Literary, Not Literal

Don’t take his as any kind of prophetic word. Those days are gone. This is just me living with the noise in my own head. I’m choosing to share because I can’t shut up, even if speaking kills me. Still, understand that this is just the dark visions of my own questionable mind.

For a few days now I’ve been having dark expectations. Because of all the things going on here at home in my personal space, I was quite unsure what the connection was. For example, I’ve got my bike in the shop and I don’t know if the technicians can do what I’ve asked them to do. And they haven’t communicated with me much. So I couldn’t tell if it was something like that or something bigger.

I’m now convinced it was bigger. Please understand this: The people in our federal government are universally morally compromised. They are all committed to doing stuff they know we don’t want them doing. So it really doesn’t matter which face glowers at us from any particular office; the consequences will be bad regardless. The only question is what flavor of tribulation we shall have, not whether there will be tribulation.

Right now, I don’t even know what to expect, except that it smells like a storm front wind blowing in, and it carries the scent of an open sewer. It’s a choking stench that fogs the mind. It’s rather like being downwind of a hog CAFO plant covering several square miles; there’s no place to hide from it.

At the same time, I have no specifics at all. I’m convinced there will be some surprises, things totally unexpected. Aside from some broad generalities, there’s no way to plan for this. It will require being quick, creative and flexible. It requires being very much in touch with my convictions. I need to know the boundaries I will not cross, so I can eliminate options that aren’t real for me. I’ll have plenty to do with the options that remain open.

Nothing I’ve seen or imagined could prepare me for this. That’s about the only thing clear to me right now. And it’s not fear, but a sense of dread, almost like regret before I get there. I regret that certain people in pivotal positions have chosen such awful things for the rest of us, because they will face the fearsome wrath of God for it. It’s more like a sense of deep sadness that fools cannot get free from their obsessions with things that could never be.

It’s sad, but they have chosen their own demise. It would be easy to let the weariness take hold, from defending the domain the Lord has granted me. But He isn’t ready to retire me yet. I’ll have to present enthusiastic savagery about it or I’ll fail Him. So I’m pushing away the bone-deep weariness and stoking the flames, surrendering myself to His wrathful purpose. I’m girding for war.

Of course, the battle will be virtual, a war of information. I don’t anticipate having to face literal warfare, just literary. Spare them nothing. Stack up the skulls and make the rubble bounce. Satan is building extra capacity in the furnaces of Hell.