The Punchbowl

As I sat in the house yesterday, the Spirit of the Lord moved in me. I had not written anything significant, and while this did not trouble me in itself, I sensed something stirred in the depths of my soul, outside the view of my conscious mind. It was dark and sad stirring.
While I went about the tasks of my daily life in this world, a part of me was called into a large open hall. There was at least one table along the side opposite where I entered the door. I don’t recall anything else, and it seemed I was alone with the Lord. That is, He was present, yet unseen.
On the table was a punch bowl. It was nearly full, and the Lord drew me toward it. Stepping up, I looked inside. The top looked bright red, yet nearly transparent. “Taste the upper layer.” So I picked up a dipper lying beside it and took a small amount from the surface. It was strong, fruity and lightly sweet. It was lighter than most liquids, and obviously contained alcohol. “Taste the bottom.” As I looked deeper into the liquid, the red gave way to a darker, grayer bottom which quickly became opaque. The dipper didn’t seem to disturb anything, so I managed to scoop from the bottom at the center of the bowl without stirring it up.
The taste was weak, yet bitter and revolting. The texture was gritty and left me spitting and pulling at my tongue. That taste never left me the whole evening, even as the vision faded.
America began bright and intoxicating, very fruitful and full of life. It didn’t take long for Satan to hijack the whole thing. Her end will be so bitter it cannot be described. Even now I can turn within my soul and see the murky depths of that punch bowl, and still taste the lifeless bitterness. I can’t be stirred, and there is no way to recover what we once had. The end will make no one smile, because at the worst depth of our misery, even the oppressors will lose it all. Everything they take from us, everything they hope to gain, will slip through their fingers, and none of us will have anything.
It’s a vision, not meant to be taken literally, not meant to provide endless details for the mind to extract. Even if a few of us escape relatively unscathed in one sense or another, whatever America one was, or could have been, will be gone forever. Sure, you might see someone still waving that flag and making all those fine patriotic noises, but already it means little of what we once might have imagined, and will most certainly mean nothing of that when those days come.
I am truly and deeply sorrowful for those who cannot or will not heed His warning.