"I had been in somewhat of a spiritual slump when I was asked to review Shh...God's Trying to Tell You Something: Speak Lord, I'm Listening, the new devotional journal by Christian author Shearon Hurst. Well, it was just what the Great Physician ordered to heal me from the blues and rekindle my passion to perform God's work and will.
In a voice that is divinely inspired, Shearon writes a daily love letter from God, cites spot-on Scriptures, and then leaves room for readers to write how they can become better obedient to His word and thereby receive the blessings that were designed just for them.
On the massive Throne Podium high above the fishbowl universe, Yahaveh looked upon Mariah sadly before he fell to his face before the Thrones; the Son of God gestured him to stand. And three and a half miles below the Throne Podium, hundreds of millions of the Martyred by the Blood waited in depressive expectation.
With tears streaming Mariah looked into The One's red eyes, sputtering on the words. “O Lord, I bring to your remembrance when all the morning stars sang with joy. Though we're stupid compared to your infinite wisdom, incline your ear to our supplications and forgive us for asking repeatedly; but tell us again, how long my Lord?
“How long will you permit your enemy dominion over those who love you? How long will they be beasts of burden, cattle, fleeced, and ridden into the dusts of death by those that absolutely hate you? How long will you allow this scalding wickedness in your face while blatantly letting our tears be disparaged, unavenged, and always ignored? How long will you let them turn your glory into shame? And how much longer must we witness the madness and blood, and see our brothers suffer blast furnace tortured without reprieve, for supposed righteousness' sake?
“And though righteousness seems an eternity in coming, we're still incapable of calling your abeyance unsound no matter how deep it wounds. With the tears and trembling hearts, we beg you Lord to end the insufferable unimaginable injustice below us. How can anyone be happy in this Heaven when our brothers are slaughtered day and night in our very faces? Bestow your favor upon your children and forget not your suffering servants, who ask for vengeance on the Synagogue of Satan that absolutely hates you, our brothers, and us…”
David shifted uncomfortably warring to align himself to holiness and The One's will. He struggled to remind himself that he was third in Command; spoke for The One, lived for The One, and was Heaven's highest Subaltern High Priest – The Light, and he fought mightily against the ‘somehow Mariah made plenty sense’. He failed.
“…Destroy the stinking Kenites now, that foolish nation who wars stupid, gallivanting the whole earth, broadcasting nauseous evil and beating down everyone who loves you! Your addictive soap opera called the fishbowl universe causes unending depressions and sadness, making the past brotherhood we once had a wisp, some meaningless memory, an unsearchable functionally unremembered that's rewarded with nothing but intolerable agony!
“If you won't consider our brokenness, please consider your precious Earth Father – the only planet not named for pagan's sake, still wearing the holy designation you bestowed when it was our Heaven so long ago. We know you love her, for you’ve proclaimed our Earth will never pass away. Reclaim the planet you gave to our greatest enemy and end this horrific nightmare, in Jesus the Exalted One's name we humbly ask...”
The three sitting on the Thrones trembled under the righteous onslaught; tears cascaded as bellows of black depression washed over they who were The One. Realizing there was no comfort, no reprieve, no time out, no consolation, no answer or action that'd bring closure to the nuclear evil that crushed millions of hearts viciously; the Lord of Hosts choked back a sob as he struggled trembling.
The Zoon vibrated mournful diapason as Mariah continued undaunted, the gold flooring before him wet with tears. “I know you're absolutely sick of us constantly in your face; but we have no recourse but to ask again and one more time. Eradicate the evil rebellious from our Heaven and destroy the Synagogue of Satan off the earth, because they're not like us, like me and you, and do not treasure brotherhood, love, or venerate you – and are constantly defecating on your holy names and everything you love.”
Mariah choked hard, backgrounded by hundreds of millions roaring repeatedly in concordance, How long Lord?
“...We strive to mediate on your infinite goodness only, but we swelter under the blackest blasphemy, ruminating on Lucifer day and night, obsessively hating his unholy guts instead of venerating the glorious how you love us. Open the eyes of our hearts Lord so we can see your glory again, for we are blind to everything but the scalding evil below us. And we stand imperfect against you for we cannot change ourselves in this one matter, though in your grace you've counted us perfect by giving us eternal life.
“But we say we’re flawed and not worthy! With ten billion tears, we've sought relief from the scalding evil below us that makes your grandness, holiness, and beauty moot and insignificant. And that's not right Lord, because we proudly wear your name in our very souls!”
Mariah fell to his knees lifting his hands dramatically to the Thrones, as the mournful weeping continued escalating nuclear, shaking the foundations of The Great House of The One.
“All creation is the mountain of the Lord; you're the God of Jacob, Abraham, and us: the judge destined to rebuke blinding stupidity. We know all souls shall beat their swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks, and no nation shall ever lift sword against nation – and neither shall they learn war anymore.”
Vibrating under the onslaught of the roaring wails, The One wiped the hottest tears as the Zoon knelt giving brilliant respect.
