My Scrolls

I, The Lord, Speak, Hear, Warn, Call


      the Lord,

               speak to all those who dwell upon the Earth,

                             all those who feel secure and have no need of their God,

                             all those who are comfortable within the lifestyle they have inherited from the labouring of man.


      the Lord,

               seek the faithful and the true,

               the honest and the righteous,

               the loving and the caring.

                      For within these hearts still lives the distant memories of The Spirit of God.

                      For within these hearts still survives the imprint of the uniqueness of the hand of God.

                      For within these hearts still beat the rhythm evident on the cross of God.


      the Lord,

               remember well My time upon the Earth,

                                        My time within the Father’s land,

                                        My time in following My Earthly family in the travelling required of them:

                                        My time in waiting within the jurisdiction of My mother and her husband,

                                        My time in waiting for the commencement of My ministry;

                                        My time in waiting for the death walk to the cross,

                                        My time in waiting through the visiting for the raising from the tomb.


      the Lord,

               hear the decrees of the Father,

               hear the tumult of the on-coming seas,

               hear the roaring of the wind storms on the landscapes,

               hear the plashing of the water racing to escape the confines of the banks and courses,

               hear the advancing fire storm as it advances to destroy its fare as laid before it,

               hear the stress upon the forest as its trees do start to topple—

                                                                                     so to crush what lay within their shadowing,

               hear the rumbles of My candles before they start to spew,

               hear the distant tearing of the Earth—

                                                                 as it weaves,



                                                                               in approaching the ways of man.


      the Lord,

               call to the attention of man to have security in the sight-lines of escape,

                                                           to have security in the speed of the escape,

                                                           to have security in the reservoirs of resources—

                                                                                                            after the sky is no longer dark.


      the Lord, speak of the need for preparation,

                                of the coming need to minister the components of the life support of man,

                                                                                                                 the necessities of life—

                                                                                                                                with acquisitions by the day,

                                                                                                                                with targeting by need.


      the Lord,

               would have My people prepared for—

                                                                  the violence of the weather,

                                                                  the turmoil of man in seeking what he lacks,

                                                                  the impact on supplies,

                                                                  the broken means of delivery,

                                                                  the shortages piling on the needs,

                                                                  the continuance of time—

                                                                                                   when the basics are unavailable,

                                                                                                   when items are not shared.


      the Lord,

               warn of misplaced trust in the communications of man,

                                                         the misplaced concepts of the levels of destruction to be encountered,

                                                         the misplaced trust in credit cards—

                                                                                                    as but confetti in another guise.


      the Lord,

               call to beckon man to learn,

               call to place My people out of the way of harm,

               call to warn the righteous to prepare a sanctuary of God.

                     For soon will the storm clouds gather. 

                     For soon will the winds bring destruction upon the obstructions to the winds,

                                                                                                                                the seas,

                                                                                                                                the rain,

                                                                                                                                the fire,

                                                                                                                                the candles,

                                                                                                                                     with the tremors growing daily.

                     For soon the prepared of God will be in need of a place of safety,

                                                                                                   a sanctuary in waiting,

                                                                                                   a storehouse:

                                                                                                           where the injuries can be treated,

                                                                                                           where the needs of life are kept.

                     For soon will man be in need of the abundance presently at hand as readied for purchase,

                                                                              yet then without the means found attractive to man as a store of value.

                     For soon the gold of God will usurp the papering of man—

                                                                              where wallets are insufficient for the day;

                                                                              where bags grow larger as the wads increase in size,

                                                                              where man’s ability to count is tested to extremes.

                     For soon the market place of man will handle the gems collected by man,

                                                                            will be involved with appraisals as to authenticity,

                                                                                                       with appraisals as to value on the day,

                                                                                       with the bartering and deal making expanding:

                                                                                  where money no longer has the trust of man—

                                                                          yet the merchandise must find a medium of exchange.

                     So the fears of man erupt into the violence preceding possession,

                                                     erupt into the terror of the night,

                                                     erupt into starvation where the pantry door swings wide—

                                                                                                   only to be slammed shut by the wind.”


You’ll be the first to know when new scrolls are added