No Fear of a Moon-god

There was a man named Muhammad.

He married a 6 year-old girl and consummated the marriage when she was only 9 and he was an old man of 54.

In his day the Middle Eastern tribes worshipped 360 different gods, with Allah, the moon-god, chief among them.

His family worshipped this moon-god, so he created his religion around it.

The symbol for the moon-god was a crescent moon, thus he took this as the symbol for his new religion.

He decided that this moon-god would be the only god, forcing all tribes to worship it alone.

He was a man of violence who beheaded all who refused to convert or extorted them for protection money.

Mecca was built as a shrine to this moon-god.

And now millions of dear muslims have turned away from this moon-god for love of Jesus, the God who is love. Though they are killed or beaten or lose all that they own, they now know a love that is stronger and no fear of a moon-god can hold them.

Artwork: Crescent Moon and Star, unknown

A Garden Awaiting

It is right there. Can you not see it? Can you not see the flowers that returned for yet another year? Can you not feel the sun that silently crept into the garden without you noticing? Ahh, but your eyes are downcast. The flat, gray stone is all you see; the cold mud and hard brick beneath your feet is all you feel.

Look up for it is coming . . . look up for change is near. So close that you can touch it if you just stretch forth your weary fingers. The world is alive with sweet color - do not keep your vision in the gray, rainy, dismal days of old.

There is a garden awaiting!

Artwork: Poor House in Melk by Leopold Blauensteiner

All Hell Tried

He could not do it. Oh, he tried, alright. He tried and all hell tried with him. But to no avail . . . that third day came. THAT THIRD DAY CAME!!

It was quite a surprise, I'm sure. A terrifying surprise to him and all his cohorts in that other realm. They cried and whined and sniveled and screamed their rage: "What is this? We had him! We defeated him! We took his life and buried him!"

But then . . . that third day came. And they have been in a rage ever since.

Artwork: Jesus rising from the dead, unknown

The Only Way Through

"There is the gate."

"Him? He is a person, not a gate."

"No, that is the gate."

"But a gate is what one 'goes' through."

"Yes, and they must go through Him."

"They might walk around Him. He is only one person, after all - not very wide."

"They might try. But He is the passage, the Way through. There is no other entry."

"Well, if He is the only way through, that makes for a pretty narrow gate."

"It does. And it is . . . narrow, that is."

"Not everyone shall like the idea of going through Him. They shall try all manner of ways to enter."

"They shall; in fact, many shall. But . . . there is only one gate . . . and it is Him."

Artwork: Coming Glory by Mareesha D.S.  

A Glimmer

"There! Did you see that?"

"What? See what?"

"Over there, there it is again. Did you not see it that time?"

"I think I did. What is it?"

"I am not certain . . . but I think . . . I think it is a glimmer."

"A glimmer? What's a glimmer?"

"A glimmer! You know . . . a tiny glimmer of hope."

"Hope?"

"Yes, yes, I'm certain of it now. I've seen that kind of glimmer before. Quick! There's one up there! See?"

"Ahh, yes, I saw it that time. So that's what hope looks like."

"Oh, yes, that's exactly what it looks like - if you've got eyes sharp enough to see it. Not many have, you know. Not many can see a glimmer."

"I can see why. They rather sneak up on you, don't they?"

"Yes, they do."

Artwork: Fireflies © Daan Michael Hoekstra

Swept Away

Another one washed away. Another one is swept off by the shifting tide of culture. The shepherds of this flock lost their way a very long time ago. They moved this church from off the rock. They wanted softer ground on which to sit upon, something more like . . . sand.

The sun was shining on the day they moved. The sand seemed quite inviting. They even removed the cornerstone of the foundation; what a silly thing to do. Remove the cornerstone? What builder would do that? But they did it, nonetheless.

And then the rains came. And the sand disappeared beneath. And every sheep within that building was swept away and lost . . . All because the shepherds lost their way a very long time ago.

