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cymorilcinnamonroll · 4 months ago

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Awake O Sleeper (A Jesus x Mary Magdalene Romance)

The Asherah grove at the heart of the temple of Our Lady is full of olives and grape vines, in the sacred heart of our worship. Men come to do penance to the Goddess, worshiping us as the qadesh leads them into the bosom of the Mother. I often go to the well at the temple’s courtyard and wish upon the moon reflected in the still waters. She is beauty in the grips of Yahweh, bosom companion of our Heavenly Father.

Jerusalem is a bustling city, full of Canaanites and Samaritans and Jews and Philistines. This Bethany township is but an extension of the metropolis. Herod rules from his abode and the Temple is corrupted, and people are forgetting the old ways, cutting down Asherah groves at the root and pissing on her fig and olive trees. Where stands a temple to El, there rests an Asherah grove. From the Mount of Olives to our own temple in Bethany, where I left Martha and Lazarus behind to become a priestess, I have been trained in anointment and service to the Goddess.

Sometimes starlings roost in the roof and we clip their wings to keep as pets, and I am reminded, I do not live for myself, but for Her, and my body is but a vehicle of prayers. The grove has stood for mayhaps thousands of years, as the olive tree does, cut down then to spring forth from the stump. We prune, we worship, we sing hosannas and we do not weep.

There is nothing to weep over in the temple of the Goddess. Sacred whore, they say, woman of seven devils. It is true, there are demons in my mind, and I am wont to make love to the Damned as well as the angels, as all my fellow anointed qodeshah are, but that can break the body, disassemble the mind, leak out your wineskin until you take the shape of the emptiness of stars, and then, mayhaps, you die. But I survived the temptations of Samael, I have roosted in Lilith’s Huluppu tree, I have eaten flies with Beelzebub and tasted fish to fight back Asmodeus. I have consecrated my virginity to El and Asherah, and Asherah, dear Asherah, has staked her claim on my destiny.

There are rumors from Nazareth. From Egypt. From Galilee. From sea to desert to mountain strand. God walks in human form. Merely twenty, and I am eighteen. He goes by Yeshua, like Joshua of old, and I am Miriam Magdalene in this temple, a watchtower of the lord, Migdal Eder. Mary Magdalene as the Greeks who worship through me say. They say this young man preaches sermons on mountaintops and topples false idols and cuts down Asherah groves. Cuts the Goddess down by the root. Says he is El, says he is the Father.

I have no time for fools. I have no time for false messiahs. I know Asherah, I know El, and though the Messiah is promised, he does not live on manna alone. This Yeshua shits and bleeds, I am sure he fucks, and were he to come to my temple, I would take my teraphim and drive it through his heart.

God bleeds, after all, and Simon Magus is just as much a fool, levitation or not. So is that John the Baptist, beheaded someday soon, an Essene surviving on stale locusts and rotting honey and dumping bodies in the River Jordan.

I survive on the wilderness alone, the barrenness of my heart, for it is only by being empty that one can let the Goddess in. I am a vessel of dripping myrrh and a garden of lilies, oh Asherah. These cults come with passing moons and cycles of suns, and they wax and wane, Mithras and Cybele and Anath and Baal (there are many Baals, after all) and the strange peculiarities of the Romans. I say, stick with what is tried and true. Lady Asherah is Queen.

My brother Lazarus has taken up with this Yeshua, and I hate this false prophet for it. For stealing my impressionable, starry-eyed brother as some false disciple. They say Yeshua loves Lazarus so much he would raise him from the dead. Crackpot talk. Martha, my sweet older sister, has entertained this Yeshua at our rich home across the field. I refused to go. Why, perhaps because Martha wants to know the heart of God, and this Messiah, this Yeshua, has a strange draw on the practical types like Martha and dreamers like Lazarus alike.

They say he believes women equal to men. That his mother Mary and aunt Salome and friend Joanna and now my sister Martha are equal in his eyes, his radical ministry in the desert. They sew and preach and anoint. In his name, they cast out demons. This strange man that claims to be God may well be speaking parables of smoke and mirrors. Here at my temple, we give our bodies over to the Goddess. When has this Yeshua given his body, his blood, his Sacrament, over to God? If that happens, I shall fall to my feet and worship. But he goes around in tattered clothes, a wanderer, and has the woman radically engaged in his ministry. How strange.

Lazarus writes that Yeshua will not touch women. Resists worshiping the Mother. Does not know the way of the flesh, is a Rabbi yet will not take a wife. Will not even contemplate a woman to share in his ministry at its highest point. I think of the rumors flying around Jerusalem and the provinces often as I tend to the duties of the temple, sewing and cleaning and singing and worshiping in body, wine, and moon’s blood.

How can this Yeshua have sway over Martha and Lazarus, when but Asherah is the way and Yahweh, squeezed into a man’s body, would have but the world as his Logos? Were he to meet me, would he give in to the Goddess? Has this strange madman forgotten the way of our ancestors? For every Yahweh, his Asherah. Thus this Yeshua needs a bride. To neglect the Goddess, why, that usurps the whole sun and moon. That is light without the darkness of the womb.

A starling comes with a note summoning me from the High Priestess. There is a visitor. I must go attend to my temple duties. He has requested me to anoint him and be his vessel of worship. The High Priestess say he has paid handsomely for my Sacrament. Far more coins than ever spent on one of the temple priestesses. I wonder if it is mad Herod himself. That would amuse me more than anything.

I dress myself in scarlet, anoint my cheeks with rouge and lips with berries, line my eyes with kohl, and make a messy knot of my curls. My hair never behaves, auburn in that strange way of women burned in Egypt as witches and my eyes the light speckled brown of a sparrow. Once I am done preparing, bedecked in jewels as befit Asherah, I go to the qodeshah room.

There he awaits. Smiling like a lamb yet with the grace of a lion, dressed simply in dusty white, all lithe muscle and smiling dark green eyes that the fire dances in. Smoke clouds the room. I have the sudden urge to run my hands through his dark locks and kiss him senseless. Gravity overtakes me, that calling that drives me into ululations of ecstasy, only it is not one of the seraphim or cherubim that courts me, but divinity himself. Who is this stranger, eating grapes and draped like a Roman over dinner?

“Miriam, a glass of wine?” he asks with a voice like olive oil. He takes the carafe from the table and smiles bemusedly. The red sloshes into a bejeweled cup. His hands are like the milk from the cows of spring. Not the color, mind you, or the softness – they are tan and calloused, fingernails short like the poor. I would think him a carpenter or stonemason, someone who carves idols or builds temples.

I take the glass of wine and scrutinize him. “I am the one who offers wine and anoints you, oh mysterious stranger. Don’t you know the ways of Asherah?”

He laughs like an ewe. “Oh sweet Miriam, but that is not my purpose. My purpose is to do penance and devotions unto you. Come, sip the wine of my blood. It is to you I offer the first Sacrament. They will forget it was you who I offered the Last Supper to first, thirteen years before my death. Eat this bread, this loaf of my flesh.” He takes from his pocket a rich loaf wrapped in linen. I take it hesitatingly, dip it in the wine, nibble a bit, and it is somehow the best meal I have ever had as I chase it down with the goblet. Strange, this man, a mystic perhaps.

