Oil King…

We make decisions based on wrong and right, it’s black and white, the words sound good, the others in the room nod their heads, well said sir, we don’t make decisions based on the wealth we are entitled to, Solomon sighed, the boss see’s it rather different, what was your responsibility sir. How often they went to war to enrich the few, their sidekicks in place, preparing the contracts before the war even begun, sad but true, nothing escapes the boss you see.

The rhetoric was well rehearsed, the spin doctors well paid, the feel good, that was all that mattered, the blue shirt worker nods his head as he sips his beer, has seen so many jobs disappear to overseas lands, someone has to put an end to it, the rhetoric he hears goes down well, the PR guy smiles, this is working Bob, great cheers, they hide their ill gotten gain overseas, in places few ever heard about, the oil company president is in a great mood, we have to give those spin doctors something extra, he doubles their bonus’s.

At the gates of heaven, the financial elite arrive, they push their way to the top, we have special passes they say, Saint Peter is not impressed. He has the inside story, the reasons they tried to justify war, and how they sold it to the public, no can do he says, but they insist, they show their passes, forgeries mutters Peter.

How many sold out, for the money they were about to make, no can do, there are strict rules to entry, into the house of God, it’s this simple: what did you do for love?

In the furnace, the heat is searing, no relief, a glass of water please, the oil baron calls out to saint Peter, could you send them a warning, please he begs, Peter sighs ,it’s the same as global warming, they only listen when it’s the end.

 

 

Lazarus overhears the conversation, i told you so he says to his real friends…..

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Life is a tunnel

The tunnel is a metaphor, the journey, the struggle, danger, feeling trapped, relying on others for advice, a guide, decision making, dealing with fears, the sense of the unknown, and the outcome, enlightenment, getting there, the I’ve been waiting for it moment, then the light, and hopefully, being free. Imagine it, the caves built, to hide and find refuge in, to smuggle, or hide treasure, your not so sure what you are going for find down there.

A woman crosses into Israel, she is a refugee, needs urgent medical care, is not allowed access the normal way, restrictions, she has to find another way, she uses the underground. Dark Enemy, is building top secret weapon, doesn’t want the allies bombing the regular plant, builds network underground, we have all seen the movie. The tunnel, it has many interpretations, freedom seeking ,a hiding place, a prison, a journey.

When we get to the light, the other end, and we breath fresh air, the euphoria having made it, it was worth it, yes, it was a struggle, but we got there. You have an illness, its’ six months, could be six years of treatment ahead, it’s the tunnel again, it’s the struggle. The chemo you have to go through, the unknown, the experience of others, the guide of doctors and nurses, the support of family, spiritual guides, it all helps you get through the tunnel.

In olden times, Jesus told the early followers, its’ not going to be easy, you will struggle, there will be those trying to stop you, they will even hate you, as for demons, there will be plenty, but don’t ever forget, if you remain with me, you can’t fail, and besides, if I am not there in person, the Holy Spirit will come along, so don’t give up.

Solomon sighed, stepping into the tunnel, the first steps, at least there is one we know for certain, who will always be there, remain steadfast, you are never alone, and death is not the end. Being alone, that’s the darkest tunnel of all, when we actually believe we are.

You can’t Mr President!

Donald has had a difficult night, he got warnings in his sleep, the chest thumped, the medication didn’t work, he got a visit from a Holy Angel, not the demons that so easily circulate, the Heavenly powers had had enough, he has betrayed their trust, his actions are against the wisdom of Jesus, and his actions are giving comfort to extremists everywhere, enough said, the angel gives Donald a vision of the future. Earth quakes, don’t upset him, he has homes in multiple locations, can move at the drop of a hat, considers himself immune. Donald shrugs, give me something worse, he is the deal maker, wants all the options, the angel sighs, I don’t believe I’m hearing this. The pain in the chest is sudden, Donald grabs his chest, gets a vision of the future, pain eases, It’s not a fatal heart attack. The angel is perplexed, this guy in unbelievable, what gets him high, the angel is at his wits end, Donald has only one thing on his mind, money.

The laws they make, the discussion in the background, can we profit from this. The mouth is full of what the heart is, and wiping out another country is the same as a game of chess, it will happen again, and the result will be the same, that’s it. Solomon sighed, that’s what they said about Pompeii too!.