Artwork: Inferno (c) Samy Charnine
https://surrealism.website/Samy%20Charnine.html

Written On Your Palm

I am a small one kneeling in the dirt, my God, my lovely Father. Yet I am someone you cannot forget - for so you said. You said my name is written on your palm and forever you'd remember who I am.

Small but memorable to you and imprinted on your hand. Such love I cannot help but offer back. Let all the world hear me shout: Such a God are you - so fierce! So shatteringly beautiful! An all-consuming fire that is merciful and kind! You are unlike any that has ever been, is now, or shall ever come to be.

And here I am, kneeling in the dirt, a small one who shall never be forgotten.

Artwork: I Yield My Heart to You © James Nesbit

https://jnesbit.com/

Simple

There it is, do you see it? Right there in her little face. It is what Jesus sees, and it makes Him smile. It is what He wants to see in all of us. What He demands, in fact. Nothing complicated here - just a simple, innocent, child-like heart, filled with trust for her Papa God.

It is eyes like hers that can see the wonder of Him.

Artwork: The Vision © Akiane

https://akiane.com

Bent Beneath the Load

There is nothing you can bring to me I need - I am the uncreated One, remember? I have no needs. I have no need for your works or deeds or honors or accomplishments or your position. And I can see that you have little need of them also, as your back is quite bent beneath the load. How long will you last carrying such weight? Will you make it to the end of the road? It could be a long road, you know, this journey you call your life.

Why not lay it all down and come to me empty-handed? ... That's a thought.

Artwork: Carrying a burden, unknown

Pounded Down With Nails

Every sin ... what weight it must have been. Every sin. Not just sin from one or two, not just sin from tens of thousands, but the sins of all humanity throughout the history of the earth were laid upon him. A world’s weight set upon his frame and pounded down with nails.

What sheer breadth and height it would have measured (if sin could possibly be measured thus): homosexuality, pornography, hatred, murder, lies, rebellion . . . countless sins in every shape and form as can be imagined in the heart of man.

And at that moment of the laying of our sins upon him ... God's wrath was satisfied. The payment for our souls was made. Someone had to pay the penalty, and only he, who had no sin, could do it.

Artwork: Nailed to the Cross, unknown

Stuff Falling Off

Welcome to the family! Did you know that you are now a royal child? Your father is a King (the King of kings) and you shall learn his ways now that you've been adopted into this large clan of his.

O, we can be a noisy bunch - we love to laugh! And you will find all sorts of stuff falling off you that you did not even realize you carried . . . burdens, that is. Ailments and griefs of various kinds. Baggage and trappings that never served you very well after all.

O-ho! Yes, welcome to the family. Such a good thing that you are here at last!

Artwork: Set Free © Deborah Nell

https://deborah-nell.pixels.com/

Let the Dreams Begin!

He visits them in dreams . . . and they believe in Him. By the thousands they are turning, bowing knee to ground to worship Him who is the dearest of them all.

And who can stop the Son of God from entering into a sleeper’s quiet rest? No one can. Who can stop dear Muslim souls from believing in their heart that Jesus saves? No one can.

And the eastern world accuses, “it’s a foreign plot to convert Muslims!” Oh, no, not a foreign plot at all— it is a God plot! A Holy Spirit plot! An incredible plot thought out by God Himself at the beginning of the world.

Night is falling now . . . the eastern world is lying down to sleep . . . the trumpet blasts . . . and heaven shouts, "LET THE DREAMS BEGIN!"

Photograph: Jesus in a dream, Jesus resurrection unknown

Just the Beginning

"Do you see that?!!"

"Yes, I do."

"They're starting to believe!"

"Did you doubt?"

"Well . . . er, yes . . . I must say I did. And what now with such faith?"

"Ha! Walking on water is just the beginning."

Artwork: walking on water, unknown

Human Strength

“It is finally happening!”