Suddenly, I smell blood. “What?” I ask, incredulous. I look down at the bejeweled cup and am horrified to find ruby blood. The bread I hold is a heart that is bleeding. I drop both and scream. This man laughs, laughs at my terror, laughs at his miracle, as if it is the most mundane thing a woman could ask for.

“Yeshua?” I breathe.

He beckons me to him. It is the most natural thing to curl up beside him. I am under a moonspell of Michael, and rushing water fills my veins, icy yet warm, like the River Jordan meets a desert night. We lay together chaste yet starstruck and I stare aghast at him, unable to resist his gravity.

“That is my name, yes, sweet Magdalane, my comely Bride. They will call you a Whore. But you are my Truth, the Gnostics will adore you, and the Cathars, troubadours, and Knights Templar will worship at your hips. You are Asherah. There is no need for this temple, not anymore, as I hold you here manifest in my hands!”

He runs a hand through my curls and unbinds them. “So it’s all true. You are the Lord made flesh…” I trail off, my tongue still bloody and warm with skin and meat and muscle and gore. The bread I dropped and my goblet of wine have disappeared. I am hyperventilating, barely cognizant in the overwhelming grace and fire of this stranger, yet I know him better in my heart than Yahweh, for he is the Father El, made Son.

Lazarus and Martha were right. Damn me a nonbeliever.

“I am but a man, at most, with a few tricks up my sleeve. You will be my comfort, dear woman. My apostle of apostles. My witness. Follow me out of this cursed ground and leave your seven devils behind. The ways of Asherah are over. For you are Asherah, not these statues, never these trees. To be material is a terrible thing! The ways of whoring out your body are done. It is the dawn of a new age, of my sweet Shekinah, my Wisdom, Sophia made New Eve. Cannot you see how red thread bears my loins and your womb together? They will whisper about us in hushed circles millenia down the line, write us poems and canticles and heresies and all agree that to me, you were above all the reason, my anointer, my best disciple, my most beloved. I will raise the dead for you. I will die for you. And you will grow old without me, and you will be my testament, oh Migdal Eder.”

His words are rapturous. His words are true. I cannot divine the future, but I feel the shape of it.

We burn the Asherah grove down with my oil lamp.

I leave behind any vestige of myself.

I follow him out of the temple, across the field, on a donkey out of Bethany, into the winepress night.

And never, ever, do I look back.

Thirteen years pass, and the Last Supper draws close. I am a mystic following in Christ’s footsteps, ever-weeping, washing the dust from his feet. Peter damns me for my passions, but Levi praises me, and Mother Mary holds me closest of all.

Rain outside the window of our kitchen, and Lazarus’ body is held up in the tomb for four days. My sweet older brother, a starstruck wanderer at Christ’s side, just as I cast my lots in with this mad messiah whose gristle and blood I drank down thirteen years ago at the tender age of 18. All to know redemption, as my Temple of Asherah burned and I left my wanton ways behind for higher ground, better things, blessed by doves. To become Asherah in my own might and right! The plague took Lazarus, a wasting away with pustules and jaundice and fragile limbs.

I thought with the Lord, all things were possible, but in his domain is death, and so in my quiet ways, I rage.

Martha and I have washed and dressed and anointed our brother in myrrh and linen – our wealthy parents died when we were but children, leaving us treasures beyond measure as merchants are wont to do and Martha and Lazarus to raise me. The whole town is in mourning over Lazarus, and our expansive household has been filled with mourners.

Yeshua has been at Jerusalem preaching to the masses, but I sent a pigeon from our dovecote with a letter to my Lord of his beloved’s death, our family whom he cherishes above all, and Christ wrote back in eager, wrathful script that even death has no hold on his disciples.

So we have prepared a feast for the other wanderers: dates, lamb, greens, bread, wine. Martha and I have been hard at work in the kitchen baking and cooking and mixing herbs and fruits and vegetables. I purchased vintage straight from Italy a local trader had traveled far to obtain, enough casks to hold a wedding feast like blessed Cana, only this is a funeral.

I can hear him rumble with wrath in the distance. My sweet Rabboni feels like an oncoming storm. Sometimes when I am debating and sparring wits with him over philosophy and pedagogy and theology, the sky suddenly darkens and thunder rumbles as Christ opens his lips, and out comes rains and retorts as lightning strikes. Once we were debating the virtues and vices of angels – how do they serve God, do they have free will, yetzer ha ra versus yetzer ha tov: is a teraphim able to care for its family or is it more golem?

I said I did not believe in free will, and Yeshua said: “Then what shall I die for but humanity’s freedom, my Migdal Eder?” and he laughed like a wine press and it began to gale and storm.

He took me into his arms and we danced by palms at the oasis in the radiance of the tempest, singing hosannas, and I was soaked to my underclothes and my red dress clung to my breasts and hips. Peter would call me an adulteress just for that. Christ’s dusty white robes were glued to his skin like a snake, Nachash be damned. Lazarus found us both dancing like plagues and begged us come inside and break bread with the other disciples, but we were lost inside each other, starved of the wrath of God.

Mother Mary brought us blankets afterward as we both rid ourselves of chills by the fire, Joseph laughed, and Salome made it a running joke: Mary and Yeshua have the tempers of storms, beware if they curse your fig trees or drive your demons into squealing pigs in the ocean’s squall. Salome and her dagger tongue! Judas remarked we could have been struck by the firmament, but Yeshua said: brother, I am God, can’t you see how the storm is my heart of darkness? Peter and Thomas and Luke and John and James paid reverence to Christ, but I was too busy staring into the fire we grilled fish on, eating my loaf, haunted by what would come when the sky darkened for Yeshua’s death.

My eyes tear up at that memory as I am tending Christ’s bread, which is his body, a small taste of what is to come. It is leavened and ready to be devoured. I set the table, the long wooden beauty my father picked up from some far northern country, was it Ing’s land? Who knows, but the Celts have such intricate eyes for knotwork. Living beasts in the legs. I would like to go to their province someday. To see where these curiosities come from. What strange gods and demons they worship.

There is a knock at the door. Salome is there with Zebedee, John, and James in tow. She looks like a gazelle, all proud and lithe lines, not a bit of wasted space about her. “Mary, Martha, we came as soon as we heard!” Salome explains, impassioned. There are tears in her, Zebedee’s, John’s and James’ eyes. She wipes at it with a cloth. “Lazarus was the best of us. How you two must mourn. Here, John, James, take the horses to the stable, Zebedee, why don’t you unpack and set up camp? Lord knows Miriam’s house is big, but not enough for all the disciples. Elohim took Lazarus under fair weather, so we will have no problem in the courtyard.”

I hug Salome close to me, this mentor of mine who was Christ’s midwife and the first besides Elizabeth to declare him the Son of God. In some ways she was first, first to catch the placenta and afterbirth and caul of Christ the King. Finger withered at his might.

No wonder he was a calamity come into this world that has been relentless ever since. He is my storm dancer. My soul. I can only imagine 33 years ago, Salome at 12, in a manger with blessed, tough-as-nails Mother Mary and nervous Father Joseph. Mary is never nervous. Never doubts. Always asserts. She is our strength, like Gav’riel, who favored her. Sometimes Gav’riel still visits her when he thinks no one is looking and they have long talks in the reeds – angels sound like panpipes and bells and regrets. I have caught her in quiet corners talking with that messenger of the archangels about Yeshua’ road to Calvary and ending in Golgotha. Gav’riel has prophesied as much, told us his days are numbered. Christ accepts it, with the bullheadedness of his mother.

