When you are given to see the incarnation of bitterness concentrated in your direction, I doubt that there can be a more hideous spectacle, especially when residing in one whom you have known intimately for decades and who is supposed to have the opposite, love, toward you. This comes by revelation but also by outer manifestation in the end for, all things must come to light and be dealt with, and are in the “last days.” Only understanding of God can give one the encouragement to forgive, and faith to persevere.
But bitterness is the lot of every believer and everyone must come to terms with it once and for all in the end. This is the “wicked one being revealed” and dealt the death blow. While it is the worst time of all, yet there is cause for those who believe to lift up their heads because redemption is near at hand. The manifestation of that mysterious man of bitterness is a token of the Lord present for it is in His coming that the son of perdition is exposed and destroyed. But destroyed how? By being redeemed, transformed, resurrected, reconciled to God through the Son of God. It is a great and terrible event.
Bitterness cries, “You owe me!”
And she will not rest until
She gets what she wants.
She’ll not be persuaded otherwise
Nor will a substitute do.
“I disagree with You!” she cries to God.
“Either You don’t know what You’re doing
Or, You cannot do what’s right.
So I have to do it!
I have to take control of things;
I have to protect myself
And get what I want.
Nobody else can be trusted to do it for me.
But I know I can’t,
Yet I have to try
And try and try until
You will finally see it my way.
I am wise in my own eyes.”
Bitterness is stubborn;
She shuts her eyes and stops her ears.
She sees what she wants to see;
She tells herself what she wants to hear,
Yet is deceived in believing
That which is not true.
Her heart worships her ambition and desire
Perceived incarnated in this world’s promise.
Nothing can persuade her otherwise.
And the Lord comes
And grants her all her desire
And more than she asks.
He opens her eyes to see
And she closes them, seeing.
Brokenness cries, “I owe you!”
And cannot rest until
The debt is settled once for all.
He opens her eyes to see
And she rests, pacified.
Content is her new name.
Moon River Estates, Jan. 11 and
Read The Bane
English - Chinese Flattery and beauty are very powerful assets at her disposal and the harlot uses them well. Not only young fools but many a strong and wise man has been rendered completely captive to her seductive powers. Even Solomon yielded his life to her for her promised benefits. But these benefits are very shallow and only temporary, as intense as they at times become, and leave one an empty shell, deluded into thinking he is alive and a chosen servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. In reality he is a whoremonger, at one with the harlot and an express enemy of Jesus Christ. Her powers are awesome her countenance spellbinding she touches the stones gently caressing their response is instant they grow excited they move and enlarge themselves she takes hold gently but firmly bestowing a pleasure almost impossible to resist "Service me and I'll give pleasure forever - refuse me and I'll crush you" an offer hard to refuse "It is heaven," they say she plays them they ejaculate in all directions their substance to the earth her fame they spread abroad they tell the news and become the bearers of death and destruction spending themselves and loving it so. Moon River, February 15, 1991
I have known fear, perhaps not as some have known it but many know fear one way or another, at one time or another, to such an extent that it cripples, paralyzes the soul. We think we have security in this world until one day we are rudely awakened from our pipe-dream. Security in this world is but an illusion. When our disillusionment comes, its comrade-in-arms is often fear. But that disillusionment needn’t be our enemy. In truth, it can be a friend in disguise. Nor do we need to fear as though there is no such thing as true and sure security, for then we would be prey to a lie, to our own destruction. There IS a sure security for those who will avail themselves of it. My fear rides me like a stern rider Rides his horse. Unless I run his pace, His spurs dig deep my sides. I think blood flows at times…I’m sure of it. I scarcely dare to think, to pause For fear I have a rider Who will not show me mercy Who will not grant me pardon Who will not make a move To relent, to ease my pain. “Run!” he says. I run. “Faster!” says he. I go faster. “Faster isn’t good enough! You’ve had it!” I think that if I drop, I have sweet release. He whips me as I fall. Fear is not afraid to beat a dead horse. He seems to relish it, delight in it. The compassion of fear is tyranny, His patience only scorn. He takes the meat and feeds it to minks, And then I think, “Aha! There is rest in the mouths of minks, Fear has no torment there!” Until I find that my rider Is possess...
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