The Thunder of their Wings

It is a mighty army that's been called. I feel the air rumbling with the thunder of their wings. Take heart, dear saints, you do not fight alone.

It is a terrible army that shall rout God's enemies from out of the shadows where they hide, where they hoped none would find them; and all their lies and schemes and wicked goings-on in this election shall be undone. And all those pretended 'leaders' of the people that stayed silent in this ruse, those cowardly, money-hungry RINOs, too, shall fall.

For God Most High is not yet done with this dear Nation . . . He has yet another trump card to be played.

Artwork: Army of Angels by Gustave Doré

Angry Principalities

If you could see it, perhaps your heart would faint. If the invisible were seen, perhaps you'd nearly weep. The atmosphere's convulsing with the violence of it. The battle lines are drawn and the enemy is in a rage.

Come now, dear saints, it is not the time to stop your praying. It is your prayers that have brought it to this point. Come now, dear saints! Do you not remember? We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the dark, angry principalities that fill the skies. Pray hard . . . pray harder yet. This election is in God's hands and God hears His saints.

Photograph: Chaiten Volcano and Storm, unknown