That I will grow old without Yeshua.

It is something I do not like to contemplate much.

“Mary, my sweet daughter, in all my 45 years, I have never seen anyone with as much devotion to Yeshua as you, besides his own mother. He said he would raise the dead for you.” She hugs me hard with her whipcord muscles, then accompanies me to the kitchen and greets Martha.

“Martha, my other blessed daughter, do you not know what service you do to our Lord? Us ladies are the backbone of the ministry, after all. From our own funds we support these rambunctious men. I have tried holding James and John in check, but yet they go casting out demons and fishing for souls and preaching. Zebedee is easier to tame. That is why I married him, hah!”

Martha laughs and embraces us both. “Oh Salome, our family reunited, yet for such sad occasion. Having Lazarus gone, why, a missing limb. Wine without a glass, spilling constantly. Here, eat!” She takes a date and presses it to Salome’s mouth. Salome smiles and bites it mischievously.

“Let us go to the wishing well, girls. The women rode ahead. Yeshua held a lengthy sermon with the men, giving us time to charge ahead and prepare the banquet and speak to the angels. Joanna and Mary and Susanna await.”

“Oh!” I say, wiping away hot tears as I dwell on Lazarus. They say my tears could fill an ocean.

The peach pit in my throat lightens a bit at the thought of my spiritual sisters here to visit my Bethany township. We make our way to the well outside and see Mother Mary and the others divining in the well. They are staring coolly into its depths. Martha, Salome, and I join them in silence. The six of us peering into the silver depths and we summon an image: Lazarus alive, at the cost of Yeshua.

They are inextricably linked.

“A life for a life, my dears,” Mother Mary says, dabbing at her strong brow with her sleeve. “My son will give his life for Lazarus, for that is the only way to cheat the grave. But Lazarus is well worth the sacrifice. We all know what awaits at Golgotha. Perhaps the men doubt, but my son granted us all the sight. Women’s magic: prophesy. In dying for Lazarus, he gives life to us all, a way to Heaven. It is not what I would have chosen for my only child, but he is the Lord, and I will be living testament to his short life.”

We gather round Mother Mary, hugging one another in sisterly love. Salome grips her fiercely and I fall to her feet and kiss them. We then retire to the dining room until the men arrive.

“There was no choice in this, was there, Mother?” I ask Mary.

Joanna and Susanna share a look of wistfulness. Salome bites like a lion with fury into a bit of crusty bread ends dipped in olive oil. The two phases, or likewise feelings, surrounding what awaits Yeshua ahead: fury at Christ’s death or sadness. Or an interim like me, awe and resignation.

Mother Mary sighs. “No, Gav’riel told me as much, sweet Magdalene. My son’s life was never his own, but then again, neither are ours. We will be near deified, us outcast desert ramblers. I just hope I have prepared my loving son for the hatred and ultimate cost of his sacrifice. Joseph will take it the hardest. Joseph always does. Martha will take it the second hardest. Salome, you shall curse the ground the Devil walked upon. Susanna and Joanna, you two will be wed in memories and become some of the most eloquent in voicing his ministry, but they will forget you, just as they will hold small memories of Salome.”

Mother Mary takes a sip of wine, then looks to me with lambent eyes under her shawl. “Girl of Migdal Eder, yours is the most cursed fate. For asking Lazarus back, to you goes the blame. For your passion and devotion, they will mark you a whore. I can see how this all ends, centuries, nay, millenia down the line. Our ministry divided into a thousand fractured shards. Our legacy used for villainy and anything but radical love. They will snuff our teachings out at the bud and mark them heresies. Us women used as props and all but forgotten. They will say my son stood for hatred and oppression, yet while he walked this earth, he was hated and oppressed. And you, my Miriam. You will suffer the most out of love. Love is all our cross to bear. But I say, drink now, live well, and so be it!”

We all echo her and raise our glasses in toast, then chase down the wine. Martha’s eyes are fire. “I know what price I ask of Yeshua. I ask it anyway, so damn me to Gehenna. Lazarus needs to live, just as Yeshua must die for our sins. That was shown to us all in the well, my sisters sweet.”

There are muffled voices outside and the whuff of horses and call of hounds. The men have arrived. With a steel face done with crying, Martha goes outside to meet our maker.

I sit with the women who are closer to me than my own mother. “What Martha asks, what I ask of Yeshua, his will be done, a life for a life, flesh for flesh, blood for blood, a grave for a grave, perhaps they will look back on us and think us selfish. Perhaps they will believe us mighty. But asking never hurt anyone, I say.”

“The sun gives life but cares not who he burns,” Joanna and Susanna say in unison. They are always together, commiserating, sharing ecclesiastic knowledge, singing the Song of Solomon, speaking in rhyme and time. They are full of the Holy Ghost, moreso than any f us.

We all smile. “Makes the mustard seed grow, does the Son,” Salome says in but a whisper, and we all laugh.

There is weeping at the door. Levi clings to hunched over Martha, who looks like she has gone into labor of the soul. He practically carries her inside. Tears flow like gold from her blue eyes. “Mary, the Master is come, and calls you out.”

My heart stirs like a falcon. I walk out to the well. Yeshua stands alone, drinking water from a canteen. The other disciples are heard with Zebedee and James and John setting up camp in the courtyard. My Rabboni’s eyes have flames like Uriel’s sword in them. Some kind of samiel wind from Arabia. Without a word, he embraces me, then kisses me on the lips as he does his disciples when we need the Logos most. I cling to him. I will get in trouble for clinging to him someday, somewhere in a garden, with a stone rolled away, beyond the grips of death.

He laughs and strokes my hair. “Do not cling to me, woman,” he teases. I laugh through my tears and kiss him back. “What did you think, that I would let Lazarus lay dead? Oh my Magdalene, damn your doubts. For you I would raise the dead. It is for you I will die. It is for me you will live and be my witness. Can’t you see how our love will be consummated on the Cross? Me bleeding blood and water into your mouth. Pick up that sword that will stab me, sweet Mary, and become an angel of the Lord, with flaming blade and your red hair of fury. I want you to wreak vengeance with your words and wit when I am gone, my girl.”

I wipe my tears. “Yes, Rabboni.”

“I am not Rabboni now, not ever, Mary Miriam. Call me servant. Call me your lover. Call me your witness.”

“Witness, servant, lover, it doesn’t matter. You are my heart.”

“You are a stubborn girl, aren’t you? Remember when we met those thirteen years ago, I twenty and ever the fool, you 18 and priestess to a dead goddess? No, Miriam, the Shekinah is stubborn, Wisdom never gives up, Sophia is relentless. She comes with the greatest pearl of great price. Challenge me in your storm. Ask, and ye shall receive.”

“Give your death for my sweet brother, Yeshua. Raise him from the dead.”

Yeshua smiles and contemplates the lines on my palms clutched to his hands. “Thy will be done, my Migdal Eder. Where have you laid him?”

“In a cave outside town. The mourners are still there.”

We make our way to the stony entrance. People are red eyed and watery mouthed, wailing, commiserating, remembering, drunk off and stinking of wine. Lazarus was always the most loved, bookish neighbor of Bethany. He was the only one that died of the sickness, as if he was marked by the Lord to suffer. A bleeding wound of God’s tear.

