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Happy Passover!
For a great example of God’s infinite wisdom, power, and love, you need look no further than the story of Passover. In order to free His chosen people from the cruel Pharaoh, God made a bunch of plagues happen so that Pharaoh would relent and let the Jews go free. But despite the rather impressive plagues, Pharaoh was not impressed, and continued to refuse letting the Jews go free.
But wait, that’s not exactly true, Pharaoh WAS ready to let the Jews go after some of the more dire plagues, but GOD HARDENED PHAROAH’S HEART so that he changed his mind and did not let them go! It was like God had a few more plagues he wanted to try out and he was not going to let Pharoah’s softening heart stop him.
Finally, after many plagues, God decided to murder every firstborn child in Egypt except for the Jewish firstborn, who would be “passed over” if they painted lamb’s blood on their doors so the Angel of Death would know who the Jews were (how else would God know?).
Anyway, so God killed all the firstborn children of Egypt, from Pharoah’s son down to the lowliest maidservant. Breaking his own commandment (in a big way) of “Thou Shalt Not Kill” it seems God really just wanted to commit mass murder. I mean, he could have gotten the same result any number of ways without all the horrible deadly plagues and the mass murder of innocent children. For instance, maybe, just maybe, instead of “hardening Pharoahs’ heart” he could have, I don’t know, SOFTENED PHAROAH’S HEART???
But no, God wanted to have some fun trying out all his magic tricks and plagues and top it all off with the murder of thousands of innocent children who had nothing to do with the enslavement of the Jews. God’s great wisdom, power, and love for all to witness!
Church of the Damned. Model: Olinka Lickova
Olinka in the Church of the Damned
In the Church of the Damned, where shadows dance,
Olinka stands, exalted, a spectral trance.
Above the dark demons and undead wail,
She rises, a figure in a ghostly veil.
The air, thick with a greenish swampy haze,
Creeps through the crevasses, in a spectral daze.
The rotting basilica, a haunted stage,
Its pilasters crumble in an ancient age.
Olinka’s presence, a beacon in the gloom,
A silhouette against the haunted tomb.
Her eyes, pools of mystery, deep and vast,
Hold the secrets of a forgotten past.
Around her, the undead whisper in despair,
Demons bow in reverence, a macabre affair.
As the swampy mist encircles each decayed stone,
Olinka stands, in majesty, alone.
A symphony of darkness, a spectral ballet,
In the Church of the Damned, where shadows play.
Olinka, a queen in this ethereal domain,
In haunting beauty, she shall forever reign.


















































































