If God Is Love…

What is love? You know, I thought I knew. Once I wrote that love is sweet poetry, and that seemed to cover all the bases. But God is love, right? God is sweet poetry? Even were you to say that Jesus Christ is God, perhaps the most benevolent of representations, you cannot say that this is sweet poetry: look when he says that you will see him coming among the clouds at the right hand of Power. Poetic, yes, but not exactly sweet. Nor so sugary how he overturned the money changers’ tables and drove them out with a whip. That definition is not without limitation, indeed.

If one might consider a more pragmatic approach, someone wrote to me that love is merely an emotion that basically evolved in us to facilitate propagation. That it is an “invention, not a god”. But that person did not see it analogous to something else that arose from evolution: intelligence. And that emerged within a Darwinian system out of utility, if not necessity—yet when it came about, just look around you to see what that brought about. The buildings, streets, the civilization! Books, music, electric light: the accomplishments of intelligence is that once we reached it, we touched upon something greater. And so it might be with the idea of love.

Yes, it helped us evolutionarily, one can argue. It helped us help each other, first the closest family, then friends, then more abstract structures, like community and country. People have written papers about how selfless love is a benefit rather than a detriment, that helped the human race to survive. But what they do is describe the Mona Lisa by its chemical constituents: you may have a point, but your point misses the whole purpose of the thing. You look at a painting and it moves your soul. Behind that is the reaction of synapses, the release of seratonin, a host of soft machine mechanics clicking into place, as it were. And we may just find out exactly why this sort of pattern and color makes you react like you do. None of the explanations, however, is truly the experiencing of the painting.

And you know what? As we developed intelligence, we found we could look higher that us, greater, which as far as we know no other species does. They don’t have these minds of ours. We can conceive of transcendence, that as we crawled up from the mud and got ourself a mind to think on high, God was waiting there for us to arrive—on ground high enough to survey such landscapes. Want to make a guess as to what we conceived was up there, when we gazed toward heaven?

To answer Tina Turner (“What’s love got to do with it?”), I’d say love had everything to do with it. That’s what this potent little fragment tells us: God is love. Einstein wanted to know what it was, the mind of God; and that’s it, to know true love is to know the true mind of God. Really, what scientists want to know is the purpose of things, and that is the ultimate purpose to everything. Yes, yes, I know what he was thinking was to codify the fundamental architecture of existence, but I tell you, love had something to say about that architecture. Before the mathematics. This is the love I am talking about when I say that God is love: something so transcendent. What we can comprehend of infinity, that which is the absolute highest of all things. There can be no better.

Love is empty, waiting for you to define it. Love is full, if ever you need it you can dig deeper for it. Love is making someone’s dreams come true, and even if love is not an action… it is that action. Strange in simplicity, it is this theory that makes sense of everything, yet the theory itself is impossible to grasp; and making perfectly sensible the weirdest of phenomena… And then, it is none of the above. I have no idea what love is, for I know what love truly is: love is sweet poetry… of the soul? Humbug. God is love, and that is a little more than sweet poetry.

(What is love? I once had an idea, of the concept of ineffability, or indescribability: that there were some things in heaven and on earth for which words are not enough. And I thought, bull cookies. There is no ineffable: God is love. For if even God has a description that fits, how can anything else escape definition?)

If you speak of the greatness of love, they will say, what are you really talking about? Love is just a sense of goodness that makes you want to do good things to people. And I will say, oh, selflessness? I will tell you that selfish love is greater than mere selflessness. Does selflessness inspire you to write songs of being possessed by another’s beauty? I will say that love does have friends, but you have never met the ringleader. Just like you have never met yourself.

Do you still think you have a handle on what love is? I will say to name it and I can probably find a counterexample that is also love (if you hadn’t noticed in my reasoning, above). One last time: God is love. What that ends up meaning is that love is what we can comprehend of infinity. Yes, there is light, and the Word, but these are naked if they do not wear the bearing of love. Like powerful weapons with nothing to aim them to their target. And that which is infinite will have subtlety that dreams would die to have. Love, baby: only by doing it do you have any idea of it, because God left things undone for us so we’d have something real to do. Love is the answer we always knew was there, somewhere; love is the purpose we always knew we were meant for; and if these being love were certainties, all I could possibly say, then, would be: what is love?



