The Sniper 02

Posted on April 10, 2017 by ehurst

While the rest of the crew got very busy with the equipment, the chief led Franklin and the boy to a desktop display screen.

For the lad, the technology was all new. Franklin first showed him a satellite view of their area, magnifying it until the buildings were distinct. Then he stroked the screen until the viewing angle was from the ground just outside the village where they sat. The boy’s eyes widened in wonder as he chattered too fast for Franklin to follow.

This is where we are, he told the lad. Where is your mother?

The boy touched the screen tentatively but quickly got the hang of it when Franklin demonstrated a couple more times. Spinning the display quickly up over a nearby ridge, the lad indicated a village perched just above the narrow wadi floor on the other side. It was too far from the pipeline project to get much attention. But it was a village hardly any larger than where they sat at the time. Where would the rebel soldiers hide?

Franklin asked a few more questions about where the soldiers were staying in the village. The boy pointed to a cluster of rocks jutting out of the side of the hill. They have a cave.

When Franklin relayed that to the chief, the other man clapped his hands. “So that’s why we couldn’t track them after their last attempt!” Turning to the crew behind him, “Joe! Have you got the trucks loaded up? We gotta get out of here!”

The specially built trucks were indeed ready to roll with the crawlers hidden inside the cargo boxes mounted on the frames. The garage doors were already open, and the trucks didn’t make too much noise. Compared against his memories, Franklin marveled afresh how recent technology had changed so very many things. The chief hastily folded the back cover over the front of the computer they had been using, picked it up and headed for the lead truck. Franklin took the lad with him and headed back to the building upon which his sniper nest stood.

With very little clue what he was seeing, the lad watched as Franklin collapsed the sensor into a box, then folded the large solar panels and placed them on top. He latched the hard plastic crate and reached up to pull on something hanging down from the semi-shading tarpaulin over their heads. Franklin fingered something on the end of the cord and the whole thing went limp, falling down on their heads. It seemed to shrink of it self into a rather small, thick fabric about the size of a small blanket. Folding it up neatly, the man stuffed it into a bag. Suddenly the previously shaded rooftop was bathed in ambient light from the thin overcast skies.

In just a few more minutes, Franklin had everything packed and stacked at the top of the stairs. He walked over to one edge and pointed below. Peering over the edge, the boy saw a Hummer hidden in a shaded spot between two buildings. Help me carry these things down there.

Descending the stairs, the boy put his load behind the armored Hummer just outside the entryway on the ground floor. Stepping out away from the buildings, he was surprised at how this thing was almost invisible behind the trees and shrubbery. He was still staring when Franklin came down the stairs with a load. Popping open the rear hatch, the man loaded what they had brought down. A couple more trips and they had the back of the vehicle packed and ready to roll.

From what the boy had told them, he pretty much had all day to deploy the grenade. The chief decided it was unlikely any of the rebels were actively watching from the ridgeline, since that would expose them to the various sensors deployed around this particular valley. However, they could have laid a surveillance device without being noticed; they were cheap and readily available. The trucks were already in convoy heading out of the village. Franklin escorted the lad back to the small square in front of the now empty shop. They retrieved the grenade from the open doorway on one side of the square. Franklin said a few more words while he led the boy behind a low wall facing the shop. He knelt down and had to boy throw the grenade into an open bay of the shop and they both ducked.

The detonation was more powerful than Franklin expected. It was likely the lad would have been hurt or killed had he succeeded on his first try. Peppered with concrete fragments and covered in dust, they were otherwise unharmed. Making their way back to the Hummer, Franklin sat the lad in the passenger seat, and then climbed into the driver’s side and cranked it up. He drove around the backside of the village to a different road from the trucks, barely discernible in the rugged terrain. The trucks were already rolling down the valley on the cratered gravel road that the locals referred to as a “highway” in their language.

Franklin steered the Hummer along the more tortuous track close up along the base of the ridge. Eventually they were just below a pass where a well used goat path was visible zigzagging up the face of the rise. He let the boy out.

The boots were slung behind his neck, swinging under his arms on both sides. Franklin felt good that they had done as much as possible for the boy. He was on his own now.

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Off the Cuff 03

Posted on April 9, 2017 by ehurst

Oddly enough, this episode of “off the cuff” is in response to a question. Please refer back to Off the Cuff 01 and Off the Cuff 02 for context.

