Commander in Chief?

Eh-hem. I hate to be a party pooper as we celebrate our nations "accomplishment" of  supporting the first female presidential candidate for the democratic nominee. I could celebrate this gender victory were it not for the fact that I do not have amnesia....

September 11, 2012 keeps me aware of the requirement I need from my next commander in chief.
Loyalty.

Chris Stevens might hope we remember to elect a leader who unequivocally supports our men and women in uniform, selflessly defending our interests and ambassadors abroad. I hope we elect a patriot who doesn't respond with "what difference does it make?! How it happened! They're dead!" when questioned about 13 hours in a decision room bunker.

Who do you want on the other end of that 3 a.m. phone call? How about the American leader who mans up, sends the necessary air cover, which is eagerly standing by, ready to go, and minutes away; instead of turning a blind eye while shit hits the fan and a stellar propaganda film is produced in the streets of Benghazi. The commander in chief is accountable thus a "not me" response doesn't fly either.

I ain't sayin she's alone. I'm saying she needs to convince a Vet -- not a woman.

Tale of an American Christian

Religious manhandled indoctrination in America, along with a somewhat sinister and intentional dumbing down of cultural awareness of global suffering, leaves me feeling ignorant of how modern-day believers should approach and worship Jesus Christ. I'm equally curious as to the methods of said modern-day pharisees and saducees who have manipulated the message of salvation through faith.

Far be it from me to judge the churches. No way and no thank you. I can only judge my own attitude with regard to how utterly complacent and comfortable I feel when addressing the King of Kings and Lord of Lords...

Is this a bad thing? I don't think so, but it comes with a loss in the reverential sanctimony which at one time implied respect, admiration, dare I say....awe. Jesus has so saturated our culture, we scarcely recognize him as being anything more than an advertising logo. Look-- we love Jesus, shop here. I write because I care and I only notice how superficial it all seems to be. But! Just when I'm about to give up hope I remember the man himself. He preferred real people.

Again

Eve awoke in her usual manner-- lazily greeting another move through time. Time was an instrument to measure an eternity she was cursed to wrestle with beginning at her own inception. Clocks told her she missed the early human hours. Most would be salivating for the daily lunch special by now she figured; however, her propensity to wake shortly before noon was only the natural rhythm of a deeply ingrained nocturnal orbit. The night shift of the watch made for an ugly morning person.

There will be no more delay....

The Angel and the Small Scroll

Then I saw a mighty angel coming down from heaven, surrounded by a cloud with a rainbow over his head. His face shone like the sun, and his feet were like pillars of fire. And in his hand was a small scroll that had been opened. He stood with his right foot on the sea and his left foot on the land. And he gave a great shout like the roar of a lion And when he shouted, the seven thunders answered.

When the seven thunders spoke, I was about to write. But I heard a voice from heaven saying, "Keep secret" what the seven thunders said, and do not write it down. Then the angel I saw standing on the sea and on the land raised his right hand toward heaven. He swore an oath in the name of the one who lives forever and ever, who created the heavens and everything in them, the earth and everything in it, and the sea and everything in it. He said, "There will be no more delay. When the seventh angel blows his trumpet, God's mysterious plan will be fulfilled. It will happen just as he announced it to his servants the prophets.

Then the voice from heaven spoke to me again: "Go and take the open scroll from the hand of the angel who is standing on the sea and on the land."

So I went to the angel and told him to give me the small scroll. "Yes, take it and eat it," he said, "It will be sweet as honey in your mouth, but it will turn sour in your stomach!" So I  took the small scroll from the hand of the angel, and I ate it! It was sweet in my mouth, but when I swallowed it, it turned sour in my stomach.

Then I was told, "You must prophesy again about many peoples, nations, languages, and kings."


The days are numbered. We can repent and restore a nation or perish with our enemies. We won't find any long term satisfaction continuing to be the subjects of fools. Cut the cord peeps. Believe it. You see I'm afraid I feel too much to sit by and passively allow plans to ferment unchecked. Frankly, we need a shaking and some common sense. You're on the wrong team! Don't you remember a simpler time when you loved? Well, I love too--and therefore I have to fight.

