Overcome With Great Sorrow

Last night I had a dream where I was at a church meeting.  The church meeting had only children present—it looked like the children were all under 12 years old.  There was this little boy who was dying of cancer, so a number of us gathered around him to pray for him.  This little boy’s name was Yeshua.  I knew in my spirit that I had faith for this little boy to be healed, but I wondered if these children had faith enough for that little boy to be healed.  There was a close-up of the boy’s face in the dream.  Then it was time for me to leave the meeting.

I grabbed my backpack and started walking away, but this little kid walked up to me and gave me my folder that holds some of my papers, my notebook and an atlas of the United States.  I guess I had forgotten to take the folder with me.

As I walked down the street, I stopped at this house to talk with this well-known actor (he was on the sitcom Friends).  We talked about my Christian faith for a while.  At times, it seemed like he was interested in what I was saying and, at other times, he was mocking me.

When I walked away from that actor’s house, I was overcome with great sorrow for the little boy that was dying of cancer.  The sorrow was very profound, very deep; it overwhelmed my whole being.  I have never experienced sorrow like that before.  I wanted to weep, but no tears came out of my eyes.  Then I woke up.

The little boy in the dream, named Yeshua, represents the American Christian Church (or churchianity) of today:  immature, shallow, made for children.  The American Christian Church is dying of cancer:  it is losing its life, its salt, its ability to preserve the United States.

When the little kid walked up to me and gave me my folder that had my papers and notebook:  this means that my writings are important for reaching out to the Body of Christ—I am feeding the sheep through my two blogs and my two books.  This is significant because every once in a while I will ask the Lord if I can stop writing in my blogs; sometimes I think it doesn’t seem to do much good—especially when we have idiots in the United States who follow people like John Piper, Rick Warren and Joel Osteen.  (The Lord told me to start my two blogs and He also told me to write my two books.)

At the end of the dream, when I was overcome with sorrow:  I wanted to weep, but no tears came out of my eyes.  The United States is in a severe drought this summer because of sin (abortion, homosexuality, earth worship, etc).  It is so dry from sin, I don’t have enough water in my eyes to weep for this country.  Maybe the Lord is telling me not to waste my tears over the wicked that have ruined this country.

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“Truly great men must, I think, experience great sorrow on the earth.”

–Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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A Warning Dream

A Fire in My Bones
John Piper
Rejected
America is going blind!
Shiloh
The Decline of the Oral Roberts Dynasty
A Parable About Lukewarm, American Christianity
Blind and on the Wrong Path

Johnny Enlow Exposes Franklin Graham and T.D. Jakes (1:18:00 – 1:22:00)

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Shiloh
By Tim Shey

Brutal deathdance;
My eyes weep blood.
Pharisees smile like vipers,
They laugh and mock their venom:
Blind snakes leading
The deaf and dumb multitude.

Where are my friends?
The landscape is dry and desolate.
They have stretched my shredded body
On this humiliating tree.

The hands that healed
And the feet that brought good news
They have pierced
With their fierce hatred.

The man-made whip
That opened up my back
Preaches from a proper pulpit.
They sit in comfort:
That vacant-eyed congregation.
The respected, demon-possessed reverend
Forks his tongue
Scratching itchy ears
While Cain bludgeons
Abel into silence.

My flesh in tattered pieces
Clots red and cold and sticks
To the rough-hewn timber
That props up my limp, vertical carcase
Between heaven and earth.
My life drips and puddles
Below my feet,
As I gaze down dizzily
On merciless eyes and dagger teeth.

The chapter-and-versed wolves
Jeer and taunt me.
Their sheepwool clothing
Is stained black with the furious violence
Of their heart of stone.
They worship me in lip service,
But I confess,
I never knew them
(Though they are my creation).

My tongue tastes like ashes:
It sticks to the roof of my mouth.
I am so thirsty.
This famine is too much for me.
The bulls of Bashan have bled me white.
Papa, into your hands
I commend my Spirit.

Ethos
February/March 1997
Iowa State University

Genesis 49: 10: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet until Shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be.”