liability and not her family member, so she wasn't obliged to care for me because I would soon become a corpse. She told me about this and by this time, I struggled to speak so I couldn't answer that I agreed with those people from the village. It was horribly unfair and if I wasn't too weak to make it very far, I would have already left on my own. I know that what I was going through was a source of anguish for her, but it didn't matter to her. I'll never forget what she said that evening: She seized my hand and declared (in so many words), "I will never abandon you or throw you away. Never!" It wasn't long after that night that I started drifting in and out of consciousness. It was a strange thing, for the world looked so different from what I had known before. I knew that I was going to die, and I determined not to expire in her house. One day when she had to make the long drive to the city where I live now --- it was a two-hour trip one way --- I summoned what strength I had and left the bed in that room. I wanted to die outside in the sunshine. The Lord changed everything when I was out there, but that's not a matter for this topic. Years later, I learned what afflicted me in those mountains: fungal pneumonia, bacterial infections in the oral cavity and sinuses which reached the brain, and prolonged starvation (I ate just enough to keep alive thanks to her). My lungs are permanently damaged and filled with old granulomas and scar tissue; the lymph nodes closest to the heart are calcified. My kidneys also sustained damage. It was a miracle that I didn't perish from sepsis... but then, a miracle is how the Lord changed everything on that day when I went out into the sunshine to die.

That's the scriptually-supported answer, my friend. Well said.

It's the world.

That's what helped me the most, sister. Once I started sleeping adequately, my resilience and resistance increased to the degree that what I suffer from lost its power. Overcoming it was possible.