In the first episode, I sensed that some dirty bargain was made with imperialists, and in the second I pegged it to Israel. In the attack on Syria, we see that the nasty secret Trump kept from us is this planned radical jerk toward imperialism, but it’s almost entirely confined to serving Israel. I’m guessing that he was waiting for some false flag that looked strong enough to justify it. We may never know who else may have influenced that decision, and I’m inclined to think the current speculation about his son-in-law misses the point. My point is: Trump had planned to do this since at least the end of last year. And it looks like he was using it for other purposes, as well — namely, the put pressure on China about North Korea.

What does it mean to me? Foreign policy will continue as before under previous administrations. Any variance will be small. Despite all the rhetoric, the election was never a foreign policy debate. The difference remains in domestic policy. Trump is wholly unlikely to come for our guns or provoke religious persecution, as two examples of things Clinton would have done. However, he will also permit Zionists to harass those who don’t support Israel. This blog could still catch some heat, but it’s probably something I can bear.

On the other hand, something in all of this makes me a little anxious about the military. Not in the sense of worried, but I have a sense of dread. I’m not looking forward to the horrific slaughter we will engage, of course. But I’m also dreading how it will inevitably lead to our military losing at some point. I can’t present anything concrete because my dread doesn’t rest on reason, but something in my sense of conviction. Someone somewhere already has the means to break us, but they aren’t eager to pay what it will cost them. At some point our government will leave them no choice. What’s driving this US government belligerence is not at all reasonable, not smart, not based on a valid calculus of what it will take and what we might gain from it. There are too many lies involved all up and down the chain, and something’s going to break. When it does, America will pay an awful price herself.

Edit: I should have made the connection more obvious of how this helps Israel. Israel wants the US to attack Syria so she won’t have to take the risks and use the resources. Russia is likely to help Syria shoot down Israeli jets, but the US is a different matter. This leaves Israel free to focus resources on Lebanon.

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Prophetic Economics 01

Posted on April 9, 2017 by ehurst

The Social Sciences are the study of human nature. It includes things like history, archeology, geography, sociology, government and political theory, psychology and so forth. But they are based on Western assumptions, so it all rests on the pretense of reasoned analysis and objectivity. While these sciences recognize that human nature is flawed, they assume it could be better and the whole point is to study how to make it better.

In particular, economics pretends to objectivity even as it manifests wildly conflicting forecasts based on the competing theories. People who study economics take their science too seriously, pretending that if they could just fix some basic theoretical disputes and come up with a unified model of human economic behavior, they could solve humanity’s problems.

Obviously I disagree, but it comes after having studied economics for a long time. You see, I studied it from the cynical point of view that comes from rejecting Western assumptions in the first place. My rejection wasn’t wholly conscious at first, but I was far down that road before I took those college courses. I understood what the professors and books were trying to get across and made some of the highest grades in each class, but I didn’t swallow most of it.

So I neither recommend such education, nor will I attempt to summarize it for you. Rather, I’ll give you a contextual digest of what I believe matters most right now. Those who have studied economics will recognize some of this.

You can grow an economy without credit, but it takes longer. Without debt, wealth grows much more slowly and requires far more work. Biblical Law says you should avoid greed in the first place and realize the shepherd’s call in trying to benefit everyone, because that is your own best interest long term. To put it bluntly: If you can’t embrace that moral necessity, then you’ll always be tormented on some level in this life, and you’ll likely end up in Hell after you die. What you do in this world must serve genuine human need, and Biblical Law sums up that need in the term “moral social stability” — a manifestation of shalom. So the goal is not some imaginary economic efficiency, as if the economy was just a machine. The economy is a living thing that must be nurtured according to its needs, or it will not help you make the most of this life. So don’t juice it up with large doses of credit steroids or it will sicken and die before its time. Treat it with respect.

Economies all die sooner or later, but it can be done gracefully and cooperatively (and they usually give birth to new economies). If you don’t place the image in your mind of an economy as a living being with sentience and its own will, you will never understand it. They belong to the civilization in which they stand, and they are only so healthy as the moral climate of the civilization itself.

Ours is hollow and nearly dead. It’s a science fiction horror monster. Still subject to the moral fabric of the universe as expressed in Biblical Law, even as our global economy dies, we can still harvest what little good is available.

So the starting point for you individually is to remind your flesh that it will not get everything that it wants. It’s not supposed to. You have to understand that there is a permanent disconnect between your instinctive wishes and what God says is in your best interest. No matter how much we grant to the flesh, it cannot be satisfied. Annoyances are the norm; navigate your best path between them. Find a peaceful place so you can learn to live with them and be grateful. The power of joy is inside of you, not in the things you have.

