Pain That Claws

They weep for children lost, for bairns that were not allowed one breath of sun-filled air. They weep profusely now—but then? Then, with understanding darkened, it was they who chose the knife. It was they who chose to end the life within that held such promise . . . but now they weep.

No one told them that such pain awaited them, pain that claws into the soul. No one told them of the consequence that comes when mothers-dear end the life that they were meant to nurture. But it comes. It always comes eventually. Their conscience will not have it any other way.

If only they'd been told the truth.

Artwork: Rachel Weeping For Her Children © Stephen Gjertson
https://stephengjertsongalleries.com/

Because of Love

She was sixteen, a gentle thing. She came to know the One who loved her more than life. From that moment on she chose to follow Him, this one called Christ. But there was a problem. She had to tell her parents of this love. They were Muslims living in the Middle East and Islam does not allow for such a love, has never known such love and cannot comprehend it.

Her parents thought that they could beat it out of her, this love that gripped her soul. They tried. They kept her in her room for days, starving her between the beatings. But she would not recant – for she knew a love far greater than the temporary pain. And then she died.

Why did they kill her? Because of hate. Why did she not succumb and renounce her Christ? Because of love. Scream, abuse, deride, condemn – it is all for naught if Christ’s love has firmly gripped a heart. Love is the great combatant and the tyrants of this world well know it . . . Christ is their greatest fear.

Artwork: St. Veronica by Paul Delaroche

A Foretelling Dream

I had a dream in September 2019 before Covid happened. I’ve had prophetic dreams before, but sometimes I don’t know what they mean until they happen. This was such a dream:

I was walking through a mall with a man. A woman stopped me as the man walked on. She was very urgent as she told me that I needed to get two shots and she had syringes with her. The 1st shot would make me miscarriage whatever I may have in me and the 2nd shot would sterilize me so that I never get pregnant in the future. I told her, “No.” The scene changed and I was in a living room in a house and the man was also there. The same woman was there but now had a second woman with her. The second woman had the man mesmerized. I tried to get his attention but he wouldn’t listen to me, he only stared, transfixed, at the second woman as she was talking to him. The first woman again tried to get me to get the 2 shots. I again said, “No!” which made both women angry. I walked down the hall to a bedroom and locked the door and the woman was outside the door unable to get in to where I was.

I now understand the meaning of the dream: 

The shots were a foretelling of the double-shot vax that is being pushed upon everyone. There are now whistleblower nurses and med staff speaking about the steep increase of miscarriages in women who get the jab, and the spike protein is now proven to be building up in the ovaries of the females who get it, young and old alike, and doctors say they have no clue what that might do to women’s fertility. The woman represents the Jezebel spirit that always uses intimidation to control and that uses her wiles to trap weak leadership (represented by the man) to do what she wants. The bedroom I locked myself away in, where the woman could not enter, represents being in the secret place of the Most High God. As Christians, if we remain close to God in the secret place, under His shadow, we’ll be safe from the intimidation and schemes of that evil spirit.

For them who have ears to hear, let them hear.

Photograph: woman holding syringe, unknown

More Undignified Than This

I shall dance, though many in the church do not. I shall dance, though there are denominations who frown upon such things. When worshiping Him who His best above all, I cannot help but spin and stomp and lift my hands in dear devotion. 

I shall yet become even more undignified than this. I shall dance upon the heads of demons. I shall dance beside the angels. I shall dance beneath His wings where His shadow falls upon me. 

Into the streets I’ll dance without a care of who looks on. I’ve been in churches where they are serious and pious-minded, where hands stay close to sides and voices barely whisper out His praise. But that is not for me. I shall roar out His name . . . and I shall dance! 

Artwork: Music by Elihu Vedder

Little god-box

So that is where you keep him. I have always wondered where your little god is kept – it is in your little god-box. And now and then you let him out. Now and then you allow him to do what he desires as long as he promises to be good. If not, away with him back into the box!

But I do not know this little god of yours . . . Who is he? He is not the God I serve. My God is furiously noble, wildly powerful and glorious in all His brilliance. He could never be contained in a god-box, bible-box, or any kind of box for that matter. My God is the great and mighty One who is beyond all imagination.

Tut-tut now, close the box. Tuck him quietly away until another day when it pleases you to pull him out. After all your little god is there to keep you comfortable, isn’t he? Take comfort then that your god-box safely holds your little god.

Artwork: Psyche Opening the Box by John William Waterhouse

No Longer Lambs

It is time to "Rise and rise again, until lambs become lions." The Lord is speaking to His ekklesia in these end of days . . . this is our motto - remember it!

Jesus came the first time as a lamb to bring redemption. He's returning as the Lion of Judah to bring judgment. We, too, must now become lions and stand with the great Lion himself.