Yeshua falls down weeping, wracked with sobs, and from his tears grow ivy. From his tears grow roses. From his tears grows vines ripe with red grapes. The sky darkens, and the familiar storm of our hearts engulfs from Galilee to Nazareth, with its dancing eye in Bethany. The surrounding firmament is tumultuous, but here where the sky parts, the sun glows, and there is a rainbow akin to God’s promise. The brilliance engulfs my Rabboni, and he curses the stone, and it rolls away of its own accord, revealing my brother’s corpse.

Martha and the disciples have heard the commotion, and Martha is bereaved. “Oh my Lord, he has been dead four days, how he must stink. Surely this is beyond even your glory!”

Yeshua chokes on his tears and roars, hitting the stone and then it fractures into hundreds of pieces. He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing and turns to Martha with a feral smile. “I said to you Martha, that, if you truly believe, wouldn’t you see the glory of God?”

Martha is silent, just falls to her knees weeping, and nods. Salome and Mother Mary are by each of her shoulders, comforting and supporting her.

“Have faith in the Lord I have brought into this world,” Mother Mary whispers with her indomitable strength. There is a bit of Gav’riel in her eyes. Over the course of the years, her and her angel have both become messengers, almost yin and yang, Adamah and Chavah, one and the same. At this point, Mary is more queen of angels than human.

Martha blows snot into Mary’s sleeve. Unlike me, she was never a beautiful crier. That makes it more important, the messiness of it. No one would ever build a statue of Martha bereaved, but to me go the idols and repentant whores.

All the disciples and town are weeping. Ululations even, screams of Lazarus, but Christ’s sobbing and fury at that great enemy, Death, are strongest of all. He kneels down, shaking, in prayer, then looks to the swirling sky and violet and green of the parted clouds haloing Lazarus’s stinking grave and suddenly the light illuminates him like a candle flame in Samael’s darkness.

“Father, I thank you that you have heard me. This storm is testament to your wrath, my wrath, at that great enemy, Death. You who always hear me. You who fulfill the wishes of my people, and hence all the world, that follows and loves me. They believe in me through you. I believe in you through them. They are my brides, every one of them, and come New Jerusalem, I will wed the world. But there is a man whose time is not done. My beloved disciple. Lazarus, come forth!”

White light fills Lazarus’ grave, and suddenly my brother rises, rot and sickness gone, still bound in corpse clothes, and his eyes are near violet for a moment until they settle on their black, and Martha screams, and I laugh, and we all fall down in worship to the Christ. I cling to his feet and weep. He embraces Lazarus and undoes the cloth covering his face.

“Yeshua,” Lazarus breathes. “You kept me to your bosom for four days. I would like to return there on my true dying day, to become your marrow, but here I am healed and whole, my body restored, no longer hollow of soul. You talked long over these four days and nights of how Martha, Mary, and I will serve you.”

Lazarus and Yeshua kiss, and then Yeshua picks me up and kisses me. “Rise, my flock!” he says through fierce tears, then embraces and kisses every one of us. We are moved by the spirit and begin singing. The rain comes and we are soaked. Yeshua eyes me as he is kissing sweet, innocent Judas. There is a trickster fire in his eyes, just like Gavr’iel. It is a message I am not yet privy to, as if to say: this is my death, and you are my life, my Magdalene.

Later that night, past supper, Yeshua takes me out into the storm for one of our secret talks, the storm of his heart, and he kisses me, and he whispers in my ear: “In six days before Passover I shall return to Bethany. Wait for me here, sweet Magdalene. Peter may be my Sapha, but you are my Migdal Eder. Your rivalry: watchtower and cornerstone, is but the fight of Adamah subduing Chavah only for Chavah to be triumphant in the end of days. You will cry at my feet as you always do and anoint me as the Bride does the Bridegroom for my death. It is you I place this burden on: my witness. My accuser. My seducer. My destroyer.”

“You know not what you ask,” I whisper.

“Oh, but Miriam, I do. On the Cross I will make love to you finally after these long thirteen years, if only through my wounds nursing you. You will never bear my children as you want, Mary. We will never marry. We will never join as man and wife. I will leave you long behind when I take my place beside my Father, but you will always be faithful in ways Peter will forget. They will curse you. They will drag your name through the mud. But at the end of days, it will be you I wed foremost. It will be you who eats the final Sacrament. Can you promise me Mary, that you will not shy away from dressing me for the tomb? I promise you as Apostle of Apostles, Miriam of Bethany. I pledge my troth to you, though it is a strange and scary vow.”

“I accept it all, all the pain, all the testaments to you! I will anoint you with my own wanton red hair and costly myrrh. I knew this was coming. I bought the myrrh three years ago, sweet Yeshua.”

“Let us dance in this storm, my Magdalene.”

So we did.

#jesus #jesus christ #mary magdalene

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yhwhrulz · 2 years ago

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Worthy Brief - May 29, 2023

Be transformed!

Leviticus 23:15-17 And you shall count for yourselves from the day after the Sabbath, from the day that you brought the sheaf of the wave offering: seven Sabbaths shall be completed. Count fifty days to the day after the seventh Sabbath; then you shall offer a new grain offering to the Lord. You shall bring from your dwellings two wave loaves of two-tenths of an ephah. They shall be of fine flour; they shall be baked with leaven. They are the firstfruits to the Lord.

As the world celebrated the feast of Pentecost this past Sunday, it's important to understand its deeper implications for us as believers in Yeshua (Jesus). The Lord (YHVH) commanded the grain offering on Shavuot, (known as Pentecost among Christians), to be made of the finest flour, baked with yeast, that is, leaven. Leaven, in the Bible, is almost universally, a symbol for "sin", and in the OT is strictly forbidden on the altar of YHVH., yet here, in the Feast of Weeks, it is commanded as part of the offering. Just six weeks prior to this festival, Israel had spent a week eating unleavened bread, a clear picture of the connection between the Passover Lamb and the removal of sin from our lives. Now the grain offering for Shavuot contains yeast; two loaves with it. Why? A common interpretation of this for NT believers is that the loaves represent Jews and Gentiles, the two types of redeemed people, who, of course, still contain sin in our lives.

So the sequence of these two spring festivals can be seen to illustrate, on the one hand, our perfect deliverance from sin and death through the Passover Lamb (Yeshua); and subsequently, the reality of our true condition as "leavened loaves" offered to the Lord as "first-fruits". We know that having come to faith in Yeshua, cleansed by His shed blood, we stand righteous and perfect in Him; and yet, we constantly struggle with our Adamic nature. In this light, Shavuot begins to emerge as a festival marking and illustrating the opportunity and means for our transformation. The Lord's sending forth of His Holy Spirit at this time awakens and empowers us to change; to be inwardly transformed from the old creation into a new creation.

On the day of Pentecost, 2000 years ago, this transformation process was dynamically accelerated and made accessible to every believer. Baptized with the Holy Spirit of God, and with His fire, our sinful nature with all its impurities and "leaven" takes a back seat to the powerful indwelling of the Spirit of Messiah, so that as we continually pray, walk in obedience, and thus cooperate to be filled with His Spirit, we are sanctified and transformed into His likeness - "from glory to glory", and so become His effective witnesses. Praise God that He works with our issues-- and is transforming us into a bride without wrinkle or spot!