You won’t get that from the academic study of economics. What it will tell you is that the debt system is what is most at risk of collapse. There is a tremendous mass of notional debt with nothing of value behind it. At some point, the sheer volume of debt will drag big finance to a halt as the debt servicing falls too far behind. What keeps the system alive is the perception that the debts are being paid back at some profitable level. Perception at the upper levels does lag reality; most of the big money pushers don’t know when to back off because it appears too profitable. Even the factor of inflation that lowers the value of a particular debt doesn’t change the very real loss of the consumers’ power to repay. Their income doesn’t keep pace with the inflation because of a systemic cultural bias among financiers that pressures employers to hold wages down. Having an MBA degree means you see things only from the financiers point of view.

As previously noted, this is a bad time to be in debt. Resolve those obligations as best you can, because each one represents a dependency and vulnerability to the ravages of plutocrats scrambling to save their vulnerable wealth when this system breaks. Do what you can to shield your assets and resources from repossession, because that’s coming. However, always bear in mind that the one thing no one can take from you is what’s inside of you. Things may get so ugly as to result in a literal form of slavery; the laws can change without notice because the plutocrats are the government. On top of that, most laws have loopholes that allow all kinds of new tricks not yet declared illegal. Prepare your mind for the worst in those terms. Nobody can predict how debt obligations will be shifted to new owners and how financiers will attempt to squeeze the last bit of value from them. It will likely be chaotic.

Beyond that remains the exchange of things that don’t require debt. I find it improbable that our economy will be reduced to barter. There are simply too many options that even local governments can take to keep things moving. This lower economy will take on a life of its own. Individual actors will have a stronger influence at this smaller scale. This is where you and I can exploit the power of Biblical Law, using its power to harvest something better than mere survival. By preparing beforehand to operate without the cushion of borrowing, your instincts take a different path entirely. The whole system of running a household or business means the terminology takes on a wholly different definition.

You are likely to perceive two ways in which a Biblical Law approach will benefit you. First, this is how God operates, so He’s going to steer reality in your favor. All of those things nobody can possibly understand and control will fall your way. Of course, God also retains His inscrutable purpose and your individual hassles will reflect His plan for you, but you can’t do better than doing this God’s way. Second, your attitude will influence others. So if your landlord sees your determination not to push the burden off unfairly onto him, perhaps he will seek ways to keep your rent within your budget. When the ultimate ownership on paper starts jumping around, the managers on the ground will often have a freer hand to deal. But you’ll notice that both of these two ways of benefit are linked, because staying in God’s favor means He moves in the hearts of others to favor you, as well.

That’s it for now. Ask questions if you have any.

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The Sniper 01

Posted on April 9, 2017 by ehurst

For just a moment, Franklin rubbed his eyes, then continued scanning the village and surrounding terrain for any sign of movement. Had he been staring through the display on his rifle, it would have driven him nuts. Then again, it could have been worse. He was older now, but remembered all too well staring through the scope of that .30 caliber bolt action rifle, waiting for a target.

Once more, he gave thanks for the new energy weapons. His was already old and battered, but still quite functional. It was sort of a cast-off, one of the last few of this early model still intact as the troops had turned them all in for newer versions that were less breakable.

Because of how the pulse rifles worked, the job of sniper was far, far easier now. No more windage and range; there was no leading a moving target calculating for time of flight. It was purely line of sight at the speed of light. If he could see it, he could hit it. No jolt from firing, either, so a light grip was enough. The scope was electronically enhanced, providing the same view day or night. All it took was steady hands, and he was fortunate at his age to still have them.

During daylight he kept it plugged into the solar panels to prevent running down the fuel cell. Next to Franklin was a target sensor, with a small stretchable wire linked to his rifle. The sensor had a downlink from tactical satellites and passing drones. It also had a built-in pulse shooter of its own, but that was even older technology than the rifle. The sensor could see almost anything out there, but nobody trusted it to know when to shoot or how to tune the pulse for different targets. Still, it made a good battle buddy because it could detect targets outside his view, though Franklin preferred gazing at his field of fire with naked eyes and didn’t miss much.

This time he caught it before the sensor did. Down across from the shop that the crawler team had occupied, there just a flicker of movement behind a bush. The village had been evacuated, so there wasn’t supposed to be any other people around. With virtually no wild animals and only a few birds, Franklin was inclined to believe this was human. Something inside of him had tingled this morning, warning there would be action, so he jolted to full awareness at the same moment the sensor sounded it’s barely audible alarm.

With only the smallest of movements, and no further noise, Franklin raised his rifle and sighted through scope. It was a human figure behind the bush. The distance was deceptive; was that an adult?

