Promises and Doubt

How can one NOT be excited about the promise of a reward in Heaven?

It seems to me that there are two types of religious fanatics. The ones that are ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN of God and His Reward, and the ones that are SO uncertain that they must put up a front.
I KNOW that God exists. I know that Jesus is the Son of God and the Saviour of Man.
How can I KNOW these things and not shout it from the tops of the tasllest mountains?
Do I still have my doubts? And WHY? HOW?
Given what I have experienced, the dreams that have come to me. HOW CAN I HAVE DOUBT?!?

Your salvation is not a foregone conclusion.

Your salvation is not a foregone conclusion.
I wonder if the downfall of otherwise would-be "good Christians" is in their arrogance of assuming that they; by their deeds, thoughts, and what they believe to be their Faith; are already "saved."
It seems to me that the "fear of God" is not fear of retribution by way of fire & brimstone and pillars of salt, but in living each moment of every day in the knowledge that your salvation is NOT a foregone conclusion.

Another dream I had...

I drempt of Jesus and Raphael. First, Jesus was standing there, bathed in lights. I was washed over with a sense of contented happiness. The Raphael stood to his right. I could feel myself smiling, warm and happy, even in my sleep.
Then I saw a man standing on a rise, clothed and awash in white light. The light seemed to emanate from everything around him. He had long white hair and beard and long white robes with sleeves that emulated angel's wings. His robes were tied with an gold rope.
He was waiving the multitudes around him forward. I realized that this was St. Peter of the Gates. I woke up filled with joy that I might have found that Jesus and Raphael were still with me.

The Path of Right

Man does not need the Devil to make him do bad things. Man is capable of dreaming up an committing horrors that that would give the Devil nightmares. Sure, there might be an antithesis to God that we call "The Devil." If there is, His interest is NOT in the souls of the Evil Man. The Man that caused the Holocost. The Man who slaughtered thousands upon thousand in Rowanda. The Man who betrayed the trust of the Children. He already has those. He is vying for the souls of the Good Man that strays from the Path of Right.
Do what you know is Right. Not The Church's Right. Not your Guru's Right (unless you're Guru is Andy Fedder, then you had better damn well pay attention.) Not your Mom's or your Dad's Right. YOUR RIGHT. You know what it is. You know that sometimes it is hard. But try to stay on the Path of Right anyway. It will serve you well in the end. And for the Love of whatever God you worship, serve, deny, have a passive-aggressive relationship with, whatever... don't do Right for fear of the Devil. Just do Right because it is the Right thing to do.
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A rant inspired by an advertisement that I saw on FaceBook about "The Face of the Devil" or some foolishness like that.

Lost my way

I feel as though I have lost my way. Not so much strayed from the path, as missed a turn somewhere.
I thought I felt him the other day while driving, but then the doubt drove the feeling away. Did I miss my calling. my opportunity again? I so wish that I could recover that First Dream. To make sense of what had happened may have helped me see where I was supposed to go. Now I feel as though all of that has slipped away.

Would I be worthy to done the Armor of God and pick up my flaming sword to defend The Gate?

Water- a Haiku

You crash over me
Like water from heaven's hold
And wash my soul clean

Am I moved?

Am I moved? What is it that I want so badly that it makes my heart ache with longing and sorrow?
I took blessing at communion today and now I am struck sorrowful. I do not understand.

A dream I had

As I lay half sick and half asleep in bed, I half pondered my thoughts on Christianity, and indeed Christ himself.

I half prayed in my drowsiness to God for answers to my many unanswerable questions.
Even as my eyes were closed, many images flashed before my mind. Images of cathedrals, crosses, then the face of Jesus, cowled in a hood, but looking down at me so that his face was plain.
This was not the Anglo-Saxon Jesus of western art, but a realistic, Middle-Eastern looking face.
There was an artistic quality to the image, but not one that I can readily associate with any piece of art that I have seen.
As I saw this image, a voice spoke to me. It was a very synthetic (or metallic, like speaking down a tunnel) voice but it spoke encouragingly to me. Even as I was drifting further towards sleep, I tried to focus on what it was saying. The only words I could discern were "...my dear...". The rest was garbled, and I thought at the time; "Is that Aramaic?" Then my years of doubt tumbled in and the image and the voice faded away. I was puzzled and saddened, but then I slept.

