Saturday, December 28, 2013

Mexican Hitchhiker


Mexican Hitchhiker, 1988 ©

by

Matthew A. Nelson
                                                                                      
July, 1996

“You need to take the Bronco and go someplace. I don’t want you sitting around for three days saying, ‘Gee, I wish I had gone somewhere’.” After almost sixteen years of marriage, Karoline recognized the restlessness in my soul hated staying home on three-day weekends. The Memorial Day weekend was approaching. Why not go visit my friend Dave Honea and his wife Jean in Austin? “Matt, we are going to Nuevo Laredo. Why don’t you join us for dinner on Saturday at 7 PM at the Cadillac Bar and Grill?”

            Sounded good to me. With a couple of oranges, some graham crackers, some drinking water, beef jerky, I headed West in my nine-month old Bronco. The Houston area is too humid, too coastal, too much of East Texas. My Western heritage needed to be revitalized. Wide open spaces. Mesquite trees (or bushes). No cars for miles, on a two-lane highway. Laredo is about six hours from my house. I found a place to park the Bronco, and walked across the International Bridge, because I didn’t feel comfortable about driving into Mexico.

            Old women and dirty children and crippled men and others tugged at the heartstrings with their begging on the bridge street. I always have mixed emotions about beggars. I know that I am better off, but I wonder how many of them use the heartstrings to make a substantial living. If you give one coin, then all of a sudden you are the Pied Piper. I feel guilty when I don’t give, but I sometimes feel conned when I do. I wandered the streets of Nuevo Laredo for an hour before going to the Cadillac Bar and Grill. It is a few blocks away from the bridge, so the beggars had thinned, and I was long forgotten as the vendors of leather goods, cheap booze and cigarettes, and black velvet paintings were hustling the latest people who had just walked over the bridge.

            I met Dave on my first trip to the South Pole. We have shared meals at the galleys of the South Pole and McMurdo, Antarctica, at the Auckland, New Zealand airport, in Austin, and with this meal, in Mexico. His wife is an expert on Arctic archeology. They have Wintered-over in McMurdo, and have spent a few years in Alaska. Dave has travelled to Mexico several times to explore caves. He sent me a photograph himself on a salmon fishing trip in Alaska that could be on the cover of Field and Stream. After our meal, we listened to a Mexican Band in a park, watching young men trying to impress their girlfriends. I left Dave and Jean there about 9 PM, walked across the Bridge back to the Bronco, thinking about where to go for the next two days.

            As I recall, I headed West, but without a particular destination in mind. I drove for about three hours, until I found some cheap motel to spend the night. I almost slept in the Bronco. It wouldn’t be the first, nor will it be the last time, but when I do sleep overnight in a vehicle, I always wake up feeling grungy, and hate my own smell the rest of the day. So, I tend to find cheap motels where I can take a shower. Of course, there have been some motels that I would have been better off sleeping in the Bronco.

            Sunday at Noon, I tied the Bronco to the hitching post at Judge Roy Bean’s saloon in Langtry, half expecting the Hanging Judge to wander through with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a hanging rope in the other, as he administered justice with his Law West of the Pecos. The Western artifacts looked like those in the Ft. Caspar, Wyoming museum. One six-shooter pretty much looks the same as another. Horseshoes don’t vary in shape. Imagination takes over. Forget the Made in Taiwan genuine whatever as the cash registers ring. Close your eyes. That’s where the Judge sat. Maybe his ghost is living its eternity in West Texas with the souls of the men he hung just a few miles West of the Pecos. 

            Time to hit the trail. Buy some liquid hay for the Bronco, enough to keep it going for another five hundred miles. Ought to make Big Bend by early evening. No sleeping bags nor camping equipment, just some oranges and graham crackers and beef jerky and some water. Who knows? Maybe tonight the Bronco will be my campground, but that’s several hours away. I won’t have many hours to spend in Big Bend, but at least will have an idea what it looks like, and I always can come back later when I have more time. Eight years later, as I write this, guess I just haven’t found the time. Big Bend is still on my Gonna List.

