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After two and half decades, I've seen thousands of people walk past or up to my window. It's the window that connects the meat dept cutting room to the isles of food that families walk up and down looking to create that special dish or just grab a quick bite to eat. These people, my customers, are from many backgrounds, cultures, and languages, with different tastes, and all of them have a unique story to tell but with one unifying need to satisfy: hunger.

But is there something more that connects us? Is there something or someone that can bring meaning and purpose to our lives despite the ever-changing chaos that never fails to upset the current state of "normalcy" we just got used to enjoying? Like being alone on a small island in the middle of the ocean, the new pushes of change are slowly deteriorating the coastline of our ever-shrinking land of freedom, affecting our thoughts, families, and communities, and to no avail; the tide keeps on rising despite our best efforts to protect whom and what we love. So what is the one constant that never changes? A constant that we can trust with our lives and never give up on, no matter the cost? I have that answer.

About 14 years ago, I started writing these posts, but I did so only in my mind. The distraction of my self and life put these posts in the back of my mind while I simultaneously ignored them in my heart. When my entire world was turned upside down, I was brought to my knees, and the lessons of these posts came screaming back to haunt me but also to teach me. So I was forced to compile and put into writing these things that I once ignored and send them off to pastors whom I didn't care if they read them because these writings were now more so for my children. These writings or my musings are practical understandings of deep theological implications that I hoped would get pastors to ponder for themselves.

I called these musings, "Mi Bramido," translated, "My bellow," for there was no way I could explain the agony I endured while going through what I thought would be a short chapter of my life as well as the agony I saw my brothers and sister endure. Here, on this site, Mi Bramido is broken up into posts. I refer to Mi Bramido in my writing as my "little note," knowing how ridiculous it would be almost 500 pages later. I had to bite my lip when the judge asked how long my "manifesto" was. He was told 200 pages, and I thought it best not to correct him. (The wife told the judge it was a "manifesto," not me.)

I also reasoned that if I had nothing to offer my children financially because of my poor choices, I could at least warn them not to follow in my footsteps in life. And for those children who wish I never existed, I hope they hate me for me and not for what their mother or others have said about me. Hate me for what I have said and done in my own words and actions. Hate is a strong word, yes, but at the same time, I hope they also would forgive me for the wrong I did do and maybe, just maybe, we could be friends.

Why Magdeburg 1550?

It was nine Christian pastors who, in the heat of battle with their very lives in danger, fought back the tyranny of the authorities. These men stood in the gap and protected those souls entrusted to them, interposing on their behalf, fighting righteously for the cause of Christ and using God's word as their sole source of authority. But I ask you, where are these men now?

There was a time when countries across the ocean feared the Black Robed Regiment who stood behind the pulpits of this great country. This regiment was comprised of pastors who feared only God and loved His law, and it was their preaching that challenged their listeners to “play the man.” Or what about those pastors whose righteous prayers haunted monarchs more than large attacking armies?  Those prayers stormed the throne room of God for Him to move His finger just a hair length so that all His enemies would be destroyed.

But now the Black Robed Regiment has been replaced with the Pink Robed Regiment. This new novelty of soft pastors are what make up the Pink Robed Regiment and they are not even worthy to be called men. While still collecting a paycheck, they will gladly offer you the fire insurance you need but reject the authority that speaks to all of life.

And thus, the Tyrannical werewolf has been left unchecked to roam freely, devouring those not only under our government system but also the very people these pastors are to care for in the houses of God. It has left men, women, and children vulnerable to attack, and yes, I speak of my own family and other men I've come to know. If there was ever a time we needed Pastors to stand up and fight for God's people righteously, it is now. If we ever needed Christian men to understand the battle before them and fight for their families, it is now.

So, I'll end this with writing what I wrote to over 200 churches almost 3 years ago when describing this little note which was that this "manifesto" is:

"A meat cutter's little note on how he's giving up his forbidden steak to save his life, his wife and kids, and reclaim faithfulness to Christ..."