I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends — Kevin Alawine on “Heritage”

Kevin Alawine is a friend of mine who lives and works in Mississippi. Kevin is Reformed and has two young adult sons. This is a beautiful piece that he wrote recently.



Way back in a forgotten place in the wooded hills of Mississippi there is a maze of winding dirt roads. The way these aged roads crisscross with one winding around and leaving another and then circling back to cross yet another would cause one to think that they were designed by an intoxicated man or a lunatic. But the fact is they were laid out in a dear old time when families respected one another’s boundaries (and also when hill dodging was easier than digging) This was a time when roads were sometimes crooked because men were not. And somehow, for now at least, this hidden little part of the world has managed to elude the tyrannical state’s straight highways and crooked men.

One of these little gravel and dirt, “twist and turns” that can be found there is called, “Alawine Springs Road.” On that road is a one room church built by my great grandfather. No denominational name can be found there, just a sign that reads, “Alawine Springs Church.” We have family reunions at that old church and the building is so small that most people eat and congregate outside because it’s so cramped inside. The road’s name comes from the Alawine families who owned the many acres of land that they purchased after they migrated from South Carolina to Mississippi before the War Between the States. And there was (still is I’m sure and I aim to find it) a water spring, something that was very important to families and their neighbors in those days. No longer ago than the 1940‘s my dad remembers following his mother to the spring as she carried her wash board and clothes basket in front of her to do laundry in the cold spring water. Before they reached the path that led from the single lane dirt road to Alawine Springs they had to walk under the big limb that stretched out from the “hanging tree” and cast it’s eerie shadow all the way across the dirt road. My grandma would assure my daddy that the tales he had heard about the ghosts of dead men who had been hanged from that limb were just made up stories and there were no “haints” hanging around to grab and run away with him. She would sing a hymn as she made him walk behind her to keep him protected from the cold, winter wind.

Tomorrow I will be a pallbearer and we will lay my Aunt Jean to rest in an old graveyard just through the woods about a mile as the crow flies from that old church and the spring and the crooked roads. Her body will be laid next to her beloved husband who died nine years ago and by the way, whom she never stopped loving, my “Uncle Jim.” She will sleep just a few yards away from my little brother, my grandparents on my father’s side and many aunt’s uncles and cousins, as well as some relatives long since passed away of whom I never had the pleasure of meeting. Up the hill at the front of the graveyard, as if he was overseeing generations of his posterity, rests the body of Mr. Andrew Jackson Alawine, my great, great grandfather and his faithful and godly wife, Lucretia J “Wells” Alawine. Andrew fought for the Confederacy in the War of Northern Aggression. Of that I am VERY proud.

Whenever someone speaks the word, “graveyard” we sometimes flinch and think, “Let’s not go there.” But truly, there is a lot of heritage in a graveyard. There is a wonderful lot of heritage in our graveyard for certain. And be aware of our heritage and your own, whoever you may be. You see, nary a Negro or an Asian or a Jew or a Mexican rest’s with my family in our graveyard. And I hope you know, we don’t hate those peoples that I just named. But this is our land and this is our heritage. These are our memories. It was our ancestors who were the Germanic barbarian tribes who gave the Roman empire hell. It was our ancestors who many generations later traveled to America and who eventually found a home in these parts. It was their sweat and blood that made the Southron (yes, I spelled it correctly) united States our home. (And no, we didn’t steal it from the Indians so you can stop believing that myth. Turn off the TV and read a book sometime) It was also these ancestors who prayed for my good fortune, for me and for mine, their future kith and kin, their posterity. My people were concerned for me before I was born and I am very jealous for my people. I am jealous as a man is jealous of his wife. You see, I don’t hate your wife. But I don’t want her either. And I don’t want your hands on my wife. And my ancestors are as alive and as real to me today as when they walked this earth many years ago.

God bless you and your kith and kin,

In the Name of Jesus Christ our Savior,


Chief Justice Roberts and Tolkien’s Witch Of Angmer

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie

The Nine SCOTUS members parallel the Nine Nazgul who became servants of Sauron because they thought they were strong enough to wield their power apart from the Lord of Mordor. Our Nine black clad (more Nazgul parallel) Justices (what irony that appellation) likewise are under the control of the Dark Lord of Mordor on the Potomac. Further, Chief Justice Roberts, has just played the role of the Witch King of Angmar to a tee.

And the purpose in all this?

The purpose is to bring us all into the Marxist Land of Mordor on the Potomac. The purpose is to bind and enslave. The purpose is create a machine culture that belches fire and steel where the individual is just a cog that exists to serve the Marxist elite’s machine.

“And nine…nine rings were gifted to the race of Men…who above all else, desire power.”