If you like what’s written here, check out my book, Memoirs from the War in Heaven.

Pain, Observed

Pain requires an observer. Grind up a rock, split it in two, and it does not complain; it might be called an observer of sorts, that may in quantum terms collapse a wave function on its own, but there is no “looking out” anywhere in a rock, nothing that sees, feels, no awareness. It cannot feel pain, no matter what you do to it. Simply put, there is no value to the measurement. Pain does seem to exist for a reason, of course. As negative reinforcement: touch a boiling pot and the bite of the intense heat should make you learn not to do such a thing. It is a learning experience. Pain keeps us from doing some stupid things, it warns us when something is wrong in our physique, it makes us run faster from what we fear will inflict itself on us. Pain is evolutionarily useful. But there does seem to be an awful lot of it.

It is not so that there is more pain in the world than ever has been. We are as if waking up to what has been happening everywhere around us. Civilization exists to protect people from violence, and we are starting at least to stand up to the threat of pain, for it not to have power over how we decide. It is an idea whose time has come, what I mean by this: the answer blowing in the wind is to touch down. There will be no end of pain, but the manner in which it is experienced we count on materially changing: that it will not anymore be a deliberate and negative infliction, but rather only come by accident, or perhaps in corner cases to be part of some experiential gain. Perhaps a far future. The dream is that coming generations will be greatly removed from truly comprehending the actual nature of such things as torture.

Even if it comes, though, such a frame of mind, universal—what of all the pain that has been? How about all the senseless pain? Impersonal, storms that struck and rendered grievous injury due to no seeming cause, that there were no particular sin that had caused the hand of nature to so render retribution… how about the animals, too? the numbers caught in steel traps who chewed through their own leg to escape? dolphins who drowned in nets? deer caught in cruel barbed wire who only made it worse by trying to kick it off? I cannot believe animals were guilty of anything that the powers that be would take it out on them for it. It seems so much a waste, that the experience that marks the lives of all who have something which looks out—that this is what the world has to show to them. The cruelty is a mocking of fate.

Pain seems to be the cost of doing business. No pain, no gain, right? And an artist needs to suffer to produce anything of worth. (That happened to be true at least in the case of me, mine.) It seems to be the price of having a world at all. You can actually think of everything, that it is all made of pain, all sensations merely a variety of it. But what if the price we pay—what if it’s worth it? As if we see pain as currency, and some of the good things in the world what we purchase with it? What if pain is the price of love? I recall I was in the school play in elementary school. The play was The Prince Who Couldn’t Laugh, and it turns out it was because he had not first ever cried. Is the sweet not as sweet without the sour? In a larger scope, U2 lyrics come to mind: “Don’t believe the devil / I don’t believe his book / But the truth is not the same / Without the lies he made up.” Maybe in this world, the pain gives the heart its depth?

Out of pain, sometimes out of a lot of pain, there can be brought into this world meaning. It is not a fair equation, it might seem, from gallons of suffering a few drops of it may be squeezed out. But this is our “safety net”. We want to find meaning in any other way besides it, but if there is nothing else, we can find a depth of experience in tragedy. To share sadness makes us more human. Makes us care. And if it doesn’t? Then how easily is the reaper to separate the wheat from the chaff. It is not always easy to find meaning, for in this sometimes horrible world there can be so much pain it seems an impossible task to find any kind of purpose meet to such suffering, seemingly disrespectful even to try. Out of the Holocaust some said the meaning to be found was the new nation of Israel. But other Jews simply said, “It is too much, I can no longer believe.” This is understandable.