            In West Texas, one can drive for miles without seeing anyone. I might have been out of radio range, or just wanted to serenade my horse, my faithful Bronco. Sometimes, when I am driving alone, I sing. Nobody criticizes my voice nor tells me about buckets nor tells me I don’t have the words right. I guess when I say I sing, I am using the wrong choice of words. Beller is a better choice of words. Sometimes I beller the same words and the same tune over and over. Sometimes I make up words. I am not sure that I have the correct spelling of beller, but I like the way it looks on the computer machine, so I am going to leave it that way. In West Texas, nobody cares how you spell beller. You can beller and nobody complains. You can almost drive as fast as you want if you don’t have somebody indicating to you that it would have been to your financial advantage to have slowed down before he caught you with the radar gun that operates at the speed of light. When one is bellerin’ at ninety miles an hour on an empty and lonely stretch of West Texas highway, one doesn’t expect to see a hitchhiker sneak out of the mesquite trees and wave him down. So I put the Bronco in Whoa gear, stopped the bellerin’, and decided to give the man a ride who has forever influenced my attitude of picking up hitchhikers.

            The two piles of grass and alfalfa that fell out of his shoes indicated he had been sleeping in other places than Broncos or in cheap motels. My keen sense of smell detected other signs that cheap motels with working showers were out of his price range. His tour package of West Texas is not printed in the brochures found in travel offices; had it been printed, it would have said, “Meals not included”. When I asked him if he was hungry, he gave me one of his few smiles, and it was adios for most of the oranges and crackers.

            We spoke very few words. I tried to converse with him, but he spoke very little English. He was a Mexican, heading back to Mexico. That in itself is unusual, because in that part of Texas, that close to the Border, the Mexicans are travelling North. During the course of the day, I did learn that he had three children, and it had been eight months since he had seen them. As we drove along, he opened up one of those envelopes banks give out from drive-up windows that I had on the front seat, and gave a look of disgust upon finding it empty. His clothes were the typical white pullover shirt and baggy pants that Mexicans are often stereotyped as wearing. Only he wasn’t the typical Mexican just trying to make a living to feed his family.

            I have the impression that he had just been released, or had just escaped from jail. His dark eyes were cold, hard, suspicious. The tattoos on his arms and hands were homemade. On his right inside forearm a two-inch beetle had eight legs. Across the top of his right hand was a name that I couldn’t read. In the soft area of skin between his left thumb and index finger was an upside-down cross, with two dots on either side of the crossbar. If the cross had been right side up, the dots would have been above the crossbar. We were about two hundred miles from Big Ben, the only people on the highway. When I saw the upside-down cross, I had cold shivers, but I didn’t know why.

            We drove in silence. My few attempts at conversation were met with hostile resistance. I didn’t know where to leave him. Along the way, I saw some signs for some colorful rocks, or a waterfall. I don’t remember what it was. I turned in there, because I thought other people might be there. It was deserted. I took a couple of photographs of something, while he waited in the Bronco. I made a futile attempt to conceal my anguish. In hindsight, he probably would have asked me to stop and let him out if I had started bellering again. At that point I was concerned about my safety. But nothing happened. We drove to Big Bend without incident.

            He seemed agitated when I drove to the park headquarters. I paid five dollars for the entrance fee, while he waited outside. Since I planned on staying at Big Bend, I thought I would drop him off at Terlingua, the next town. But it was a desolate town, and I didn’t want to leave him in the middle of nowhere. The next town was Lajitas, which is a town right on the Rio Grande River. It is a small resort town. I knew the guy didn’t have any money, but I was hungry by that time, and figured he was too. As uncomfortable as I felt around him, I just couldn’t drop him off and then go and enjoy a good dinner. I asked him if he was hungry, and he said in broken English, “A little bit”. After three or four hours with this guy, I figured another half an hour wouldn’t make much difference.

            This was Memorial Day weekend, time for the RV crowd to visit Big Bend. The town has an old Western flavor, with only one restaurant. The hostess seated us in back, where we had to walk in front of the RV crowd. Everybody stared. In perfect English, he ordered a chicken-fried steak. I had fajitas in the town of Lajitas, which I thought sounded poetic. While we were waiting for the food to be served, he did something I shall never forget. He took a fork off the table and started combing his black bushy hair. He jerked the fork hard several times to untangle his matted hair. Everybody stared. Then very deliberately, he slithered the fork into his pants pocket. I made the most classic statement: “Put the fork back on the table. I will buy you a comb.” His eyes twisted into something dark and evil. “No.”  “Put the fork back.”  “No.” Shortly after that, the food came. We ate in silence.