He saw the figure rise and step from behind the bush. He whispered to himself, “A kid?”

His scope eye kept watch on the boy. The sensor told him via the scope display that an explosive vest was unlikely and he breathed a sigh of relief, only to then be told the boy was hiding something inside his heavy outer shirt. Franklin groaned to think the boy had a grenade, but quickly reached his free hand around to dial down the aperture, and reduce both the duration and frequency on the rifle. No sense killing if he could avoid it. The readout confirmed his shot would be non-fatal.

The lad had his hand inside the outer garment. As he got near the shop, he stopped and stood still for just a moment. Franklin aimed at the center of mass. Suddenly the lad jerked his hand out and cocked back to throw. Without hesitation, Franklin pulled the trigger.

There was a small explosion on the front of the boy’s chest as the pulse struck his clothing. The kid fell backward in a puff of smoke.

Disconnecting his rifle from the power and sensor feed hurriedly, Franklin reached over to switch the sensor to automatic fire. That was in case the boy was not alone. As he rose and descended the stairs from the rooftop of the building, his fingers double-checked to insure his “don’t shoot me” tag was attached and working so the sensor would ignore his presence in the field of fire. It would also still communicate with his rifle by an encrypted radio link from this distance.

One of the technicians came out of the shop and met Franklin on his way to where the boy was still lying, fingering the smoking remains of his clothing. The pulse had been very nearly the lowest setting. By reducing the diameter of the bolt and the power, it wouldn’t make such a big explosion. Reducing the frequency kept it from penetrating the boy’s clothing. Thus, the discharged pulse struck his sweater and scattered the outer surface molecules in a fireball with a rather low concussion.

Still, it had to hurt a lot and the boy was weeping. Franklin lifted him in his arms and tried to soothe him as best he could with a halting attempt to speak in the local language. I know it hurts, my son.

No, no, the boy was distraught. This pain is nothing. The soldiers will torture my mother!

Franklin took a moment to process that. He turned to the tech. “The boy says the rebels are torturing his mother. That’s probably how they forced him to try this stunt.”

They had seen these grenades before. The tech picked it up carefully and placed it inside the doorway of an empty building before rejoining them. Franklin was proud of his ability to pick up the language of the residents in these parts, but it took several minutes to get the whole story while he carried the boy inside the shop for first aid treatment of the burns on his chest. Eventually he worked out that the boy had followed the crawlers back around dawn, then waited awhile in a tiny house on the edge of the village. Having dozed off made him all the more scared that he was taking too long on his mission. He was supposed to find the crawler team and kill them with the grenade, and hopefully destroy some of their equipment.

Inside the shop, the tech hurriedly explained to the team chief. In response to some questions from the chief through Franklin, the boy replied that he had been told to look for the biggest building in the village, because the crawler team always took that for their operations. At that, the chief’s features sagged and his head turned to one side in a sort of “oh-crap” recognition that he failed on operational security. The rebels had discerned an established pattern in his team’s behavior, and it created a needless risk.

Someone found a somewhat too large shirt to replace the burned clothing. With further conversation during a meal they fed him, the boy explained that the rebels would be listening for the explosion, but that he also had to bring back something to prove he had done as ordered and get them to release his mother.

I have to bring back Crusader boots. He started weeping again.

The men looked down at their feet in unison. One of the few things the labor union was good for when they all signed their contracts was successfully demanding they be supplied with with standard military footwear. Everything was high-tech these days, and the boots were a lifesaver out here. Aside from being cushioned and nearly weightless, these low-cut boots could sense when the feet were wobbling on uneven surfaces. The soles, toe caps and heels grew almost hard as steel at such moments. Further, the area around the ankle stiffened, making the boot very solid and protecting the feet and ankles wonderfully.

And the rebels craved them, as well. But nobody on the team was eager to give theirs up, in part because they were accountable like weapons.

“Wait,” the chief stared upward at nothing in particular in obvious deep thought. Turning to one of the other technicians, he asked, “Didn’t we reclaim a stolen pair a couple of weeks ago? We had to go up into the hills after one the crawlers that got trapped in a pit. In the rubble of a structure was a rebel body with those boots, right?”

The other man replied, “Sure, but I’ve already turned them in.”

“Physically?” the chief pressed him.

“Well, no, not yet. I’ll do that when we meet with the supply truck for parts next week. But they have been accounted for, so we can’t just give them away.” The tech spread his hands, palm up for emphasis.

“We’re just loaning them out,” the chief replied. “Besides, if this works out, we’ll get ’em back again.”

