What if you had only fifty-seven seconds of life remaining? What if you could see the timer ticking away, counting down the moments of your life? Would you reach towards your wife and hold her tight? Would you pick up your daughter and tell her your final words? Would you run from the inevitable end of zeros and screams?

Fifty-seven seconds was all I had left, standing on the edge of oblivion I had to choose would I live while another perished? Or would I let those moments tick away until there was nothing but a body left behind? Two men gave in to the terror and cast themselves into the flames of fear, but my feet remained rooted to the ground. Shaking, I stood, unable to hold back the dread. In no time at all, I was weeping, unable to contain my doubts and shame. It reverberated through my bones as I knew the judgment was to come.

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The pangs of survivors’ guilt creep back up my spine, reminding me I didn’t die that day, but they did. Two men, in particular willingly perished so I could live. They ripped me away from the dread and threw me into freedom instead. I am unable to escape their merciful act. It comes to remind me every crisp November morning when I see the scars on my body where blades and bullets punctured and pulverized tissue and bone.

The first man saved my life by letting me steal his own. He allowed me to win during a fight to the Death. I was full of a vengeance laced fire when I faced him. He was a rock of calm as I unleashed my chaos and fought to avenge the innocence which had been stolen by monsters masquerading as men. Admittedly, I was convinced the soldier who once stood before me was the embodiment of evil. Cowardly commanders had decided the face of death would soon be his to wear into the flames of another crematorium.

I was embittered and so angry at what they’d done to the people I loved. I was convinced my rage could snuff out their filthy flames. For years I took their torment and channeled it into the end of steel and a silent syringe. I watched men die while sleeping soundly next to their wives. I took them violently when they resisted, but in all my thieving, I soon learned you couldn’t steal what was freely given.

The soldier standing in front of me that day refused to let me steal the gift of life he’d been given. Unlike so many others before him, he did not fight me with his hatred, rage, or fury, but instead, he murdered my madness with mercy, forgiveness, and peace. He cut me with a double-edged dagger that went into my heart and exposed its suffering to the light of love. He banished my fury with a faith I never saw in the Sunday school classes I attended. He gave me kindness instead of cowardice, and here I am, decades later, still hearing the sound of his beating heart quieting itself to silence.

I can’t escape what he did that day. His sacrifice consumed my fury, and left me weakened, never to return its rage. The carefully prepared plans of mind-controlled men were thrown into the sea of someone else’s nightmare. The soldier’s sacrifice gave me a minute to choose a minute to pause and decide whether I would live or die.

In the depths of my despair, this man had sown a seed of sacrifice which could never be plucked up, passed over, or forgotten. He gave me life while I went on raging in my quest for Death. He gave me hope when I was facing down warring factions of Families who guard covenants for perverts and priests. I chose to turn against the beasts who fed me their folly when I was not yet thirty years old. I gave them the same gift that the soldier had given me, and I offered them another chance to choose what they would do with the moments, months, or years remaining. I gave them a chance to escape the inevitable timer ticking away the final seconds of their freedom.

They chose the cowards clock while I was made to force the timers’ hands by stealing away my future. I placed the pommel in my palm, and just like Saul on Mount Gilboa, I ran myself through with steel until the blood flowed freely. The bullet soon blew away my thigh and left me limping like Jacob on his way to face his brother Esau’s justifiable rage. Fifty-seven seconds began to tick away as I felt my strength fade. I stepped into the cold mountain air that November morning twelve years ago waiting for the Reaper to come and his laughable revenge.

Even there on the side of that cursed mountain, another soldier intervened. He had seen these moments of mine long ago and knew the only way to save a life was through His sacrifice. He saw the many men who would face the Reaper, the women who would face the fires of fury, bowls, bitterness, and other men’s greed-laced lusts. He chose to be born in affliction. He decided to embody the suffering we all would come to understand by weaving himself a tapestry of torment. He made himself a life of loss, so that no matter our level of pain, affliction, or failure, He could carry across the chasm of chaos.

He let other soldiers with braided whips tear him to pieces, all the while knowing so many have felt the sting of someone else’s scorn. He suffered the rejection of his mother, his brothers, family, and friends. He knew what if felt like to be abandoned, passed over, and forsaken. He became intimate with all we have come to regret about this cruel world. He tasted the bitterness that bleached the beauty and turned decades of love into unstoppable apathy. He faced the fury of the very people He came to rescue, and yet He chose to live and lose for them all.

The loss of his life on the Timber doomed the world and would have left us all full of fickle failures and the inevitable destruction. Those who loved him most screamed and grieved for their hope had died with Him. Who could escape those three days and nights of sorrow? Who could run from this horrid reality? No master magician, supreme sorcerer, or wealthy king had defeated Death’s permanent sting. But yet three days still came, and there stood the Soldier, with the Keys of Death in His pierced palms. He rent them from the Reaper and took back what was rightfully His. He alone could conquer the coward’s curse and make monsters into men of meaning, purpose, and passion.

While my blood spilled out of my body, the Reaper came to call me to fill the coffers of his cursed collection. But then came The Captain of Hope, the rescuer of the murderers, liars, and thieves. He who is worthy to be seated above all the gods of old and heavenly hosts came down and rescued an 18-year-old soldier who was bleeding to death on a concrete slab seven thousand feet above the oceans roar. With an unshakable strength, he commanded the Reaper away and ransomed my life with His own. He redeemed me when I was at my weakest, my worst and most ashamed. He chose to rescue me from my madness by giving me the wisdom to save my life and stop the bleeding.

If 57 seconds were all that stood between you and the great void, do you have confidence that The Soldier will be there to carry you across Deaths chasm? Can you rest today knowing you’ve fulfilled your purpose? Have you seized the passing moments with your wife and loved her well? Have you cherished your children and prepared them for wars of wounded wolves, corrupt corporations, and liar’s lips? Have you been bold enough to share your hope with the hurting? Have you fed the hungry your attention, your comfort, and a warm meal? Have you leveraged your resources, reputation, and retirement blanket to clothe the divorced widow or abandoned orphan? Or did you give your wealth to some corporate franchise church where they squandered it on buildings, branding, and marketing their denomination instead of deliverance?

The timer on your life is ticking away. Too many people woke up this morning, not realizing they would never see their son again. They would never have a chance to ask him to forgive them for failing to protect them from the bullies at school who indoctrinated him with lies and grade points earned for studying perverse truth. Men woke up every day, not knowing it was their time to die, but I did. I woke up with their number on my List, and their life was soon measured in seconds, not seasons. I hunted down their final moments, and with a final twist of my wrist, I quieted their clock. Some of them were the embodiment of evil, caught in the act of infidelity. I made sure the next child they met was not another notch in their belt. But unfortunately, some of those clocks I crushed were not monsters, but a stumbling block to a corporate contract and military budget review.

