has been struggling with this old man quite a bit in recent years.
When I didn't quite understand what his relationship with Jesus was, a bull man named Nietzsche jumped out and yelled at me: God is dead!
So a hundred years ago, the terrifying picture of the beacon fire and the corpse everywhere lingered in my heart, but I couldn't understand how bad the war was to make people completely despair of life.
Since then, God has often appeared by my side. When I was a devout Christian friend who told me about God’s great love in the world, I had to open up the disgusting tomes when I was working on a project. In addition, I would also Put God on your lips when you see an invincible man, OHMYGOD! !
God, ox to invincible image. My friends taught me that I was born with sin and that every pore in my body was filled with evil. O forgive me, O Almighty God! I am lazy, selfish, stubborn, proud...I don't know your existence, I am disrespectful to you (the sisters and brothers of the church will judge me for blasphemy), and I magnify the sins of all human beings intolerable! I live in this shameless attitude, WHAT A BIG SHAME BEING ONE OF GOD'S WORKS!
I was so guilty today that I spent the time I should have written my essay rereading how Joan of Arc (your saint and messenger) was burned. The process is extremely dirty. You occupied her for 19 years in the name of faith—not long, just her whole life; she repaid your countless fights and victories in the name of God, in an era known for ambition, intrigue, darkness and bloodshed, with the future generations Endless sighs stand on the wood stack, let the fire devour.
Tragedy is the shortcut for many lunatics in history to become famous. Especially the messiahs appointed by God. Look at the big guy Jesus - the nails are going to be nailed to my hands and feet, and I will recognize Satan as the big brother. Let the resurrection go to hell!
I don't know how God drowned Joan of Arc's brain like a water hyacinth. At the beginning of the movie, a 10-year-old girl treats her confession as morphine, with the same look as my sister when she buys Nikes or adidas. The analgesic effect of Christianity is far beyond my imagination. A little girl who witnessed the murder and rape of her sister by the British army used "miracles", "voice" and "faith" to infinitely suppress herself as a girl for several years. The "hatred" that people have the right to generate is only for the sake of "being famous", fighting under a more glorious banner and performing brilliant miracles. Yet Joan of Arc is sincere, and faith and primal motives begin to struggle. People in black are both righteous and evil, and the authentic dragon sees its head but not its tail. When poor Joan of Arc was curled up in the corner of the cell like a fallen leaf and trembling, struggling to decide whether to be loyal to God or betray God, THE KING OF THE KINDOM OF FRANCE, maybe secretly rejoicing at this super economical political deal.
The man in black finally redeemed Joan of Arc, and she admitted that the so-called "miracle" was just what she wanted to see; the battle was just an act of revenge, not assigned by God. The venerable Joan of Arc, in the last days of her life, made a clear and perfect explanation of years of paranoia and confusion, but she could not escape the prison of religion after all. Melted around her god, the happiness is boundless.
I also stubbornly thought that Luc Besson would not be a fool. How shameless and shameless is it to avenge the tragic death of a loved one, and to swing a sword for a country that is in deep water and fire, instead of using a god as a pretext? How many battles has this God started? Anyway, many of the declarations of war have his name in the oath. His existence has solved the employment problem in most Western countries (like the church's naughty clergy) and provided countless reasons for countless bloody battles of "familiar teachers". Therefore, Hemingway quit, Nietzsche showed his power, Kerouac revolutionized, and the post-90s generation in China became degenerate. I can only beat the table weakly: Jeanne, you are too stupid!
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