Franklin and the tech looked with interest at the chief. All of them were old military veterans, of course, but the chief had recently retired from the service and had seen combat right up until that point. Having reached a senior military rank that helped him land the job as crew chief on the crawler team, he clearly had a plan in mind.

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Psalm 126

Posted on April 8, 2017 by ehurst

This Song of Ascents refers to the Exile and Restoration, but looks back upon it from a later date. Yet still fresh in memory was the giddy joy of the imperial announcement that the Judeans could go home and rebuild their city and temple. The terminology in the first refers to a restoration of something that was confiscated. But restoring the freedom to live in the place God granted their Father Abraham, and the ridge line where David built his royal capital, seemed almost too good to be true.

So even as they were preparing to depart, they were singing with irrepressible joy. The other nations crowded into the Babylonian ghettos around them were echoing the celebration in recognizing that Jehovah had finally called His people back home. Wasn’t it a wonderful thing to watch? Yes, say the Judeans, what a wonderful thing He has done for us and we can’t keep it to ourselves.

But everyone knows that when they did come home, it was anything like the dreams they had treasured for so long. There was trouble from every side and it seemed to take forever before they started rebuilding the city, and yet longer still to build the Second Temple. Frankly, there was precious little of the giddy joy left as the Returnees clustered around the city and the vast majority stayed behind in Babylon, never to return. Some Restoration!

Lord, can we go back and finish it? Can we even today, return to the purity of devotion that drove us back here, but keep our faith intact this time? It would be like that brief rainy season in the southern wastes of Judea. For most of the year the wadis were dry, but for just a week or so those watercourses were roaring torrents. We need a heavy rain of Your Spirit, O Lord.

Imagine the farmer who lives in troubled times. He faces great anxiety and serious hunger, but he must sow his grain on the ground when planting time comes. Once that harvest comes, though, the bad times are forgotten in the abundance of blessings.

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The Sniper: Prologue

Posted on April 8, 2017 by ehurst

The young lad picked his way quietly along the narrow alley, stopping now and then to listen. The residents had fled the village long ago; mostly he was hearing the sound of the breeze whipping against the vacant structures. Near the end of the dirt track he paused again just back from the corner of the building. His ears could just barely catch the voices of men speaking a foreign language. Squatting down, he peered around the corner from under the bushes growing there and scanned the open area. On the far side of a small paved square was an old workshop of some kind.

The sign had been removed long ago, leaving a patch of different colored paint. There were some holes where lag bolts had held the sign to the concrete facing. From a somewhat larger hole, a single twisted tail of electrical wire poked through near the corner of the bare spot. The glass long gone, two windows stared out like empty eyes on either side of the front door. The ill-fitting garage doors farther along the face were clearly not the original. Focusing his attention on this building, the boy believed the rather loud foreign voices came from there.

His hand shaking and sweaty, he reached inside the front of his tattered sweater. To overcome his fear, he pretended for just a moment to hate them with all his might. For just a few minutes the fire of hatred obscured the fearful image of his mother writhing in pain from torture. The rebel soldiers had attached bare wires to each of her ankles and made him watch as they sent a painful jolt through her body. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but he had screamed for her.

The soldiers had trained him quite well, drilling repeatedly until he could do it with his eyes closed. The grenade inside his sweater was small, made for children’s hands, but a little heavy. It was a canister mounted atop a short stick handle. Drop or throw it and nothing happened. Press the trigger at the top of the handle and nothing happened. But press that trigger for three seconds, and then immediately throw it and the device was armed. It would explode on impact. They warned him that if he didn’t protect himself, primarily by throwing it inside of an enclosed space where he couldn’t see it, then it would kill him, too. He couldn’t throw it far enough in the open to be safe.

He pushed aside all other thoughts and stepped forward from behind the bush. The open square was surrounded by taller buildings, making it oddly quiet with very little of the wind disturbing things. Glancing in every direction, he made sure he wasn’t seen. He got as close to the old garage as he dared and jerked out the grenade. He never got past cocking his arm back. Something in front of his face exploded and knocked him on his back.

He didn’t remember falling, and was only vaguely aware of hitting the pavement under him. Was he dead? Did the grenade go off prematurely? It was like trying to use his body from far away. He noticed the device was still in his hand. Presently he managed to let it go. There was an acrid smell of burnt synthetic fibers in his nostrils, and his eyes began to focus just enough to discern smoke arising from his body below his face.