Do not be afraid - the Spirit fills you with His strength. Do not be silent - there is a roar inside of you trying to come out. A sound like thundering waters is readying to be released. It is the sound of millions of lions roaring all at once. We are an army of lions now . . . no longer lambs . . . let the transformation be complete!

Artwork: Lambs become Lions, unknown

Burned by Such a Flame

The days are darkening. Twilight has fallen lightly but it is soon to pass and darkness deep and troublesome will take its place. And that is when His Glory rises best and shines the brightest – in the deep of darkness! 

I feel the fire stirred within me, a thing that blazes in my eyes, a passion for the lovely One who’s faithful even when I have wearily lost my faith. It is this love that causes hardened hearts to soften as melted butter in a flame. 

I do not mind being burned by such a flame, for I am softer for it and I glow the brighter soaking in such Glory. Religion carries with it no heat of any kind – cold and dreary are its halls, and hearts wane weak and thin when nourished on its food. Christ does not live in such a place . . . and nor shall I. 

Artwork: Resurgam by Sir Frank Dicksee

Glory Rising

So many in the faith do not recognize the times that we are in. They only see destruction, and gloom is in their visage - end times, apostasy, and death! They do not see the Glory that is rising. It rises yet. Brighter than the darkness this Glory even now transcends above all else. The name of Christ is rumbling through the heavens and the darkness trembles at the sound.

Such Glory fills these earthen vessels that we are, a fragile broken-hearted people that have been saved by love. Such Glory shall yet raise the dead and in the western nations we shall finally hear the shouts of blind-men given sight and lame-men given back their legs. In third world nations such things are common. In this faith they are far richer, for unbelief does not grip their hearts as it does ours. But God's Glory cannot be bound and there are a hidden people who even now can call this Glory down and soon they will come forth! 

Artwork: Resurrection (detail) by Rembrandt

An Angel With One Wing

An angel with one wing - that would be me if I were an angel. Crippled, sometimes failing, never perfect, but always trying to fly straight . . . yes, that is me. I admit to it. I am one of Jesus’ imperfect followers. He is my crutch. I am not ashamed to say it. I could not walk, let alone run, without Him holding me up. I’ve not the wisdom to plan my life out and to actually go in the right direction without His hand guiding me. 

I drink wine (Legalists beware of me!). I dance when worshipping Him (Protestants close your eyes!). I do not believe I need a priest to confess my sins (Catholics, I am sorry). 

I am me. An ally of liberty, staunchly opposed to pointless rules that some think prove my righteousness, a lover of the Beloved One, and a flawed earthen vessel that surprisingly doesn’t explode when filled with His Glory. 

Yes, that about sums it up . . . I’m an angel with only one wing.

Artwork: Sleeper Lost in Dreams © 2008 James Christensen 

http://www.greenwichworkshop.com/christensen/

Flowers Growing Where they Shouldn't

They cannot resist, you know. When they pass by your garden the fragrance beckons them – for He dwells there and a wild loveliness has taken over. They cannot resist stopping for a moment, those in the rushing world who have no garden of their own. And every time they pass your garden they will breathe in deep and yearn for what is growing there.

It is not an orderly, neat and tidy, all-things-in-a-row type of garden that Jesus has cultivated. Oh, no, that will not do for Him! It is a boisterous, flowers-growing-where-they-shouldn’t type of garden; it is an unpredictable, never-knowing-what-will-pop-up-next type of garden; it is an audacious, blooming-even-in-the-winter type of garden.

How sad that all in the church do not possess such a plot of land. Perhaps they should invite Him in to cultivate their garden.

Artwork: Flowers by Jessie Wilcox-Smith

He Fell Hard

He fell. He was most beautiful, the loveliest among the angels. He was the keeper of the song, chief musician extraordinaire with gemstones on his brow. He commanded legions of the heavenly powers and they did his bidding well . . . so well, that they followed him in the fall.

Charmer, deceiver, attempted usurper of the heavenly crown – his name once was Lucifer, once was a fair name. No more. Now he wages war against all creation and a bloody battlefield it is, for he has lost his sting and it enrages him.

“I saw satan fall like lightning from heaven!” so said Christ. And he fell hard.

Artwork: Falling Star by Witold Pruszkowski

The Crustiness Still Clinging

It is a hidden work. Do not be discouraged when someone cannot see it. Those who judge according to the flesh (what they see) instead of by the Spirit (what God sees) do not have the correct eyes to see you.

"But I am wrongly judged!" I hear your sad lament. T'is true. While one sees the crustiness still clinging to you, another sees the acting out brought on by pain; neither sees the heart within.