            That really angered me. Earlier in the day, I had even thought of driving him further down the road. All of a sudden, that fork became a weapon. I could almost feel it in my ribs. We walked out to the cash register, where I wanted to pay a dollar extra for the fork, but he was right by my side. I fully expected to be arrested for being an accomplice to this guy stealing a fork. Once outside, I walked to the right side of the Bronco, grabbed the rest of the oranges and the crackers, and gave them to him. He said, again in very good English, “Where are you going?” I said, “I am going to Big Bend. I don’t care where you go.” He whined, “Look man, I don’t have no money.” So I gave him five or ten dollars. I just wanted to be rid of him.

            Once I left there, I kept on going. I did not stop at Big Bend. I kept checking my rear view mirror to see if some sheriff was going to arrest me for this guy stealing a fork. I drove to Alpine, passing through an Immigration checkpoint without any problems. But I just knew they had radioed ahead to the sheriff in Alpine. In Alpine, I found another cheap motel. The next day, I drove back home, without bellering, contemplating the previous day.

            At work the next day, I was laughing about it. Especially about him combing his hair with a fork. Israel Vinces, one of the guys I worked with, had been born in Mexico, and told me that I really didn’t want to know about his tattoos. When I convinced him to tell me, he said, “Matthew, there is a gang of people who go up and down the Mexican border who are devil worshippers. That is why they have the upside-down cross tattooed on their left hand. The two dots are snake eyes. They find innocent people, kill them, and mutilate their bodies. If you had driven him further, they may never have found your body. He probably all ready figured out where to sell your Bronco.”



            For a long time, the people at work teased me about this guy combing his hair with a fork. Nine months later, the local TV news told a story of a college kid on Spring Break whose mutilated body was found along the Mexican border, killed by devil worshippers who had upside-down crosses and two dots tattooed on their left hands. My blood ran cold. My Guardian Angel had protected me on Memorial Day weekend, from a man that I now realize had every intention of killing me.

The Only Time Someone Pulled a Knife on Me


[Matt Nelson picked me up hitchhiking in Montana a few months ago.  He emailed me some of his short stories for me to read.  My Sheep Hear My Voice ]

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Minority Report



Back in 2004, I was hitchhiking and I ended up in Clarkson, Washington.  I got a motel room and the Holy Ghost fell very heavy that night and into the next morning.  I knew something was up---I was in that motel room for a reason. I turned on the TV early that morning and the film Minority Report was on some channel---I knew in my spirit that the Lord wanted me to watch that film.

I watched the film and thought it was very good.  There were these three people---two men and one woman---who were called precogs (precognitive) and they had a gift of foreseeing the future.  The woman precog was especially talented.  In their dreams or visions they could predict a murder before it happened.  Tom Cruise played a cop who worked with the precogs to prevent crimes, like murder, from happening.


Later in 2008, I was hitchhiking in Nebraska and I walked several miles to this place that had a motel and cafe.  The Lord told me to get a motel room that night.  That afternoon the film Minority Report was on TV and I watched it again.  The Lord showed me that my dreams would come true---the dreams that the Lord gave me would come true.  I thought of my very vivid dream of the Las Vegas Earthquake.
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I think it is great how the Lord will use circumstances, people, films and other things to get our attention to show us things and teach us things in our walk with the Lord.  Jesus Christ is Lord over our lives everyday.
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I think that it is very interesting that in the film, John Anderton had his eyes surgically removed and then had to get new eyes for him to penetrate the PreCrime organization and get to the truth of Ann Lively's and his son's death.  New eyes, new birth through baptism (he was hiding under water in the bath tub), new vision (prophetic vision with the help of the precog Agatha) and new life.  And this is how John Anderton exposed and defeated  Director Lamar Burgess and the Gates of Hell.
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Matthew 16: 18:  "and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."
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Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
21 December 2010
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"Minority Report, starring Tom Cruise, directed by Steven Spielberg. Precog. Ann Lively. Visions. Dreams come true. John Anderton. New eyes. A prophet’s eyes. Prevision. Las Vegas Earthquake."
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Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The Gatekeeper



This is from the blog Daily Meditation:

2Kings 7:11: Then the gatekeepers called out, and it was told within the king’s household.