“Yes, it is.”
“He looks very strong.”
“He is. But not strong enough to break his chains.”
“Ah, yes, the chains. They all have them.”
“They do. And in their human strength some can carry them for a very long time.”
“This one has a praying mother, doesn't he?”
“Oh, yes. And since he was in her womb she has never stopped interceding for him.”
“Does he know what brought him to this place?”
“Not completely; but he will. It’s enough for now that he is here.”
“This is exciting! I’ve never seen it happen. You know, actually been here at the moment. So now, when do the chains actually fall?”
“Any moment now, you will see . . . shh, listen . . . he is doing it. He’s asking Christ into his heart.”

Photograph: Man in Chains, unknown

White-hot Metal

Innocence is precious. We think of it as soft and pure—little lambs and babies. But there is a purity that is like white-hot metal, that burns into our souls, that purges all the dross. It is my Beloved One that grants me such a touch as this, a burning touch that cleanses my soul and restores my innocence.

Christ, the sinless One, the daringly loving One, the One whose heart is ever longing for the lost ones He died for. It is His touch that restores, refreshes and makes clean. Such a feeling to be clean! Soaking for a thousand days in water would not let me feel as clean as one touch from His Holy Spirit.

Who would not want the feeling of a clean soul? . . . if only they knew. Burning can be a very good thing.

Artwork: Innocence by Bougoureau 

Are We Not Gods?

God is so creative! From out of His mind sprang the entire order of the universe - such an astounding thing that mere mortals find it difficult to grasp. We are boxed in by our little minds, refusing to believe in feats to which we ourselves cannot attain. We sit before our Creator with our chests puffed out and insist with presumed intelligence, “God did not do that! There is no god, in fact!” 

We sit, determined to not heed anything that might say we are wrong. Wrong? Us? Are we not the smartest of all creatures? Are we not gods ourselves? Do we not have the power of the divine hidden down within only waiting to come out? What tragic, silly beings we’ve become. 

And God looks down upon those He made and sees the rebellious little children that we are. 

Artwork: Infant Jupiter by Sir Joshua Reynolds

I Will Never Make You Carry That

It is simple. If it were not, my back would have broken long ago beneath the weight. I simply followed Him. Regulations were not heaped upon my back by Him who is the kindest of them all. Men have tried to do that - but never Him! He has always gently removed those nefarious back-breaking religious burdens that men have tried to lay on me and said, “No, my child, that is not for you. I will never make you carry that.” And suddenly I feel light on my feet again. Suddenly I walk with a lilt in my step, as I realize the only thing I need to do is love Him. 

It is that simple. Too simple some would say. But, no, that is how it is. He did all the work and by faith in Him we reap all the life . . . simple! 

Artwork: He That is Without Sin © 2008 Liz Lemon Swindle

http://www.greenwichworkshop.com/swindle/

When All Shaking is Done

Tearing down mountains creates quite a shaking - did you not know this? Did you think it would be instant or easy, or that all would agree to it?

Oh, no . . . When a mountain's removed there's a frightening noise, a terrible shaking throughout all the land. In DC there is a mountain of evil that God is removing. Stand strong! Don't be afraid! God is restoring our destiny and rebuilding a nation.

It is quite a mess.

God holds President Trump in His hands. And God loves this nation. All is not over . . . hold onto God's words and keep praying. God decides rulers and dominions and times, not politicians, and not the swamp creatures who are now in plain sight. The lines have been drawn. Who'll stand with God? Who will have faith? Who are the Joshuas and Calebs? . . . When all shaking is done, we shall see.

Artwork: Third Eruption of the Revolutionary Volcano by Auguste Desperret

Glory Warms My Limbs

He delights in me! I have a God in heaven whose thoughts toward me are too numerous to count. He says I’m the apple of His eye. He loves my company and only wishes I would spend more time with Him. Even when I sin, a sometimes faithless one, He loves me. The Beloved One, my truest friend, my advocate, my steadfast ally, looks down upon me and His Glory warms my limbs as the midday sun and makes me smile. 

And this brash love, this outrageous passion that He has for me, He extends to all. I wish the world to know that the only life worth living is found in Christ . . . can you imagine being loved like this? It is beyond imagination. 

Artwork: Ecstasy by Maxfield Parrish

The Emperor is Naked!

"That is a man in women's clothes!" so said the innocent child, pointing his finger at him.