Still somewhat stunned, his limbs was slow to respond. There was the sense that he was still trying to crawl back into himself from somewhere else. He hadn’t yet noticed any pain, but it was awfully warm on his chest in the cool fall weather. His hand slowly found it’s way to his side, then crept up onto his torso. His sweater was mostly gone, and the shirt underneath had holes in it. Around the edges of these gaps the fabric was hot enough to sting his fingertips. Something had exploded in front of him and burned him, for his torso suddenly awakened in pain. Just trying to breathe hurt.

Tears ran down his dusty face and into the ears, but he was still too weak to move.

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Warning Order: Fiction Coming

Posted on April 7, 2017 by ehurst

A story hit me today. The whole time I was out riding I was wishing I could have brought my netbook so I could get it down. You have to understand that my stories write themselves. They present themselves to me as a running narrative and I don’t have much control over where it goes. It’s as if the whole thing is real and exists already, and I have to wait for it to play out. The only difference is that this time, it’s not a complete story, just a thin line, so I have to flesh it out with my meager talents. I’ll give you only the hint that it was partly inspired by recent events set against my teachings, and includes a little science fiction.

You’ll see the first installment tomorrow.

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Spotlight in the Night

Posted on April 7, 2017 by ehurst

Let’s make some distinctions here.

There’s not a darned thing we can do to stop the immense evil in Syria, in part because it’s all tied into the Satanic plans regarding Israel. The whole thing is a swamp and there’s no safe place anywhere near it, so stay away. Last night’s attack on Syria was world class stupidity, but so is wasting a lot of time trying to analyze it. The most important thing it tells you is that the evil system is more powerful than anyone who tries to steer it. Also, God’s plans for that region are largely inscrutable to us.

What does matter is that God plans to use that kind of idiocy to punish America. If you want to analyze things, then investigate how the whole history of American government points toward a fiery and brutal end because it rests on a fiery and brutal foundation. But don’t pretend you or any number of agitators are going to change the outcome.

Human reason believes it can tame and choose the future of the universe. God revealed that we are tightly restrained from doing much of anything, in part because we have no clue how any of it works. Human capability outside of revelation cannot possibly come up with the likes of Noah’s Covenant. Even if you manage to subdue your intellect under the guidance of your heart, it only leads you back to the character of God manifested in the moral fabric of Creation. We are not empowered to change anything except some small measure of what is inside of us.

So our actual choices are limited to a range between obedience and disobedience to God. We get to choose how much shalom we are going to harvest from our existence on this earth. We are only along for the ride. God invites us to participate, to be involved and see His mighty works of wonder. We aren’t an imposition on Him in that role; He delights in showing us His glory. And if we have any sense at all, we realize that there is nothing we can experience that is better for us. This what He made us for, so it can’t get any better than marveling at His goodness and greatness.

His revelation makes it plain how He does things. If you can grasp the nature of His holiness and His mercy, how slow He is to execute wrath along with how certain it is He will do so eventually, then you are hardly surprised when I warn you prophetically that God’s wrath is falling on the US. I can’t say how many believers saw it coming, but I’ve read hundreds of folks writing about it for a very long time before I was able to discern the actual reality of it for myself. I believed it a long time ago, and now I believe I’m seeing it happen.

So when I suggest that you can enjoy a heavy dose of shalom by participating in bringing a measure of that wrath, it’s not activism. We aren’t fixing a problem; we are picking up the plunder of God’s wrath on sinners. We are invited to take a share of His largess as He reclaims His property for His sheikdom. Are we not a part of that as His children?

How do you get in on this? First, let the Holy Spirit guide you through your heart-mind. That’s where God speaks. He’s going to offer you a chance to get involved, something that He has for you alone. Just so you’ll have some idea what to expect, I’ve offered some practical advice derived from the Law of Noah: decentralize and cut your dependencies. Change how you reckon things; adjust the habits of your mind.

For example, recognize that a monopoly is a single point of failure. Facebook is junk technology in the first place, and it breaks all the time. To rest so many essentials of life on something so fragile means pointless misery for billions of people. Don’t invest significant trust and energy in Facebook and pretend that you “own” something there. Zuckerberg operates like a psychopath; he doesn’t desire to enslave you, but he’s perfectly content doing so for his profit. There is no right way to do something like Facebook, and he’s not even trying to do right. If you use it, be ready to discard it without much internal haggling.

Nothing in this world lasts. Take what comes your way, use it for His glory, and then leave it behind for something better when the time comes. That’s how we approach this holy task of bringing God’s wrath on America. We are true believers; we can afford to do this under the most austere conditions. It’s not the stuff we can plunder, but the glorious miracles — the experience itself — that we treasure. Only what you carry inside your soul has any real value. This is the real plunder we seek in His current war on globalists and SJWs. They need tons of money to do anything, but we can run on nothing more than our resolve to see His glory.