He waits...

And so He sits on the Throne of Heaven and waits. Waits for Man to realize his own potential. Waits for Man to stop depending on Him for all of the answers, depending on Him to take them by the hand and guide them, depending on Him for their salvation. It is only when Man realizes that God is within them, that they will realize that God in in the world.

Even the Angels have free will. None will ever again revolt against God for what happened to Sataniel. We all love and serve God, but some serve begrudgingly due to God's elevation of Man above them.

***

We grow weary of the evil in the world and our inability to directly interfere. Just as God rules Heaven and we oversee His dominions, we may no longer intervene. We must move through the strong of heart.

As Lucifer is the overseer of Hell, and the other fallen his Princes, they may not directly interfere. Alas, they have minions who do that. But it is chiefly Man who creates the evil in the world. I do not understand how Man can commit such atrocities that Lucifer, even as Satan or Sammael, could have never dreamt up. The Devil does not need to LEAD Man into temptation. Man does fine on his own.

First Sin

The first sin was not man's disobedience to God. The first sin was Sataniel's rebellion against God.

I do not have FAITH in God

I do not have *faith* in God.
I *BELIEVE* in God.
My experiences with Raphael, my dreams, my visions leave me no choice.

An imperfect Historie...

The Bible is an imperfect history of mankind. A mythology of sorts.
Some of the stories have a basis in historic events and facts, but they are stories, passed down through the generations before being committed to writing.

Again...

West bound on I-285, coming home from work. The usual heavy traffic that is characteristic of Atlanta. I glance in my rearview to see the car behind me as we all crawl towards our various destinations. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I glance again. The car has become an emergency vehicle, lights blazing, and siren crying out. The EMSV Passes me on the left. Children's Hospital Critical Transport Unit.
Heavy traffic impeded its path. It will go nowhere fast.
I look back again and am blinded by the golden light coming in from the back of my head.
I see his face looking at me through my own eyes.
The light. The PAIN.
I am pushed froward in my seat as though something was wedged between my shoulders and the drivers seat. Wings.
My arms outstretch. Locked. Pain.
The traffic ahead of me parts like the Red Sea.
My right arm is numb.
The EMSV Makes for the opening, and goes.
Tears and pain.
My exit. Right.
I can see from below that traffic has once again closed up around the vehicle.
The lights go off. The siren is silenced.
The little blonde haired, blue eyed boy in the back didn't make it.
I tried. I can't shake this.

Driving In Between

On a long dark road
Going nowhere in between
Driving by feel
You can't imagine what I've seen

I've seen days like nights
and nights like days
I've seen the sun block out the moon
I've seen falling stars
like fire from Mars
bringing us to our doom

On this long dark road
With nothing in between
I don't know where I'm going
But I do know what I've seen

I've seen gods like devils
and angels like demons
I've seen men nailed to their cross
I've seen fallen saints
and risen sinners
I've seen the found never know their loss

On this long dark road
With no exits in between
No one knows where it goes
But we all know where it's been

A Party, An Unexpected Visitor, and the Beginning of the End

A Party, An Unexpected Visitor, and the Beginning of the End:

