The Number 88 is fully Justified, Part Two

The Mother Mary & I, Part One

John Michael Talbot, greet Father Pat with a Judah Holy Kiss on Convict Hill

Today is Pentecost. Do you want to know the sign of a true elect person? We don’t look at time. I became vaguely aware that today was Pentecost when I wrote the linked piece above for John Michael Talbot. I thought perhaps Pentecost was in April and I was simply listening to this dear man’s exhortation late. I’m not kidding. It’s kinda like the first weekend of December 2017. There was Brother Mahesh teaching up a storm and there I was thinking I had some serious back pain going on down my right leg. Then it broke out on my right shin after Brother Mahesh left. It was shingles. Shingles ya’ll ain’t nothing like childbirth or back pain. It’s shingles. Ouch but not as ouch as, say, childbirth.

The little incident two Pentecosts or three Pentecosts ago that I shared in that linked page–I didn’t know that was the day of Pentecost either. Go ahead and laugh. But you aren’t laughing at me–you are laughing at everyone not elect.

That is because you stand around watching us elect, hating on us, being jealous toward us, trying to figure out how to get with the program just like elect keep doing all glory to God, and/or minding your own business–and that is a good thing, minding your own business along with us, as long as you are loving the Lord your God first and loving your neighbor as yourself.

Ahem. I’m in my 44th year of Christianity. Maybe that’s why I’m so dad gum tired one minute and waking up on the Day of Pentecost and cleaning house (in the 3 AM hour) before going to church the next minute while pumping out blog articles just for the heaven of it. I got my laundry and Ed’s laundry done too.

I mean. My kids go to Washington DC and then an 18 part blog series pops out. Whatever. I’m mindless about being elect until that christian is arguing with me or trying to get me to figure out how to submit to them because they are a male who is chocked full of shit they were taught in the church. I’m not kidding here either. Moving on..…..

Here is the mathematics for the #88. I am spitting this out of my 144 core insides for one simple reason: GrandDaddy Robert Hilton Beaty. I haven’t seen him yet. I aim to. I aim to.

I’m just kidding. That’s none of my business and I don’t care. I love Jesus and I don’t care. That’s my story and I’m a stickin’ to that story forever in Jesus Name, amen.

I don’t know why I need to release this part two. I just do what I’m told because that’s called obedience to God Almighty– but I don’t “do what I’m told” anymore if you are a human human, America. I cannot believe I just typed that. But I certainly just typed that.

If I have to tell one more freaking person, no matter what age, to stop telling me what to do I’m gonna…….throw more eggs in my drain field. You lost that privilege of telling me what to do on September 25, 2008 in Jesus Name, amen. Maybe help out around here, say thank you to me alot, and otherwise appease the pink dragon of Edith’s that grows, and grows, and grows.

Let’s see if that works better for America the next five years, OK? Ok. Everybody in Austin, Texas, on Pentecost 2018 probably is going to find out Cara had a repeat. I’ve done this before. I got very wet as I first went to Life Austin and heard Pastor Randy teach and then walked to my car. That’s all I had to do to get my second shower this time. I did it at Cathedral of Praise one time, and I think that may have been 2016.

I was on the third row on the right at Life Austin’s Chapel. Poor man, Randy. He had to have a little help with his communion thingy. Poor Cara, Prophetess. I felt sorry for Randy and sorry for me. If there are two middle-aged lovers of people in Austin, Texas, who are feeling a load on our very real shoulders right now, it are Pastor Randy Phillips and Prophetess Cara Coffey.

John Paul Jackson, you bugger. This ain’t fair. You don’t feel any loads at all and you are probably laughing a lot. Whatever, Brother John Paul. You might better get in a fresh supply of wine for Randy Phillips and Cara Coffey–we ain’t Baptists but we put up with the Baptists and I behaved myself this morning when they put a Baptist-raised singer up there to sing a hymn that was prophetically accurate numerically. I was like, “this ain’t fair.” I’m left to take Franklin Graham’s Baptist head off and that beautiful lady gets to sing and Pastor Randy gets to ask for help getting his communion thingy open.



2018-1973=45 so I was 44 in the Lord yesterday, so to speak.

44×2=88 Go team Beaty!!!!!

I am praying forward for three years for this double new beginning. But in a way, it is already here according to 1 Corinthians 13:

For the last three years of my grandfather’s life, he walked as Christ did. He was born in 1903 and died at the age of 30 in 1933. When his three years began of death turned to life, the math looks like this:


So I sat in the third row, chair #6, at PromiseLand today. Six years, revival, and Cara Coffey with Grandpa Robert Hilton Beaty is what I’m talking about right here, right now, in Austin, Texas, in Jesus Name, amen.

Grandpa Robert Hilton Beaty died in 1933 because his vehicle ran over him–they were dirt poor, Grandma was pregnant with Dad, and his truck had a broken drivers’ side door.

He was 30 years old. I am 44 years in the Lord right now. I became a Christian at the age of seven in a Pentecostal Church as I was baptized by Brother Walker. You know that volcano in Hawaii erupting right now? Yeah, Brother Walker lives in Hawaii last I checked.

He baptized a little girl in Garland, Texas, at his Pentecostal church, he had both the Beaty funerals of Edward Kenneth & Patrick Clayton Beaty at his Pentecostal Church, too. And Edward Kenneth Beaty played the guitar in worship at that Pentecostal Church just like Ricardo led worship today with a guitar at PromiseLand, and my hair was almost dry by the time I was worshiping with Ricardo at that Pentecostal Church.

Some of my adult kids are watching King of the Hill and love it right now. Its setting is Garland, Texas. But that ain’t the Pentecostal Church. I’m just saying, but we need to have SOMEthing good not happening at the Pentecostal Church around here in Texas on Pentecost of 2018.

Why? Because Jesus is the friend of tax collectors and sinners but my kidz ain’t that. They damn well better not be. I’m kidding. That’s none of my business when they are adults though I did manage to tell my #6 what to do one more time before he turns 18. That’s a miracle. You don’t tell Coffey Kids who are Adults what to do. You can reason with them, but you don’t tell them what to do. Ahem.

This testimony doesn’t make any sense. That’s fine with me. Maybe I’ll get in less trouble as I pass into my 45th year of Christianity this year since it doesn’t make any sense, but shit–That 45 is a digit sum of nine and no offense to the Creator but I’m having just a little issue with the numbers 9 and 4 right about now of a 52 year life on this earth.

Let me please remind the elect peoples of the world: I’m 52. 5+2=7. Let us stick with Cara Ann Beaty-Coffey keeping her feet on the ground one hundred percent of the time right now and forevermore at least through 2020, please and thank you for your consideration and let us do that all together, NOW, in praise and worship to God since I am physically a digit sum of seven along with my first son Patrick Stephen Coffey. That is my Dude born on my birthday. amen.

God the Father threw another storm today. I walked out of Life Austin and got wet, got in my Toyota and went to Starbucks off Barbara Jordan, went into the PromiseLand building but went around the Theater since it is flooded in the bathroom system and needs to be fixed like it does in my utility room and in my mother’s pink bathroom, kissed the Wailing Wall on my way into the church building, enjoyed the service, and then came home. It is all glory to God and in Jesus Name, amen. I love the number 88. It is a good day to declare, in Jesus Name,

A Double New Beginning on Pentecost 2018 in Austin, Texas.

Death turns to life according to the testimony of Jesus Christ according to Revelation chapter 12 eternally forever as it concerns Uncovered No More–Who is with me? You wanna take a good stand for a while? I faith, hope, and love you do. All glory to God! Hallelujah! Our God Reigns!

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