Dozens and now hundreds of men and women died while you were reading this for nothing but a race to collect imaginary ones and zeros on their way to a job they hated, leaving behind the family they once loved. They will be forgotten just like the children who were murdered by school nurses and oath keeping doctors who raped them with syringes of foreign DNA and mutilated viruses. Those children will not get a day where the nation mourns for their shattered minds and ravaged bodies. Their parents will be left with ruin for listening to superbly funded and immaculately dressed liars.

If there are only 57 seconds left on your clock, you’ve already waited far too long. Today can be the day you restore your marriage, reconcile with your children, and leave the seductive systems of man. You can flee the fear of failure and find courage is a currency that only grows when you give it away. Freely I was given more time on my clock, so freely I give to all I can. Take from my life the lessons you need, the courage you’re running out of, and let them fuel the furnaces of your hope. I am a dead man walking, and so are you. But the Author of Life has freely extended to you His eternal inheritance of peace.

So go and be the strange and peculiar person you were made to be. Cast off the weighty accusations those cowards levy on you and weigh yourself down with devotion to a greater weight of glory. You were made for this time, this one moment, perhaps by His generosity, you will be given another, maybe even many more to come. But don’t count yourself greedy for the gains this world would offer you. But instead, count yourself greedy to give away all you have for the sake of the oppressed orphans, those suffering sons, and daughters living all around you. Give them the courage they need to press on no matter the pain in pasts or the scars on their resumes and report cards. Give the young ones your attention instead of the black mirrors you where endlessly gaze. Stand up for the weak when their legs give out from student loans and lost homes. Be the man who sacrifices his fortune, for a marvelous pearl he has uncovered.

Be the woman who stretches out her faith-filled hand towards the tzitzits of deliverance gracing her Redeemers robe. Be the child who has mercy on their parents and forgives them for letting liars raise them, and doctors rape their health and poison their futures. Be merciful with those who doubt. Love them enough to give them your precious moments when they mock you, for by doing so, you will steal away their accusations and resurrect the courage they once had to stand for what they believe in. My brothers, you wounded wolves who still hunt the horrors of your past, remember this. You can’t kill the Reaper, nor can you shed enough blood to make right the wrongs of yesterday. Learn to hunt for hope instead of hating the joy a good life can provide. A man’s life is more than any Monday morning slavery can provide. A woman’s life is not going to be fulfilled by abandoning her children and divorcing her destiny for the sake of another meaningless career. Live abundantly with the ones you love and fight for their freedom by sacrificing your idol dreams and deadly doubts. Then and only then, when your final fifty-seven seconds tick away, you will come to share in that eternal peace and welcome the end with great relief.

Becoming a Double Agent

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Have you ever been given a treasure so precious you hid it away? Maybe you peeled back the layers of carpet and crammed it between concrete and foam. Perhaps you wrote of its location, this great pearl, in an old journal, which is now lost in the boxes marked, “ATTIC SPACE.” Or maybe you grew up in a home where gifts weren’t hidden but were cherished, cultivated, and allowed to grow into wonders beyond compare.

For decades I was raised inside a den of thieves. I was taught by professional criminals how to remain undetected. The sleight of hand was not bound to disappearing thumbs, quarters, or handkerchiefs but evidence of bribery, blackmail, and bitter acts of revenge. I was taught how to live between the shadows of people’s perceptions and the fuzzy reality of truth. It was a subtle art taught to me by people who worshiped a fiery serpent called by many names. This Plumed Serpent gave them a strange fire which they used to deceive the minds of men. It helped them to hide “the hand” which dealt so devilishly with the world.

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Each and every one of us was born into our own strange worlds. Some stranger than others. I could not comprehend the normalcy of my neighbors when I went to their 4th of July parties, where children ran around in honest enjoyment. In wide-eyed wonder I’d see them fill their squirt guns with water from the hose. Meanwhile, my Family taught me to fill them with Ammonia and how to aim for the eyes. I viewed their ‘normal’ life as that shadowy underworld… the place where dreams are made true by the innocence and ease of life. Their world was an endless mirage of fruit trees budding to life in the distance. All the while my Family’s deserts of death rippled in between.

No one ever gets a pass in this life, whether your grow up rubbing elbows with the elite or you beg for food on the street. Life, just as with death, is truly inescapable. There is no way to avoid the explosion of emotions that comes when a phone rings carrying the news of miscarriage, divorce, infidelity, or loss of income. Life will always come calling.

The echoes of those rings can bring us tears from memories of childhood hilarity or teenage antics of ‘risky behaviors.’ Sometimes life sounds like screaming from the frustrations of situations we have no control over.

For all of us the sounds of life trigger memories of the patterns we were raised in. For my wife, Chelsea it was by and far a wonderful life. Where families took care of each other and tended to their children’s needs. One which gave her lenses to this world that were clear, and marred only by the inevitable stains worldly living leaves on us all. The lenses with which I learned to see the world were shattered, giving me visions of many lives perpetually wandering in and out.

She saw the innocence of childhood through her own eyes, while mine came through those stolen vicarious glances. I looked with desert dried eyes at “the family next door” and tried to catch a glimpse of something unfamiliar to me. In all my peering I was convinced by those master magicians, that those moral families, were a cursed land of meaningless misery.

Instead I fell in love with a lie. I embraced it as identity as we all have done. I longed instead to be alone. To cut off from my soul the gift life brings. Maybe you cut the gift of life off, with the job you are addicted to; a career, which allows you to escape your children or marriage and hide behind your pursuit for a better tomorrow. Maybe you hide from the ringing sounds of life by running into the black mirror of a technology. Those breathless idols who seduce us with their promises of comfort and convenience.

We run from the sounds and realities of Life because at key moments in our earlier life those gifts were stolen away from us. They were taken by a dirty comment, a lust fueled touch or someone playing a cruel joke on us. They snatched away from us the truth of who we are. When they told us we were mistakes, failures, or foolish one night stands. Those thieves stole from us the truth and left us a nest of lies built by an architect of evil.

There is a real architect of this prison system we’ve been ensnared in. The authors of evil, the designers of worldwide webs of deception hide among Parent Teacher Organizations, City Hall Councils, hair stylists, and kings alike. They have willingly, but often ignorantly, agreed to be agents of deceit. They create the problems in our life, they manage our reactions like a farmer does his crop. They prune us with poison, while watering their strategically placed seeds of deceit. Until the day comes when they can harvest our reactions and provide us the solution of our demise.

They are masters of their Craft. They walk in to churches and bow their well-practiced knees. Raising their hands higher still they masquerade with the righteous. Hoping their other ‘brothers’ see their good deeds. But The Most High God is not befuddled by their mimicry. He has never been fooled, hoodwinked, or usurped. There has never been a carnal ascension to His Holy Throne. Gods have fought for it and in chains of darkness were they bound, to be punished. Men and women have died in their quest for apotheosis their bodies are found rotting with putrid worms instead.


Dragons, and the agents who serve them, do not battle opponents directly. Instead they are patient, ever eager to allow ‘nature’ to take its course. When Komodo Dragons want to hunt dangerous prey, like a water buffalo, they do so with a far more ancient method of warfare.