The CRC Erie Canal District Meeting

The Erie Canal district of the Charismatic Renewal Church (CRC) was meeting for one of their twice yearly district conclaves. One of the items on the docket was to ordain a youth minister for the “Flowing River of the Spirit Church.” The “Flowing River of the Spirit Church” was one of the flagship churches for the CRC in the Erie Canal district. Ezekiel L. Bolton was the Pastor of the “Flowing River of the Spirit” Church. Old Zeke, as he was affectionately called, was one of the old war horses of the CRC and generally Old Zeke got what he wanted because people didn’t like to cross Old Zeke because Zeke had a way of making life miserable for those who crossed him.

Because of this everyone believed that the ordination of Zeke’s new Youth Pastor was a foregone conclusion. The ordination process was supposed to consist of the usual softball questions that one finds in Pentecostal denominations where experience, emotion, and the “feeling of the Spirit,” was more important than articulated doctrine.

However, this ordination was to be different. One of the members of the district who had been an outlaw since his arrival had determined that there had been far too many non-Pentecostals sliding into the denomination. Carl Davidson had converted to Pentecostal theology from dishwater Baptist 25 years ago and he was one of the few true believers in the Erie Canal district. Carl had, for years, been seeing the District ordain non-Pentecostals posing as Pentecostals. He had tried to hint at this problem by asking questions of candidates that exposed their lack of understanding of glorious Pentecostalism in hopes that some of the other Pentecostals might see the problem. This tactic hadn’t worked and Carl was becoming convinced that not even the Pentecostal ministers of Erie Canal District cared about Pentecostalism.

Carl decided to ask the candidate the most rudimentary question of Pentecostal belief. When the proper time came Carl rose on the floor and asked the earnest young candidate, ”Could you elaborate for us the three different works of grace that the Charismatic Renewal Church looks for in people?”

The whole reason for the existence of the CRC was to insist upon this doctrine in distinction from other denominations that did not hold to it. Carl believed that if a candidate for ordination unto the least of all offices in the CRC could not answer this most basic of questions to the life of the denomination then it would be clear that there were clearly problems in the District.

The candidate looked like he had been just asked to undress in public.

His first search for time tactic was to ask for the question again. The second delay tactic was to try to get Carl to give him hints. The third avoidance tactic came from the floor as a murmur of ministers began to audibly complain about how unfair it was of Carl to ask this question of such a young minister when they themselves didn’t know the answer.

The candidate, to his credit, eventually dove into the answer giving a fairly involved and complex answer to a question that had nothing to do with what Carl asked. Instead of giving the simple answer of “the work of grace in salvation, the work of grace in cleansing, and the work of grace in empowerment, “ instead the candidate went into a long monologue on the three persons of the Trinity.

The candidate was then excused so that executive session could be held to discuss whether or not the candidate should be ordained.

Carl was on his feet immediately, observing that while he wouldn’t vote against this candidate he was hopeful that somebody at Old Zeke’s Church would mentor Clay (the candidate) in the basic doctrines of the Charismatic Renewal Church. Carl also mentioned that he believed that the Erie Canal District was getting loose on the exam process for all candidates, allowing non Pentecostals into the denomination.

No sooner did Carl sit down then “Old Zeke” was on his feet. Ezekiel had been a mover and shaker in the CRC for decades and he did not appreciate someone exposing the soft under-belly of his low standards as Carl had done with his question. Zeke began to lecture Carl but he learned again, what he should have already known, and that was that Carl was nonplussed over Zeke’s huffing and puffing. Zeke went on and on about how unfair the question was. Zeke insisted that 50% of the ministers who belonged to the district couldn’t answer Carl’s question. Zeke said that this wasn’t about whether there were two works of grace or three works of grace. What Zeke seemed to be intimating is that this ordination process was about getting his youth director confirmed so that Clay could lead the youth in pizza parties and fun vacations that could be sold as “mission trips” to the unsuspecting parents.

Finally, the vote was called for and Clay was confirmed unanimously as a Minister associate, but Carl, with his question, had once again left a bad taste in the mouth of the fellow ministers in the denomination who thought that Carl was far too theologically oriented to be any good to the Christian faith. “Why couldn’t Carl learn,” the thinking seemed to be, “that Christianity was just about getting people to get along, and not about centuries of theology for which the saints had bled and died.”

And Naturally Carl believed that these fellow ministers practiced Christianity the same way that a tailor practices sewing who has no idea what needle and thread are.

Slipping from the odd into the surreal

Miller had just finished a long day of ministry that ended with him having to referee between a couple of the Church 8 year olds acting like 8 year olds towards one another. He left his study and told the Church secretary that he was going to the area Starbucks to get a cup of his favorite stress breaker — steamed milk with a hazelnut mist.

While Miller was standing in line he recognized a couple of the other area Pastor’s chatting it up. He was about to join in the bonhomie when he was stopped short by over-hearing Pastor Justin say,

“A couple of lesbian couples might be coming to our church. I think they will find overall acceptance with my people although their might be some family’s who feel it necessary to ‘take a stand for righteousness.'”

