Romanists
Clutching their pearls over Romans 9 while the Magisterium reads it for them. They'll grant you grace - just keep it in the gift shop with the rest of the merits.
Reborn & Reformed.
Confessional Calvinism, swung like a hammer. We hold the line on the Westminster Confession of Faith, take the doctrines of grace neat, and post through the heresies one sola at a time. Subscription is full and unqualified - no fingers crossed.
Four challengers step into the ring. The Reformed posture is calm, confessional, and deeply unbothered.
Clutching their pearls over Romans 9 while the Magisterium reads it for them. They'll grant you grace - just keep it in the gift shop with the rest of the merits.
Coping in the Pelagian Justice League, where the will is sovereign and God is a very enthusiastic spectator. The 'T' in TULIP got autocorrected to 'maybe.'
Submitting to icons and calling it tradition with a capital T. Beautiful incense, gorgeous beards, regrettable doctrine of the will. Bro, that's a graven smolder.
Charismatics babbling in lowercase, no interpreter, all vibes. The Spirit works decently and in order; your prayer language reads like a keysmash.
When the thread gets heated, the divines have your back. 121 of them, drafting in Westminster Abbey, 1643 to 1653.
“There is no other head of the Church but the Lord Jesus Christ. Nor can the Pope of Rome in any sense be head thereof.”
Of the Church
Total Depravity
You did not 'find yourself.' You were dead in the water and got fished out.
Unconditional Election
Chosen before the foundation of the world. Not on vibes, not on resume.
Limited Atonement
The cross was a sniper, not a shotgun. It hits exactly what it was aimed at.
Irresistible Grace
When the Spirit calls, you don't leave Him on read. The new heart answers.
Perseverance of the Saints
Kept by power, not willpower. The Shepherd does not misplace the sheep.
Metrical psalmody, slowed to a campfire tempo. Same words the Kirk has sung since 1650 - now with reverb and a capo.
Indie Folk Version
The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want;
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green; He leadeth me
the quiet waters by.
My soul He doth restore again,
and me to walk doth make
Within the paths of righteousness,
e'en for His own name's sake.
Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale,
yet will I fear none ill;
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod
and staff me comfort still.
Goodness and mercy all my life
shall surely follow me;
And in God's house for evermore
my dwelling-place shall be.
Joel Ansett / Brenn Vibe
I to the hills will lift mine eyes,
from whence doth come mine aid.
My safety cometh from the Lord,
who heav'n and earth hath made.
Thy foot He'll not let slide, nor will
He slumber that thee keeps.
Behold, He that keeps Israel,
He slumbers not, nor sleeps.
The Lord thee keeps, the Lord thy shade
on thy right hand doth stay;
The moon by night thee shall not smite,
nor yet the sun by day.
The Lord shall keep thy soul; He shall
preserve thee from all ill.
Henceforth thy going out and in
God keep for ever will.