The dragons, normally solitary creatures gather together in order to target a far larger prey. In this example they start by appraising a group of buffalo feeding on the island grasses. The dragons soon choose one of the buffalo and then they surround it from its support system. Once it’s been driven from the heard, the dragons, in a moment of frenzy, suddenly launch an assault on the buffalo.

They lash out with the most delicate dance of small bites until a small stream of blood is started. They strike at the heels until they pierce their flesh surrounding the back of the hoof and then suddenly they stop. Letting their panicked prey get up and leave. The dragons retreat, keeping an eye on their prey with a rotating shift. The animal soon becomes desensitized to their smell. Even beginning to sleep with the dragons who use the animal as warmth. All the while knowing, those small wounds are still seeping. The dragons wait patiently while their poison does its work.

For days, and then weeks, and sometimes longer, the dragon’s nest with their prey. Waiting for those long forgotten wounds to fester. Soon the sores begin to stagnate, the venomous infection spreads into every area of their body, as they leak their life into the soil. Then at a moment of their choosing the dragons gather as, wolves to the wounded where they tear their prey apart. Those subtle and crafty dragons are patient predators who consume their captive when it no longer can provide them “a meal on wheels.’

Komodo Dragons, like the Serpents of old, have a poison which does not kill you quickly. They are ancient creatures who are patiently and precisely infecting us all. Whether they walk in a Jesuit’s cloak of concealment, a politician’s promise, or deemed “Safe and Effective,” by our white robed medical priests, they profit off the poison they feed us, the treatments that ail us, and the death of their meal on wheels. https://youtu.be/gE3yUXgEATs

The world is at war with you and the gift of life you were given. Each and every one of us was entrusted with just one life. One day, one moment, a single span of attention bridging the past, present and future. It is what we do with those single moments, which feeds the dragons or reveals their deeds. It comes when the prey suddenly sees the dragon sleeping next to it as the devil it is and crushes its arrogant head.

The reason the architects of evil have so ensnared us all is because human beings are the embodiment of what they can never be. These rebellious watcher angels and fallen princes of heaven will never have forgiveness. They can never be redeemed. And yet there exists a creature who, even after choosing death, can instead be freed to life. The creatures of clay, mankind in all its flaws and weakness, can be forgiven.

No matter what you have done. No matter what you have failed to do. No matter how many times you drank the poison, and let the dragons consume your joy, steal your peace or ruin your family. You can choose to change.

You can choose to turn from your path of self-hatred, regret, or indifference and embrace the gift of Life again. You can be brought out of death itself. Your soul can be resurrected from the grave it was cast into, by your hand or the hand of any other. You can be saved from the destruction of pornography, abuse, violence, rage, and indifference.

You can take the chains, which once bound you to despair and cast them into His furnaces of redemption. The metals of our misery can be refined in the fires of His freedom. He alone teaches us how to turn wicked wounds, into an armor of hope and weapons of deliverance.

We were never supposed to be seduced by the liars we called boyfriends, bishops, or doctors of pedigree. And yet… we all were. All of us have been deceived. We have all been lied too, cheated on and stolen from. We had thieves take our character traits that made us passionate, playful, delicate and overwhelming. But the joys of this Life can be restored to us. It comes when we choose to spend the single moment of time we have been given on the truth. When we do this we will leave the dragons to their nests of unrest and we will find a home built upon The Rock of Redemption.

This world was built to make us believe lies. The gods of this age, those corporate Entities like Disney, the bitten Apple, and SERCO, are ruled by master magicians, wizards, and unholy priestesses of ancient orders. They wave their wands and broadly cast over us false realties that make our little girls want to be heroes of The Hunger Games, until they become trained seduction-wielding assassins like a Red Sparrow. They imagineer our sons to want to be sissy soldiers and turn grown men into teenagers who play video games, while they rape our wives and sisters in their corporate offices, because Feminism and Liberty is our goddess in the United States of Columbia. https://youtu.be/ppojMUT3u6w

So the question remains…. How do you fight an enemy you can’t see? How do you fight a venomous lie spoken into your soul forty years ago? How do undo what happened to you when you were in third grade and didn’t know any better? You stop fighting feelings with bullets, booze, and bitterness. You must learn to fight with an unseen arsenal. You must utilize weapons that did not originate from their armory.

You slay the dragons of deceit by your refusal to believe the lies you were infected with. You fight with humbled knees, tear stained cheeks, and a relentless devotion to resist. We seek to do good instead of evil, to bless and not curse, even to the ones who stole our innocence. When we sacrifice our fury, bitterness and hatred you will be given an unshakeable faith to do the impossible. Forgive….as many times as you have been forgiven.

In doing so, we weaponize the one thing the dragons do not have, repentance, forgiveness, mercy, and above all else…Truth. At the end of the day, the only thing which will slay the dragons of old is the Blood of The Lamb, the words of our testimony, and not loving our lives even unto Death.

We must turn from the internal targeting, which shoots the man in the mirror with the guilt of another person’s mistakes. Instead, we lay our sights on vein imaginations, doctrines of devils and seek to destroy those wounds from within. We ask The Most High God to deliver us, by the power of His Hands from the wounds of words, the guilt of glances, and the curse of cowardice.

We seek salvation not from the life He blessed us to live, but instead from the feelings which stole our peace. We must remember to learn and study the Words He’s given us and fight for our homes to be set free.

Those dragons may come to consume some of us along the way. But no matter what happens, you can come to know the one whose name is Wonderful, Counselor, and Prince of Peace. The Captain of The Heavenly Host will teach you to slay your dragons (Joshua 5). He will show you what they look like, how they speak with their forked tongues of beauty and dis-ease. He will equip you with everything you need to conquer the kings of chaos, titans of sorcery, or restless sleep.

Call upon Him and see if He is not able to rescue. He does not grow weary, He will never fall short, He will reach into the depths of The Abyss and draw you out. (2 Samuel 22) He is merciful forgiving the chief sinners of their detestable days, nights, and worthless slights. He is mighty to save, quick to deliver, and the only One who will once and for all slay The Dragon of Old.

These words are written to remind you, our battle is not with flesh and blood. All wars, whether they are fought with shrapnel or keyboards are first fought in the spiritual realm. The disciples and masters of these magic-(ka-el) realms do so with fervent devotion. They have sworn the oaths against heaven and earth. Forsaking all others, instead they darken their understandings. Divining the secrets of cosmic archons through their astral projections into quantum realms of occulted ethereal space. Ever seeking to succeed they sear their conscience with the hot irons of incest, murder, and spirit cooking’s ceremonies. In doing so, they have done every detestable thing (Ezekiel 8, 2 Kings 3).