The gatekeeper serves a special role in the house. He determines what goes in and what goes out of the house and what is no allowed to leave or enter the house.  They guard and so have to be strong mentally because their work is highly demanding, and needs a high level of alertness. They are like watchmen.

The bible says that the watchmen over Jerusalem must not keep silent but must bother God day and night until he makes Jerusalem praiseworthy throughout the earth (Isaiah 62:6-7). They want to let God in as gatekeepers to make changes in the place. Watchmen also shut the gate against the operations of the devil, as it is written: what you bind (restrict) on earth is bound in heaven and what you lose (in the reality of God) on earth is loosed in heaven (Matthew 18:18).

Gatekeepers in a spiritual sense do their “gate-keeping” in the place of prayer. Samuel, though disappointed with the choice made by the children of Israel, to seek for a king, rejecting Samuel, declared that he does not have any other choice but to continue to pray for the children of Israel, as a true gatekeeper (1Samuel 12:23), binding and loosing things on their behalf. The gatekeeper is a person of spiritual authority.

Jesus said that he will build his church and the gates of hell will not prevail against it (Matthew 16:18). Hell has its gatekeepers while the kingdom of God also has its gatekeepers, since God is Spirit and the devil is also a spirit, they both need conduits of their wills on earth, they need people willing to be gatekeepers for the advancement of the alternative kingdoms.

That was why the incarnation of God in Jesus, was a master stroke of divine genius. God (the Son) himself became the gatekeeper on the earth (rebuking the Pharisees and releasing healing and truth) with total commitment to his own cause.

It was a foolproof arrangement to achieve salvation for the world. There was no loophole. It was God offering himself as sacrifice to appease God; it was God having shedding his blood to save us, with Jesus as the gatekeeper for the life of God to come to the on the earth. Everything starts and ends with Jesus, who is the alpha and omega of our faith (Revelation 1:8, Hebrews 12:2).

When Jesus was leaving the earth he prepared replacement gatekeepers, his disciples, who will be conduits for the Holy Spirit, the representatives of heaven. They would be gatekeepers of the church. Paul wrote that when Jesus was ascending to heaven, he led captivity captive and gave gifts to men: apostles prophets, evangelist, pastor, teachers, these are to be gatekeepers to the saints (the church) (Ephesians 4:18-24), bringing the goods of heaven to them, protecting them from false doctrines. One of their mandates is to equip the saints, so that they are not moved to and fro by every wind of doctrine.

It was a wind of doctrine/teaching which destroyed the chance Adam and Eve had to continue to live in the Garden of Eden, in that place of blessing (Genesis 3). They were moved from standing firm in the word of God. But it was Adam who was made the gatekeeper of the garden, with Eve as his helper.

He was told to keep and tend the garden, which was his assignment and territory; he was supposed to guard it against any invader. But they were not on guard against the devil because he did not look threatening when he called on them in the Garden. Satan did not invade the garden with chariots and horses; he invaded the thoughts of Eve, making her believe in a different doctrine from what God gave them they fell. That is why the bible says we should guard our hearts with all diligence (Proverbs 4:23). The gatekeepers need to guard the hearts of the people, allowing only truth to enter and preventing falsehood from taking root.

Paul in writing to the church in Galatia said he was afraid lest in the same way that the devil deceived Eve, they have also been moved away from the simplicity of the devotion to Christ, to another gospel and another Christ. In his letter as a gatekeeper, he wanted to rid the hearts of the Christians there of false doctrines.

Jude also performed the work of a gatekeeper in his letter. He wrote about certain people that his audience should be on the lookout for and that to not fall into their errors, they should build themselves up on their most holy faith as they pray in the Holy Spirit. The watchman comes with warning and may sometimes be seen as overly negative.

The watchman has his eyes on possible invasion, and has the task of sounding the alarm so that the people will be ready, or else their blood will be on his neck (Ezekiel 3:17-21, 33:1-11), as God told Ezekiel.

Peter was a gatekeeper. Before he departed from earth, he warned the people about false teachers, who are on assignment for their own ego and belly and that when not checked they will cause a lot of damage to the church (2Peter 2:1-3). He wanted the people to be on guard.

Jesus by the spirit of prophecy warned seven churches in Asia through Apostle John(Revelation 2-3). He was operating in John as a gatekeeper. John wrote that the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy, which means the reality of the living Jesus is expressed when the spirit of prophecy is in operation and Paul said when we prophesy the secret things get revealed.

