For Apostle Peter, Part Three

Friends Can’t Go Where Loneliness Dwells, Part Two

Why am I putting myself out for Apostle Peter? He is a goat and I don’t need his life on this earth anymore. Goats need to go up and be judged. I appreciate his life after he denied Jesus at the cross three times, but I don’t appreciate “the Rock of the Church” as is being manifested in the Christian Church of Catholic in the Pope History at all. I’m sick, and tired, of calling that portion of the first beast (Rev 13) into repentance after ten long years as a prophetess in Jesus Name, amen.

On Twitter, you are playing games. Get off the world and go live your life better than that because you are dead while you live. You are a #VICTIMHATER if you play at Twitter or any other media and don’t make the most of your time righteously no matter who you are otherwise in the Western World. Go on now….eat, drink, and be merry. Put bells on at Churches. We are moving on without you so help us all GOD!!!!

Sia — Dressed in Black

Catholics & Protestants Love Burying Me Alive on

For of a truth, the Master has shown her how emptiness can be simply beautiful. Crushed existence can be appreciated for what it is, but this woman is ruined in that place. She has determined as it is well put in Ecclesiastes: all is madness save the Creator. All is madness, and they chose it too. Knowledge has come full circle, but it doesn’t make any sense at all like it didn’t in the beginning. I AM is the only sense; it is obvious, and they still don’t see it. And she has watched them not see it. She watched, waited, and was loved by God in such a way that she is undone.

This woman who skated for so short a long time realizes even being undone is meaningless without the shape of empty existence God made her, and she realized again how, say, the woman in a hut in Africa trying to survive or the man who cannot get a job so must suffer with the death of his family in famine are worth so very much more than she is or ever will be. There is a guilty, disenchanted confusion with being an American. They who have real pain mean more entirely than she ever did.

But somehow, she was privileged as she skated while living normally how the Father was pleased with her whispering witness. And she fears for she has seen the thunder and the rains come when He pleased as she kept walking.

So in her meaningless place this evening and as the rain falls heavy yet again, when the decision was made to keep praying anyway, there stood Jesus. He picked her up in His arms and rose slowly out of the ocean depths and came upon the shores of the Throne Room.

“She is here, My Liege. She is choosing to pray here at the last.” There is silence, Jesus stands waiting, and the woman is laid bare, dripping wet there.

She does not, nor will she ever, stir the Father to ask for zeal for herself. She is too empty, and she fears God evermore. She knows she has seen sin; she knows she has seen so much horrible and despicable railings against this precious and impossible-to-comprehend Three Who is One yet the anger she has witnessed and felt and even sinned within herself yet repented has left her.

There is nothing of it now because of the emptiness of humanity she realizes is there. We deserve it, every last bit of it, but yet Jesus Christ came and took her up with Him for no worthy reason on her part. She realizes she is wanted somehow. And if she is wanted, so are all of them. There is no exclusivity in emptiness.

She pauses, lying there in the everlasting arms. She recognizes the worth of purity, and how God is pleased with it. And she has been one such. She realizes this prophetic emptiness was placed within her because God made it possible for such a day as this.

And in that place is her greatest responsibility because she knows she can use it if she pleases because she walked in repentance alongside them who led her. She even begged the others to repent with her.

Those of them who walk circumspectly have a little voice God can hear this way even in their emptiness that is the red, simple bow which is not touched. It is human free will wove in some little vessels that comes out as a small living sacrifice of faith, hope, and love–these three. So she pauses in this little place, and she decides she wants to beg the Father a different way today carefully.

She gets down from the everlasting strong arms of Jesus, walks up the stairs dripping, and reaches the face of the God Father. Jesus holds His hand out and helps her up the steps.

With tears in her empty, inconsequential eyes, she touches that face then draws back. She rests a hand upon that knee, and as a tear slips down her cheek, she implores Him:

It is nothing, truly. Do forget it, please? Even Your unjustness is just. But my little pain is nothing, and I know You did hear me, oh I AM. YOU honored me with a hearing. You made this gift, empty as it was. YOU take pleasure in this emptiness somehow, thank You, Jesus.

This wide, deeply small, hidden place does not contain your anger, but your vulnerability instead, Father. I testify to You how there is none of your Anger here somehow. Oh, I AM, your tears, your tears, your tears across time….We were too busy to see your tears. We saw so many of your facets, but we did not see your tears. It has wholly been a privilege to cry with You 144 allegorical years, and this woman is awakened anew at how You love it when some of us will cry with You forevermore. You love it, so I will stay here if it pleases You?

Must she stir this vulnerability of I AM He privileged her to touch? Or must your anger still come forth for the injustices of humankind against womanhood, and then manhood, that are living joyously careless in your unfailing love or in the frolicking, sinful, and degrading happiness of temptations? We have seen it, You and I, yes.

The woman knows not to deny the truths no matter how inconvenient. There is no bartering with God. But as her Jesus did, so will she pray now: not my will, but Your Will be done with this emptiness, this miracle, this undone place of weeping You provided. And she falls again; at the feet of God she will stay forevermore wholly nothing enough to be finally still.

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