They have sought to skip across their Kabbalistic trees of death, by descending to the Abyss of Apollyon. It is from this debased place where they can seek the fallen hosts of captive rebels, called the Qlippoth. These angelic prisoners of perversion are held in the chains of Tartarus beneath The Pit. It is in the dungeons of dragons where modern mystics makes ancient covenants among Death, Hell, and the Grave. They seek to pass through the strange fiery rings of these dragons of the ‘radiant darkness.’ In a quest to go upon the straight path from hell to holy. If they are not slaughtered in their fiery disintegration and they pass through the destruction, they become “illuminated.” Rising from this abyss the magician ascends to a veritable godhood of powers so that they can reign as the Qlippoth’s earthly stewards of evil to achieve their ‘Great Work.’ Now full of the harlots cup they become bodies for the beasts they serve. From this position magicians launch coordinated covert assaults seeking to ensnare the hoodwinked masses into their inevitable destruction.

These super-charged devotees feed their Family spirits and ancient masquerading gods with the dis-ease of the nations. They weaponize fear, guilt, and shame transmuting this negative energy into strange ethereal fires. Only after their supply of wicked deeds are at their fullest will they strike. The precision-guided weapons shoot like fiery missiles into the hearts and minds of mankind. These doctrines of deception find soils prepared by ‘Great Workers’ now long deceased.

Just as a single spark sets the forest ablaze, so too their serpents sting sets the world alight. Look no further, than the rise of spiritism in the 19th century, or the emasculation of man, morality, and eternal meaning in the 20th. But the single greatest truth these master magicians don’t want you to know is this: Their mental magic whether it came from, Aleister Crowley or Jerry B. Jenkins, can be extinguished. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alan_Moore)

No matter the scale of the ritual working, these scientifically spiritual practitioners are opening gateways in all realms of life. Look no further than the five decades of experiments with portals being opened by Neutrinos at Sandford Labs in South Dakota, or with their collider rings and accelerators in Transylvania, China, New York, and France. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanford_Underground_Research_Facility#Active_experiments)

Our media forces us and more importantly, our children, into front line seats while fallen angels are fed the focused emotions of the fans of millions. The Qlippoth’s high priestess Madonna performed her perfect 33-minute ritual at the 2012 Super Bowl Half-Time Show. This single performance still broadly casts her invocations and evocations to billions of eager eyes and open ears.

We must close these doors of deception once and for all. We must cleanse their curses of death by our relentless pursuit of life. We must banish these Magical Kingdoms like Disney from poisoning our children. We must stop daily divorcing our children. Sending them away to institutions of indoctrination where they will be married to the churches of science, state, or emergent new age faiths. We must never be complicit in allowing others to raise our children in nests of deceit.

We can choose this day how we live. We can choose to live authentically. Even when the sounds of Life come calling with bad news and broken hearts. We must stand firm when our Monday morning feeling comes to convince us we are miserable. https://youtu.be/upXA0u3WkME

We need to be better husbands, fathers, and sons. We need to fight for fellowship, friendship, and truth. We need to leave this world of worries to The God Who Provides. We must stop looking for the gods of Mammon to bless us and instead seek the provision that does not rot, rust, or leave us empty. We must be encouragers, quick to clothe the naked with mercy, sincerity, and comfort. Freely we have been given this life, so freely give your life to all you can. In doing so, we might finally shirk off the accurate accusations of our apathy and indifference to the lost and hoodwinked sheep.

Find a way to fight a quiet war of redemption for the souls of whoever may ‘coincidentally’ stumble across your path. The path we must walk upon will always be narrow. Few will find it…fewer still will overcome the obstacles and fulfill the greatest mission of all. Just what that mission is….is between you and the One True King.

I am not the man you should look to for your marching instructions. I am not here to be a leader of a movement, to fight your battles, or be a shot-caller to wolves hiding among sheep. I am a man like many others who was raised by people under the influence of dragons and thieves. I seek other pilgrims who are progressing through life learning to accept the truth instead of hiding behind false identities. I seek your friendships, your fellowships, and your sincerity. I wish to learn to love the life I’ve been given and to fight for the deliverance of the people who once stole it from me.

Whether you are a wolf hiding among the brethren, a courageous peasant hiding in plain site, or a dragon nesting with the elite, you are welcome to walk with me along as we plot our course through the dens of devils and seek to snatch the family trees from those fires of iniquity.

If someday these words find their way to the ones who dealt their Death cards in response to my recent blog and video revelations, may you know; He alone quieted the murderous rage of the sons of Cain. Those Dr. Jekyll’s and Mr. Hyde’s. Those betrayed ones you trained to kill and forget, are now finding peace to calm their storms. May you not forget my family still lives, not because of anything I did, but because of who He is. Do you not know Yahweh is merciful and quick to save those who cry out to Him in their distress? And yet Families love to cling to old traditions.

Only cowards send children to fight their battles, while the Family elders hide behind walls of blood oaths, corporate loopholes, and Family Trusts. Enough people have fought your dirty wars, but we are no longer soldiers for your mystic “jesus.” We have grown weary of your bloodlust, greed, and promises of future bliss.

From within your households will come the agents of your destruction. I am like millions of others, who were double agents hiding in your fiery midst. We may have been born without the freedom to choose, but we have come to know the Author of Freedom. We are no longer children bound to your broad ways of bitterness, envy, and strife. https://youtu.be/jhRWtp1ZV6w

Long ago and maybe last week, us Survivors were the blackmailed bodies from the pages in your little black books. But we have recorded evidence of your double dealings and sown this terrible truth into the winds. Everything you thought you did covertly will be brandished for all. What a terrible and dreadful enemy El Shaddai is to those who persecute His beloved.

My body will one day be broken but my spirit will never again be bound to my former Families ultimate defeat. Your reprisals, threats, and attacks are ill-advised as the spotlight is only growing brighter on your darkest deeds. You have been warned to flee the destruction to come. Soon, the strange fires you wield will consume your Families, your fortunes, and your spell-casting fame. May none of you be found among them. For their magical and material houses will come down, and the crashes they bring will be unlike anything the world has yet seen.

Be relentless in your devotion to understand the Truth and to wield your spiritual weapons with practiced poise. Do not doubt our Deliverer is among us and He will transform what they intended for evil into the saving of many lives. Count it a joy my dearest brothers and beloved sisters when you are able to finally suffer for The Truth, rather than our petty mistakes. Let your hearts be filled with hope because as of now, your gift of Life is still beating. Pounding away those precious moments. May you choose to spend them wisely. I hope you never again are satisfied with hiding your treasures, those gifted brilliant moments, under the rugs of regret, and the carpets of cowardice. Let us be guilty of a life lived with unquenchable passions to see captive hearts and minds set free.

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What do you do when the face in the mirror is suddenly marred by claws of a dragon who’s hunted you from the days of your youth? Who do you call when your bleeding out on the side of a highway after our enemy’s retaliation found its target?

The throbbing of noise is a thunderous bellow of madness. The darkness of the night is suddenly rent open by phosphorous bulbs exploding, launching tracers of light. Metal shards slice through the sky impaling themselves into the fabric of my body, clothing, tires, and the brush beyond the road. Thousands of pounds of a vehicle’s frame suddenly smashes into my body.

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The impact launches me into the air and I am tumbling through the darkness. My body bounces onto the rocks before tumbling again and again until I am jarred to a sudden stop. Just yards beyond my body is a forty-foot cliff of broken shale and scraggy oaks inching their way towards the stars I am now seeing.