Masters of the World

He wheezes in the bed, the oxygen tank gives him air, on the walls, all around, masterpieces of an older world, treasures he thought, what he’d give to be able to take a normal breath, the one thing his money can’t buy. The friends who call are not real friends, they just wonder how long he has got, and who will be the beneficiary. The cost of the collection, priceless in money terms, with his failing eyesight, he can just about make out the colors. He presses the bell, the nurse comes running up the stairs. He needs water, his mouth is dry, he sighs. The energy it takes to reach for the glass. She holds it to his lips, he sips, refreshing. The Van Gogh was such a lucky break, he got it on the black market, it was looted from a museum during the war, he is the only one to have the original, and it sits before him on the wall, one of the master pieces from the poorest of the great painters; all he can do is imagine what it looks like.

The real treasures of the world, are stored in your heart, Solomon sighed. He was visiting an old friend, not as sturdy as he used to be, but still there, and still believing. No worries old timer, your on the list that goes above, eternity awaits your soul. At the thought the light bursts overhead, casting a light across the room. Every one who comes to visit, a real time friend, no one seeking gain, what a joy. You are near the gates of eternity, and they come to wish you well, and hope perhaps, to grab a little of your Spirit, cause he is a real master of the world. Solomon laughed inside, and you know me well.

He recalled a conversation years before, the argument he made, Love is in the danger zone, why worry about the bits and possessions, you can’t bring it with you, no matter how powerful you are; all you can leave behind is example, make it good he said, and they laughed at him; well, he wondered if they could afford a smile as they arrived at the pearly gates, the masters of the world. Didn’t Jesus tell them the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, just a sip of water. Warned them pleads the Old Rich Man. Solomon saw the signs, and had been writing them ever since. His old friend smiles, golly he says

, isn’t that marvelous, the sun coming out like that, Solomon sighed, unbelievable, but real, a sign from God, amen.

Power of the Imagination

Words, she reads the page, feels her skin at the back of her neck curl, scary, she can imagine it, the atmosphere and the experience, it feels so real. The Power of Miracles, they came, they heard, they saw it themselves, from God he said, The Great One. It must be demons, their first reaction, as if they were afraid of them, they were afraid of him, he could read their thoughts, why the surprise he said, can’t a bird just lift up and fly, see how a butterfly transforms itself, you don’t assume it was an accident, do you?

Their first thoughts; the demon had caused the miraculous, who else had the power. Their own words, pointed to a conflicting force, he was of the light. Imagine it, the dulling of belief, then the resurrection of the Spirit, when they saw it for themselves, food for thought. Imagine, their consciences, their sleepless nights, as they straddled over all the harm they caused, enlightening.

Solomon, was recalling, the episode, when the Pharisee’s challenged Jesus, as to where he got the power to do what he did; It’s simple, when God resides in you, amen.

Healing Music

Is life too much, are you tired, have you had enough, can’t relax, is the world coming in on you, has the actions of the school children hit your mind, what they do to help the situation, the gun violence, how the media commentates, watches, while these young people stand up, is it not ironic, to think that it is always those who are at the cliff face, who act first.

So you want to do it better, you are looking for ways to help, you want to do your bit, your not sure, your the believer who wants to stand up, yet you don’t want to be noticed, inhibited, fearful, a first timer perhaps, well, a little ease of mind and healing will help you on the right path.

I was in a class for basic computers, I can conceive any number of services, online, but I too have to be humble, so I went back to the beginning, and listened, without bias. During a few free minutes, I came across the number, 432, it’s a part of my life, so i went to check it out, and this is what I found. Music.

I played it low during the class, it was an informal group, but the two hours passed unnoticed, and it was all calm. By the way, I am a  perpetual student as stated above, a maturing

one I hope. If you or anyone needs calm and healing, this is a good start, amen.

 

That Hurts!

On time she wakes, presses the button on the side table, the news. My pills, where are they, her first thought, can’t do anything without them, so see thinks. She is hiding demons; not demons inside, but the demons she is actively fighting. Her Spirit is strong, has been known to confront, no one mess’s with her, one strong woman they all say. In the morning no one can see her, the struggle, the weakness, the admitted failure; she drops two morning pills, they will put her on a calm cloud; she is ready to think.

She squeezes her hand, balls it, is the pain gone. She was playing guitar the night before; after there was a long ache, worse than a tooth ache; she wasn’t a talker, she played guitar instead. Her leather trousers are on a heap on the floor; she looks around for another pair of shoes; least she didn’t take home someone. It’s like the mind thing, when you forget, some things she wish she could forget it all; yeah, she had those thoughts, but they never went far, she numbed the demon first. That hurts, it’s her knee, she needs to sleep with it straight, her memory is vague; one thing she knows for sure, Her Spirit must remain strong, and that hurts sometime.

She had it all, another life lost, another star gone. So the pages said, the talent lost. But was it really; didn’t the events give an added energy to her works, as a new generation became aware of her artistic output, and would be influenced accordingly.