A child is dying in front of my eyes.
I am in the spirit, the child is flesh. I cannot pick her up or lay hands on her.
Her ribs are so prominent that it appears as if her skin has never known anything but hunger.
Nothing sags.
Her belly is distended and her head seems to be swollen in comparison to the rest of her body.
I don’t know where I am geographically, her and I are alone in a field somewhere, as if she has been abandoned here.
I think she might be Asian.
When her spirit leaves her body, her soul shudders with relief and her spirit comes to stand next to me.
I feel her little hand close tightly on mine and I begin to weep.
I pick her up and we hug each other tightly while I repent to her over and over.
Me:
“I’m sorry that we failed you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
She pulls away slightly from our embrace and places a little hand on my cheek before smiling, kissing me gently and taking Gatherer’s hand to walk into the distance.
She looks back at one point compassionately as if to say ‘it’s ok, it’s not your fault.
But it is.
I am a son of the God of the possible. Nothing is impossible, NOTHING.
Builder appears to my left, the spirit of might to my right.
Builder:
“Every strategy that we have given to you so far. Every instruction, the vision, the wealth creation program, each relationship. Every moment is so that the kingdom may advance in absolute unity to destroy poverty.”
I want to reply but the tears won’t stop flowing.
My spirit begins to shudder and groan. I begin to travail with such raw emotion that I feel as if my very spirit will be torn apart.
Sorrow floods my eternal consciousness.
It is not guilt that rips at my heart so, it is impotent frustration.
I don’t care for the excuses of man and the blatant inaction of the vast majority of those professing to be believers.
No excuse will satisfy me.
As long as there is unnecessary suffering on this earth, I will be the son of sorrow.
This is not acceptable.
How this travesty still occurs two thousand years after Christ is not just a mystery to me, it is a disappointment filled with a deadly poisonous hatred.
The familiar bitterness towards the body of Christ begins to well up in my soul.
The tears that flow from eyes turn to blood and I feel my face contort into a mask of rage. The pull of Lucifuge begins its tug upon my soul and every fibre of my being desires to submit to it.
The judgement of believers means nothing to me. Their opinions are both flies and dung. They let this happen. I have cried out for help for years but they continue to buy their expensive cars, sip their expensive drinks and revel in their opinionated justification of why they are ‘not called to feed the poor’.
So few believers care for the poor that their unbelievable sacrifice is but a small stone in an endless sea.
The rest are caught up in their selfish lives pursuing selfish things, somehow justifying the hell of poverty to themselves.
Even some of the people close to me just don’t seem to care.
They are so caught up in their own desires and rights that I cannot connect with them spiritually. I have to smile and nod my head as they communicate their materialistic disappointments and immature challenges. It is all about them and their exclusive little circles.
Meanwhile, inside of me, a sense of compassionate urgency for the fulfilment of this vision threatens to suffocate me. I crave that connection of universal awareness with someone, anyone.
I celebrate it when I see it in people, my heart breaks when I do not.
I can’t stop weeping.
My feet are completely splattered in the blood of my tears and my lungs fight for air through this horrendous travail.
I try to speak through my grief and manage to force a word out between each shuddering breath.
Me:
“Make… someone…else…Courier.”
Builder and Might say nothing. They simply stand next to me and let the storm run its course.
I long for death. Not for eternal life, death. To perish from this eternity altogether. I have no desire to spend eternity with beings who would justify any kind of unjust suffering.
I don’t want to hear the shallow opinions of man who use wordly wisdom to justify their cowardice and selfishness.
I want poverty gone.
I want it completely wiped out.
I want this more than I want to eat or breathe.
This grief is unlike anything I have ever felt before.
I grieve for the hungry.
I grieve for those who will never have what normal children have.
I grieve for those who do not understand the pain of need and try to explain away the eternal psychological impact of lack.
I grieve for those who speak to justify poverty as something that is ok with God.
I did not want to be courier. I never aspired to this. I wanted out of the kingdom of God completely.
I wanted out of this life. I wanted out of this awareness of how vicious and heartless man is as a species.
My tears dry up. Desolation takes their place. I am exhausted but I can speak.
Might:
“Speak your mind Abdiel. We care.”
I am too tired to hide my thoughts anymore. They just flow out of me.
Me:
“Communicating with man exhausts me. Half the time I feel like I have to put on a suit of flesh to pretend that I care about meaningless things with them.
I feel like someone else is laughing through my lips while I am just a passenger in a friendly person’s body.
I am never unaware of global suffering. Not for one moment, ever. It is all that I think about. My spirit searches the creative realm for solutions at a rate that I cannot explain.
I have no personal ambitions for this life. I have contempt for such things. I feel like I am an alien among a different, selfish species and when I meet other aliens I am so grateful that I want to hug them and never let go.
I don’t understand this species. If they think me arrogant for how I feel, I simply put it down to their way. It’s how they are. They think anyone arrogant who expects them to be what they were originally created to be.
I don’t want to talk anymore.”
The spirit of might grabs me in a fierce hug and laughs into my neck.
I am so caught up in my grief that I try to pull away but his joy is so contagious that I laugh begrudgingly and stop fighting him.
He eventually lets me go for a few moments and speaks.