My head is pounding. My heart is charging through its paces ready to beat its way out of my chest. The tattered remains of my pants lie in ribbons around gravel raked knees and shins. Some internal evaluation determines I’m still alive and kicking, but I know my life may be a temporary reality. I am assessing myself, determining which injuries are most critical. The blood gushing into my left eye and pouring off my face is disabling, but not critical. Every breath is a reminder of how much damage my torso has taken. Confusion and chaos erupt against me but an immovable belief holds me back from the pit of destruction. Etched into the fibers of that hope is a well-seasoned confidence; my war is not yet over. Tonight, is not the night when The Dragon will have his long-sought revenge.

The thoughts come crashing through my mind one after another. I see the world slip into focus between beats of adrenaline focusing me into a purposed and practiced way to survive. My hearing begins to focus in and I notice tires screeching to a stop. Shapes are exiting vehicles. I don’t know their faces but the strangers coming towards me may be here to finish what they started.

Before a moment turns to two, I hear the truth I need to get out of this alive. “Nathan must survive. He must live and not die. He must get home to Chelsea and Naomi, we have to get home to them. We can’t die here, not now, not like this. I am not done here. I am not ready for this to be where they find our body lost while fighting in a ditch.”

For the first time in far too long, a part of my heart which was so committed to death wants to live. We desperately need to not be done here. We survived a life time of death, but now we want to live in the season of rest. We want to have a family, to see our daughter grow and become who she was destined to be. We need to see our daughter fulfill her miraculous purpose on this earth. We know she is here for the glory of the One True God who entrusted her to us, for such a time as this.

She is the daughter who inspired me three years ago to finally leave the tattered world of murderers, monsters, and money hungry thieves. I forsook the generations of left-hand path work and renounced the sins of my ancestors who prepared a wicked road for their children to be feasted upon.

They did this by making deals with devils during Goetic Magick ceremonies that soon helped them build a fortune on the blood of betrayal. They chose to sacrifice the future of their firstborn children for the sake of building a dynasty.

I however, choose to rebel from generations of rebellion. I gave up families, friends, fortunes and a filthy fame that consumed my restless soul for decades. I finally quite running from the man in the mirror and faced the coward within. I gave the many shattered pieces of my soul back to The Creator of Hope, the Author of Deliverance and one who saved a wretch like me.

I gave Him my blood-stained hands and turned myself in. I was so tired of hiding from the horrors of what I’d been made to do. I was so angry for the things I did to people I was ordered to make go away. I wept for weeks and months and now years for the people whose lives I left ruined shattered after “coincidental accidents,” left them bleeding out on the side of a road.

Even in the suffering, I found faith buried beneath burdens of regret. I came to believe again The Creator alone could somehow make my dealings with death into a testimony of coming to follow The Resurrected King. The God I now choose to serve holds the keys to Death in His pierced hands. No longer will Apollyon rule over those who choose to call upon His Name.

The Redeemer held my bloody hands and did not turn from my shame. He did not push me aside and leave me to be burned. He lifted me out of the strange Family fires I was born and raised within. He did not cast me away but drew me out of the mire and madness of furious anger, bloodlust and hate. He put upon me a peace I am unable to comprehend. He quenched the fires of doubt with showers of His faithfulness. He did not leave me in the house of horrors where incestuous fires were kindled year after insufferable year. He showed me that He is not like my earthly father.

Unfortunately, like too many children out there, I was exploited and trafficked into being many oath keepers night of regret. My fleshly father turned a fortune blinded eye, to the lusts of family members and politicians alike. Though that was the life I grew to know as normal, I can, and choose to, break that cycle of abuse.

As for me and my house, we have chosen to serve Yahweh. The one who forbids such detestable things to be done. The God who does not keep secret the Family’s dark ways. He is a good Father who protects, provides, and ensures you can receive a new life. Because I chose to leave the darkness and call upon His Name, He proved that He came to set the captives free. For I know He smuggled me and my family out of that wretched world and gave me one full of authenticity and hope.

As the years faded into the distance, my wife, daughter, and I left the echoes of The Underworld behind. Into the wilderness we wandered, where we found joy beyond measure, and a confidence which will never be shaken. He is faithful to fulfill His Word; I have tested it and found it to be true. He is a shield to those who trust Him and is a terror to those rebels of fallen will. With our eyes we have witnessed him jam the weapons of disciplined and trained assassins, stop curses from witches who walked in realms of power few imagine as real, and cast off the cowardice within. He has fed us food when we had no money. He has kept cars running without gas, and given us new families who love with sincerity. He has even been faithful to give us homes in places from coast to coast.

The words I speak next are for those who may still be on the fence wondering if it’s worth persevering. If ever you find yourself broken beyond belief or bleeding from a brotherly betrayal, I pray you remember these words. If there is still blood in your body and breath in your lungs you can still testify of His goodness and mercy to all. You can call upon Him who is able to save and He will deliver you. His Name is Salvation. He is the one I called upon when I was a young man full vengeance, hatred, and rage. He saved me then and I knew He would save me the night when my world exploded from speeding wheels leaving lanes and finding their target.

The truth is “Coincidental Accidents” never make headlines like a man murdered in a violent crime. They get buried on the columns of page 12 of the Local news everyone skips over. Family members placed within the ranks of editors and writers makes sure the headlines read just the way they like, after all the blackmail being held over them whispers of evil. Instead of hearing the story, the masses pass over the truth hiding in plain site; missing the martyrdom of people who spoke the truth and paid for it with their lives. The Families know confessions of a dangerous mind only get validated and vindicated when whistle blowers are discredited, destroyed, or dead.

But of course I am only speaking in hypotheticals right?

The truth is the war is getting bloodier every day. For those who’d like to know the truth, go ahead and spend some time looking at coincidentally accidental deaths or near misses in the last 12 months and you will see their scale-covered fingerprints.

I ask you though, what should we expect if the people continue to be willingly ignorant of The Enemies schemes? If you do not study and learn your enemies tactics you will not see his agents at work. You will pass over their sigils, symbols, and markers of death dismissing them as language of paranoid people and conspirators. Ever seeing and yet never coming to the truth, we accept the deception and call it lovely. In doing so, the Sorcerers and Architects live as kings behind the walls of shame-soaked souls.

Day and night the circus we call life plays on while billions pay their lives away to watch a televised Message to The Masses. The holly-woods wand out entertainment as a mockery of people who protect their own enslavement. The endless spells are broadly cast over the nations. Sending forth a false light continually blinding them from coming to the truth, which is inescapable. For soon enough their curses will fail them, their gods will die like men and their crowned and conquering child will be crushed beneath the Pierced One’s feet.

The days of hiding the Serpents spells with eons of secrets are coming to their climatic end. It is time to expose the subtle Craft of the Dragon. Now we know the archons of old and their spidery web of weavers will be stopped when we learn their tactics and tear down their strongholds of illusion.

