Beauty Deceived

In the beginning,

God, Creator, Supreme Spirit,

Formed a perfect world,

Stood back and smiled.

Such beauty and perfection

Could not be matched.

It was lovely, it was gorgeous,

And He was delighted.

Laughter was heard throughout Heaven.

The angels rejoiced,

And danced among the fresh stars;

Even the solemn and beautiful Lucifer

Played his harp.

But as he played,

The desire to be praised

Sprouted within his restless heart.

Was he not a beauty among the angels?

So it began:

Angels were deceived,

And feet were stilled,

Yes, even those feet

Which had danced the hardest.

And Heaven’s peace

Was split by the cries of war.

Lucifer and his legions;

Took up sword against the mighty Michael.

And from His throne,

God watched the battle below.

He knew what was to result.

His army would win,

But only then, the real war would begin.

The battle ended,

And Satan fled with his demons.

Michael trembled watching his friend rebel.

How could it happen?

Beauty was now deceiving.

The enemy had gone,

But God was the more disturbed,

For He knew what was to come,

And Heaven fell silent.

Perfection was yet among the stars,

But no voices were heard now,

No angels danced,

Something was taking place on Earth.

To the beautiful Eden,

Where God had placed his prize,

Satan had gone first.

The humans were too innocent.

Not knowing fully what had happened,

The angels gaped,

As the human’s souls

Turned suddenly red.

Beauty had deceived.

Those powerful white creatures

Knew not what to do,

So they turned to God,

And there they saw love, unravel.

The Great One came down from His throne,

Hurting and lamenting.

He wailed in sorrow:

His loved ones had died.

He shouted to heaven,

And shattered the planets.

The angels stood, shocked,

How could this have happened?

All of Heaven cried,

And God went below to the humans;

So torn, so loving, so angry.

He knew what would happen.


As the ages went by,

Perfection left completely.

The earth was reformed,

The heavens were dead.

The souls of the humans,

Stayed very red.

But God did not seethe

He only received.

Things were different,

Never to be the same.

Hell had been formed.

(At which the angels shuttered.)

God had not hardened,

No He was the same.

It was they who were different:

The people on Earth.

God’s spirit was white,

Pure and alive.

Theirs were dead.

And their souls were red.

Yes God was still giddy,

But not as often,

For His prize still would not soften.

They were separated by a great veil.

They had lost all understanding

Of the God they had known,

While in the garden to roam.

They saw Him as angry and harsh.

No, He was the same.

It was they who had changed.

They were sinners,

And they were dead.

They saw His wrath, yes.

And why not?

They had rejected His perfection.

They had left, they had changed.

They had agreed with Satan.

God had created them all

To worship Him.

Yet they set up temples to worship the devil.

And Lucifer smiled, satisfied.

But no one knew

That God had a plan.

His love would, in the end, be shown

To even the rebellious ones.

Yes, He would go down one last time,

And show them Himself.

He would appear as a human.

And few would know.

His plan was clear and His mind set.

He was born of a virgin.

He lived as a carpenter.

And no one, except a few who believed,

Knew who He really was.

Yes, God was walking on earth,

And yet He was in Heaven.

God was convicted and tried,

And condemned to death.

Truth be told,

Their own folly would kill God.

It was Adam who had sinned,

And it was Adam who would kill Him.

So the red souls bound Him and stripped Him.

And took Him to death.

It shouldn’t make sense,

And it doesn’t.

The Creator created.

The Creation rebelled.

Now the Creation was killing the Creator,

And yet He would save the Creation.

And all of Heaven stood still.

Not an angel moved.

Even Hell was oddly silent

Above its screams.

Not a star fluttered in space;

It was so calm,

One could almost hear

The planets rotate on their axes.

And far down,

On the earth below,

With only a handful of humans observing,

God died.

And therein lays the paradox.

How could God die?

Especially after all they had done?

It was the humans who should have died,

Only now, if they repented, they never would.

But God could not remain dead.

For in Heaven He was ecstatic.