But some of us have eyes to see the hidden - and what a change is happening! What a pushing, stretching, magnificent metamorphosis that God is doing. Do not worry. One day all will see it when you take flight with lovely wings.

Photograph: Cocoon unknown

It All Begins With Seeing

What matters is what you see.  Ask to see - higher, clearer, deeper, more.  Ask Him for His eyes.

You can see into the hearts of men with His eyes. You can see what can be. You can see things that are not as if they are . . . and then you can call them forth. It all begins with seeing.

Photograph: eye, unknown

Blinding!

"Look how he shines!"

"Yes, it is one who is willing."

"Who is willing?"

"Yes, willing to give all. Only those who are willing to let go of all that this world offers can shine so bright."

"It is nearly blinding!"

"They are the feared ones, for they hold on to nothing that may stop the flow of glory from the throne."

"And the enemy sees this light?"

"Oh, yes, as do we.  But men do not. It cannot be seen with natural eyes."

"Astounding!"

Photograph: Man Shining in Cave, Unknown

Setting Out the Light

There, I’ve lit it. And now I shall put it in the window. They'll see it. I know that they will see it! And they'll come. First one, then two: a straggler from out of the dark, a wounded one with child; then three, then four: souls tired of the night, weary of stumbling down the path without a light.

I'm ready for them! I have piles of comfort, various kindnesses, joy, hope, and, of course, an endless supply of love. I have all that He has given me, enough to tend a multitude that might come tramping through the dark.

Ohhh, this setting-out-the-light is my favorite thing to do!

Artwork: Lantern's Warmth © Daniel Gerhartz
http://www.danielgerhartz.com/

It Doesn't Fit Our isms

“That little thing says it is one of us,” said the regal rooster, looking down his beak at the little thing.

“One of us?” said the fat hen in her high-pitched tremor. “CLUCK, cluck, no, no, no…I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t look like one of us!” sniffed the Banty with her beak in the air.

“It doesn’t act like one of us!” clucked the fat hen, shaking her oh so lovely comb in disapproval. “No, indeed, it doesn’t think like us either. CLUCK, cluck, no, no, no.”

“What to do? What to do?” bemoaned the Banty, nervously twitching her feathers. “How can we let that silly thing in the hen house?”

“We can’t,” answered the rooster, lifting his royal brow, “it doesn’t fit our –isms. It’s rebellious.”

“It doesn’t fit my Catholic-ism,” said the fat hen.

“Ack! And certainly not my pentacostal-ism,” said the Banty.

“Or my conservative protestant-ism,” the rooster said with scorn.

“I don’t think it follows any –ism at all! Ack!” shrieked the Banty. “What to do? What to do?”

“It’s such a simple little thing,” laughed the fat hen. “It says it doesn’t need an –ism. Imagine that! How impertinent!”

And they clucked and gaggled and gossiped and groaned about the little thing that said it followed HIM but with a freedom that was impertinent (said the fat hen!), and with a joy that was silly (said the Banty!), and with a uniqueness that was rebellious (said the rooster!) . . . and He who made the little thing smiled at it and told it to follow Him as they pushed it out of the hen house. 

Artwork: Birds of a Feather Flock Together © Scott Gustafson 
http://www.scottgustafson.com/

GOD Happened

The whole world will one day ask - How did it happen?

. . . How did President Trump get re-elected and serve a second four-year term?

How did the DOJ, FBI, and CIA get cleaned up and justice get restored?

How did all the election fraudsters get caught and thrown in prison?

How did America once again become that city set on a hill and a third Great Awakening begin?

. . . GOD happened.

Artwork: Angels in the Oval Office © Silent Preacher                     https://www.facebook.com/godpalet/

Red Sea Moment

It is a parting-of-the-red-sea moment. Keep watch. Keep ready. For we're about to see a divine rescuing take place. God has a plan for President Trump and a perfect timing in all this.

It is God who rules the raging of the sea; and an obstacle that men cannot overcome, He can overcome with ease. He's about to stretch out His rod . . . and we all know what happened to His enemies when He did.

Artwork: Parting of the Red Sea © Jose Vega                                                     https://www.artofjosevega.com/

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

That Welcomed Bit of Light

I told you it would come. I told you if you remained there, ever patient, it would soon alight. And so it has. That small, wing-ed, feathered thing called hope.

The devourers couldn't stop it, though they tried. Though they surrounded it, yammering in their shrill, unpleasant voices, that lovely little thing could not be stopped. That welcomed bit of light daringly flew down and sent that darksome flock to flight.

Ha! Hope is bold, you know. Hope goes wherever Holy Spirit sends it, and neither the prince of darkness nor his evil winglings have the power to keep it from its course. Look up to heaven, now....

Artwork: When Hope Comes © Daniel Gerhartz
https://www.danielgerhartz.com/