Perhaps patriotism is a nostalgic concept, but I respectfully disagree. I love this country and I swore to honor, defend, and protect. It is a privilege to be an American. We will all play our roles in this script--and in due time all things will be restored to righteousness for righteousness sake.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Better to step away from the wand than wield misplaced authority.

Wings

12 Daughters of Eve,

So you wanna repent? Astrology turned out to be a bad boyfriend eh? And I suppose like all bad boyfriends, he started out as a real prince, telling you enough of what you needed to hear to keep you high. In order to detox from this poison, we begin by dismissing the long held egocentric notion that yours was a celestial birth (see Bible birthdays?) Or perhaps the Gregorian-Jewish calendar? The zodiac offers up a tempting assortment of traits and attributes, precariously based on a theory of time, claiming to direct the course of humanity, all while diverting creation from seeking to know their Creator. We all seek to be known. Studying the signs is a pernicious examining of self through a dirty glass.

The power of the Babylonian natal chart is activated by the mind via the ultimate power of suggestion and typically used to validate one's innate desire.  As a man thinketh, so is he; therefore, the power to control what a man thinketh is of priceless paramount in an I.D. war. It matters. The planetary projection of hell is designed to navigate our souls away from God by offering an all-edged glimpse into the future. Our interpretation of said glimpse is of no consequence to the demon who dropped it, only to thwart the path of the righteous. Deception is best accomplished when believed.

And while it appears Deuteronomy 18:14 wasn’t clear enough for stubborn hearts, perhaps the knowledge of ignorantly aiding and abetting your ancient pagan enemy should help, because with every indulgence of the forbidden fruit –demons rejoice at being discovered--after all, “It’s no fun to be clever and anonymous," they hiss. No one can conger up sympathy for the devil quite like a silly empathetic woman. Indeed, they know each other well from somewhere far, far away.

The joy of evil was complete upon Eve’s dismayed trajectory towards Babylon. The lie was a form of the truth, as she surely did not die a physical death at the infraction. Rather her spiritual seed was taken captive to be sewn among the whoring idols. Calvary sorts the seed . Symbolically, you muse the occult was delivered to Eve, via a tarot deck, by Adam’s ex-wife Lilith, to enlighten Eve of sexual inequality, well, you see how this might add to all the fury. Whatever the slick pitch to Eve—it was momentarily successful in leading her away from truth. After all, the crux of all temptation is ‘do what thou wilt.’

The deceived often ask, why does this appear to hold some truth? Because it does. There exists a form of power which denies the power thereof, or as you affectionately refer, the land of almost. It’s a popular place as you know…many visit and never leave.

Pandora-pagan's seduction entices one to explore the depth of their own spiritual ocean until completely lost. The hidden knowledge of the stars portends to satiate and replace an actual need for a personal relationship.

So now you know to crush it. All of it. The head of the snake is best kept underfoot and the eye of the eagle never sleeps.

Sincerely,

Romans 8

 

 

through the woods

The Lord has not brought you this far to abandon you now.

Winter is a lonely and reflective time. My beloved Grandmother passed away four years ago this week. She left this world graciously much as she lived her 92 years among us. She didn't preach a sermon or profit her wisdom--her character wordlessly demonstrated her beliefs. She didn't proclaim love; she was a verb. With consistent small kindnesses she loved her family. There were the perfectly peeled oranges, starched pillow cases sprayed with Lilly of the Valley, pancakes from scratch, and gently closing a light through the dark after praying over me:

I thank the Lord for all things bright
For Light by Day
And Stars by Night
For flowers so fair
And birds that sing
I thank the Lord
For Everything

Amen. And this little girl had no doubt she was Lady Laurie Anne of the Sheffield Lake Brockley Avenue Squire when visiting Grandma! She loved me like royalty regardless of a secretary's retirement. She showed her family how one might live simply, generously, and content. She was faithful with little and produced much fruit. I never saw her entitled. The trait simply didn't exist in the woman who survived the great depression. What loss we lose with our elders. I am so grateful to have touched a hand on a past where greatness burned bright.

When life and death discourage me, the red cardinal of winter reminds me that my Grandmother watches over me still.  My heart secretly hopes she is only ever able to see her granddaughter happily enjoying an orange; but if she knows the pains, then too she should know the well from where I draw strength, as she was quick to say and it echoes still--we shall overcome.

