Dream 123

Two billion dusty feet shuffle forward over unforgiving terrain. Whips crack over their backs and their bodies weep blood because their eyes have no more tears.
They no longer cry out to God because daily bread is the only god that answers their prayers. They do not live, they survive, locked into living hell where the most brutal of them govern with fear. The weak are rag dolls, raped at will, butchered and bullied incessantly.
Every foul spirit and demonic thing has its way through willing vessels and there is neither justice nor mercy.

Lucifuge, fallen archangel, now executor of Satan’s economic subjugation, towers over the masses of humanity, issuing orders to principalities of both angelic and human nature. Here in Africa I can see the full impact of his efficiency as a leader and it sends shivers down my spine.

I am in the air, standing on an invisible platform that affords me a birds eye view of all that occurs below. But high enough to meet Lucifuge face to face.

He walks over to me with that familiar fatherly glint in his eye. The noble nose, greying temple, completely focused upon me in the most accepting of ways. A small smile plays on the edge of his mouth as he draws near and I get the impression that he would sweep me up in a great big hug if I were as tall as he.

Lucifuge:
“Courier!”

He comes to a stop a fee meters away from me and grins.

Lucifuge:
“It is good to see you! I am always concerned that you might allow yourself to be swept up in the Father’s lies and manipulated by his lying angels! Yet here you are again, with me, as you should be! We will make a good team you and I!”

He turns slightly and sweeps his arm over the masses below us.

Lucifuge:
“Prisoners of war! Generations of programming, propaganda, slavery – they are ready to worship human saviors. Anyone who feeds them and clothes them will be as a god. Your passion to feed the poor and remove poverty from the face of the earth is why you are here. They seek a savior, they cry out for the rise of a benevolent king. Feed a few million of them and billions will call you God! The west cares nothing for this place, their eyes are blinded, as long as they make money, we can do whatever we want! What do you say courier? Would you like to be a god? Say the word and the finances will be in your bank account within the week!”

I watch women and children being bought and sold, many selling themselves. I watch generations raised in the hell of poverty and the cycle perpetuated effortlessly. I listen to both believer and unbeliever lecture me on how poverty cannot be changed. Wariness from decades of a lack of money and manpower washes over me. Not enough people care. In the millions of people I have ministered to over the years, I can count less than a thousand who have partnered in some capacity to do something about children who grow up in this living hell. I quell the bitterness at the edge of my soul at pastors who have rebuked and discouraged me from working with the poor. And I take a deep breath.”

Me:
“No demon. I do not wish to be a god. Neither will I settle for a few million. Two billion souls will be saved and cared for by 2033 and you will not prevail against it!”

In an instant I am on the land beneath Michael’s calf.

Gatherer is waiting for me and places his hand upon my shoulder.

Gatherer:
“You must secure this property son of sorrow. Secure it at all costs. We wage war on multiple fronts against multiple princes of delay. Hearts are hardened and ears turned deaf to even the Holy Spirit. The heart of the west is hardened against Africa and if they do not relent, they will reap terrors from generations to come as they have not seen.
You are building an international missions base, the largest missions conduit in history. Secure the land so that building may begin.”
Me:
“A very small fraction if what we need has come in Gatherer. The only way to secure this land is to make debt. I don’t even know if we qualify for such a huge loan. And what of faith? Should we not have faith?”

Gatherer:
“Have faith son of sorrow, but faith in the instruction, not in the fruition. We are at war and the enemy moves to take land as we move to take land.
You have started your fast. Make known your needs so that believers may once again hear and, if at the end of your fast 21 days hence deaf ears prevail, do what you must to fulfill the instruction. The land under Michael’s calf must be secured.

There is a great war in the heavenlies for the generation that comes now. When your healing is complete you will move to become both Courier and Commander. But time is short and you must now come out from behind the winepress.
Set your eyes as flint, the son has issued commands. This day (1 December 2016) is the day of your rebirth. The time has come to call forth the captains of thousands and tens of thousands and prepare them for the greatest harvest.
Secure the land, speak with fire, command unity and mark the dividers.

Instruct those who read what you record as follows:
Son and daughter, your road has been long and difficult. But now is the time of the fruition of the crucible of fire. A new thing is being done in you, a fire that cannot be quenched. Behold! The sixth day is almost past and soon shall the seventh be upon us. And neither believer nor unbeliever shall be with excuse.
Do not shy from you calling! Boldly rise and speak with full conviction. The end is truly near.”

Builder appears beside Michael and places his hand upon my other shoulder.

Builder:
“You must make deaf your ears to every critic. You have seen what is at stake and every voice that moves to discourage you must be silenced. Do what you have been trained to do son of sorrow. Lead.”

Me:
“Stay in one place, on a piece of land with no electricity or clean running water, in a nation rife with poverty and racism and lead. Why don’t you send a tornado, earthquake and a coma while you are at it? Could you make it any harder? Let me do this from a nation of abundance, from a position of strength. Or at least let me travel to recruit money and manpower!”

Builder:
“You are to remain under Michael’s calf. You will lead by being the Courier. Relay what you are instructed to relay but do so in confidence and in the power of the Holy Spirit! All that you need will come to you, but now the time has come for you to have the heart of a commander. Do not tolerate doubt and discouragement around you. Take the mantle son of sorrow, and command those who read what is recorded to do the same.
The great reformation has begun and soon the great revival will follow. Speak fire, speak as a lamp stand. Let the spirits of wisdom, knowledge, understanding, council, might, the fear of the Lord and the Holy Spirit fill you and lead you. Make deaf your ears to every word spoken by man. Close your eyes to all that is done by man. Submit only to the horn which is the direct authority of heaven, see only with the eye of the spirit. Close your circle son of sorrow. Those who are blind to the spirit will never see what you see and will hate you for it. Hate not, love unconditionally, but do not allow those who speak lack faith in this vision upon the land beneath Michael’s calf.
Sanctify this land. Let it be a safe place for men and women of vision. Let the dreamers and pioneers come to rest and be restored. Secure the land and build the prayer path so that the land of the tabernacle may be secured.

The kingdom is all son of sorrow and the time has come to be violently passionate and to take the kingdom by force.”

Me:
“I will obey. The kingdom is all!”

I wake up.