So Jesus revealed the things that were going on in the churches of Asia, addressing the letter to the leaders of those churches who are also gatekeepers of the individual churches, he told them what he wanted the church to change: to remove or include, to stop or start. He needs the gatekeepers to take action.

Jesus told some of his disciples: watch and pray so they would not fall into temptation (Matthew 46:41). To watch means to be on guard, so in our own lives we need to be on guard as our own gatekeepers.

White Washed or Washed White?

Jesus warning the Pharisees--white-washed walls

This is from the blog My Dreams and Visions:

I had a dream 12/11/2013. In the dream I saw people lined up at a church altar and it looked at first as though they had responded to an altar call. Then I noticed the church leaders, both pastors and elders, had buckets of white paint and these large paintbrushes in their hands, the kind you would use to paint a barn. These church leaders were painting the people standing there with the white wash that they had in their paint buckets. It would seem that instead of coming clean and confessing their sins they were instead being covered with this whitewash to give the semblance of being clean and in essence told that everything was ok. I also noticed that the hands of the people at the altar were black, I’m assuming that the black represented sin.  I do not remember hearing any message of repentance or any telling the people assembled at the altar to change the way that they think or act. They just stood there and allowed the church leaders to cover them with the whitewash.

What comes to mind here is the following scriptures.

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you; even when you offer many prayers, I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow. “Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.
(Isa 1:15-18)


“It is definitely because they have misled My people by saying, ‘Peace!’ when there is no peace. And when anyone builds a wall, behold, they plaster it over with whitewash; so tell those who plaster it over with whitewash, that it will fall. A flooding rain will come, and you, O hailstones, will fall; and a violent wind will break out. “Behold, when the wall has fallen, will you not be asked, ‘Where is the plaster with which you plastered it?'” Therefore, thus says the Lord GOD, “I will make a violent wind break out in My wrath. There will also be in My anger a flooding rain and hailstones to consume it in wrath. “So I will tear down the wall which you plastered over with whitewash and bring it down to the ground, so that its foundation is laid bare; and when it falls, you will be consumed in its midst. And you will know that I am the LORD. “Thus I will spend My wrath on the wall and on those who have plastered it over with whitewash; and I will say to you, ‘The wall is gone and its plasterers are gone,
(Eze 13:10-15)


They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. “Peace, peace,” they say, when there is no peace.
(Jer 8:11)


_____


Shiloh
By Tim Shey

Brutal deathdance;
My eyes weep blood.
Pharisees smile like vipers,
They laugh and mock their venom:
Blind snakes leading
The deaf and dumb multitude.

Where are my friends?
The landscape is dry and desolate.
They have stretched my shredded body
On this humiliating tree.

The hands that healed
And the feet that brought good news
They have pierced
With their fierce hatred.

The man-made whip
That opened up my back
Preaches from a proper pulpit.
They sit in comfort:
That vacant-eyed congregation.
The respected, demon-possessed reverend
Forks his tongue
Scratching itchy ears
While Cain bludgeons
Abel into silence.

My flesh in tattered pieces
Clots red and cold and sticks
To the rough-hewn timber
That props up my limp, vertical carcase
Between heaven and earth.
My life drips and puddles
Below my feet,
As I gaze down dizzily
On merciless eyes and dagger teeth.

The chapter-and-versed wolves
Jeer and taunt me.
Their sheepwool clothing
Is stained black with the furious violence
Of their heart of stone.
They worship me in lip service,
But I confess,
I never knew them
(Though they are my creation).

My tongue tastes like ashes:
It sticks to the roof of my mouth.
I am so thirsty.
This famine is too much for me.
The bulls of Bashan have bled me white.
Papa, into your hands
I commend my Spirit.

Ethos
February/March 1997
Iowa State University

Genesis 49: 10: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet until Shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be.”

Monday, November 4, 2013

The Death of Voltaire

Francois-Marie Arouet (Voltaire), 1694-1778

Voices from the Edge of Eternity
Compiled by John Myers

Last Hours On Earth Of The Noted French Infidel, Voltaire

Pages 21-22: 


"When Voltaire felt the stroke which he realized must terminate in death, he was overpowered with remorse.  He at once sent for the priest and wanted to be 'reconciled to the church.'  His infidel flatterers hastened to his chamber to prevent his incantation, but it was only to witness his ignominy and their own.  He cursed them to their faces and, since his distress was increased by their presence, repeatedly and loudly exclaimed, 'Begone!  It is you that have brought me to my present condition.  Leave me, I say -- begone!  What a wretched glory is this which you have produced for me!'

