Heave Ho for Heavenly Riches! A Pirate's Guide to the Good Life (Romans 1)

PIRATE'S COVE, TORTUGA, Haiti - July 3, 2024 - PRLog -- "Obedience comes through faith, mateys, and ye be called ter sail with the Son. From Skipper our Father we receive grace and peace."

"But what if a mate be afraid ter sail, sir? I tend ter get wobbly knees and a wee bit sick, don' ye know."

"No worries, Scallywag Sam. Those in the Son's crew be blessed with every good thing we need fer life, includin' stout bellies and starch in our spine and treasures galore."

"Treasures, ye say?"

"Aye, Peg-Leg Peggy. And of a sort ne'er a crew can fathom."

"I don't know, sir. Sounds like a treasure hunt ter good ter be true."

"Right ye be, Lying Larry, and right ye need ter be. Good thing fer ye, Skipper gives us the Son's righteousness through faith."

"Faith, sir?"

"In the Son, Pickled Pete! In the Son!"

"But why do we need righteousness?" asked Peg-Leg Peggy.

"Oh, fer the love of Larry, ye be the densest dunderheads I ever met. We need the Son's righteousness because wickedness suppresses Skip's truth. What be known about Skipper be plain as the sun spots on yer hands. Not a soul alive or dead can deny that Skipper exists and is holy and good. And yet many do."

"Well, that seems odd, sir."

"Odd, indeed, Barnacle Bill. Though they know 'bout Skipper, they still refuse ter glorify Him or thank Him. Though they claim ter be wise, they be fools. Like crew on an island with fresh springs, such reprobates drink from the sea. And well ye know that a mate who drinks sea water will go mad and die."

"Seems sort of harsh, sir," said Short Sheet Shirley. "Maybe this skipper ye speak of isn't as kind as ye make him out ter be."

"Furl that flappin' tongue of yers, or I'll 'ave ye drawn and quartered. Such rascals 'ave exchanged the treasure of Skipper fer dung. Fer this reason, Skip throws up His hands and lets 'em ter sail over the edge and inter the abyss. Ye 'ave the lay of things, now.  All who ship aboard be guaranteed three squares and water, a wee bit of grog and a grand adventure."

"Whar exactly we be sailing, sir?"

"Rome, mates, and with a stiff breeze in our face. We sail at three bells. See ye on deck."

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