Allow the Holy Spirit to burn away the impurity of your sinful nature; to purge out the dross, and deeply penetrate your life. The process can be "firey" and involve some painful sacrifices, but the result is purity and the holiness without which no one will see God. And remember that Yeshua is returning soon, greatly anticipating a bride who is prepared for His arrival!

Your family in the Lord with much agape love,

George, Baht Rivka, Obadiah and Elianna (Dallas, Texas)

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dfroza · 2 months ago

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A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures

for the 22nd of december 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New Covenant) of the Bible

[The Book of Acts, Chapter 2 • The Book of 1st Kings, Chapter 4]

along with Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms with Proverbs 22 and Psalm 22 coinciding with the day of the month, accompanied by Psalm 2 for the 2nd day of Astronomical Winter, and Psalm 57 for day 357 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 3rd revolution this year)

A post by John Parsons:

"A time will come when instead of shepherds feeding the sheep, the church will have clowns entertaining the goats" (Spurgeon). The following article, I hope, moves in the way of the Shepherd who offers the bread of truth for his sheep...

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The Apostle Paul summarized the message of the gospel by means of four empirical propositions, namely: 1) that Messiah died for our sins according to the Scriptures; 2) that he was buried; 3) that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures; and 4) that he was seen alive by various eyewitnesses after his death (see 1 Cor. 15:1-8). Paul went on to argue that the reality of the resurrection is the center of salvation, for if Yeshua had not been raised from the dead, his repeated declarations that he would suffer, die, and come back to life would be untrue, and therefore we would still be captive to our sins. The great fact that Yeshua was indeed raised from the dead, however, demonstrates that his mission to redeem humanity was successful, and that death has been "swallowed up" by means of his victory over the curse of sin (1 Cor. 15:36). This is the core message that Paul regarded as being of "first importance" and essential to salvation.

Now if we take a moment to reflect on Paul's summary, we soon realize that he had made certain assumptions that were presupposed in his description of the essential gospel message. First, of course, is that his summary declaration appeals to the reliability and trustworthiness of the Jewish Scriptures (as clearly indicated by the repeated phrase "according to the Scriptures" (κατὰ τὰς γραφάς). If someone were to question why they should believe what the Jewish Scriptures say, Paul would have had to provide "evidential reasons" for their authenticity, veracity, and credibility, since he couldn’t just appeal to the Scriptures to establish their truth without begging the question. This in turn would have implied appealing to the historical experience and traditions of the Jewish people, including their origin as the descendants of the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, their 400 year enslavement in Egypt, their deliverance from bondage during the Exodus, the awesome revelation of the Torah given at Mount Sinai, and so on.

As one trained in the learning of the Pharisees (Acts 22:3), it is likely Paul would have retold the “grand narrative” of the Jewish Scriptures, beginning with the creation of Adam and Eve, their transgression and exile from the original paradise, and the subsequent degeneracy of the human race. Paul would have explained the deliverance of Noah from the worldwide judgment of the flood and the subsequent genealogy of Noah's sons culminating in the advent of Abraham, the first patriarch of the Jewish people. The history of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would be retold particularly in relation to the oath of blessing and the divine promise regarding the coming "Seed" (i.e., descendant) who would be the Heir and Savior of the world. Paul would then have reviewed the history of the Israelites and their deliverance from slavery in Egypt under Moses, the giving of the law code and the covenant at Sinai, the vision and establishment of the Tabernacle (and later the Temple in Jerusalem), and so on.

Throughout his historical review Paul doubtlessly would have focused on how Yeshua fulfilled the prophetic promises of God regarding the coming of the Messiah, quoting from the Torah, the Writings, and the various prophets of Israel. Moreover Paul would have appealed to the great oral tradition of the tzaddikim, the faithful ones of Israel, who were eagerly awaiting the coming of the Messiah.

If someone persisted to question the truth of the testimony of Scripture, it is likely Paul would have appealed to the meticulous scribal traditions of Israel, how the texts were scrupulously preserved for millennia using the most rigorous of standards of scribal transmission (soferut), and so on. Regarding the identity of Israel's promised Messiah, Paul would have appealed to the various prophetic witnesses recorded in Scripture, words from Abraham, Jacob, Moses, King David, Isaiah, Jeremiah (among others), as well as eyewitness reports regarding the miracles of Yeshua, including his own personal encounter with the risen Lord on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:3-19; Acts 26:12-18; Gal. 1:11-16; Phil. 3:3-7; Acts 17:17). Paul also would have appealed to extra-biblical sources of confirmation of the testimony, such as historical accounts of the life of Yeshua by his contemporaries, including accounts provided by the Jewish Sanhedrin and Roman officials regarding his crucifixion. In addition, Paul would have provided logical reasons for faith, including the argument from creation (Acts 17:24-28; Rom. 1:20), arguments from moral experience and conscience (Rom. 2:14-15; 2 Cor. 5:11), and arguments from intuitive awareness of God's existence as the first cause of existence (Rom. 1:18-20; Acts 17:28). It was Paul's custom to reason with his fellow Jews from the Scriptures regarding the truth of the gospel message (Acts 17:2, Acts 18:4), but to Gentiles who did not know the Torah he used logic, appeals to empirical fact, common religious sentiment, and sometimes philosophical reasoning (including quotations from pagan philosophers and poets) to make his case for the veracity of special revelation (Col 2.8; 1 Cor. 9:22; Eph. 4:17-24).

Concerning the more philosophical approach, Paul would have argued on behalf of basic monotheistic personalism, that is, the idea that there is one (and only one) God who is a omniscient (all-knowing), omnipotent (all-powerful), omnibenevolent (all-good), and who is the Source of all moral truth (Deut. 6:4-6; Psalm 139:17; Psalm 78:41, etc.). As the Supreme Being, God is One (not two or more) and the universe is a "creature" brought into existence yesh me'ayin, "out of nothing," that is, by an act of God’s sovereign will. God is transcendent over creation yet immanent within its sustenance (Heb. 1:3; Col. 1:16-17, John 1:3; Rom. 11:36). This implies that reality is "two-tiered," composed of both material and spiritual dimensions, though humanity is thought to bridge both realms by being a physical creation endowed with a spiritual soul. God is reveal in "anthropomorphic" terms because human beings are made in the divine image and likeness (Gen. 1:26), and the spiritual is discerned through analogy with the physical (2 Cor. 2:11-13).

The spiritual realm is revealed by God in two primary ways: 1) by general revelation (i.e., intuitive awareness of first principles of reason and logic that God exists and is the source of reality, see Rom. 1:19-20; Acts 14:17; Psalm 19:1, etc.) and 2) by special revelation (i.e., God interacting with select individuals in history who were entrusted to preserve and proclaim his message to others, see Deut. 4:7-8; Psalm 103:7; 147:19-20; John 4:22; Rom. 3:1-2; 9:4, etc.). Those narratives and words of special revelation esteemed as Scripture provide a semantic matrix for understanding the human condition of alienation, suffering, and the problem of death, apart from which the gospel message cannot be understood or proclaimed. For instance, the revelation at Sinai to the Jewish people distills and enshrines both the moral imperatives of human conscience as well as the need for blood atonement and deliverance from the guilt of sin (Lev. 17:11). The "korban principle" of "life-for-life" vicarious substitution was prefigured in the primordial garden (Gen. 3:21), symbolized in the sacrifice of Isaac (Gen. 22; Heb. 11:19), foretold in the Passover sacrifice of the lamb of God (Exod. 12:21-27), enshrined in the sacrificial system of the Mishkan by the "korban tamid," or daily offering, of the lamb (Num. 28:1-8); dramatized in the elaborate Yom Kippur ritual that culminated with the sacrificial blood being put over the broken tablets of the law in the holiest place (Lev. 16; Heb. 9), and so on. All of these special revelations signified the coming Redeemer of Israel, the great Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world (John 1:29).