Just One

Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

Idolatry. He told us not to do it. But we did it. America has found a way to idolize everything from the Apple to Zodiac-Zen. The original sin bagging us all, exchanged wisdom for knowledge. Wisdom was superior. Wisdom would have waited. But the impulse to know and enlighten oneself is powerful. The ego practically demands it. It drives us to worship none other than ourselves. Does an increase in knowledge equate with an increase in divinity? Whose? Presuppose a greater force at work in each of us reminding us of itself. Mine says the above.

How many gods does America have? Does this country stand for anything besides Babylon? Greed, the king who got us high--jacked the Land of Oz with masterful Targets, shooting Starbucks, flying McDonalds, Wizard Walmarts, and flaming Burger Kings. Can God's people live without the neon or are these Americas houses of worship? Hard to say from a terrestrial view. But then all this nags the question: how many idols do I have in my life?

No need to list here. Suffice it to say, I can readily identify a few and many more besides if I dare to ask God in prayer. Pick a vice. Pick an attitude. Why does it seem an alter where daily worship persists in spite of myself? Strongholds seemingly erected by placing myself under when my birthright is to rule over my flesh by submitting it to the holy spirit. The Apostle Paul knew this agony and it is the very same we wrestle with today. He knew Christ as the only answer when asking who will save us from this body of death.

I recognize the need for a wrecking ball to come and destroy my idols. God's purposes will be accomplished in all our lives and I pray we lay aside every hindrance to our excellence, enlist and conquer with him. By faith I must walk and if the soul of America is to be redeemed, the first step starts with me. One day at a time with one choice at a time...to try and be better than yesterday.

Keep it movin

PTSD and depression can be consecrated to Christ. Meaning it doesn't have to be a death sentence. Consecrated it is a gift. The fight or flight impulse is the muscle of instinct. The depression demon strengthens sensitivity. Equal parts aggression and compassion develop. This is a bad deal for the enemy in spiritual warfare. And while senses may be forever heightened...it never lessens the accuracy. Another word for the creation of ptsd might be called splitting. Trauma splits the identity, shatters safety, and makes for an unstable platform. Terrorism deals it up to all of us in spades of grey. The truth is Veterans are victims. The reptiles woo the best hearts and minds, slaughter and experiment in war and treason, and then use our remaining carcasses to bankrupt a country we were deceived to defend. Insert righteous indignation here. Our military are the first line of sheep being sent to the slaughter. America's best is on the front line and I bear witness to the loss. I'd get more sentimental if I didn't see the end game, but I do. We win. We overcome. We are the Victors not victims. To Christ be all the glory.

Launch

The enemy knew if my anger, ever fully sanctified, I would destroy him with the Word of my testimony. I know this Joker. He didn't want me talking to nobody. And certainly not at full throttle. I was given much seed to plant. If he could keep me from sowing into the world... if he could keep me afraid, he might thwart my purpose. But God. He said tell them about me. Tell them how I faithfully delivered you from your enemies and the snares set just for you. Tell them how depression is a tactic designed to enslave and inactivate your personality. Creativity is the antithesis to depression. Make something. Color a picture. Create, paint, sing, dance, cook, write, act, build a boat. Whatever the nudge within indicates--Yoda says do.

At present, the battlefield is our mind. If we are to physically prepare for war then we must also spiritually prepare. As a man thinketh--so is he. My mind directs me toward or away from my purpose. Either way, I will follow it. Mastering my mind means not looking at the temporal. I am empowered by an eternal vision. The more concerned I am about Him the less concerned I am about me.

I hope you catch this. I hope you tingle with a sense of your own calling to be something for God. I could not have begun before now. The preparation process is fulfilled and I am to launch and give birth to all that Christ wishes to deliver through me. And I encourage you to seek Him and do the same.

Don't shoot your messengers

I love the Holy Spirit. And I really am certain God has a sense of humor. Looking past the confusion, I muse, if I were in charge of this operation, how brilliant to insert a declarative Trump card on the final play. The same declared in big gold letters slammed down in Chicago. Parallels to a carpenter. Politically incorrect. A wee bit cocky. And a 9 billion dollar swag. The art of the deal? If God used David, Moses, Noah, Rahab, and you...who can't he use for His purposes?  Let's take a breath and discern with some wisdom what the man ultimately stands for...not for himself alone.