By Jim Yackel
Incrementally more so today than yesterday is the summer snow and sleet falling - no longer swirling - through the season that isn't. Today there is a little less jingle in the coffee can kitty; a large handful snatched by the demi-demons with dollar-signed eyes. Today a bill goes past-due which only serves to inflame the worm-ridden and cancer-stained hearts of those demi-demons. They would kill you for what is theirs if they could.
The mockers and scoffers - some amongst our own brethren - see the oil but not the chemical rain. The mockers and scoffers see Israel on a map but she is not mapped onto their hearts. They hear that Hamas and Hezbollah are enemies of Israel, but do not acknowledge that these dead men walking with Satan-laced souls do so outside of their American front porches. These mockers and scoffers consider the Storm Troopers as misguided cultists on a fool's errand. If we were given over to unforgiving in our hearts, it would be the mockers and scoffers that we would mock and scoff. But the truth of the matter is that they are fearful and choose to think not and know not because that does not require stepping out of the shrinking comfort zone whose walls are quickly being consumed by a most fearsome species of termites.
While the oil spills into the Gulf, black gold will soon cease flowing through the Straight. Water-logged oil will not heat homes or become refined into gasoline. Oil loaded on blockaded ships will likewise not see refinement. It is this day that calls us to pray for the Holy Spirit's refinement of our souls.
Pure, unadulterated evil sits on America's throne. And this evil boy-king who is but a marionette will continue to saw at the remaining two legs of the American dinner table. When she is on her last leg, America will fall sideways as autumn's red, yellow, and brown leaves swirl with the snow and sleet on the howling wind. She will have been victimized by a usurping dummy with an arrogant smirk painted amateurishly onto his face. His job is to topple America, but his employers may be pleased with his work but not his ambition. I see bullets shot from unlikely sidearms and blood in the Storm as it rages toward a Thanksgiving where many will be thankful just to be alive.
But as the Storm rages and the table falls, there will be peace in the valley. As the paper that pictures of dead presidents are printed on becomes of little to no value, there will be riches stored in Heaven for those who persevere with faith. While markets crash as footballs are passed before empty seats, there will be calm for those who can seek and settle into the eye of the Storm. As this writer prays to fully understand the significance of all the many 3:11, 5:11, 7:11, 11:11, and 12:11 times that he sees on his digital clocks; there will be peace in the valley. Yes, there will be peace in the valley one day, Oh Lord I pray.
These are times in which we must cling to the robe of our Savior. Today is not what it seems, and July will be controlled by the men behind the curtain. The wind and snow are growing increasingly fierce, so we must cling to His robe to keep from being blown into the wind; flip-flopping on the roadside gravel like an empty Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup.
Lord Jesus, we cling to your robe to keep from being swallowed into the quasar. We cling to your robe so as to not fall into the abyss as the American table topples, making way for the growing new world order to grab yet another lever of this dynamic and mysterious Storm. Jesus, we know that through you, there will be peace in the valley as one day we will be free. In your precious name we pray, amen.
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