"Hoping to allay his anguish by a written recantation, he had it prepared, signed it, and saw it witnessed.  But it was all unavailing.  For two months he was tortured with such an agony as led him at times to gnash his teeth in impotent rage against God and man.  At other times, in plaintive accents, he would plead, 'O Christ!  O Lord Jesus!'  Then, turning his face he would cry out, 'I must die -- abandoned of God and of men!'

"As his end drew near his condition became so frightful that his infidel associates were afraid to approach his bedside.  Still they guarded the door, that others might not know how awfully an infidel was compelled to die.  Even his nurse repeatedly said that for all the wealth of Europe she would never see another infidel die.  It was a scene of horror that lies beyond all exaggeration.

"Such is the well-attested end of this man who had a natural sovereignty of intellect, excellent education, great wealth and much earthly honor."

     --The Contrast Between Infidelity and Christianity

Voltaire--Wikipedia

The Terror of Hell
The Death of President Lyndon Johnson
Watching Men Die

The Loneliness of the Christian




"The loneliness of the Christian results from his walk with God in an ungodly world, a walk that must often take him away from the fellowship of good Christians as well as from that of the unregenerate world. His God-given instincts cry out for companionship with others of his kind, others who can understand his longings, his aspirations, his absorption in the love of Christ; and because within his circle of friends there are so few who share his inner experiences he is forced to walk alone.

"The unsatisfied longings of the prophets for human understanding caused them to cry out in their complaint, and even our Lord Himself suffered in the same way.

"The man [or woman] who has passed on into the divine Presence in actual inner experience will not find many who understand him. He finds few who care to talk about that which is the supreme object of his interest, so he is often silent and preoccupied in the midst of noisy religious shoptalk. For this he earns the reputation of being dull and over-serious, so he is avoided and the gulf between him and society widens.

"He searches for friends upon whose garments he can detect the smell of myrrh and aloes and cassia out of the ivory palaces, and finding few or none he, like Mary of old, keeps these things in his heart.

"It is this very loneliness that throws him back upon God. His inability to find human companionship drives him to seek in God what he can find nowhere else."
--A.W. Tozer

The Loneliness of the Christian
I am a Stranger in the Earth
A.W. Tozer Quote

Thursday, October 10, 2013

The Wrath of the Great King of Kings



An excerpt from
"Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God"
By Jonathan Edwards:

And consider here more particularly several Things concerning that Wrath that you are in such Danger of.
    1.  Whose Wrath it is:  It is the Wrath of the infinite GOD.  If it were only the Wrath of Man, tho' it were of the most potent Prince, it would be comparatively little to be regarded.  The Wrath of Kings is very much dreaded, especially of absolute Monarchs, that have the Possessions and Lives of their Subjects wholly in their Power, to be disposed of at their meer Will.  Prov. 20. 2.  The Fear of a King is as the Roaring of a Lion:  whoso provoketh him to Anger, sinneth against his own Soul.  The Subject that very much enrages an arbitrary Prince, is liable to suffer the most extream Torments, that human Art can invent or human Power can inflict.  But the greatest earthly Potentates, in their greatest Majesty and Strength, and when cloathed in their greatest Terrors, are but feeble despicable Worms of the Dust, in Comparison of the great  and almighty Creator and King of Heaven and Earth:  It is but little that they can do, when most enraged, and when they have exerted the utmost of their Fury.  All the Kings of the Earth before GOD are as Grashoppers, they are nothing and less than nothing:  Both their Love and their Hatred is to be despised.  The Wrath of the great King of Kings is as much more terrible than their's, as his Majesty is greater.  Luke 12.  4,5.  And I say unto you my Friends, be not afraid of them that kill the Body, and after that have no more that they can do:  But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear; fear him, which after he hath killed, hath Power to cast into Hell; yea I say unto you, fear him.

Flee California!