“Forgive me Sire for our disrespect, for we know your ways are higher than ours, as the heavens are above the earth below us. But waiting for righteousness has become a punishing verisimilitude that causes us to constantly adjust our expectations - to the evil that grows exponentially without abatement below us. Slay the wicked now, end the bondage of corruption and offer comfort to your suffering children, for the unrepentant have drunk the cup damnation willingly with eyes wide open! Avenge my murder and the hundreds of millions like me who were slain tortured for your love, fidelity, and the soldiering hard for your immeasurable beauty...”
Mariah fell crushed in front of the Thrones literally drowning in tears, convulsing in misery and sorrow, as the thunderous escalating thunder of millions on the verge of insanity continued unabated below him. Overcome with uncontrollable emotion, David lowered his head as the hottest tears rained through his quivering hands, falling copiously onto his robe of light.
Many slow seconds ticked as The One looked sadly at Mariah, absorbing the massive auditory onslaught. He rose from his Throne overwhelmed in the bellows of wretchedness deluging him – the mournful wails of those designated the finest gold, the precious priceless, and the finished purified faithful eternal.
God paused; This could not be fixed with mere words.
And that moment became the straw that broke the camel's back. The Martyred in the Blood began to vociferate out of their minds, falling onto the floor, gyrating fitfully, drowning in the blackest agony. The righteous roars of millions bellowed blast furnace intense over The Lord of Hosts as he looked incredulously at the pandemonium below him, wiping tears.
The One drew hundreds of millions into his arms, calming them as a mother comforts a fussy baby. Yahshua entered covering each soul with the softest blanket designated the Holy Spirit. The torturous wailing instantly stopped. Yahaveh and Yahshua looked at each other stunned as the Zoon roared stridently in the background.
The Lord of Host spoke a dimensional shift into existence below his Thrones, a temporal reality a whole planet big – where the Holy Spirit saturated the very atmosphere like thick humidity. It was a million fold heavy, another reality past the brim inundated with the Living God, raining the absolute holy, and every breath inhaled designated the very Spirit of God.
And they transported Mariah and the Martyred under their Thrones. They danced blind with ecstasy and sonic joy; but every now and then, a voice departed from the encompassing joy and roared, how long Lord, before engulfed again by the Holy Spirit.
And from that day forth, every Martyred in the Blood lived under his Thrones, for The One had deep compassion and sheltered them, for they were soul-sick of the monstrous wickedness always in their faces. And Yahaveh understood their agony and respected them more for it, because it was birthed from wisdom, righteousness, and great agape love for their brothers and him...
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Universes-of-God-3-The-Chronicles-Of-The-Antichrist/471386022915859?ref=hl
“Simon Peter, this is the Rabbi I told you about. He’s staying at your house.”
Simon Peter eyed Jesus suspiciously; all priests were corrupt.
“Are you one of those Rabbis that take our money like the Romans? Or are you going to tell me you’re like John the Baptist. I thought he’d help us, but he is in jail over the king’s bedroom sins – what a kick in the butt.
“No one talks about the real stinking problem – the Romans who subdue us. I could care less about the spiritual when this stinking world is going to hell and dragging me with it!”
Jesus laughed. He took a step toward Simon Peter and said, “Take the boat out again and I’ll come with you.”
He looked at him incredulously and then at Andrew. Simon Peter sighed deeply choosing his words carefully, endeavoring no disrespect; but he was tired to the bone, wet, and sore all over - it came out wrong.
“We fracking just got here; we’ve been out four stinking days! I am tired, disgusted, and miss my damn wife and children. Not today Rabbi, maybe another time.”
He turned around and screamed, "Get the nets out of the fracking boat!" He returned to help unload provisions and gear off the fishing vessel.
Andrew gave a tortured look to Jesus and ran after Peter, “Listen to the Rabbi – believe me, he’s truly a man of God. Please Simon, do this one thing – I swear on my soul you’ll not regret it.”
Simon Peter shot Jesus a long steely eye. He pouted for a moment, torn between the pleas of his brother and the Rabbi standing so coolly in the distance, as if he knew the lake better than a professional fisherman and captain of two crafts. It was ludicrous and a complete waste of time.
“Okay Rabbi, we’ll see if the fish holler halleluiah and jump into the fracking boat,” Simon Peter said dripping rabid sarcasm.
Throwing the rope into the boat, he turned to his crew, “Cast off, here we stinking go again!” Peter rolled his eyes knowingly as everyone looked at Jesus as if he had two heads.
Jesus looked at the boat moored on the adjacent dock watching James and John mending their nets; he called to them.
And Jesus, Andrew, Phillip, James and John went into the boat with the second vessel following behind. About thirty-yards off shore, Jesus, commanded them to stop and cast their nets.
Simon Peter just couldn’t help himself; he bellowed,” We are too fracking close to shore – even a stinking child knows there are no stinking fish here!”
“Just do it!” Andrew shouted from the other boat.
Simon Peter threw up his hands rolling his eyes wildly, face red with atomic rage; he reluctantly gave the order and the nets were cast.