The night of the 14th of April 2007... It was in fact, a dark and stormy night.
It was Robin's birthday party. Jimmy and Cindy, Liz and Joe, and various other assorted guests were there. There was much drink to be had.
There was a tension between Jimmy and Cindy, and Jimmy was drinking and smoking to excess, which was not particularly in character for him, though it had been commented upon that Jimmy might be looking for some drama. He would receive it.
At some point, late in the evening, Jimmy started to have an asthma attack. Robin took him out onto the front porch to get some fresh air.
I came out a few minutes later and inquired as to the problem. I was told. Robin had laid Jimmy down on the ground, and was kneeling beside him, laying her hands on him to bring him comfort and healing.
I grounded my left foot, and laid my right hand on her shoulder, drawing up energy to feed her and assist her.
Then the Light came. It crashed into me from behind with the intensity of a freight train. It came through the back of my head, golden and brilliant, blinding and painful. I can remember seeing it behind me, in me, through me, even as my eyes were closed.
What happened in the moments after that, I must rely on the testimony of others. It is said that I reached down and laid my hands on Jimmy and spoke in words unintelligible. His breathing eased, and I got up and walked off into the rain and the dark.
Our front porch was prone to several inches of flooding when it rained, and tonight was no different. As I walked away, I can remember a woman's voice on the porch saying "Oh my God, did you see that? He didn't even touch the water."
When I came to, I was standing behind the apartment, just off the back patio... standing in the rain and lightning and thunder. And stone cold sober.
I went back through the apartment and back out onto the front porch. Jimmy had recovered from his asthma attack, but was now crying, sobbing, with his eyes clenched shut. Robin was furious. "What did you do to him!?!" Between her raving at me, and listening to Jimmy's protestations, I gleaned that since the moment I touched him, his eyes burned with a freezing, blinding light, and he he could hear the sound of feathered wings all around him. "He keeps asking about the Book Aaron! He keeps asking to see the Book! What did you say to him!?! WHAT DID YOU DO!?!"
By this point, Liz and Joe had moved Jimmy to the other side of the porch where he was in less danger of getting wet from the flood waters.
I knelt down beside Jimmy and he was still crying about the freezing, blinding light, and the feathers and the Book. Liz and Joe were on the opposite side of him from me.
Once again, I felt the presence inside of me, though not as intense as before, compelling me to place my hand over his eyes and speak. And once again, words came out that were not my own.
Jimmy cried out and tried to pull away, saying that he didn't want it to go away.
All of this infuriated Joe, and he urged me off of Jimmy, saying that we were not going to do it this way.
I took my hand off of Jimmy's eyes, and he had stopped crying. He opened his bloodshot eyes, looked at me and asked what was going on, what had happened.
At this Robin pulled me away, even as Joe moved between Jimmy and I.

The next thing I remember, Robin and I are in the bedroom. Jimmy has recovered, sobered up a bit, and remembers little or nothing of what happened. She is insisting that I never discuss this with Jimmy. That he was born and raised Catholic, and this would just mess him up. I was trying to make heads or tails out of what had happened. She just keeps saying that it was all because I was drunk. Because we were all drunk.

I had been visited by the Archangel Raphael. Me. I was an unbeliever. I was not a Christian. For most of my life, I was anything BUT a Christian. I grew up spending my summers in a Hindu Ashram. I only went to church when I was with my Grandmothers, or my best friend in grade school. I have been a pagan, a practicing Wiccan; very nearly attaining my Priesthood. I have hunted ghosts and demons. I had been an active Scientologist for over ten years. For everything that I have seen and done, I was not prepared for this. I had believed in angels as supernatural forces. Powerful spirits of the deceased, or creations of God, sent back to watch over us. The concept of Archangels was a fancy. A way to quantify an experience. But now I knew differently.
As the next few days passed, I tried to discuss what had happened with both Robin and Liz. Neither of them would talk to me about it. I needed to know what they had seen, what they had heard, but neither of them would discuss it. That dark cloud that hung over Robin and my relationship began to churn and thicken. It would not be long.

That First Dream _ c. March 2007

Some number of days, weeks or months  around April of 2007.

The darkness swirled about. An infinite darkness. No texture. Not even the illusion of light that one might see when one closes their eyes in the dark.
A woman's voice spoke in the darkness, and asked: "Who are you?"
Another voice, a male voice, calm and patient, the voice replied:
"We have been here since the beginning. We have seen the creation and the fall of Man."
Then a second voice, just a calm, just as patient, the voice spoke:
"It is We that carry out our Fathers word and law, it is We that deliver His justice."
Then a third voice, a bitter sounding voice, this voice that was unknown for certain, spoke, as if addressing the second voice:
"Too long have I lived in the shadow of your light...
"It was not our Father who cast down our brother. When the War began, it was not Him who had to do the dirty work, but US!"
I awoke at the final line, as it was delivered like an iron door being slammed shut. There was more to this conversation, but much it has faded in the time since the dream was dreamed.
It is of great sorrow to me that these things were not made record of at the time.