Prophecy of September

God is breaking down every foundation of America. From the government poor leadership in handling the pandemic, to the handling of racial injustice of the judicial system, to the law enforcement and the constitution. Expect more episodes of America's self- destruction ways to come until we come to the place of repentance and forsake our evil ways. 

The Mantle

The mantle

I let up, falling down from the pinnacle I stood, a place of safety where all my false identity lies, far as man is concerned he has no victory,. He lifts himself up but falls eventually in the end. The heat, the rain, still much will he engage. The fight continues, the life that never was, a life that withers away, slowly but assuredly. But can a lost man know His way out?  In a grave will a dead man fight his undertaker? For he has no hope but to be buried and live no more. The battle he battle he lost, long before he was born. The fight he fought but only to find himself fighting a windstorm.What hope does he have? Who fights for the blind man heading straight to his grave?

The triumphant King, fights the battle, He is the One after all, the messiah that was once prophesied by many prophets, that he will soon return.
He is the one his father once spoke about in the garden, the garden were man fell. The seed that will bruise the serpents head. The serpent in his throne, devouring men and impede his will.
Moreover, the kingdom once entrusted to men, he stole and filled his cup with their blood. The mantle he kept, parading it in the eyes of his followers, filled them with promises while sending their souls to Hades.
But the Son of Man, the root of Jesse's, who is and was, the messiah came to the rescue. He gave the call and the heart of men was his harvest. He had to die to live and to live again and live for man to know life. He was life. He also was the antidote of a dying world. A world dead in trespasses and sins. In his death, he rose and took captives free. He became triumphant in his death and took the mantle from the serpent and gave man eternal life.

Money

It doesn't matter how much you make; if you don't respect money, you will never have enough of it.

Opportunity

If you are not given an opportunity; create one!

Parable of the Wicked Merchant

My song is over, where do I go from here?

I have no more voice,  my father's name is unknown, my mother's hands is no longer found.Every place I go darkness surrounds me, I see no hope, I see no light.

I have no more words to say, neither do I have anymore freedom to choose. I have all the time for regrets and have no time for choice.

I have lost my way, and I have given away my years. How I hated instructions and I listened not to the voice of my teachers.

The King's herdsman were right, there's is a way which seems right to a man, but the end thereof is the ways of death.

I have sold my birthright to the wicked merchant, and he gave me death.

I warmed my hands in his campfire, I ate his seedless friuts, I stood before many and I bought a lie, I took the bait of life.

Life is snuffed out, love has turned away, knowledge is unreachable.

I am plagued by ignorance, I am smeared by bitterness, and I am eaten up by hate.

My hope is gone, eternity of pain is all I see, I have lost my song, I have lost my voice, where do I go from here?

A goat amongst the flock

Hush, the time has come to be separated,  come out amongst the flock, your horn has shown,  you have been tolerate far too long. Now the days of your work has been revealed. 

Oh you stubborn goat, with your huff stucked in the mud, restlessness has born you, nursed you and now spit you out. You have no Shepherd, you have lost your way and have no boundary. 

Plead your case oh restless goat! Where have you been grazing?  Not in my field, my sheepfold have drank and fed on my pasture, their are well watered. You have no place here, go!

Weren't you the one that my herdsmen once called, and all the while you withstood your ground, a sound of laughter and jeers,  ever learning and never coming to the truth , gouging from the poisonous trees, huffing and puffing while being led to the slaughter house.

Go from here you stuborn goat, You are not mine and I have no place for you! From where do you come from? The narrow path leads to the north, the broader path leads to south, go to the Southgate, a place of torment, where worms never die.