Let us examine ourselves and understand how we have been so easily overtaken and outflanked, and why we are ready to be overrun. It is because the deadliest of fears have been sprayed upon us all as a weapon of their warfare. This fear which has stained our broken bodies must be called out of its shame-bound hiding place. Now is the time you ask yourself the painful questions we’ve all been avoiding.

When will you fight harder for the truth than you will for the comforts this world falsely provides? Why won’t you be the man who wrestles with the monster he has been and slays the dragon within? When will the women learn their true identity will never come from the sorcerers who curse you with Fashion, Fame, and Feminism? When will our children be protected from poisons and perversions raining from our skies, spliced into our foods, and served up in the prisons of indoctrination we call schools? When will the people be willing to turn from their fear of men and finally fear The One who can throw our bodies and spirits into the fire of judgement?

Do you not know we are here to invade enemy territory? To sneak behind enemy lines and sow in seeds of forgiveness, love, passion, conviction and above all else His Truth, never knowing what that seed may bear. A single seed you plant may grow into an orchard that feeds a family in their hour of hunger. Another may sow a seed into rocky soil where it will lie dormant. Decades and centuries may pass before the soil once hardened by generational curses is suddenly churned and broken by the plow of a pilgrim.

A faithful pilgrim progressing on his journey of a covenant to The King. Soon the seed may be watered with hope for the first time. It may taste of the goodness of unconditional love and begin to grow roots into fertile soils prepared before the firm foundations of the world were laid. The leaves would stretch forth towards the sun-kissed sky they’d longed to gaze upon. A sky of sapphire, rich and vibrant as to cast off the crusty shells of shame once concealing its beauty beneath the grime. Those trees would grow to into places of provision for those trapped behind enemy lines.

Chelsea, Naomi, and I are one family who stumbled our way through the darkness as we escaped from furious Knights of Gnostic Orders and criminal members of off-book military organizations. We found refuge under trees that were planted by men and women some of whom laid their seeds of faith thousands of years ago. Those pilgrims were courageous enough to choose to fight for their family to be free. Lives were laid down to in repentance from the stains of mistakes they wished had never happened.

They are the true heroes who have gone before us that looked upon idols of industry, Magic Kingdoms, and child ravaging kings and said, “No more.” They were warriors of a different breed who fought not out of greed, hatred, or revenge but rather, they fought by their refusals. They waged wars of abstinence setting a precedence of purity, a way of living that was set apart from the streams of seduction swallowing us one by one.

They fed the enemies with forgiveness, mercy, compassion and hope. They offered shelter to spies and hid children who were commanded to be killed and gave them an authentic life instead. They created underground railroads, and smuggled families from bondage into homes of healing. They built cities and called them Refuge, Mercy, and Deliverance. It is in those set-apart places where they let the guilty and demented come and seek justice against the true perpetrators.

They stood boldly before princes, they bowed before The King and denied The Accusers the leverage they sought to condemn their souls. They lived their lives with gratitude, passion, laughter, and hope. They’re love for justice and conviction for His Truth overthrew nations far greater than our own. They conquered Kingdoms with prayers of repentance and found that vengeance was best entrusted to The Rider on the White Horse not the end of our keystrokes of slanderous judgment. They slew dragons with their own fire, shut the mouths of liars and lions alike. They washed the wounds of their tormentors and gave generously even to the thieves. They loved without rational understanding and nursed wounded wolves back to health.

Their testimonies have held together the shattered pieces of millions of broken hearts. They are the true saints which have gone before us. They left this world speechless, by standing in a silent devotion to live authentically instead of dying with regret. They were a strange people remembered for their commitment to a Covenant that promised life for life instead of death for death. They are a people who need to be remembered, not with candles of necromancy and pagan holy days but in The Way we let their lives echo through our own.

Repentant tears need to stain our cheeks as we weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice. We need to be the ones offering our bodies to be cut in pieces in their colosseums of public opinion. We need to post on their walls our testimonies without apology or regret. We need to be free from our fears of anything other than honoring His Name and dying in our quest to slay The Dragon once and for all.

And this dear reader is how we will see the end of our torment once and for all.

The keys to our Enemy’s destruction were written with Revelation long ago and must be used in this war of the ages. “The Enemy The Dragon, that Devil of Old is defeated by The Blood of The Lamb, The Words of our Testimony………..and not loving our lives even unto our death.”

The words of all our testimonies must be authored, spoken and brought out of their hiding. They will strike out as an arrow aimed at the heart of the Beast’s kingdom. These words will in the end bring about its utter defeat. Let me then show you how I’ve contended with this Serpent of old.

The war is raging and it’s time I expose my Family’s serpent secrets and how The Reynolds were ensnared by his ways. Long ago, a tradition was started in The Families. It came when a beloved man betrayed His King. The price for his murderous ransom was thirty pieces of silver. My Family are keepers of this silver. For thousands of years these coins were used to strike unholy agreements that bound fortunes to blood, betrayal, and bondage. Each Family who keeps a coin must pass it from father to son. This Coin is passed down as a reminder of the covenant our lineage has with this beast. It is called The Joshua Coin. The Reynolds are taught it is one of the thirty pieces of silver Judas received for betraying Jesus of Nazareth. This Coin possesses the power to grow the fortune it is placed upon, into a Kingdom the Old Families and Religions would covet, but not be able to control.

To a father named Hardin Reynolds were born children; two of whom, Abram and Richard Joshua Reynolds would grow empires of gold out of nothing but dirt. R. J. Reynolds in his workings manifested a Titan of addiction seducing the world with tobacco, drugs and chemicals that would kill and corrupt billions.

Other Secrets revealed to Abram Reynolds taught him how to turn ore from the earth into Aluminum. The Reynolds Aluminum Company would birth the metal used in everything from nuclear submarines to the Reynolds Wrap found in every household. The biproduct and waste of this metal production, Barium, Titanium and fluorides are then sprayed from the skies, sold as prescription medicines or dumped into the drinking water so the world will digest its profitable toxic waste. The metals and their DNA altering bots seep into our bodies making us more and more like the image of iron mixed with clay. By doing so, our Family willfully sought to transform the world into the image of the beast. This was done with very precise and calculated will, intent, and multi-generational purpose.

The power which builds these ‘Illumined’ Bloodlines comes from the practices of Demonology or Goetic Magick. This sorcery involves the invocation of demon’s, gods, and other entities to give you what you desire, the cost in many situations for this power is legal right to innocence of children.

The Reynolds like many other beguiled Families pledged to a fiery serpent called by many Amaruca, but long, long ago he was Gadri’el. (See 1st Enoch 68) He is one of the fallen son’s of God who taught every stroke of death, the shield, the sword and coats of armor. From his hands come forth the Reaper, Death, and Hades follows him. He is the one who demanded the destruction of their children as a price for future sight of industries, the power to raise up monopolies and govern the wills of the people.

