Of Smoke and Sacrifice

[Limonhearted 174]

 

You see it in the way men drink their sorrows, the way a soldier sharpens his blade even in the absence of conflict. It’s woven into the routine of every man—as dawn breaks, the whip cracks, and you see it in everyone.

Men are inherently religious. To suggest otherwise is an affront to the very essence of their nature. How often have you seen a man plunged into his vices, his routines, following paths carved out by those who came before him? This is worship in its rawest form—devotion without question, sacrifice without second thought.

Men’s hearts are perpetually unsoothed, restless until they find peace. But how is peace truly achieved? Is it contentment with your circumstances? Is it found in conquest—in seizing all that the eye can see? Does a general find peace after overtaking his enemy, or does the horizon simply stretch further, taunting him with more to conquer? How is anyone truly satisfied?

True satisfaction—and in tandem, true peace—comes with the tranquil belief in something greater than oneself. Just as a family is at peace when the father returns home with a salary: clothes on their backs, food on the table, and warmth in the hearth. It is the trust in a higher being's provision that lets them sleep through the night, unshaken by storms that howl against their walls.

A man’s heart is never fully satisfied until he is at peace with his provider. This instinctual religiosity is what unites our rational and relational nature. When conflict arises among family members, who mediates? Who brings resolution and restores harmony? It is the one who speaks with reason and authority—the provider, the leader, the shepherd.

                                                    

 

 

Humility cannot be overstated. It takes strength to compromise, to soften oneself, to love tenderly as a family member, and to trust that the provider’s mediation is the best course of action. Humanity does not choose between being religious or irreligious; we are intrinsically bound to worship something. It is not a choice of faith, but of what—or whom—we devote ourselves to.

It is a matter of following what is true and righteous—The LORD—or adhering to what is false and wicked. If we allow vice and corruption to creep into our hearts, if we feed the flames of our inner altar with greed, rage, or indulgence, it blackens the soul. Each misstep, each outward act of sin, is an offering to wickedness, painting the soul with strokes of darkness. You are not following the instructions of your Master; you are spitting in His face, choosing instead to follow the treacherous desires of the heart—a pit that is never truly filled.

If a sibling strays, splitting from the flock, who leads them back? It is the father, who, with the help of his children—his followers—guides the lost back to the fold, just as any shepherd would.

Religion is what binds us together; it is the glue that seeps from the cracks of cities. In our hearts, we kindle the flames of our own altars. With every action, we fan those fires. The question is: What kind of wood are you feeding that fire? If it is good and hearty, aligned with the ways of God, the aroma of your altar is pleasing. But if it is tainted, it belches vile smoke, inviting darkness to take root.

      
        

Is it the ale from the local brewhouse? Is it the greed which causes you such lament? Is it the rage that eats you up, the all-consuming nature of anger that eventually bubbles until you are burned totally, only to be spat out in charred remains? Or is it pleasing tender-heartedness? Is it a love for all people? A situation where you hold your tongue for the common good? A compliment to someone you have never spoken to? What is it you feed to your hearthfire—to your altar?

Each offering of your exterior, your sin, your failures of adherence to the True Faith, each misstep is an outward offering to your shrine. Each err is bellowing vile smoke to daemons, inviting wickedness into your life. With each act, you paint yourself with more and more strokes of evil, your very soul tainted by trepidation—you are not following and trusting in the instructions of your master, of the higher person; you spit in their face and follow the wicked nature of your deceiving heart—of a pit which is never quite filled—you give into a burning desire.

It is clear that what binds together the soul is the same thing which binds together the family unit and the city: religion & sacrifice. Every exterior action, the fuel you feed to the altars of your heart either gives the soul, the family, and the city integrity, binding them to the common interest—or it fragmentates, and distorts what the common good is: is the common good self-serving, or is it valuing the collective, valuing the intangibilities of GOD?

Without a putty holding stones together, a wall will break. With nothing holding your values intact, a city will split. It will be plunged into a “Godless” nature, where what is valued is their deified hearts and its desires. You see this in many cities: the rise of a materialist mindset, a focus on short-term pleasures. Hedonism runs rampant and in turn, weathers away at the family unit and God’s supreme influence. Debauchery grows.

Unprincipled men bring ruin. They set a bad example for their offspring, and surely the whole root of their family tree will rot. An overindulgence in pleasure, to adhere to each whim of their heart, to do whatever they desire without question will only bring ruin.

 

                                                    

 

 

 

                                

It is our job as followers of The Lord to call out such unproductivity. To cast a light onto the depravity of this world and to cut through the darkness with beams of truth. If you are truly a follower of GOD, then let your light be shown. Be like a lighthouse or a harbor, cast beams of guidance to passerby ships and lead them to the safety of the docks. If you throw up your hands and relent, allowing the ships to crash into the rocks below, then surely that blood is on your hands. We as Followers of the Faith must love without exception, but that does not mean we have to tolerate or even accept such uncleanliness. 

This city-based religion, one with principals of depravity must be dug up, its roots tossed into a cleansing flame and burned. Like a weed, it must be removed from the field and disposed of with haste, less it be allowed to spread. 

                                                

 

                                                    

It is reasonable to assert that happiness—or the acts of blindly chasing pleasure—should rank as a public enemy, that any God-fearing man should chase purpose instead of pleasure. One must displace himself from the “secular” (which in all honesty refers to that which adheres to all that is not encompassed by God) and place his roots in the foundations of Truth, in trial, in the midst of hardship and establish himself in Enlightenment, in the footsteps of God.

It is that very reason that the most elite soldiers are those who are most fulfilled, those who endure the grueling hours of sleep deprivation, starvation, torture, anything that is thrown their way and yet is most rewarding. It is the reason that the farmer who wakes before the first bird crows, who plows from sunup to sundown, is ultimately at peace when he returns home. You are only rewarded with peace when mentally, physically, or spiritually pushed to your limit.

The weak men who live in constant splendor, the men who smile even when there is nothing of import— those whose maw have never been struck with the sweat of toil, who’s brow goes untouched by hard work are so spiritually frail. 

If you never push yourself, how then can you know the reward of honest work? You are given a mind, body, and soul to suffer, to derive meaning, and to follow God wholly. The three are not separate but rather work as three parts of the same body, just as a mother, father, and child comprise the family unit, so too does your Mind, Body, and Soul comprise your makeup. If you do not exercise them all, then nothing you do will bear Good Fruit. Your tree will wither with apathy of what could have been. You will be stuck wondering: what if I challenged myself? What if I fed my inner altar with Godliness? What could I have become?

 

Edited May 20, 2025 by Limonhearted
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