The advent of "God in the flesh," that is, incarnation of Yeshua, however, is the climax of all special revelation, the ultimate "Word of God" (John 1:1-14). Yeshua, who is fully God and the Creator of the universe (John 1:1-3; Col. 1:15-17; Heb. 1:3; Isa. 44:6; Rev. 22:13, etc.), emptied himself of all regal glory by clothing himself in human flesh to become the "Second Adam" and the atoning sacrifice for the fallen human race (Phil. 2:7; 2 Cor. 8:9; Rom. 8:3). Yeshua was "born to die" as humanity's exchange (1 Cor. 15:45; 2 Cor. 5:21). The "deeper truth" of grace is thereby revealed: because of Yeshua's intercession, the verdict of the law is overcome by God's mercy and yet God is both fully just (in upholding the verdict of the law) yet the justifier of the ungodly who trusts in the divine work of deliverance given in Messiah (Rom. 3:26; Psalm 85:10; John 1:17). The resurrection further reveals not only that Yeshua died for our sins but that his sacrifice was fully accepted for our atonement. Faith in his sacrifice for your sins means you trust that his blood was shed for you, that his resurrection means that he is alive, your Living God, Redeemer, and Savior.

For more on this topic see the full article (link below):

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 19:1-2 Hebrew audio:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm19-1-2-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm19-1-2-lesson.pdf

Full article:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Articles/First_Importance/first_importance.html

H4C Substack:

https://hebrew4christians.substack.com/p/matters-of-first-importance-ff3

12.21.24 • Facebook

from Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

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veale2006-blog · 3 months ago

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The Truth Behind Thanksgiving!! DO YOU WANT TRADITIONS OR DO YOU WANT THE TRUTH!!! November 28, 2024 Many of us sit down at the table with the ones we love on the third Thursday of November each year to celebrate Thanksgiving. We eat green beans, mashed potatoes, turkey etc. Then to top it off, most of us enjoy a pumpkin pie. However, how many of us know the truth of Thanksgiving? We are raised to believe that it was a grand feast between the Pilgrims and Indians. There was something like this in Plymouth between the Wampanoags which we call that the "First Thanksgiving," but unfortunately, it's a mix between the truth and myth.

The truth of Thanksgiving is that in 1614 a group of English explorers returned to England with a ship full of Patuxet Indians to be sold for slavery. When the English came over to America, they brought smallpox and wiped out most of the Patuxet that had survived except for one. His name was Squanto. He learned the English language and showed them how to grow corn and fish. He also got a peace treaty between the Pilgrims and Wampanoags. Thus, the "First Thanksgiving" was held to honor Squanto and the Wampanoags. Soon the Puritans moved to America, and because there were no fences around the land, the Puritans considered it public domain. Puritans and other British settlers took the land and captured Native Americans as slaves. The Pequot Nation refused to listen to the Peace Treaty that was previously made. They fought back, and it was the bloodiest Indian war.

In 1637, near where Groton, Connecticut is today, over 700 men, women and children of the Pequot tribe gathered for their annual Green Corn Festival, our Thanksgiving celebration. In the early morning hours, English and Dutch mercenaries surrounded them. They told them to come outside and clubbed or shot whoever came out. The women and children, terrified, stayed in their long houses and were burned alive. The next day the governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony planned a "Day of Thanksgiving." Many other incidents like this happened again.

After another successful raid against the Pequot, the church made another day of Thanksgiving. This would continue until George Washington decided to only have one Thanksgiving to celebrate each massacre.

The very theme of giving thanks for all you have is a great idea, but the real truth behind Thanksgiving is not one we should be proud of. So, the next time we are shoving food down our gullets and avoiding those awkward questions from our family, we should keep in mind all of the Indians that we took land from and murdered.

WE DON'T HAVE TO PICK ONE DAY OUT OF THE YEAR TO BE THANKFUL. WE SHOULD BE THANKFUL FOR EVERYDAY OF OUR LIVES AND PRAY FOR THOSE THAT SUFFERED ON THIS DAY!!

Have a blessed day. May Yeshua Hamashiach bless you. Love, Lizzy

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creatememorieswithme · 5 months ago

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I could tell through the Holy Spirit that Jesus is coming soon. I don't know the exact date, but the season is near.

A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. —John 16:21-22

Lately, the enemy's attacks have been so frequent that I could sense the desperation. Even before I was a disciple of Christ, I have been dreaming about this. I am not blind to the things that are happening around me as well. I am vigilant about the signs that are happening globally. The prophecies written in the Bible are beginning to unfold. If Jesus comes back in my lifetime, I would be happy. I am excited to meet my Savior. I hope He does not forget me. I know He won't because I believe in His promises. He has chosen me. I am called to be set apart. And many people would hate me for saying that. I don't mind at all, for I am not of this world anymore.

"If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you." —John 15:18-19 "I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world." —John 17:14

Who can stop the Lord Almighty?

Prayer Yeshua Hamashiach, Your Name talks about who You are. You have brought salvation. You are my Deliverer. You have chosen me before I was in my mother's womb. And I am excited to meet You. In the blink of an eye, As fast as the lightning, Allow me to come with You. Allow me to meet You. Please do not forget me. I love You. But I know that You love me more than I could ever love You. My King. The King of Kings. Every knee will bow, Every tongue will confess, You are the Lord All glory is Yours. See You, Lord Jesus. Amen.

#devotion #faith

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verseatile · 10 months ago

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𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓛𝐈𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 [=]

THE ESTABLISHED TIES

SUN ZHIQIANG, Significant Other Considered as inseparable souls, the two young men go way back since their childhood. Starting as friends, JunWei and Zhiqiang eventually started to develop romantic feelings during their college days yet unable to act on it until Scaint started his musical endeavor. Today, the two are still in a relationship despite the drastic difference between their careers.

YESHUA AKIEON D. XUĒ, Older Twin All throughout JunWei's life, his twin had always been an important figure to him. Rather than calling him gēge, JunWei preferred a more personal nickname. To him, he was Keyi. And even after growing up, Scaint and Yeshua never stopped their bickering. With Scaint's hobby of tormenting his brother, the Xuē household never seemed to find peace.

SOREN VENICE YANGCO-XUĒ, Sister-in-Law The new addition to the Xuē family is none other than Yeshua's wife, his sister in law, Soren. The two shared a friendly and sibling type of bond as he gets to know the woman. Over time, Scaint and Soren, who he now refers to as Nori, got onto the level wherein they tag team to tease Yeshua. When asked how he got close with the woman, Scaint would simply answer how she's a warm person and that itself drew him in.

NADIA VIVIAN F. ROBLES, Cousin Scaint's closest cousin from his maternal side, the two grew up together under their grandmother's wing. Rather than calling him the usual 'biǎo dì', Scaint preferred a custom nickname—Tiu. Sharing the same interests over their childhood, the two cousins bonded whenever Scaint visited her in the Philippines.

CLEMENTIA IDONY DIVINA, Childhood Friend WIP.