They all saw a man dressed in women's clothes. They knew his male chromosomes could never change and they whispered to each other, "This transgender thing, it is a lie." Yet would they dare to speak the truth aloud? Heaven's no! They fawned over his pretty clothes and smiled their fake smiles at him ... yet would not, could not, bring themselves to speak the truth for they might fall out of favor.

"That is a man!" exclaimed the child again, looking with astonishment at the grown-ups round him, for they were all afraid to say it. But the child wasn't. And the child could not lie.

We know the story well - The emperor has no clothes! The emperor is naked!

Artwork: The Emperor's new clothes, unknown

Reaching Up

Reach up and call His name. That’s all you have to do. Reach up when black clouds descend upon your soul with a weight that tries to crush. 

Reach up and call upon the name of Jesus. Shout it if you have to; weep, if that is how it comes; whisper it if you feel you have no strength. He will hear, I promise. He will not stay far away for long.

When He stretches forth His hand, instantly the clouds will part. Deliverance will come because He owns it. It belongs to Him and Him alone. Redemption belongs to Him ... and so does love. All of it is His. But do not give up. Do not stop calling out His name and reaching up. I know without a doubt that He will come.

Artwork: Hand of God, unknown

Try to Take Over the World

Pinky and the Brain had it right. The goal today is like every day: TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD! For the sake of Christ we go forth with love and humility. Our goal? To take over the world for the one who suffered and died for it.

No half-way commitment will do. No frightened, shriveling soldiers will suffice. No water-downed belief system will carry through. No hard-edged, merciless religion will work. It is His grace, His love, and His power that we must have.

Try to take over the world! Have you ever thought about that? One heart at a time they use to say, but it shall be thousands of hearts at a time now. They shall come pouring into the Kingdom like a flood and we will lay the world at His holy feet.

Artwork: Pinky and the Brain

A Harsh Goddess

Dear little one,

She wants your life. She is a harsh goddess, demanding you be put to death, and the men and women who bow to her are willing to do whatever it is she wants ... and she wants you sacrificed.

He who breathed life into your small self shall one day slay this evil queen, this Jezebel, and pull her from her throne. And all those who worship her shall weep and gnash their teeth to see her fall. But till then, they will continue to kill you little ones to feed their goddess' appetite and they will make war against all of us for the right to do it.

Photo: Baby in the womb sucking thumb, unknown

Shine

Truly, I want my heart to be filled with Your presence and I need the pursuit of You to be what fills my hours. How do I come to that place? I am not certain, but You know. You know everything. 

Change me to be a true replication of Jesus, my precious Savior. I wish to be as beautiful as He is. I wish to shine with the Glory of Father as He does. 

Shine . . . shine . . . shine! That certain something that glows from His eyes must shine from mine.

Artwork: Beata Beatrix by Dante Gabriel Rosseti

He and She

God made her and him. God made man and woman and they fit perfectly together.

He and she. Her and him. Man and woman . . . only two genders were created, a biological design within which are rooted our well-being and our wholeness.

Woe to those who try to stray from His design, for on that path there is a tearing of the soul, and pain, the likes of which they have never known before. And a great lost-ness that will drag them down into a whirlwind of darkness.

He and she. Her and him. Since the dawn of time and evermore, as long as XY chromosomes remain XY.

Artwork: Meeting on the Turret Stairs by Frederick Burton

The Flowers Return

Blessings suddenly come - falling out of heaven into our laps. Such a week I have known, such a week of blessings. I have laughed much this week at the goodness of God and have been astounded at how the heavens can open with a burst and suddenly the dry land is turned into a garden. God sends his mercies down and in a moment everything is turned around - The sun rises, the waters flow, the flowers return, the obstacles fall away, and suddenly God shows himself mighty to save and answers the cries of His children. 

I am privileged to know such a tender Father and honored to be called His own. And today my heart bursts with the blessings that have fallen! 