When you truly understand what God has called you to do, you will already know how to join the fight against them. For someone like me, it’s mostly a matter of “doxing” — exposing the pretentious posers for what they are. And even then it’s not so much individually (though I do enjoy that) but it’s all about exposing the nature of things by holding it up against the glaring light of God’s glory. Ripping away the veil of lies is a huge thrill for me. I’ve invested a lot of my time and energy into clarifying the moral image of things.

And I’m looking forward to doing that in meat space, as well. My heart tells me that I should anticipate some action on the ground as the path of adventure unfolds in the midst of tragedy. Surely you know that this business of dropping Tomahawk missiles on Syria is going to come back and bite the US government? The whole thing rests on a transparent lie. Our government isn’t going to get away with this for long, but God’s hand is full of surprises, so just stand by and watch.

Meanwhile, you and I can keep the focus on making sure we press forward in our daily lives with an eye to how we can execute shining justice against the backdrop of dark lies.

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Cycling: Wilshire and Katy Trail

Posted on April 6, 2017 by ehurst

This has become a pretty standard loop for me. It’s not so long as the rest and includes more brutal hills. Today it was counterclockwise, heading north on Midwest Boulevard toward the river.

Our spring green-up is really under way. Even the oaks have begun showing tiny green leaves along with the tassels that mark their awakening this time of year. I headed out a while before the lunch traffic so it was pretty quiet. Once I got north of NE 23rd, the songs of nature started crowding into my awareness. This is the time of year when you can capture images of the brief seasonal flowers, so despite my determination to stay focused on riding with a steady pace, my eyes were constantly scanning places where I know the blossoms congregate. There was only two visible scarlet paintbrush flowers out on the old former airstrip in Spencer; maybe next time.

Farther north I dallied just a moment on the bridge across the North Canadian River. On the upstream side where it turns sharply against the bank, there is a very large sandbar running all the way across, so it’s usually pretty wide at that spot and I wished I had the time to go wading. Still, I know the water probably stinks from the mild pollution that washes into it from the streets of the Metro upstream.

From there it was two miles of steady stroking on the flat river plain. Farther north I turned west and climbed up out of the valley on Wilshire. This put me into several miles of brutal hills. At least four times I had to shift onto the smallest chainring to make the climb. Today I decided to take a detour. Once across I-35, I turned onto the service road that runs behind a truck wash and motel. These service roads along the I-35 corridor are all marked as official bike routes. On top of that, today I spotted temporary signs asking drivers to be cautious due to a bicycling event. I never saw any other bikes, though. I passed a trucker’s hooker as rode I up the hill, heading south past some heavy industry shops. She must have been dropped nearby; she was changing part of her wardrobe from a large duffle bag and avoiding eye contact. Her manner of dress made her profession obvious, that close to a truck stop.

There was nothing exciting about this route that swung around from I-35 to follow our Northeast Expressway. The bike route markings brought me past what we used to call the Cowboy Hall of Fame (first image above) around NE 63rd and and Grand Boulevard. It’s an art museum, not much on history. There’s even a section dedicated to TV and movie celebrities who played in a lot of Westerns. It has changed over the past decade or so into more of a tourist trap and I wouldn’t waste the time or money on it now.

From there it was just a short hop to the northern terminus of the Katy Trail. Since this is high bug season, I couldn’t stop much anywhere and enjoy a sit while I ate my snack, so I just stood in the shade of a fragrant pine tree a short way before crossing ML King. On the other side the bike path is torn up in places while crews change the entrances to the huge parking lot north of the Science Museum and Zoo. It wasn’t fun hopping up and down the curb, but I have experienced worse things for less noble purposes. Once I got down past the lake and up the hill into the golf course, I stopped three different times to retrieve golf balls from the street gutter. Someone told me the street was out of bounds unless it lands on the grass on the other side, because the course is on both sides. So it does no harm if I stop and pitch them back up on the fairway. I am amused at the range of colors they use on golfballs these days: baby blue, pale orange and only one that was plain white.

On down the Katy Trail I spotted a tired old dog lying in the grass adjacent to the trail and greeted it. Out the ditch below came a much younger dog ready to chase. I gave her a good workout, encouraging her to stay with me until she ran out of gas. Farther south near the other golf course out by Douglas High School I was watching for the hobo campsite. It was abandoned and the place had been ransacked. Part of the frame still stood, but the tarp had been shredded and trash strewn everywhere. That’s what happens to everything in that neighborhood. Just up and around I left the trail and turned up the overpass ramp on NE 4th at I-35. That’s where I spotted those lovely pink cups clinging to the south face of the berm (second image). The rest of the way home was pretty quiet and uneventful.

