As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
This Sabbath Day's Prophetic Judgment is written by the time you read this, was composed 4 moths ago, as this is when the Holy Ghost Inspired.
While I have written of this before in all of your wealth, luxury and power is not going to save you, all of you clung to that fiction and as each day passes, each day it is closer to the reality of the Prophet Zephaniah in the End Times.
I relish this in what is coming, even when the Bible says no one will want the Great Tribulation. I relish it, because while you left me for dead and lived your lives while I struggled, these time are the great reckoning of the balances as you are now going to be lower than this poor orphan girl and I'm so thankful to God for His Judgment as this is only fair.
I like rubbing it in. I love rubbing your face in it. I like your being troubled. I like your being in denial. I like everything about this as the sands of the hour glass fall, because the Lame Cherry has one thing which you do not have in all of this, I by God's Grace have a use to God in His workings. I have a purpose with all of my faults with God as He accomplishes the shit jobs, thee impossible jobs through me, because I will do the work. I did not tell God, "Oh God talk to me as I want Your answers," and when it was not a glam job, you kicked God to the ditch like you did me. I accept the job, because I have no ego in this and I by God's Grace get the job done every time.
I really believe that most of you are going to give up as the stuff I shrug off are things you can not even deal with. So the distress I have been put through, is no different than the distress of stars falling or nuclear weapons falling. God is not going to place me in a time of Great Tribulation without the Way to carry me through it. I will not give up and go fetal. I absorb the blow, recover in the Spirit and steel myself to move by the left flank again.
Zephaniah the Prophet
Chapter 1
17 And I will bring distress upon men, that they shall walk like blind men, because they have sinned against the Lord: and their blood shall be poured out as dust, and their flesh as the dung.
18 Neither their silver nor their gold shall be able to deliver them in the day of the Lord's wrath; but the whole land shall be devoured by the fire of his jealousy: for he shall make even a speedy riddance of all them that dwell in the land.
I'm thankful for my Grandfathers. They were disciplined perfectionists who did not give up. They were Protestant Christians. My parents I have concluded were both sociopaths, probably polluted by cinema and media, but that was not my Grandfather's fault. They never gave up in early disasters or betrayals late in life. They were the stuff God made me of, stiff necked, stubborn and once moving in the right direction, this genetics completes the task.
They were hard men, with generous hearts.
Whether you know it or not, you are beginning to show what stuff you are made of. I can't say it is that complimentary in most cases. It is a fascinating Pavlov's Dog really in forensic psychology, as I knew a generation which did not have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out, who were generous and caring. In this generation which has so much, the more the warnings come of what is happening, the more the events take shape, the more you become more obsessed in having a death clutch on the money in your possession, in leaving people to suffer and die, in thinking if you rob them, you will be safe, but as the dichotomy is, God is talking to the poor orphan girl and not you, and when you will need to know what God is talking about, you will have lost the source.
I suppose you overlooked that your blood will be poured out as dust and the meat on your bones as shit. You are making the moves to get to that end I wonder if you ever contemplate as I do what your death will be, not in some lily white hospice with a thousand people crying and a nice burial, but rats chewing on your living flesh as you can not move and when you are dead, the only songs lifted up for you are the drone of the blow flies with that wet chorus of maggots wriggling in your rotten flesh.
The Bible always comes True.
When the streets are empty, the are full
With the overflowing nothingness
Of the reckoning pull.
Nuff Said
agtG