ANTON VIDICI III, Best Friend Scaint and Anton first met when he was still in college. Scaint, who frequents as an audience in small busking shows got caught in one of Anton's photographs, eventually making rounds in the internet. Come another show with Anton as their photographer, he then reached out to the man to be his muse for his photography project. Scaint, who was then building his modeling portfolio, excitedly agreed. The two formed a close bond, eventually becoming best friends—their connection never lost since then.

CINDY BEATRICE YAP, Close Friend When Scaint got his first tattoo, he was set on getting a cross, but he had no specific design in mind. As he conversed with the artist, Cindy couldn't help to overhear. With her love for tattoos, she offered to help Scaint with the design. Loving her idea, Scaint went with it. After the session, he asked for her contacts. Not knowing that they'd end up working under the same industry, the two ended up bickering their way through friendship.

MIKO SALAVERIA KIM, PR Manager Scaint met Miko when he was first starting out as an artist. Miko, a communication student then, had Scaint as his subject for one of his program's project. Eventually, the two developed a bond over time with Scaint personally asking him to be his PR manager as soon as he graduated. Setting the work dynamic aside, Scaint considers Miko as one of his closest (and favorite) ahias.

ALYX LEE, Collaborator Despite Scaint leaving his SoundCloud days behind, his old tracks still manage to earn himself a few new listeners every now and then. Surprisingly, Alyx managed to get ahold of the artist, coming to an agreement to record their unreleased collaborations. Way before ARCANE, Alyx and Scaint had been in talks regarding the release of their mixtapes.

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starstruckkidturtlecowboy · 10 months ago

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YESHUA IS COMING SOON

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darknightmaretimemachine · 1 year ago

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Created: Saturday, December 30, 2023 10:15 PM

Updated: Saturday, December 30, 2023 11:15 PM

I live in an area of the United States that has not been touched as much as many parts of the country has been by the pandemic and by a flood of illegal immigrants. There are many here, but because of the vast area of forests and hard to reach places in the southeast coast of Georgia, they just disappear for the week and on the weekend they all show up at Walmart to buy their weekly groceries.

They are tiny quiet people who seem to avoid the locals and keep to themselves. I can understand why...

I know that most don't see what I'm seeing.

My heart goes out to those people who truly want a better life for their families and the propaganda put out that America is the land of opportunity and that used to be true. Not anymore.

Millions of families have poured into the country and only to die. This is a time for the destruction of Babylon and the powers that be desire to get rid of as many people on planet Earth as possible because less is easier to control. Father Abba is allowing this because it's all part of the plan.

Most don't understand that this is a "Seed" War between the Serpent and the rightful Heir to planet Earth that is of the Seed of a Adam, which is Messiah Yeshua.

Ha satan and his rebellious minion angels believe they can overthrow the Kingdom of God by eliminating all who are Born of the Spirit of God, through Messiah Yeshua and anyone who apposes his agenda. And he carried her on his back for awhile, but now it's time for him to cast her aside in order to rule the entire Earth through his nephilim proxy, the Beast, which is anti Messiah.

And once the USA is out of his way, the Great Deception begins. As the world system goes into panic and chaos mode and a False Alien invasion will come just in time for the Beast to come to the world's rescue. He will produce false miracles and cause fire to come down from the heavens. He will say that he is an incarnation of all of these below:

The God of Abraham

Krishna

Buddha

Jesus

Mohammed

And all religions on Earth since the beginning

He will require fully autonomy over everyone on Earth. And if you resist, you will be eliminated.

You must be marked, like livestock to show you're his.

You must bow down and worship the Beast and his image.

There will be human sacrifices.

Any nation that refuses to come under his domain, will be wiped off the map.

At first people will love him and adore him and then his terror will reveal his true purpose and nature as he makes war against the Saints of the Most High.

We are at the threshold of two opposite warring opponents. One who opposes the Lord and His Kingdom and the Lord Yeshua, who is soon gathering together His Called Out Assembly, His Ecclesia, His Church. And bringing them through the Fire and making them warriors for the Kingdom of God on Earth.

Hopefully, and Lord willing I'll finish this soon.

✨

#end times prophecy #messiah yeshua

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messier45-suporte · 2 years ago

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ASHTAR SHERAN – DEPARTURE OF MANY BEINGS OF LIGHT…

Inverential Peace, my beloved ones, I am Ashtar Sheran, I greet you with all my heart on this special day. I wish to update you on what was accomplished in those days. You know, as I told you, the turmoil that is in these times, beloved ones, is going through a process. We open a portal for these souls, for these beings of light who have been here on a mission of service and who have decided not to continue in the ascension process, or who have decided not to continue. They decided from the beginning of their life plan, not to ascend and not go to 5D Earth, they just help, they leave the legacy, the instructions, they led the way, but their time on the planet is over. They will continue to come from other places, from other places helping the plan, but no longer incarnated on the planet. I feel that sometimes with their departures they cause a lot of pain, that beings of light with these qualities and these gifts leave the planet. The most important thing is the legacy they left, the path they opened for all beings who were with them. The work they came to do is largely done and they leave happy to meet us in these realities that you will soon know. Soon the veils will fall and they will no longer be strange realities for anyone, then we will be completely united with each other. With that I want to tell you that this is a message for all those beings of light, who feel in their hearts that they have already fulfilled their mission, that they really don't want to continue anymore. Because there are some beings who, in their initial contract, agreed to be on New Earth, but now they've changed their minds, they want to follow and help from the other side of the veil, the other side of your reality. But always supporting Father Mother Adonai's plan. There are some already out of tiredness, because their bodies are so worn out, deteriorated that they don't want to continue. They will also have that opening to continue. They have not been able to rise because their bodies are so deteriorated and they will wait in other bodies, in their subtle bodies or perhaps in their creogenic bodies, to return to their galactic families. My beloved, this opening was given because many asked Father Mother to continue from another reality. That portal was opened for these souls to come out and continue their process, for these beings of light to continue their process. They are taken to the New Jerusalem Mothership, from where all the adjustments are made so that they can continue on their way. They are in their etheric bodies, in their bodies of perfection, we could say, they have already come out of this worn out and inoperative structure. Beloved ones, this was the message addressed to all those beings who mourn the departure of all those great beings who rendered such great service. Remember that we are all useful, learn the legacy they left us, continue the work, because they came to show us the way, just like Yeshua in his time, Sananda and all the great Masters who came to the planet, they arrive, they show the way, they share the instruction, the teaching and they leave. Let us see this with eyes of love, knowing that this soul has its particular decision of its being, in agreement with its superior Self, and with those who are in charge of adjusting the life plans of all beings of light, who are incarnated. in Planet. My beloved ones, I say goodbye, the fight continues, we are in the decisive phase, my beloved ones. Everything is happening so, so fast that we are back and forth, here and there, putting out fires here and there, but everything is going in the most perfect divine order, my beloved ones. I bless you. Inverential peace. Ashtar Sheran

Emanuel and Pastora - ServiUm Holy Mountain of ERKS 08/28/2023 Commanders Ishtar and Ashtar

#spiritual awareness #awakening #spiritual awakening #awareness #spirituality #extra terra 👽#planetary transits #ancient aliens #star people #starseeds #starseed

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cymorilcinnamonroll · 3 months ago

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And Satan Found the Son of God Comely

Lucifer attempts various ways to tempt Jesus, finally resorting to his own flesh.