Artwork: Truly the Light is Sweet by Shaw

The Sound of His Return

I am listening for him, listening for the sound of his return. His voice, his step outside my chamber, I eagerly await. “Come, Lord, come!” my heart cries out as breath is bated and I strain to hear the faintest sound.

I hear so many things as the time of his return approaches. I hear the groaning of the earth beneath the weight of sin that bears upon it. I hear all creation singing praises, quietly, persistently; a sound that even night has not the power to stop. Astounding are the things that can be heard when one takes the time to listen. Let the world rush by, but I shall wait with lamp full lit, eyes wide awake, listening for the footfalls of him whose face I’ve waited long to see. Come, Lord, come!

Artwork: Thisbe by John William Waterhouse

A Light Within

If you journey out into the world the battles promise to be fierce. The world’s ways are not easy, are not pain free. It is dark out there and growing darker . . . but . . . you have a light. Do you not remember? There is a light within that is stronger than the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it. Fan the flame of your first love for Him.

“Away fear! Fie to grief! Anger you are banished! Death to enemies once too strong for me!”

There you have it. You have not forgotten after all—He is that light.

Artwork: © Greg Call

http://linesandcolors.com/2014/12/07/greg-call/

Most Fierce Opponent

God did not make you so. You were not born for such a life. It was your choice.

Your conscience tried to stop you in it — for many years that precious gift within you, given by a loving God, tried to stop you from this course. But you would not listen to it. You entertained the thoughts, and when thoughts are entertained for years they grow in strength till a stronghold grips the mind that is not broken easily.

And when finally you had killed that God-imprinted conscience, put it sound to sleep, you stepped into that homosexual bond that is a false substitute for what the wounds within are really needing.

It is not Christians that have warred against you — it is that truest friend, yet most fierce opponent of them all . . . your conscience.

Artwork: Nature by Arild Rosenkrantz

An Army of Glorious Truckers

Once long ago there were truckers who rode great shining trucks into battle; a battle where they carried no weapons and courage was solely their armor.

The fight they waged was quite peaceful in their stubborn defiance of a tyrant. And all the world watched the battle progress, and how with bar-b-ques, laughter and dancing they fought.

The tyrant could not take the mocking and angrily called on his minions: the enforcers-of-diktats, cold-hearted cowards (falsely called 'royal') that were willing to trample even old women beneath the hooves of their horses.

It seemed like a one-sided battle. It seemed like freedom was lost . . . but then . . . a miracle suddenly happened that no one expected to see. 

The people began to awaken from sleep, deciding these warriors should not stand alone any longer. By ten thousands and millions they filled every street. Every village and city was crowded. Every highway and byway was crammed. Until the outnumbered enforcers-of-diktats refused to give help to the tyrant and decided instead to stand down. And the dominoes fell 'cross the world as their liberty finally was won.

And here on the hallowed fields of freedom sits that first mighty truck of the convoy. Here sits the old metal steed in her glory for all lovers of freedom to see. And to this very day parents tell the story to their children of that army of glorious truckers, fearless and bold, who caused the thrones of terrible tyrants to come tumbling down.

Artwork: Kenworth Old Workhorse © Stuart Swartz
https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/stuart-swartz

Proclamatory Feet

I feel electricity course through me at His touch. Fear flees and little do I care what men think. Do I dance? Yes, with all my heart and soul till those of timid nature find the boldness to step out.

Come, all who wish to join in the dance, who wish to plunge into the river, who wish to stand beneath the rain and soak in heaven's glory. And darkness will tremble beneath your feet . . . and walls will crash beneath your feet . . . and demons will flee before your stomping, twirling, proclamatory feet!

Leap over those safe little fences round your field that men have built and venture into the wild unknown . . . I know you want to.

Artwork: Spiritual Renewal © 2008 Angela Branigan

https://www.imagekind.com/artists/angelabranigan/all/fine-art-prints/artists/angelabranigan/all/fine-art-prints

Storms Piled Against You

You never thought it would be like this, did you? You thought once you followed Christ it would be calm sailing here on in, gentle waves carrying you softly along, sweet birds singing and all that. But then all hell broke loose – yes, say it like it is, that is exactly what happened. Hell broke loose against you because you suddenly became one of its greatest enemies: A Christ-lover, a Jesus-follower, a cleansed-one. And hell doesn’t much like that.