Might:
“Only the arrogant would think you arrogant Abdiel (he laughs). All who have God’s heart feel the way that you do. Most not as passionately but some even more so than you.
What do you think the Holy Spirit groans about in His intercession? Do you think He groans for your theatrical pleasure?
No, He groans for the same things that you do. He groans and weeps often for changed hearts and renewed minds.
This stuff is foolishness to those who are perishing.
They would try to council you with not taking the weight of the world upon your shoulders.
I council you differently.
The sons of God are destined to rule galaxies! What is one world among many of you? This should be easy and light. But you (plural) do not know who you are. You (plural) have no clue.
Let me say something controversial Abdiel.
These you call aliens, the ones you want to hug and never let go…
People who reject them reject God and all of heaven. You cannot separate righteousness from generosity of both flesh and spirit.
The only measuring stick for love is sacrifice. God loved the world so much that he gave the piece of Himself that created everything. He gave all of Himself. He held nothing back. His expression of love is absolute.
And then, when His son returned to Heaven, He sent the part of Himself that hovered over the face of the deep in the beginning. He sent the alpha, the core of His power. He sent His eternal self. For God is Spirit and as the son is the fullness of His expression of love, the Holy Spirit is the fullness of His power.
I cannot yet explain the full scale of what this means Abdiel, it would take millions of years for you to even comprehend the edges of what God has done for you.
But hold onto this: Love holds nothing back.
And that is why so many of you feel like aliens on earth. Because the nature of the sons of Satan is to hold back but the nature of the sons of God is to give it all.
These 21 days are not just about order, they are about sacrifice. They are a separation of wheat from chaff, or – in a language that you might understand – (he laughs) Aliens from humans! (he laughs loudly at his own joke).
Those who form a bond with you over these next few months will form the foundation of this movement. They are men and women who are about the Father’s business. They take you very seriously Abdiel. They laugh with you and love you but they see the war inside you.
Have fun building this vision. Have fun rolling out Builder’s wealth creation strategy.
Pretend that you are building a mother ship where aliens from all over the world can come and encourage each other before they head out to dwell among the humans again. (he laughs really loudly at his metaphor).
By the movement around heaven and the commissioning of angels to very specific tasks, I can tell you that the Father seems to be moving a lot of chess pieces around. It is as if all of heaven is preparing for some kind of big event. Possibly a grand finale.
Hold nothing back.
Run with this vision and Builder’s strategy as if the lives of billions counted on it. Think like a galaxy ruler. Think like a son of the living God. All of you should be thinking like this.
Never be apologetic about your passion to wipe out poverty.
Abdiel: Whatever you do for those in need, you do for the son of God.
No, not just for Him, TO Him.
Now wake up and dry your tears.
Builder and I shall be with you in your ‘lil’ ol caravan for a time.
Let the Holy Spirit comfort you and keep up the act in your earth suit so that you don’t overwhelm the humans too much with your passion. (he laughs and punches my shoulder).
The kingdom is all Abdiel, and this is a kingdom of joy!”
Builder:
“The kingdom is all!”
Me:
“Righto. Awaken to another day and stay focused on the kingdom. Got it.
The kingdom is all!”
I wake up.
Any fellow aliens out there?
.
.
.
The spirit of might grabs me in a fierce hug and laughs into my neck.
I am so caught up in my grief that I try to pull away but his joy is so contagious that I laugh begrudgingly and stop fighting him.
He eventually lets me go for a few moments and speaks.
Might:
“Only the arrogant would think you arrogant Abdiel (he laughs). All who have God’s heart feel the way that you do. Most not as passionately but some even more so than you.
What do you think the Holy Spirit groans about in His intercession? Do you think He groans for your theatrical pleasure?
No, He groans for the same things that you do. He groans and weeps often for changed hearts and renewed minds.
This stuff is foolishness to those who are perishing.
They would try to council you with not taking the weight of the world upon your shoulders.
I council you differently.
The sons of God are destined to rule galaxies! What is one world among many of you? This should be easy and light. But you (plural) do not know who you are. You (plural) have no clue.
Let me say something controversial Abdiel.
These you call aliens, the ones you want to hug and never let go…
People who reject them reject God and all of heaven. You cannot separate righteousness from generosity of both flesh and spirit.
The only measuring stick for love is sacrifice. God loved the world so much that he gave the piece of Himself that created everything. He gave all of Himself. He held nothing back. His expression of love is absolute.
And then, when His son returned to Heaven, He sent the part of Himself that hovered over the face of the deep in the beginning. He sent the alpha, the core of His power. He sent His eternal self. For God is Spirit and as the son is the fullness of His expression of love, the Holy Spirit is the fullness of His power.
I cannot yet explain the full scale of what this means Abdiel, it would take millions of years for you to even comprehend the edges of what God has done for you.
But hold onto this: Love holds nothing back.
And that is why so many of you feel like aliens on earth. Because the nature of the sons of Satan is to hold back but the nature of the sons of God is to give it all.
These 21 days are not just about order, they are about sacrifice. They are a separation of wheat from chaff, or – in a language that you might understand – (he laughs) Aliens from humans! (he laughs loudly at his own joke).
Those who form a bond with you over these next few months will form the foundation of this movement. They are men and women who are about the Father’s business. They take you very seriously Abdiel. They laugh with you and love you but they see the war inside you.