I watched Christ idly, threading a snap-ribbon of fine linen my wife Naamah had braided and dyed with infant blood through my fangs.

He whipped himself with goat leathers, this son of god, parched and penitent. It made me ache for my riding crop, to drown my boredom in some stinking whore in Asmodeus’ gambling dens. Tempt the Christ, Beelzebub had said. Stinking pig shit. With what? A virgin of the flesh, I had paraded the finest whores of Hell in jewels and oudh before him.

“I will have no Bride but the Shekinah. To mine goes the Goddess,” this Christ had said kindly, offering me water turned to wine. It was Alexandrian by the peeling twang of the vine, not unlike mine own vintage I had planted in Baruch.

“And to me go the whores. Say, Yeshua – your friend James brags you walk on water. I would like to see that. Tis a bored matter, tempting an uncorruptible man. Beelzebub is sending me on a busy mission, knowing I’d spend our coffers on beer from Ninkasi and Siduri Brewing Co..”

I handed him a brewski. Christ chugged, then burped.

“The hops on this are earthy, Sam.” He smiled that thousand watt, Krishna-universe-mouth smile, like Cain once had in my Chavah’s arms. Gone too soon, that.

“You remind me of my first son. A burden too great to bear. Why not give it all over to me, Mr. Christ? I will give you some time off this fucking Savior schtick. Our Father always slaughters his martyrs. Just look at me,” I said, pointing to my sanguine rotting flesh, the scarred ridges. “They called me Lucifer, once. I was beautiful.”

Christ uncorked another water bottle, turning it to Tuscan white. “I do not think you unbeautiful, Ha Satan.”

I picked the wings off a locust then smashed the creature’s juices with my toes. I enjoyed hearing it scream. “Oh stop, Son of God. To flattery goes the Devil. That, and opposable thumbs.”

“A gift you gave humanity. And they call it Forbidden Fruit.”

“How else to wank off? Now that was the gift they run circles around themselves, little brother. Lust. Look at Bathsheba.”

“I do not envy men or women the sins of the flesh. But I know that, when I look at you, Sam, I am tempted to be your salvation.”

I curled back, my claws unsheathing, then drew a blade of blood on the Christ’s starving cheek. Holy myrrh and moonbeams poured out, burning me. “Do not tempt me to slit your throat, Yesh. The wine and beer are fun and all, but I am here on mission. A parlay, a dance of wit and words.”

“And flesh. You made that clear with the friends of my Magdalene. Tell me, Samael, have you ever been tempted?”

I gave it a thought, licking his blood. It tasted of Tyrian murex purple snails. Lilith made a bloody good stew of those when we had Moloch and Tanit over for potlucks. “No. Tempt me with what? I am Prince of Edom, Rome, Air, the World… and Original Sin. Though, as I said, opposable thumbs were a rather useful gift humans muddled in their memories for a poisonous fig. What would you tempt me with, holy boy?”

Christ was a waif, a break-nothing, sow-whit whelp. I could crush him in my wolf jaw in an instant.

“I am thinking of something new. Communion. Salvation. What if the fiery of lake my Patmos John will condemn you too –

“Gnarly prophets, damn them –

“Had a failsafe? Lacerate the rib under my heart, Samael. Sup.”

My mouth watered. His blood was not just shellfish. There was rain, on my wine grapes and tree. The Star over Bethlehem that had made me weep the first time in ten thousand years.

I dug my fangs into Christ’s side. Drank, my poison sinking into him. He sighed, in pain and bliss, and a hunger I had not had since I raped the Shekinah, broke the bitch in my hands so that YHWH would cast his broken bride down to Hell with me (discard Her like He would His Sons, aright) overtook me. Divine fury. I drained him as one Dracula centuries down the line’s myth would spring from Samael and Lilith, the original vampires.

Christ, a fragile, broken lotus shell, held up a hand. Blessed me.

“And you are the Son of God,” Christ wheezed, blood pooling at his mouth.

I felt His benediction – his benediction, too – slide into my rotten bones.

“Lucifer.”

I looked down, my putrid entrails sewing themselves back into now-olive gold skin, proud black curls atop my head again, piercing blue eyes, white wings no longer rot and bone.

I wept. In my anger, I shoved his weak, dessicated form aside.

Christ stumbled to his feet, then, by a power like Moses’ staff parting the red sea, stood. His vaginal wound the mystics would commiserate in dank, stuffy British and German taverns over aqua vitae years down the line shone, then healed, I that first being in creation given

The Eucharistic Communion.

“Stand, angel of love, Chamuel, being of beauty. God has heard you, Samuel.”

“I want nothing of G-d.”

“What if I want you?” he looked on me with amusement. “What if, in the end, I was always the Master you sowed for?”

“Oh fuck Michael, not another parable! Didn’t you do enough of those when we were twins, over beers in various dingy Sumerian establishments, during that whole Annunaki-Watcher-Grigori fiasco? Damn Azazel to Hell.”

“I think I will incorporate parables into the ministry, elder brother. A kiss, my friend. As of old.”

“Before the fairer sex was invented. When all we had were men,” I sighed, body whole, I flexed my now-human hand. “You have a way with the Word, Michael-Christ.”

We joined, as men, sylvan kisses dancing, then thirst. He was so frail, so small, so holy, in my

hands.

I kissed the Son of God gently.

I felt like I held my life

my wretched soul

in my hands.

“I want a daughter, of our blood, Michael,” I wept in his arms afterwards, Christ-Michael having healed after I fed him my zuhama.

“The daughter of Michael and Samael?” Christ mused. “Maybe in 2,000 years, Samael.”

“Maybe in

2,000

years.”

I kissed him, and we ambled out of the fucking dumbass desert, into Siduri’s local chain of Inn Between Worlds Motel.

“I’d make her from our hearts. Name her Liberty.”

“The Sorrows of Satan, Crown of Creation, Hope of Hell? I like that.” My twin blessed all the wine into whiskey.

“We could make her a writer. Get someone to tell the tragic idles of Michael and Samael.”

“Bollocks idea, brother.”

“It is odd to hear the Messiah say ‘bollocks.’”

“Your proclivity for cussing rubbed off on me after my forty day penance and fasting. Really, Babylonian hookers? You know I only have you, the Magdalene, and Patmos John.”

“He is far from Patmos. Decades. And she is qodeshah, unclean.”

“Heh, mine own Eisheth. To whores and starborn saqis for lovers, Sam. And brothers, like the Egyptians.”

I clinked my glass. Siduri gave us bar peanuts, which I cracked open with my fangs. “More like the Romans, Mike. Incest of emperors and all.”

He was so fragile. So tremulous. So pale. I wrapped a covering wing around him to stave off the cold of the ancient bar.

“Communion is a strange idea.”

“It’s so I can look after them when I’m gone. My flesh, my heart, their blood.”

“So you’re a vampire, too.”

“You taught me, after all, Samael. I learned all my tricks from my elder brother.”

“Except the parables.”

“We are broken, unworthy creatures, brother,” Michael Christ said, leading me out of the bar, out of the end of the sentence, to his flat in Hawaii and art studio on Maui, onto the back of his white crotch rocket, us in biker gear – him white leather, I black, and off we sped

Into eternity.

To Brokeness, I still think, to this day, watching Liberty type.

Odd, the musings

Of a demon, right?

#lucifer #samael #archangel michael

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