The Reynolds learned of his ways from Mounds uncovered in the country which bears his name. Before their rise to monopolistic power, sacrifices were offered by the Family. Coincidental deaths were conceived, in 1862 when three of the Reynolds siblings were murdered when a Small Pox Vaccine killed John, Nancy, and Ernest. Thus, began a new cycle which has cost lives of children for centuries on end. See The Gilded Leaf by Patrick Reynolds for deeper dive into their ways, another man who has come out against the Reynolds Family Trust.

Because of these old curses, coins and covenants I have been waging a war with the dragon I once called my Familiar, my father and friend. This dragon met me like my fathers before in a place of his own choosing where his Crest of death marks a desert town. I was a young man who was deceived by his subtle promises of vengeance, immunity and a power to slay my enemies. I ate of the fruit of his tree of evil. I was seduced by the desire to be like god.

The rite of communion where this sacrificial covenant took place was beneath the ceremonial stones of a cursed Bridge in the desert of Western Arizona. A land which lies on the boundary of Deaths cursed Valley near the border of California. The Bridge is a famous one only to those who walk on left hand paths and sacrifice right hand lies. Its name is The London Bridge, and yes, it’s actually the bridge you’re thinking about.

It is an open secret but one so commonly veiled. The Bridge built in the 1830’s once crossed the River Thames. But in 1967 a Billionaire named Ropert P. McCulloch purchased the bridge where The Royals crossed, in the gilded chariots, which are now held in honor just a hundred yards away. and dissidents were hung by their necks. It was shipped stone by stone from the center of London and reconstructed over a desert wasteland turned green by Rosicrucian blackmail and a Jesuit pledge of protection. The acre of land on which the Bridge was built was given to The City of London making a veritable embassy for Great Britain. This foreign territory makes the it nearly impossible to have crimes investigated and evil to thrive. The spiritual hold over this territory only darkens its design.

It is in Lake Havesu City, Arizona where in 1971 The Lord Mayor of London, Gilbert Inglefield stood in ritual Magic and laid the stone on which London’s Heraldic Dragon was loosed from his chains. The same Mayor who year-after-year receives the giants Gog and Magog in honor when the City of London holds a parade to the gods of old.

This founding of the city was no coincidence. Starting out as a Cross marked runway in the desert between Phoenix, Vegas and Los Angeles it was named Site Six. It soon became used as a rest and recreation site for WWII B-17 bomber crews to have fun no matter what their appetites were. Years later McCulloch bought the base and the land which became Lake Havesu City. Even the Wikipedia article for Site Six, Lake Havesu states R.P. McCulloch desired to make a “Fantasy island” out of the land and build a test center, “for mind control experiments, the MK-interim line of products.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Site_Six%2C_Lake_Havasu

The London Bridge, and adjoining Island complex, was conceived to provide secret tunneled and private access built into various hotels, houses, waterfront inlets, parishes, and runways. The city grew by allowing cults, rogue military, and religious organizations to come and indulge in unbridled human research, and experimentation. Well placed prosecutors, police, priests, and politicians were there to make sure the secrets stayed buried. Even today it is known for its Spring Break reveling where people with deviant desires can come entice and exploit children and feast on strange flesh.

Families and individuals began to be trafficked to pedophiles and pornography production studios all across its city limits; even the places down by The Bay. These acts of deviance, rape, and murder were recorded and sold as a product of this ‘retirement’ community in the southwest. The highways from California, Nevada, Mexico, Utah and Arizona distributed this modern day Sodomite ideology and practice across the United States.

Cults like Synanon coerced victims into sexual deviance of the worst kind and ultimately began to train assassins in Syndo martial arts. These agents dubbed ‘the Imperial Marines,’ then infiltrated the ranks of governments, corporations and communities alike. Their tactics for control relied on hypnosis, coercion and threats to blackmail investigators, business partners, and anyone deemed a Suppressive Person.

Paul Morantz, a man who fought for decades to expose these criminals of Havesu, was rewarded with rattlesnakes placed in his mailbox. Their rattles had been removed so they would not be detected. He survived the attempted murder yet has been in many ways successfully silenced in the media abroad. All the while the cult members slither their way into groups like the Knights of Columbus, where they change names and move into more profitable child-rich waters. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synanon

To this day the Governor of Arizona, pastors, politicians, princes, and cardinals stand on this Dragon Crested Bridge when they give medals and awards honoring citizens who’ve sold the most lies, authored the greatest confusion, or molested the most altar boys. By doing so they make sure to appease the people who know all too many incriminating details about where the bodies stay buried with the secrets held in state. The details of which may have been published and will continue to be published by the survivors of their crimes. The victims who once had no way to fight back have learned there is more power in the pen than the swords once drenched in vengeance.

The reason I publicly reveal this information is because I am able to confirm: the first clue I’d left in my book Snatched From The Flames has been verified. To those who do not know, in the beginning of my book I inform the readers of a map tucked within my book that hid the locations, places, and identities of many of the true dragons hiding in plain site.

“F.8.8.-109.22.7.-107.12.8.-111.19.5.-50.18.7.
55.3.2.-112.24.8.-129.13.2.-120.13.10.-129.14.2.”

As to who discovered the first clue, you know who you are and I thank you for your tenacious commitment to connect the dots of darkness burning in the Southwest. Forts of Gold may soon be next. As per what is promised in the final chapters of my book, I will release Part One of information documented before the locations could be burned, victims silenced, and cornerstones smudged into mud flooded history. My Family’s agreements with those dragons and devils is no longer one of my choosing. A Dead man’s switch can finally be thrown.

May you rest in peace Jarrett Griemel, your death was not in vein and no amount of non-combat related accidents will cover up their crimes. Everything they have done in secret will be brought to the light. https://abc13.com/archive/6855159/

Perhaps the days of fishing for the souls of mankind are drawing to their end.

“Behold I am sending forth many fishers declares Yahweh, and they shall catch them. And after them, I will send for many Hunters who will hunt them down in their mountains their tunnels, bunkers, caves and secret retreats.”

Jeremiah 16:16 put to words the days we are living in. Those once wounded wolves are needed to hunt down the sycophantic serpents hiding in plain site. It is time we wage war for the souls of even the monsters masquerading as men and make sure they too know they will be held accountable. Sincerely telling them if they turn from their wickedness they too can be redeemed.

I am not afraid of their familiar tunnels and now it’s time to teach you all how to fight in this Underworld. I pray these words remind you the battle we wage is not, and will never fully be, with flesh and blood, but with the cosmic powers, architects and orchestrators of evil, the spiritual wickedness which rules above us in astral places and State Capitals alike. These are the words of my testimony and I pray each of you will do likewise. You never know when the morning you wake up may be your last. I surely didn’t see Death coming to rip out my throat on the night of Pentecost a few weeks ago.

They did not kill me in June on the side of the road like they planned to. For my God is a refuge and a fortress. In Him I rest, trusting He will deal justly and vindicate me from the those who seek my destruction.

All that being said, I am not ashamed to say their death stroke nearly took me out of this fight. My body was broken, ruined, and ravaged like the days of my youth. Dozens of my tendons and ligaments were twisted, stretched to breaking, eighteen ribs bruised some far worse than others. My back and stomach muscles were torn open and my intestines herniated in places all across my abdomen and sides. Not to mention the ravaged flesh of my face from my left eye to my jaw line.