Sometimes the feeling of pain itself is the meaning. It is to care, when the object of what you care for is gone or is in pain themselves. They say that love can be the greatest source of pain in this world. Love sometimes grows powerfully when watered by tears. Do you understand yet? It is not fair. The sense that we can make of all of this—any of this—makes no sense. This is the world, this is life. In our faith we must believe that the meaning that is collected as the “fruit” of pain is greater than the pain ever was. Even if, as it looks, that so much suffering seems to go unmet by anything like caring. Or half measures taken to comfort the bereaved, how they look to fall so short of what we would rightly desire for them as recompense. But truly, even if there be no God or Heaven, can we believe that there is indeed a deeper meaning that comes from a world’s, a whole history’s worth of pain?

Is there buried treasure that we might dig, a sudden purpose where we might fit the greatest of suffering, and have it make sense? This is the Holy Grail greater than the Grail. Perhaps it is in memory. In imagination, even. That we sit and wonder of those who have suffered, especially those whom history forgets, and it causes our hearts to feel, to be human, and to give it our best that we should not see something like that happen again. Even for the best of us, and the best of our abilities, we will fall short, but the attempt—that in itself is meaningful. It is to care, beloved. To try and remember what the dust itself forgot, that is a form of magic. The good kind, the real kind. What if we make of the world, this ugly, imperfect world—what if we make of it better than what it would have been had it been perfect, all along? That is the nature of the greatest thing of all: that is the sentiment of love. Which without it we would be lost, sitting still on a calm day. Which if we have it, we can stand against the hurricane.

Do not despair. We not only can change the world, we are indeed in the midst of changing it. Do you not see? Have you not heard? Things are getting better. Not everywhere, not all at once, and sometimes it has to get worse before it turns back around—but it is happening. We don’t live in the Dark Ages anymore, do you not see? Have you not heard? You don’t have to believe in anything to have the hope, hope for all the world. That each dawn brings us the light to build upon the light of the day before. Even the great dreams may come to pass. As Anne Frank said, “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” Amen. It costs you nothing to care. Nay, not just that: if you do care, how enriched you will then be, to have a heart. Don’t let that candle expire, beloved. Such light people have died to defend. We are what we care about… else we are worthless, indeed.



A Mystery So Obvious

There are mysteries, there are secrets, from the beginning of time to the last day there have been, and are, and will be. Many of these are relatively trivial when unmasked, simple to comprehend once the tarp is lifted from them, to wonder why they seemed so strange as to what their answer could be, what was beneath when they had been covered over. I’ve seen some secrets when the Archangel took me to see from the angelic heights some of what happens in this world, and why—and I think I cannot share them with you, not now: because of those reasons why there are secrets in the world, why there are mysteries. Simply put, things are kept from us because we are not ready for them, and they are revealed when we are. There is much chaos in the world—for the world was born from chaos—but the pervading order, that you may split a block of wood and the Lord is there, it gives true meaning to what is meant to be, when the mystery unfolds, and wide-eyed does one say, “Glory be to God.”

The world has been much a world at war. Yes, it is true that we always dream of world peace, in the outside world, but many an evangelist will tell you that there is and always has been a war for our souls, of two kingdoms, light and dark, who battle for over us night and day; one side who can never hope to win, but that battles out of spite, out of hate. Now I tell you of a third war, which extends from the highest Heaven to the most remote corners of the earth. I can tell you of it because I have seen it end, but lo, it goes on, still, in places other than where I am; for it is a war in Eternity, the next world. Do you not know that the realm of ideas enters into the waking world every time an invention is made, or a word written? And Eternity by dreams and visions makes itself known in the world of solidities. Did you not know the unseen world was before the world that is seen, for in the beginning, there was before anything, the Logos; and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God. And something we do not think about: that before the action, there was a Plan.