The storms piled against you with a violence you were not expecting. Nasty storms. Cruel storms. Uncomfortably wet and irritating storms. One right after the other. You thought for certain you would drown . . . but you didn’t! You’re getting your sea-legs after all and I think you will do just fine.

Welcome to the good side!

Artwork: The Great Mishap © 2008 Linda Bergkvist

http://www.furiae.com/

A Great Reset

The Davos group shall be surprised at how correct they were. They said a "Reset" would be coming. They plotted in a thousand different ways to push it forward. They even called it "Great." And they were correct - a Great Reset is soon to happen . . . but not quite like they imagined.

Everything shall truly change - for it is their end that is coming. The time is soon upon us when the Davos group shall be cut off, and those who are part of it shall be brought low. They will grovel and fall to their knees before the One who is Lord of all the rulers of the earth. Lord of them, even.

He is coming sooner than even the church expects, with a powerful army that no earthly army can withstand. And the redeemed who love the Truth (for truth is a person) shall shout with such a great clamor of rejoicing that all eternity shall be filled with the noise. . . ."Praise to Jesus Christ the only begotten Son of God!! For He has come and all creation is redeemed!! And all the earth has quit it's groaning and rejoices with us!!"

Photograph: Raised hands praising, unknown

A Realm that God Created

Who is counterfeiting whom? That is the question of the day. Is not the spirit realm a realm that God created? Some believe that satan rules it, so fearfully they shut down the things of God when they do not understand what is going on.

“Ooh, an angel spoke to him!” some gasp with fear. Yet angels have spoken to man for as long as man has walked the earth. “Right, she said that she saw heaven!” they mock. Uneducated Christian, you must read more! God has been revealing heaven to people for thousands of years – He even has a book that shows such revelation being given.

If Christianity holds any resemblance to New Age it is because the New Age movement has 'borrowed' from Christianity, not the other way around. Dreams, visions, ecstasies, tongues, angels, miracles, signs and wonders, all belong to Christ. And He will use any which one He pleases to communicate with His children who desire to hear from Him. Has no one taught you this? Ahh, now I understand. The fault lay with your teachers.

Artwork: Jeanne d'Arc and the Archangel Michael by Eugene Thirion 

In the Middle of the Ruins

I told you that you would find them. Right there in the middle of the ruins – at least what you believed were the ruins of your life. Flowers growing where you thought they would never grow again. A green sprig of hope . . . a strong stem of faith . . . a vivid blossom of joy. Ready for you to gather with a fresh new purpose.

You didn’t wish to return to that plot of land again. I know you didn’t. You insisted that place has only ruins on it, ugly rubble that reminds you of the loss. But the One who knows you best of all, knew differently. Beneath the broken rubble on that scarred plot of land is right where you would find your healing.  

He’s not called the Creator of all things for no reason, you know. With Him, life springs up even out of ruins.

Artwork: Among the Ruins by Lawrence Alma-Tadema

The Only Road

There is only one road that leads to heaven - it is narrow and not very crowded. It is the only way that the Creator of the universe allowed us, and, try as we might, we mere humans cannot enter heaven any other way. Some don’t like that thought. Some get quite angry at it. How strange that those who don't wish to have a relationship with Jesus, in fact do not even believe in Him, would yet believe that there could be a heaven and they are angry that they might not be allowed in by some other route.

Some other route, do you say? . . . there is but one small problem with that – Jesus is the only road that leads through the gates. Humanity may rage and stomp and be as incensed as they wish, but any other road they take does not lead to heaven. It may lead them to a more self-fulfilled life (though I am not convinced that fulfilling “self” is actually very satisfying) but when their life is over their fulfilled-self will be cut off forever from the One whose presence on this earth is what gave it any kind of beauty.

There is only one way, only one road, because there is only one Jesus.

Photograph: Road through meadow, unknown 

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/