I’m so grateful for such beauty in my life.

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Recruiting for Conquest

Posted on April 6, 2017 by ehurst

For all intents and purposes, Trump is no longer Trump. The imperialist Borg have subsumed him into their machinations. The only difference now is the petty disagreements among the imperialists as to which coterie of buddies gets to plunder the nation. The only good thing is that his administration is unlikely to get in the way of those whom God moves to complete Trump’s unfinished tasks.

I’m quite serious about this business of God’s wrath on the globalists and their minions. He can do it by Himself, but He wants to bless people. There is a holy task here that can be done very righteously. Do you remember the condemnation that fell on certain tribes of Israel during the Conquest, because they were too damned lazy to kill or drive out the occupants of the land?

God had judged those wicked nations — this is the kind of people who were so despicable that other pagan nations found them repulsive. These are the people who sacrificed their children to Molech, and their own bodies to the most degrading acts. Instead of simply sending some natural plague and letting their wealth dissolve into nothing, He wanted to give it as plunder to Israel. But Israel was lazy about it, so the Lord allowed the Devil to work through these wicked survivors to plague Israel. In other words, God will get His glory, but He wants us involved if we’ll just get on the ball.

So the only question is whether you buy my story about the globalists as a modern day Cult of Molech. If you cannot by now see the parallels of how the globalists and the Social Justice Warriors (SJWs) are morally equivalent to the repulsive Canaanites and Amalekites, then I can’t help you understand God’s moral character at all. I don’t hate those folks; I could desperately wish for their repentance. But I hate what they are doing to God’s people. Their ascendancy would be an Apocalypse; they would assemble a vast army to attack God Himself if it were possible. They are striving to bury forever the rich heritage of God’s revelation and blessings on this earth.

It’s not a question of literally slaughtering them. That could be part of the answer, but it’s not the focus. Most of the people trapped in that cult aren’t true believers; it’s just the context in which they live. So it’s this context that we need to change. There’s a construct built up that breathes life into this cult, but it’s an awfully extravagant and wasteful cult. Just a little bit of loss in resources and much of it would collapse under its own weight. It takes a lot of blood sacrifice to keep it alive and this thing leaks it back out, leaking like a sieve. Block the blood sacrifice and it will stop working.

Some of that will be handled by God Himself with the collapse of the debt and finance system. It’s parallel to how God kept using weather and other natural conditions to aid Israel in their battles. The miracles are in place, waiting for us to get out and do our part. At a minimum, we need to start a shift toward economics that are more pleasing to God. That’s most of the “warfare” right there. And like the way ancient armies fought, with just a few real warriors and mass formation of conscripts, all it takes is just a few of us determined to stand for Biblical Law in our dealings to swing a great mass into the battle.

Can I sell it to you like this? If we create our parallel society, we will become the nobility of a moral reality most people can’t even see. Granted, you have to see the glory and power in being otherworldly, of being led by the Spirit through a completely different faculty above our intellects, and you have to embrace that inherent value system that makes moral truth a treasure. But simply being the first to get involved in this, we establish ourselves as the nobility who will already belong in this parallel society when others start joining it. In ancient Israel, the fastest way up the social and economic ladder was valor in battle. That’s the same thing here: Live the full measure of Biblical Law in the face of a lawless world and you’ll establish yourself as cream of the crop while you yet live on this earth.

Now for me personally — I’m not a general for the battle. I’m better equipped as an executive officer. I’d be glad to take up a role as someone’s loyal personal assistant. I’m pretty good at operational security and tactics, and even logistics, but this requires someone with a wider strategic vision for which I’m am not equipped. In more concrete terms, I’d love to work for someone with a vision for taking down the globalists and SJWs here in the US. I’m willing to get my hands dirty in some ways because that’s what happens when you are removing shit. And as I’ve already stated several times, I’m not held back by Western middle-class inhibitions. As far as I’m concerned, America ethics and morals are not moral, so I can feel all right and clean before the Lord doing things a lot of other folks call “dirty.”

So because Trump has gotten lost from God’s purpose, the Lord is seeking new vessels for His wrath. This is our chance to plunder Hell, taking back things that Satan doesn’t rightly hold. It’s ours if we accept the commission from God. We go after the globalists now; imperialists will be handled in a later campaign.

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