My wife and young daughter were thankfully not present, but instead were left without an able body father, husband, and provider for weeks on end. Mercifully, they were not left with a funeral instead. The additional unbelievably expensive bills have not crushed us but they have bled us dry in an all too familiar, sometimes fearful way. Even still, my wife took courage in The Father’s truth, while I took to hiding in pain and anger. She continued to remind me to not give up, to not grow weary when I was changing gauze and crying every time I sneezed, to be thankful for His mercy instead of bitter at a dragon’s revenge.

Less than two weeks before the ‘accident’ which left me nearly dead, threats were made and warnings issued from the Dragons throat. This came in retaliation for what I had spoken at a conference in Canada where I exposed criminals who cover their tracks with bodies instead of owning up to their crimes. Chelsea and I made a decision when we started this exposition of secrets. We put our faith wholly in The Most High God. We entrusted ourselves to His hands and still do today. No matter the cost. For we do not live apart from His will and mercy and believe the truth is always the right reason to be hated, villainized, and marked for death.

We will continue to fight on, no matter the cost, and I ask you dear reader to join us in our battle. To link arms with us in prayer, purpose, and dedication to the truth. Do not give up when the fire of the Enemy burns down your house, devours your marriage or seeks to consume your children. Stand firm dear warrior, with your feet planted in the foundations of peace. Do not let this world steal your love for the wounded, your compassion for the corrupt, or your mercy for the monsters who once coerced you or led you astray.

Light a candle of hope and keep it ever burning because the army of The Remnant will not be found in pews of pervasion or non-denominational churches of selfish indifference. The true warrior sheep are hiding under the pelts of the wolves they’d once been… ever eager to snatch another Family Tree from the fires of inescapable justice. But you be careful lest you fall into the snare of believing blood, hate, and death will be the answer to their detestable things.

To my brothers and sisters still lost in their fires, let these words be remembered. Let them kindle in your heart a restless courage to face down the monsters within and without. Think often of Joshua and Caleb who stood stronger in their old age than ever they were as young men. The war is long but His strength is unending and He will never fail you, but you must call upon His Name while there is yet time. . . The trumpets may soon blow and the walls of Jericho you’ve hidden within will fall down flat.

So, before you flee like Rahab, the righteous underground trafficker, make sure to discern how to bring those caches of evidence with you dispersing them to the places of exposition marked long ago. Kindle the beacons of revelation for it’s time the world sees what our seed has been doing in darkness. For there have always been agents of redemption raised alongside archons of death.

Do not give in, beloved reader, to the doubts or sorrow but take hope in the promises of our King. He does not grow weary and He will not fail us in our hour of need. I am alive and my heart is still beating because great is His faithfulness, and the prayers of people who stood in my defense. It is these truths which brought me back to life.

To each of you who fed us, sheltered us, gave us places to hide from the madness all around we thank you. Suze, I thank you for showing me the power of faith. To Cordell and all those who grew up in their pits of violence where absent ‘fathers’ taught us life through fast fists, harsh words, and sharp blades. To Austin, for counting me worthy to hide in that hole when the others were blown away.

And of course, to Savannah. Thank you for teaching a soldier how to fight for his future, his family and the people who need to delivered. The enemy never wastes his limited munitions on the dead but rather he targets the bold leaders who step out of the trenches and turn his prized weapons into double agents. Though the sharks may smell our blood in the water, it will only lead them to their own undoing.

Be courageous now for soon the storms will blow. When the world’s eyes are finally opened to the rings of child-exploiting psychopaths hiding in seats of power all around. They will call for blood and death and ‘justice’ like the French did hundreds of years ago. But the answer is not a guillotine and riots of regret. Rather, careful deliberate actions must be taken to make sure the guilty are not able to escape by our dissociative rage.

Instead, the world will call for people who know how to turn personal abuse vendettas into a worldwide Judge Dredd. Soon our screens will be bombarded with greater problems, managed reactions and orchestrated ‘solutions.’ Solutions like an organization of people who will avenge these crimes by investigation, interrogation and ultimately killing the monsters of the earth.

The reward for this great culling will be hundreds of trillions of dollars of multi-generational blood-born wealth. This wealth will fund the most extravagant age man has ever seen. A new golden age shining with the radiance of deceptive light. The demand for justice will be so great the world itself will vomit up the keys to their own escape. The devilish solutions to this great evil will subtly lead them to demand a New World Court like the Palace of Peace in Astana, Kazakhstan or The Israeli Supreme Court building in Israel.

This system will be used to encircle the international cabals of chaos with a fiery serpent out of which a new Phoenix will rise. It will be A New World Order for The Ages engineered and orchestrated by Magicians and Theosophists of the order of Alan Moore, Aleister Crowley, Edward Bernays, Helena Blavatsky, and Himmler. Where men like Nicholas Roerich who placed that all elusive eye on the dollar bill and built Geomancy-charged Master skyscrapers for ritual spells to be broadcast across their New Atlantis. Broadcasts that echo to this day across our black scrying screens we call phones, tablets, and televisions. The message of the Muses manipulating the innocent masses who would brick by brick build The Rebels tower once again. Be careful, dear reader, lest you be found full of the strange fires of those Gnostic thieves and end up like Nadab and Abihu. (Leviticus 10)

Be humble even as your wisdom and understanding grows. Have mercy and patience on those who doubt your words and seek to discredit you for your new found hope. Do not let this world steal another moment of your time but instead be sovereign to your convictions, your home, land, Covenant, and tribe. Be slow to anger and quick to listen even if their testimonies are inconceivable and worse than you can imagine. Let us not be keepers of hypocritic-El oaths, non-existent NDA’s and Compartmentalized classifications of secrets which ensure corporate criminals, religious rapists and government goat worshippers are thriving. Today’s whistleblowers pay less with blood and more with pen strokes, legal reprisals, and frenzied character assassinations. So do not waver from your commitment to see this through to the end.

Stand firm when those fiery arrows rain down. Let your belief shield you, let the truth hold your hope together. May you be guarded by the righteousness of our King. He will vindicate you in due time. Remember, do not fear the ones who can kill the body, but fear the one who can destroy your body and soul in a fire that does not come from iniquity.

Let us not battle against brothers and sisters who are still on their way towards a Narrow Walk. Read the book of Judges, James, and Jude to fuel your fight with love for enemies and neighbors instead of being like Cain and the rebel angels bound by the Mark of hated. Test the spirits always and follow the words of John in his first letter written for times such as this.

I hope you will pray for us and for all those who are in this fight. Pray for those of us who daily go behind enemy lines, infiltrating their meetings, capturing the evidence, and individuals who long to be free. Support those who you believe are bringing forth good fruit and cover them with encouragement, mercy, and patience. Share the truth no matter the cost, for by doing so we will, when it is all said and done, slay the Dragons of Old.