seven::twentyfour

Yes, the blood-thirsty eventually drown, tumbled and tattered by crashing seas, eternal and short-lived. And others will willingly follow, and some will cheer on the shore. I am not neutral, but I neither follow nor do I cheer.

The day approaches when the lands of freedom shall freely show their oppressive souls. Vapors will emanate throughout the landscape. The name of God will be spoken. It will be cursed. And it will be blessed. Unlike now when it's cursing is draped with lying praise, etched on stitched banners of life taking colors. Tanks and tombs and unmanned aircraft, blood brothers.

And who is mother, brother, and sister? The ones who listen to the will of our Father in heaven. The ones upon whom martial law will be wrought. The ones sitting with Christ, the lowly. The ones not calling for God's silence and blindness to their murderous intentions, but the ones maintaining vigil, alive throughout their selves though death lurks in the throes of power.

The drowned will be drowned, though I hold no staff. I think. I know not to cheer. I'm learning to not fear for myself, but I do hope to weep for brother, sister, mother. It is sickening, the smell of rot and sulfur, so I close my nose and dream of frankincense and myrrh, not to be ignorant, but to taste the truer scents of eternity.

Forgive them. Those words will be hard to speak thinking of what I see happening. They know exactly what they mean to do and are doing and have done, with a Pharaoh's heart of straw bricks. And, yet, I know, too, what I do, and I need to be forgiven. So I do not cheer. But I am not neutral, for joy still touches me.

Can we be at peace? Dear God, I hope so.

(Exodus 14:21-15:1, Exodus 15:8-10, 12, 17, Matthew 12:46-50)