Miller didn’t know whether to swoon or to suppress a laugh. It wasn’t just the bald statement from pastor Justin but it was the surreal irony that Rev. Koinema spoke in such a way as to suggest that he was practicing great tolerance with those families who “felt it necessary to take a stand for righteousness.”

Miller, at that point, reckoned that his participation and influence in the area Pastor’s fellowship was not as fruitful as he had hoped. Still, Miller wondered about the children of the Lesbian couple that would be attending River Sonshine Community Church. Shouldn’t Miller be glad that the children of the Lesbian couple might be exposed to the Gospel even if their two Mommies knew that they were rebelling against God’s standard? And Miller mused, perhaps the all the Mommies of all the children might possibly be reintroduced to Jesus again via all that “overall acceptance” that Rev. Koinema mentioned.

“Hmmm,” Miller thought, “and yet what Jesus will all these Lesbian people be introduced to at River Sonshine Community Church? Will they be introduced to the Jesus who sets the captive free or will they be introduced to the Jesus who makes the captive comfortable with their bondage?”

Miller ordered his steamed milk with a hazelnut mist and sat down to find that he had more stress to deal with than when he first entered the Starbucks.


The essence of the story is true. Details have been changed to make sure nobody can figure out who or where I’m talking about.

Chekist Letter

Dear Slugbottom,

Sulfurious greetings from the pleasant realm of the damned. I am taking a break from my usual “work” of wreaking emotional torture and enlarging eternal regret upon the formerly living meat that now inhabit our fair land. I often find it incredible that they pay me to do what I love.

However, I have also to attend to the responsibility of being your guide in matters concerning affairs of state. The chain of command has a push on right now for the claiming of meat and should I, through my various underlings, reach and exceed the goals set for me at the beginning of this meat cycle, I shall hit a multiplier that will result in a promotion for me.

As such, I want to write you with some contrary advice that has been received by those I am competing with for this promotion. That blistering Screwtape has written his nephew Wormwood advising that he keep his college charges out of church. You can find his advice here,


This advice is good for me but bad for the company. It is good for me because such advice is sure to insure that I get that promotion over Screwtape. It is bad for the company because it is more likely that his assigned meat will be won over by our enemy in heaven should they stay out of church.

You see, dear Slugbottom, what Screwtape has failed to take into account is that we now own the Churches in the West. Oh, yes … there are a few here or there who are holdouts against our affections but by and large the Church in Lansing Michigan, and throughout the West is ours. As such, the thing I want you most to do is to make sure your East Lansing University Charges end up in Church. By all that is hot and horrid I charge you, upon threat of loss of your recently gained position, to do all you can to get our meat to Church on Sundays.

We have little fear of those few remaining Churches that are faithful for they are typically so few in number and so opposed to the culture that we have breathed to life that we are confident that any young person concerned about making their way in the world, as a success, will not have anything to do with these churches. What 18-25 year old desires to be counter cultural to the point of being socially ostracized?

No, Church is where we want our meat, for in Church they will typically receive just enough of a bastardized version of the enemies message to insure that they will be inoculated against the real thing. Also, by being in Church they will receive the baptized version of King Lucifer’s thinking. We have so infiltrated the Churches near University campuses that they no longer oppose those things that would be real trouble for us. They no longer officially oppose our schools that we run. They no longer officially oppose the notion that King Lucifer’s Marxism is inconsistent with our enemies theology. They no longer officially oppose evolution, choosing to baptize it as “theistic.” The examples that could be brought forward Slugbottom are endless.

This plan, to infiltrate the Churches and to force them to chocolate coat King Lucifer’s thinking with the title of Christianity, was developed by our Father below and has been pursued for years, and through this plan we have taken the fairest of things, like abortion, homosexuality, government schools, hatred of one’s own people, and have persuaded the Church to likewise count them as fair things and to call these things “Christian.”

Now, there are certain dangers to this advice, as their are dangers present everywhere in guiding meat to hell. There will be times, when, even in our Churches, that hateful theme of the Cross will arise. At such times the best thing to do is make sure your meat is thinking that the Cross only has the effect that the meat gives to it. As long as the meat believes that he makes our enemies work effectual he will never be in danger of abandoning our cause. Whatever you do, make sure that the meat does not start thinking that the mountebank enemy of ours is the one who determines the effectiveness of the Cross. Thoughts, on the part of your meat, that tend in that direction will find you under my discipline and the thoughts of the last time that happened should be enough to motivate you.

So, once again my charge to you is to get the meat in Church. If done artfully and successfully it will anesthetize the meat by making them think well of themselves when in fact they are being put in the chute to our tropical regions.

More might be said Slugbottom, but this is enough for your limited capacity. I expect a report on your progress with your assigned College Meat four weeks into the fall semester.

I will be watching,