The of God I I I : The of the Antichrist

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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 youve 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.
The of God I I I : The of the Antichrist
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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 were 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 Mariah 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 of God I I I : The of the Antichrist
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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 vociferated how long Lord, before being engulfed again by the Holy Spirit.
And from that day forth, every Martyred in the Blood lived under his Thrones, for he had
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...

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The Spiritual History of Evil The Redemptive Story
DECEMBER 2014
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