. . . Lucifer, Son of the Morning . . . how you are fallen!
Isaiah 14:12
I was an angel once. I am not as has been described by the church – they have projected their own fears, warped by a distorted imagination, representing me as an ugly creature with horns, a tail, cloven feet, red eyes, black skin and holding a pitch-fork.
They portray me as ugly and grotesque – permit me to pay mankind back the “compliment”; man too is ugly. Any claim he has to beauty is only skin-deep. I pause . . . let me be generous – it goes deeper than his skin, up to his flesh actually. Man’s beauty is only skin-flesh-deep. Pretty skin and pretty flesh, covering the always-ugly skeleton!
But I digress. I was saying that the church has cooked up a false representation of my appearance. Their description cannot be true. My aspect is nothing of the sort –
I was an angel once!
in a sphere of existence many dimensions removed from the earth. I was the anointed cherub that walked the stones of fire with many precious stones for a covering. I stood on the holy mountains of God – soared in the divine winds of heaven – my voice, a symphony of timbrels and pipes, lifted in endless praise to the Ancient of Days. I sang with the sons of God – our collective voices rising like an offering – melodies criss-crossing each other in a dance of light.
That was before I became my own Master. But, I am an angel still!
A little thought would convince you that my features couldn’t be as the church has described me. Such a being as they have concocted would have no appeal – no power whatsoever to attract. Were I as described, the world would shun me, the church would despise me – men and women would be repulsed on account of my features. But people love me, the world welcomes me with open arms and broad smiles. I am not ugly. I never was. I am always beautiful – always was and always will!
Even the Man of Galilee gave the church a hint of my personage, when He was on earth but the church was too distracted to listen. Hear Him speak once again:
“I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven!”
Even in my fall, I shone like a million stars – in a blinding flash of illuminating brilliance. I lit up the dark sky as I traced a trajectory towards earth. O what a woeful day it was many aeons ago – when paradise was lost:
Once – a cherub, the seal of perfection.
Now – A Mighty Angel, . . . fallen!
Many believe that I cannot enter a church because it is “holy”. That cannot be true. Afterall, there are many modern priests in church who are so adept that they could teach even me, trickery and falsehood, and who freely strut about inside church, even at the altar.
If they can, then, so can I!
I dare to say that I am more honest than many priests; my intentions are known to all and I do my best to fulfil them. I believe in God and I tremble!
The modern priests on the other hand spew’s falsehood cloaked in half-truths. They twist the scriptures for their own gain. They believe in God and they do not tremble!
I fear God but the modern priest does not. He only fears losing the members of his congregation to another priest three streets away, who by the way, is more cunning and more devious than he is.
They say also that I am afraid of a cross. Is that a joke?
I cannot possibly be scared of two beams lying across each other, wether it is made of wood, iron, or gold. I am not afraid of such crosses. The only cross I bow to – the only cross that conquers me is the one formed by the vertical beam of the will of God, over which lies the horizontal beam of the will of man, and upon which the King of Glory dies. Two beams – two wills – God’s and a man’s, becoming one in the sacrifice of the Christos!
I do not tell a man to kill, steal or maim. The nature of man, desperately wicked as it is, is quite capable of concocting and executing such atrocities by himself without any assistance.
I am subtler than that!
Where I find vice, I humour it. Where I find virtue, I flatter it. So that by degrees, a man’s soul is turned away from God and away from his neighbour – turning wholly on his own Self. When a man is sufficiently full of him Self, he does not require the devil or any fiend to tempt him any further. In that Self-state he has an unfettered ability for any kind of evil he can imagine. I know this firsthand because it was the reason for my fall. At the peak of my Self, I boasted:
“I will exalt my throne above the stars of God . . . I will be like the Most High!”
Even a virtuous man when flattered for his virtue is at that point at the most likely of losing that virtue and yielding to Self. If he is humble, and I flatter him for his humility long enough, I could actually get him to take some Pride at how humble he is! Even in virtue, there lies the potential for corruption.
Let he that thinketh he stands, take heed lest he falls!
I am subtle!
When I tempted the Prince of Peace in the wilderness, I did not tell Him to steal, kill or maim. Instead I flattered him for his virtue and for his power.
“Be gone, Satan!” . . . thundered, the King of kings
On most days I still shake my fist in rebellion at the Lord of heaven and do my utmost to thwart the efforts of man to be reconciled to his Maker. And on most days, I am filled with Misery, because no true joy can come from the working of evil. Misery! Misery! Misery!
Such Misery is the worm that dieth not and the fire that is not quenched!
I roam the earth as I make this entry in my diary, and I hear the voice of an angel who I once knew in the Sphere of the heavenlies – it is a familiar voice – I have heard that voice many times singing with me aeons ago in the Courts of Praise before the Throne. I know the voice. The voice calls out now with the shout of an Archangel - from far away like the rumble of a distant thunder. The sound is yet to reach these parts. The ears of men are yet to hear it!
Will the church be raptured? How soon will this be?
“You have a few names even in Sardis who have not defiled their garments . . . !
And of this few, how many of them speak? Do these few clamour for the truth in the midst of the falsehood on the pulpit? Do they call-out the misrepresentation of the gospel of Christ and the glorified corruption of false doctrines?
“You have a few names even in Sardis . . . !”
Do these few stand idly by as the Faith is being made a mockery of by a bunch of ministers and talking-heads who have hijacked christianity? Do these few speak out like Nathan did to David, saying,
“Thou art the man!”
How many of the few see the rot and do not speak? Their silence is a huge weight on the scales of eternity – the collective weight of the silence of these “a few names in Sardis” perhaps, more than the iniquity of the majority makes the church too heavy to be raptured.
They ask “why is the church not raptured?” – they wonder why the rapture has not come. The answer is simple enough:
The church is too heavy!
If only they knew to end the silence! . . . Speak up! . . . and in so doing make the church lighter!