If there is a God who can prevent earthquakes and floods and fires and tornadoes and hurricanes, why do they happen? If there is a God who can prevent all harm, why is harm still experienced by us? I recall some skeptic who said that if Jesus Christ were the real deal, why is it that he did not do more in his time on earth, why not eradicate all disease? feed all the hungry in perpetuity? The Son of God, right? Wasn’t that what he was advertised to be? To them I say, look, friend: the Jews still don’t think he was the messiah because he was not what they expected the messiah to be. Throw your expectations out the window, because we have no say what a being greater than us is supposed to do, or be. And if this is how the Plan goes down, we should pay attention to such things as someone who says he is the Son of God and comes back from the dead to prove it.

The Plan runs into a wall, though, the idea of it: into what is called the problem of pain. If we excise the part of the problem of pain that is the problem of evil (that which is caused by the malicious intent of those with free will to do so), we basically come to the question of why there are such things as natural disasters… Or do we? In the Book of Job, Satan is let loose on poor Job, and one of the things that happen to him: “Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house, and suddenly a great wind came across the desert, struck the four corners of the house, and it fell on the young people, and they are dead; I alone have escaped to tell you.” [Job 1:18-19] So it is that natural disasters could be the fault of the Devil. The faithful one will concur, applied to catastrophe: “Some say it’s just a part of it / We’ve got to fulfill the Book” [Bob Marley]. But could it be so simple? Everything good has its source in God, and everything bad goes back to its origins in the Devil? Do you see that even in knowing why, it is still a secret, still a mystery?

Why would it take so long for such a fundamental thing to be revealed? I show it to you and you can scarcely believe it. We have had convoluted, agonized, pretzel logic explanations through the generations about why bad things happen in a world that was supposed to be a creation of absolute good. And here it is now, the card turned over and open faced. Do you understand, yet? Things are revealed when they can be, and it is the fact that the War in Heaven has ended somewhere that is the reason why I can shine a light on this dark place in the mind. And why it could not have been revealed before the event of our victory is an interesting story—let us say for now was that things had not settled enough in the crisis of the Godhead. Not enough had been decided, even if, like a street magician’s trick, the card he would choose was waiting for him. He being Lucifer. (That was one of the things that had not solidified yet—the Lucifer myth of the greatest of God’s angels, fallen by his pride.)

Much has happened as of late, and I have been a witness to fantastic things. Some of my visions I do not reveal, for different reasons, perhaps, than why they were hid before, the ones I reveal now. Discretion being the better part of valor. But the radical dualism that I propose: this seems to be the endpoint of a natural progression. In the beginning there being only God, and the serpent in the garden only a serpent. Then in Job, where (the) Satan is a minor functionary in God’s court, one of His employees, as it were, doing his job. And then, where we last left off, biblically, where the Devil is the prince of demons and the cause of the Lord’s death on the cross, and whom the Lord said fell from Heaven like lightning: the father of lies, and a murderer at the first: God was still the only true elemental, the only one from whom great calamities came from, and somewhere there the origin of pain. The next step is inevitable, and final.

Just like we used to think that the Milky Way was the whole of the universe, we must also adjust the scale of God and His angels. Perhaps it is to go hand in hand, the scope of the universe with the scope of God. And I would be the prophet to tell of this. What one normally thinks of the power of God, like fire raining from the sky? that would be God’s twiddling of His little pinky, if that. He was responsible for the Big Bang, right? We don’t see a greater class of power than what is in the Bible because, well, the earth would simply not survive anything of God’s true omnipotence. Things we call of “biblical” proportions, well… these would be the full power of an archangel, of which Lucifer was one. And if this is the case, giving of all the archangels true free will, Lucifer on his own—he could be of enough power to invent pain, be the cause of all calamities, throughout all of time! This is that final step, into radical dualism.

Does it seem a bit convenient to you? I must say, that was the way I felt about it when the signs revealed this mystery to me. It sounded like one of those easy answers we have come to grow wary of. But why is that? Perhaps because it literally solves every problem of there being a God who is all good and the problem of pain, in one trim idea? It makes sense of why the world and life are so unfair—it’s all the Devil’s fault? Yet this is how it is when so great a mystery is uncloaked. The greater the revelation, that much more obvious it will be when it is shown. And I tell you it is the truth. Are there greater secrets to share? It may be so, one so much greater that it has not even been put into words. But I think it is not for me to tell you answers to questions that are not asked. You need not believe me to be saved, but maybe you should perk an ear when such things as I say are spoken. Peace be with you, and Walt Disney is God!