Two minutes later, Jesus commanded them to pull up the nets.
Simon Peter exploded. “You’re a fracking joke and I don’t care what my stinking brother says; you don’t know what you’re doing! Stick to stinking preaching man of God!”
Cursing under his breath, he shot Jesus a blistering look and ordered the nets up – he was going home; this was kindergarten ridiculous. And what bothered him the most was that Jesus never reacted to his anger, but kept a countenance of utter peace. The last thought that crossed his mind before he realized the nets were full was; this guy is a fracking lunatic.
The crews’ bulging muscles sheening with sweat from the effort strained retrieving the heavy nets. Thousands of fish were flopping on the bottom of the boat, while both crews attempted to find traction on the thigh-deep carpet of flopping fish; and still the nets budged in the waters. As they returned to the shore, both boats were so filled with fish that they threatened to sink. When the two ships returned, hundreds of stunned fishermen flocked around them as the story was spread throughout the docks.
The crews in the background were loudly praising the Lord and Jesus. Simon Peter fell to his knees with tears burning his cheek, “Leave from me Rabbi for I’m truly a wicked man...”
Valentine's has come and gone. You may still be single but have made a resolution to do something about it.
There is help out there: Professional dating counselors give dating advice and look for a partner for your love life like headhunters for professionals.
Not exactly...
Ok giving myself less than a month to edit that book I was working on until I'm comfortable with putting it away for awhile wasn't long enough. Close there, looking at what I have left to polish on it, I should be satisfied with my new draft of The Illumination Query in less than 4 days.
It takes a great deal of courage to submit a manuscript for possible publication. Many writers spend months, even years, putting down on paper what they feel will be, if not the Great American Novel, then at least a darn good one. They look back with pleasure on the long hours of pounding the keyboard in producing that first draft. With less excitement they recall the grueling days and nights editing that first attempt into something they hope will be presentable in the marketplace.
Along with the rest of my books, A patient in time: Jojutsu is an at times riveting, at others difficult and at still yet others colourful mix of short stories (parables) and frivolousies taken from difficult moments in my life, and ripped to the page for all to see. Also concerns my (beginning) investigations into martial arts on the web.
In pursuit of the goal of excellence, A Patient in Time: Jojutsu is divided into two parts. The first, is mostly a collection of stories and self driven narrative. Eclectic as it is deep, this section of the book also introduces the reader both into my writing style, and my (via my protagonist Jojo) way of living.It is from this that the second half of the book takes its manifest. Jojutsu is a style like none before it. Also chistened by the author is ‘Fa chi dao’ or weak monkey style, this is a movement of fingers and hands. Chests and necks. It is about submission over resistance and compliance over combat. But most of all it is calling to draw from a strength within, described by stories and ideas, to beat the enemy and stand triumphant! But most of all it is a journey, started many years before this book was written and finished many years after. So this is a moment. Some ideas, some discipline, nothing less nothing more. Enjoy.
Jojo's Amazing Adventure is a collection of original short stories with inspirations broad and vast. Ranging from Chinese, Hindu and Muslim myths, to more modern inventions closer to home. Jojo the protagonist here within, is sometimes portrayed as a villain, at others a hero. It is up to you the reader to ultimately decide which box you wish to place him!
Meet Author Luna Charles the author on the cover of the very first issue of our very own Author's Info Magazine - September 2013 Issue.
The premiere issue this September of the Author's Info Magazine is presenting to you Luna Charles as author of the month. This hard working mother and wife is new to Arthur's info however she has created a fan club and blogs regularly on the site. Luna is very busy with 2 books published, a third book coming and plans to release a new short story as an eBook each month for free in her Author's Info fan club.
For the full review please see my blog article at http://richardabbott.authorsxpress.com/2013/08/20/review-across-the-waters-of-time-pliny-remembered/ - these are short extracts taken from the full article highlighting the main points.
I came away from Ken Parejko’s Across the Waters of Time: Pliny Remembered with very mixed feelings. On the plus side – and these are very large plus features – this is a beautifully conceived book, with a powerful and compelling imaginative sweep and some marvellously lyrical passages of writing. The presentation of Pliny’s interior thought-world, and its evolution through his lifetime, is splendid, and the historical events Ken chooses to illuminate this come over as pivotal to Pliny, and in some cases centrally important to the entire first century AD. It is a book which can be highly recommended in these grounds alone.
Mark Christensen’s, new novel, “11th Commandment” has been released and is available through bookstores as well as Amazon Kindle and Barnes and Noble Nook. Mark will be doing book signings and speaking engagements in his 500 city USA book tour. His novel has been nominated for 2013 Pulitzer Prize!
11th Commandment is a poignant and powerful exploration of the tragedies wrought by the victimization and abuse of children. Drawing the reader with insight and dead-on observation of the atrocious tragedy of child abuse committed daily by American Adults, no one will close its pages without an impression of the devastation suffered by so many of our children. It will be the readers who will champion for The 11th Commandment, “Honor Thy Children,” be etched into every bible printed.
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