Friday, September 6, 2013

Sarah Pierrepont (1723)

Sarah Edwards

Sarah Pierrepont (1723)
By Jonathan Edwards

"They say there is a young lady in [New Haven] who is beloved of that Great Being, who made and rules the world, and that there are certain seasons in which this Great Being, in some way or other invisible, comes to her and fills her mind with exceeding sweet delight; and that she hardly cares for any thing, except to meditate on him---that she expects after a while to be received up where he is, to be raised up out of the world and caught up into heaven; being assured that he loves her too well to let her remain at a distance from him always.  There she is to dwell with him, and to be ravished with love and delighted forever.  Therefore, if you present all the world before her, with the richest of its treasures, she disregards it and cares not for it, and is unmindful of any pain or affliction; is most just and conscientious in all her conduct; and you could not persuade her to do any thing wrong or sinful, if you would give her all the world, lest she should offend this Great Being.  She is of a wonderful sweetness, calmness, and universal benevolence of mind; especially after this Great God has manifested himself to her mind.  She will sometimes go about from place to place, singing sweetly; and seems to be always full of joy and pleasure; and no one knows for what.  She loves to be alone, walking in the fields and groves, and seems to have some one invisible always conversing with her."

Excerpt from Early American Writing
Edited by Giles Gunn

Jonathan Edwards


Sarah Pierrepont later became the wife of Jonathan Edwards in 1727.

Jonathan Edwards

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Martyred for Christ



Martyrs Mirror
The Story of Seventeen Centuries of Christian Martyrdom, From the Time of Christ to A.D. 1660

By Thieleman J. van Braght


Page 134:  FOUR GOD-FEARING WOMEN, NAMELY, TWO CALLED AMMONARIA, AND MERCURIA AND DIONYSIA, BEHEADED AT ALEXANDRIA, FOR THE CONFESSION OF JESUS CHRIST, ABOUT THE YEAR 253

At this time, God also wonderfully manifested His power in certain women, among whom four are mentioned by name, two called Ammonaria, and Mercuria and Dionysia.  The last named two were aged women, one of them being the mother of many children, all of whom she nevertheless had forsaken, for Christ's sake. The other two, as it appears, were unmarried persons or young maidens, who loved their heavenly bridegroom, Jesus Christ, too much, to look for an earthly one.  Of all these it is stated that they remained so steadfast in the confession of Jesus Christ, that the Judge felt ashamed on this account, and, in order to put an end to the matter hand them beheaded.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

A Parable about Lukewarm, American Christianity


There was this man who was a great warrior.  He had been in many battles over the years.  His body had many scars from bullet wounds, bayonet thrusts and artillery barrages.  He was a sergeant in the army and he was 45 years old.

There was a platoon of soldiers dug in on some high ground---they were of the same army as the sergeant.  The average age of the soldiers in the platoon was 19 years old; they were led by a 24-year-old 2nd lieutenant.

Ten miles away was an enemy force of three thousand soldiers.  The sergeant placed himself between the platoon and the enemy.  Whenever the enemy sent their soldiers to attack the platoon, the sergeant killed them with his rifle.  This pattern continued for many weeks:  the enemy would send their soldiers to attack the platoon and the sergeant would kill them all.  The platoon was never touched, it was never in danger.  The sergeant was their hedge of protection against the enemy.

One day the sergeant walked to the platoon to see how they were doing.  The sergeant walked up to the 2nd lieutenant and told him about the many skirmishes he fought with the enemy, so as to protect the platoon.

The 2nd lieutenant looked at the sergeant in stunned disbelief. He didn't believe a word the sergeant said and began mocking him and ridiculing him. The 2nd lieutenant told the rest of the platoon what the sergeant had said and the whole platoon began laughing at the sergeant in derision.

The sergeant didn't say another word.  He shouldered his pack, his rifle and ammo and walked away from the platoon.  Fifty yards from where the platoon was dug in, he took off his boots and shook the dirt from his boots in plain sight of the platoon.  He put his boots back on and walked away.  The platoon never saw him again.

A week later, the enemy launched an attack on the platoon's position and killed all of the soldiers.

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I Samuel 25: 14-17:  "But one of the young men told Abigail, Nabal’s wife, saying, Behold, David sent messengers out of the wilderness to salute our master; and he railed on them.  But the men were very good unto us, and we were not hurt, neither missed we any thing, as long as we were conversant with them, when we were in the fields:  They were a wall unto us both by night and day, all the while we were with them keeping the sheep.  Now therefore know and consider what thou wilt do; for evil is determined against our master, and against all his household: for he is such a son of Belial, that a man cannot speak to him."