If you like what’s written here, check out my book, Memoirs from the War in Heaven.

Fire

The War took 25 years to run its course, to me at least, roughly. Time is very strange, especially when you apply it to Eternity. But even there, if anything is to be done, you do spend time in doing it. When the Devil was cast down, it is said that he was filled with great wrath, for he knew his time was short. No longer in eternity. Like a time traveler in a movie, no matter where in time he visits, the time he personally experiences goes inexorably on, and this time will run out. Lucifer visited me at different stages of his rebellion, and I will always remember the Event that finished with his being cast from Heaven (the Fall). I was privy to more than that, though. Like the Event’s encore.

I was in a hospital from a heck of a day, some days after the Fall, and I was wrapped in a sort of holy blanket in the air, enveloped by the Spirit, for something monumental was about to happen. Something that had been long held on a razor’s edge. It was when I saw Lucifer die. That is, his soul. I remember I immediately lamented, for I had thought it was someone else, that it was a different event, but such is the grace of God: it was perfectly fitting how I did react, and had I known what it truly had been, my reaction would most probably not have been up to snuff. But what I saw: this was Satan committing to the reality of his defeat, that he had made the ultimate choice to go in the direction that would lead to his doom. That was it.

What I saw: life, his essence like a patch of heat in the air, and then *snap*: it was gone. Nothing but a sickly dead empty stillness. I only found out later what it actually meant, what exactly had happened. As I said, I had been admitted to a hospital that night. When I was so admitted, there were secret Christians in my visions’ voices who told me that Judas was innocent of the charge of the betrayal of Our Lord Jesus Christ. They said it in sort of a cumbersome way, so I put it like this, and it was that which was said from then on: “Judas volunteered.” Right around that time, my thinking was hovering around Universalism, the theory that everyone was saved, all the way down to the Devil. Then my mind focused on one saying of Our Lord: “Only one was lost.”

Now Satan, he was “shopping”. Looking through the looking glass. Either he thought or it was precisely the case that there were at least several different eventualities between which he could choose and instantiate: to make it so. So right about this time that we were talking about Judas, and saying how he would be the only one that was not saved; it was universal salvation except for that one which was lost, and indeed, it would have been better not to have been born for him. That was the cost. He was to be sealed (his soul) in a sort of vial that could not be opened by anyone but God, and He never would. And in that vial? Horror beyond horror. Unimaginable pain. For if he were truly lost, he would be the only one that had no savior at all. No escape. No respite. Worse than the deepest part of Hell.

So when I was sitting in the hospital room, Judas seemed as if he were preparing to go into that vial, girding his loins, so to speak. I talked to him, and he seemed a very capable apostle. I did not detect anything malicious about him. He was one of the good guys. When he was told that it was time, I looked and saw in the air what I thought was the vial. Then that *snap*, and Judas had supposedly been sealed in the vial, why I saw life then death. What was really happening, though? Judas was bait. And the one that caused that *snap*, for none of us was going to do it, none of the good guys—guess who that was? The Devil had wanted to see it happen: an innocent damned for an eternity of horrors, while he would walk away after some sort of punishment, into eternal life. It was too good to resist.

But it was the death of his soul he committed, when he instantiated this reality because he so wanted to see it happen, to see someone that lost, for no reason. No, it was not the only thing that Lucifer had done to deserve his spiritual death, for in making real this reality he was also making real all the crimes he had committed in it. Eternity works weirdly. In a sense, that instant was both the beginning and the end. I witnessed where reality became real, and the end of all preliminaries of the War. Apparently Satan was kind of spread out in his preparations, for he did not know which of the realities was to become the One. Our side, of course, knew this one was it, and could prepare that much better. This was Normandy, and Satan was hemming and hawing about whether it was this one or his Calais. (D-Day references here.)