In one, two, three days,

He would rise, and prove to all

Who really was to be praised.

So now to all men, women, and children,

There is a choice.

A choice of worship,

Of agreement.

In Heaven the angels dance once again.

God’s joy is overflowing,

His passion revealed,

His love demonstrated.

There is a great battle,

Satan continues his struggle,

But we know the end of the story.

God wins.

Yet there will be casualties, my friend.

Will you be one?

We are caught between this great battle;

On one side stands Hell, on the other is Heaven.

Each of us is given a choice of allegiance.

Who will you choose?



Spilled Blood

Recently something made me think about how we have all been hurt. It is a fact of life. The world has been cursed. People are not perfect, it is natural to get lost in the busyness of life, and tread upon someone’s life and feelings. It is not right, it is not nice. God hates to see us hurt; he knows what it feels like. But it happens, and hopefully we can learn from it. I have been hurt sometimes in my life, and I know that I will be hurt even more and probably much worse, but there are some people who are deeply wounded–wounded to an extent that it is all but impossible to forgive. Grudges can be held, bitterness is formed and the hurt never fully heals… they live the rest of their life out of their pain. They show everyone their wound. They expose it, and parade it about in order to gain sympathy. . . . . .

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There are some pains no amount of time can mend, some pains that reoccur like a childhood dream. We try to stuff our hearts with distractions and fantasies so distant that we fade into a quiet existence of delusional realities. We can forgive and forget, love and learn, and yet not escape the ever reoccurring dream.

It is the devil’s great pleasure to grab us with his bloody claws, and penetrate our hearts with his fangs. Our lives are devastated. We rush to the closest alternative of reality in a desperate attempt to forget our throbbing heart that remains lying at the feet of the enemy. The open hole in our chest repeatedly reveals to our dearest comrades that we have experienced great trauma. Out of a desire to show them how badly we have been wounded, we rip open the bandage, tearing off the scabs of healing–creating fresh pain and larger scars. Disgusted, our friends turn away; leaving us no excuse but to blame the past for what has happened in the present.

Longing to see ourselves changed–longing to see our heart restored to our body we start life anew. We tell ourselves that all will be better. Nobody knows our past, no one knows of the wound that even now affects our life’s walk. We stoop over from the pain as if our very backbone has been ripped out as well. It is obvious to all around us that something is wrong, and again, desiring sympathy and attention we rip off the bandages exposing our bodies to new pain.

We feel hopeless. We are hopeless. No one seems to care. Nobody is wallowing at our door begging to comfort! So we return to that place of horror, ready to give into the old venomous devil. We see him on his hellish throne–eager to consume our souls. But first, in a grudge of submission he turns to the heavens, as if for permission. And in stark wonder, we see a bright light, so bright to our sore eyes that we fall to the ground, overcome with even worse pain.

We see, in all His glory, the King standing at the threshold of Hell–blood gushing from His hands. He holds our hearts, but the blood comes not from that–now black, crusty thing–but from His hands, and His side, and His feet. And to the wonder of the whole world, our heart begins pumping, anew, His blood.

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Forgiveness is not a thing we can manage on our own. It is a miracle of God. Only GOD can forgive on such high levels of trespass. Jesus Christ never proved His divinity more than when He requested on the cross: “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

As humans since it is so difficult for us to forgive, our immediate tendency is to fill our minds and lives with distractions and such in order that we do not have to sit and think about our pain. But we constantly live with this subconscious fear, and memory of what happened to us. We go through our lives “stooped over” as it were with this wound–or burden, so much so, sometimes, that we look at life upside down. And we live a life of constant failure, and hate, and fear–we live a wretched life.

But we must remember that all these distractions…whether it’s movies, books, music, work, alcohol, drugs, spirituality, friends, romance—whatever it may be, none of this can replace our “missing” heart. Only God can replace and fill that hole with what it truly needs. Only God, can truly make amends, take revenge, and ultimately forgive. So we must lean on Him and trust in His strength. Then we can truly live a “happy” life.