I Samuel 25:   "Now David had said, Surely in vain have I kept all that this fellow hath in the wilderness, so that nothing was missed of all that pertained unto him: and he hath requited me evil for good. So and more also do God unto the enemies of David, if I leave of all that pertain to him by the morning light any that pisseth against the wall."

Intercession
Battlefield Commission
Overcome With Great Sorrow
A.W. Tozer Quote
Shiloh
Beat plowshares in swords
The Decline of the Oral Roberts Dynasty
Snipers in the Kingdom
Get Out of Jackson, Wyoming!
Hog Pen Christianity


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Shiloh
By Tim Shey


Brutal deathdance;
My eyes weep blood.
Pharisees smile like vipers,
They laugh and mock their venom:
Blind snakes leading
The deaf and dumb multitude.


Where are my friends?
The landscape is dry and desolate.
They have stretched my shredded body
On this humiliating tree.


The hands that healed
And the feet that brought good news
They have pierced
With their fierce hatred.


The man-made whip
That opened up my back
Preaches from a proper pulpit.
They sit in comfort:
That vacant-eyed congregation.
The respected, demon-possessed reverend
Forks his tongue
Scratching itchy ears
While Cain bludgeons
Abel into silence.


My flesh in tattered pieces
Clots red and cold and sticks
To the rough-hewn timber
That props up my limp, vertical carcase
Between heaven and earth.
My life drips and puddles
Below my feet,
As I gaze down dizzily
On merciless eyes and dagger teeth.


The chapter-and-versed wolves
Jeer and taunt me.
Their sheepwool clothing
Is stained black with the furious violence
Of their heart of stone.
They worship me in lip service,
But I confess,
I never knew them
(Though they are my creation).


My tongue tastes like ashes:
It sticks to the roof of my mouth.
I am so thirsty.
This famine is too much for me.
The bulls of Bashan have bled me white.
Papa, into your hands
I commend my Spirit.


Ethos
February/March 1997
Iowa State University


Genesis 49: 10: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet until Shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be.”

Friday, July 26, 2013

A New Pair of Boots



This morning I got a ride from Belgrade to the intersection of I-90 and U.S. 287 near Three Forks, Montana.  I walked north on U.S. 287 for two or more miles and saw this concrete culvert in the distance.  Since I didn't get much sleep the night before (I slept in a gravel pit), I thought that I would roll out my sleeping bag inside the culvert and take a nap out of the sun.

I walked down into the ditch, stepped into the culvert and saw these boots laying on the concrete slab.  The boots I had been wearing were really wore out, torn up, had lots of holes in them--my left boot had some duct tape on it holding it together--they looked more like glorified sandals than boots.

I put down my backpack, took off my old boots and put on my new boots.  They were pretty tight-fitting--but they looked virtually brand new with a little dried mud on the soles.

I thanked the Lord for the new boots and rolled out my sleeping bag on the concrete slab.  I took a nap for almost an hour and then loaded up my backpack and hit the road.

I walked north for half a mile and put down my backpack on the side of the road.  This guy picked me up and took me to Townsend where he dropped me off and gave me a loaf of bread.  I was very grateful.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

The Wedding Apocalypse

 

By The Mad Jewess


The Wedding day of doom
A storm of fire…blackened plumes
Smoke in the billows of clouds.

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A morning in white turned into a day of fright.
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A Scripture came to mind;
The days of Lot
People….eating, drinking, making merry
The day came upon us, it did not tarry.
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We didn’t believe it would come to an end, not at a wedding, where there is feasting and friend.
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We coddled the enemy
Built their cities
They laughed in our face
Without any pity.

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Profiles happy on a sunny day
Turned to devastation, from the battle array.
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Fire, smoke and gas, all over our land
It went according to their devices and plan.
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Babies gone, women in turmoil, the men have gone
Taken their spoil.
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A dove of peace..
Will it settle the mind?
Has God forsaken
While America is left behind?

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God has turned his back on the slaughter, we rejected his love, our children, we have martyr’d.
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Waiting for rapture to unveil, yet God looked away, his word will prevail.
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Apocalypse now, on a wedding day.

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Repent America,
Or…The enemy will have his way.
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