From what I heard, though, it was critical that Lucifer instantiate this one. And it’s a terrifying thought: why was it that this one be chosen? And it was quite simple—that this was the only one where we won. In every other reality, the bad guys won in the end. But the Lord knows what he’s doing, quite clearly. He knew Lucifer was watching at the exact right time, for that plan above to gel. It had been quite the design, but what the Lord wills comes to pass, always does. And after the instantiation, where Lucifer would look in on this reality from time to time, he always assumed it was one of the paths he did not choose, and simply shrugged it off that he in fact lost here. This is what pride can do. Such is that kind of blindness.

*       *       *

Now understand, I speak not that you might believe the things I saw, just to say that I have seen them, and I tell you in truth that what I report is as a genuine witness. Do you ever wonder how it would be if there existed a prophet like that of old, here in the modern day? Do you think anyone would believe him? Or would they write him off as merely a madman? Not that in much of our civilization would he now be slain for his words, for perhaps we are good enough to let one stick around these days. But with all the false prophets spouting lies, and inventions of their own minds as gospel—would the true prophet be identifiable amid such noise? And would he be known as a heretic for the truth that has long been waiting to be told, or might the message ultimately succeed, if it is from God? Is it up to me? Or is it up to you?

What would you expect a prophet to say, would you think they would be popular things that everyone could agree upon? Would you expect him to be preaching in a megachurch with crowd pleasing sermons? For there are false prophets that say, “When I speak, God agrees”, as opposed to he who truly is one, “God spoke to me, a sinner!” Do you expect a sign, when Jesus said that only an evil generation expects a sign? When all you have to do look around, and see: “The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor.” [Matthew 11:4] Can you not see the signs of the times, when we are indeed beginning to solve the ills of the world, as the Lord spoke of? Can you not see that the Kingdom is at hand?

Indeed, I have one prophecy. Like this: “Repent, for the Beginning is near.” All your implements from the ages of cruelty, they shall be bent and melted and reshaped. He who propagates lies in order to gain power shall find his deceit uncovered, and he shall be put to utter shame. The one whose way is violence will find that way outmoded, and outclassed, by the technologies of peace. We are beginning to understand how bad it was, and it’s gotten, and the people are beginning to wake as if from a slumber of two thousand years. Repent, for we will be made to answer for what once we hid away in the darkness. To discover, beyond belief, that the masses can have a heart, and can show unusual kindness. To discover that we can be clever enough to solve what we thought to be the thorniest of problems. The Beginning is near! None too soon.

And one lesson I have to relay to you: from Christ, his two commandments: love God, and love your neighbor as yourself. The first, roughly the same as when he said to love him before anyone else. It is to love the holy, the true, the pure of good, even if we can never hope to attain it ourselves. Just believe that in truth, God is love, and one need not believe in God to believe this. Then, love our neighbor: only when we understand the true potential of human destiny, to love everyone else—with all their faults. To forgive them. One does not love God as one loves everyone else. To love God is to adore the embodiment of absolute love, absolute good. It is joy in holiness. To love one’s neighbor is to love them in spite of their mistakes. It is to be human. To see the shine beneath the tarnish.

So what does it mean, to love? Do you not see? Have you not heard? Love is so simple, we’ll never understand it. Love does not hide in the heart, waiting for you turn it on: it is written that we were made in the image of God, who is all love. We love with all of us. We love with our spleen. Do you truly wish to be a child of God? Do all things (ALL THINGS) out of love. Brush your teeth out of love. Take a shvitz out of love. Seriously, decide that right now. You don’t have to be a part of any religion to do this, for to be human is to love. This I believe with all my soul. We will err, and I know that that’s what a lot of people mean when they say that we’re only human. But mine eyes have seen the glory. Jesus Christ shows us what is possible when he does the impossible. Ignite the world with such a fire.



If you like what’s written here, check out my book, Memoirs from the War in Heaven.

Crazy

I have lived two lives. Not that there was not overlap between the two, but I am reminded of Agent Smith’s first meeting with Neo in The Matrix. In the “daylight hours” I am a successful computer professional, while “by night” I battle demons and I am friends with angels. Is it like Agent Smith told Neo? Does only one of those two lives have a future in it? One of my friends declined to edit my first book about the Event because the good parts, the philosophical musings, were mixed in with the madness, and it made him uncomfortable to try and sort the things out in those pages. Yeah, I’ll admit, talking to Albert Einstein (and even weirder, like my interaction with Rosanna Arquette, who is still alive) do smack of the mental illness I have in fact been diagnosed with. But I count myself in good company as far as the “voices” are concerned; for there are some who count Philip K. Dick’s later years and even Joan of Arc’s otherworldly encounters merely symptomatic of similar, mentally divergent diagnoses.

The thing about it is, I draw no divider myself between the crazy and transcendent. One has affected the other, some of my best insight having been inspired by, if not directly taken from, my talking to my “voices”. In this sense, they are real, if not normal according to the world at large. If you don’t believe there is an unseen world, that religion is itself a fantasy at best, you will not believe in anything like what I describe. But I tell you, you’re missing out. My “voices” have helped me to be a better person, and I’m not saying that everyone who hears things is a prophet. Not at all. But if what comes from those things is positive, life affirming, morally honorable—why would you not believe in them? Because they’re not “real”? What if they simply make your life better all around? This “affliction” of mine, either God sent it my way or He made what was there work for the good, for me. And it is not that I have never thought that they were just the invention of a chemical imbalance. But I like to say, I have had so much evidence for their being real in some sense that it would be irrational for me not to believe.

I will not outline all the reasons I have to believe in the reality of my encounters; some are very personal, and I would have to go through my whole life story to make sense of them. The biggest sign, though? Once the Shekinah pulled something like a lever inside my imagination, and I had 20/20 vision for a day. Sure, with the other things I have seen, you could just brush them off as saying that I was hallucinating; but I have terrible vision, and have worn corrective lenses since the third grade. You can’t explain that little miracle away except to say that I must be lying. And if that’s the path you choose to reason, I can go no further in my argument with you and I bid you good day. I am not a liar. If you say no miracle is possible, here are the words of Henri Poincaré for you: “To doubt everything or to believe everything are two equally convenient solutions; both dispense with the necessity of reflection.”

I feel for all the people who have had really crazy things happen to them, and no one would believe them. UFO sightings may be easy to explain away, but I have no idea what a UFO abduction really is. I know that eyewitness accounts are very susceptible to error, and that “I know what I saw” doesn’t make what they say happened any more believable. But some things are only impossible until it happens to you. Myself, I have been witness to many incredible things, as you may discover yourself if you read these pages. What do these things say? In the greater scope of things, just to tell you 2 things: 1) the War in Heaven is over, and the good guys won; 2) the Beginning is near, and we will soon enter into an Age of Gold from an Age of Iron. Maybe 3 things: 3) Jesus Christ isn’t coming back for another 40,000 years. And about 1), it’s a War in Eternity, so it actually is scattered through time, and you might not have heard the last of it. The middle parts of it, anyway.

It’s only crazy if it’s not true. And even if it is crazy, sometimes it’s still true. I have been a part of something way beyond my power to control, and that makes me seem downright strange at times. But my weirdness is what you might expect a prophet to be in these post-millenial times. My proof? I am at peace with both the seen and the unseen worlds: can you say the same? I think the Dreaming may soon be done with me, and I will be remade normal again, now that it looks like my main mission has been accomplished. (Read my book, Memoirs from the War in Heaven for what that involved.) No, my life is not over, not nearly, but I have had so that I’ve been feeling a little tired of late. And the wheel grinds on. To wonder what tomorrow brings, a little afraid, a little excited, for anything can happen. Yes it can, and I know it can, because it happened to me!