#he thinks his troops love and respect and obey his every command JUST WAIT until he sees how fast i do what he says

[wildsaltair]

conquering Germania by day and my ***** by night

[closetdwellertales]

a heart more loyal

Whoever finds this, please know: I was a knight, once, and the land had not known a heart more loyal.

My friend (I hope I am allowed to call you so, for your hands will soon grant me the greatest gift), I know the purpose of your visit. I know what is coming, but I cannot find fear within me. My hand writes these lines as steadily as always, and the quill shivers, its trusty iron end almost dulled down. It has followed me through victories and failures. It has written my story in orders and signatures under the death sentences. I never cared to leave another memoir, for I never desired fame – and I do not desire it now. Please, read carefully, as it is a will; and even the worst of the worst are allowed a death wish.

I was a knight, once. You do not know my name, yet I had one, and it was spoken with respect. I never desired fame, but it followed me like a loyal dog: it slept by my bed and licked my hands. I was among best of the best. I dined with kings and made friends with jesters. People and beasts alike feared the cry of my horn. I had a bleeding heart, you see, easily driven to sympathy. Never did I ignore a reaching hand, a cry for help; never did I pass a battle, either.

I entered maturity under the welcoming glow of my lucky star. I did not know strife past what a heart may bear, nor did anguish touch my soul in times of struggle. Respected by most, loved by many, I basked in peace; and I knew that, should the age make my limbs leaden and my eyes weak, I would spend the rest of my days as a relic of a troubled past, amusing my children and grandchildren with the tales of my glory. No regrets, no shame would follow me into the old age. Perhaps at times I would glance at my armor, still shiny but abandoned, and feel a rush of blood, a useless quickening of the heart longing for another battle; but the pain would be soothed, and hollowness filled, by the warmth of my loving home.

I was a knight once, but the armor and the shield are no more. They were never displayed with pride, telling many a tale of courage and victory. Instead, forgotten, they rusted away. The dust under your feet may as well be the sad remnants of their shine. I took a piece of my broken sword and forged it into the iron tip for my quill, and it remained just as deadly as when it had been glistening at my hilt. The feasts and fights of my glorious youth are but a bleak memory. They thundered away and fell silent, only a distant echo still ringing in the vacant halls; and not a soul is left to listen.

My dear friend, I know the surprise you must feel. Now you must be looking with anger and confusion at the results of my toll: the dark towers of my castle, the blood-soaked fields of the land I once called mine, the rising smoke that threatens to overcome the heavens above. I am a beast among beasts, a plight among plights, a demon among men. In a dark fortress I sit, ruling over my domain with iron and fire, and not a heart may turn to me in sympathy; no lips may utter my name without disgust.

If I truly was a knight, you must say, what could have brought such a descent? What made me turn away from worldly pleasures and seek satiation in pain and suffering? Had it been a bitter love, a broken heart? Had it been revenge against a mightier foe? Had a friend betrayed me in times of need, or a liege robbed me of what was rightfully mine?

No, my friend, none of these were the reason of my fall from grace. My love stayed faithful, my friends loyal, my patrons generous; and no foe was mightier than the hand that brought them down. No, there is no need to seek the root in other places, for me myself was the reason.

Perchance you have heard of the old fairy king of the Losol forest. Know that it was my sword that brought him down, and my dagger that drew the last drops of blood from his stilling heart. Yet the old beast did not die at once, for the other folk does not live as we do; and, before his eyes closed to the daylight once and for all, he managed to utter a curse; and what curse!

I was born under a lucky star, but I did not know that its light was to shine no more. I took his crown from him, and it turned to useless twigs in my hands; I took his gold, and it turned to leaves. Oh, it was a dreary day when the fairy king cursed me. Ever before, he said, my life was a blessing; now it was to be torture. Ever before my every wish would come true; now, the curse would twist my fate and give me the opposite of what I sincerely desired. I took his life, he said, and so I was to live no more.

I was reckless, young; I did not believe the dying beast. Yet, since that dreadful day, my victories turned sour, my gains bitter. The kindness of my heart turned poisonous. When I desired peace, war would break out; when I wished for love, animosity would slither in. My old friends were thrown into poverty and grief, and their wails rang clear over the ashes. I wanted my loved ones to feast and celebrate; instead, a different feast was prepared for them, and only vultures attended. My home was broken, my beloved land in disarray. Oh, how many times I cursed my pitiful existence! Not even the fairy king could hate me more, dying, than I did still alive.

In vain, I tried to break the chain that fettered me. I turned to magicians, old wizards, witches who dabble in light and darkness both; but none of them could vanquish the curse that was sealed with a dying breath. The more I wished it gone, the stronger it remained. I despaired, I fought, but all for nothing. In the dead of the night, I could hear the voice of the dead fairy king; he laughed, he rejoiced in my pain!

Thus, I had only one way left; and I forged salvation from misery.

I taught myself to hate, to despise everything good and light; I learned fury, I planted seeds of darkness within my soul. Oh, how it ached, how it resisted! – but I was just as relentless with myself as I used to be with my worst enemies. I gave myself every repulsive habit, every deep and twisted desire that I knew in those dead by my hand. I fled from company. I threw curses at those approaching me until I was shunned from everywhere. I looked upon my past friends and lovers with repulsion; I kept reminding myself of every bit of luck they had until envy burned out love. I tore away my heart and replaced it with bronze. I weeded out every sprout of sympathy. ­I ached for love and friendship to blossom, so I denied myself both and bore the torture of seeing my familiars prosper. What a miserable, pitiful creature I was!

Yet I was not done; for my love brought endless destruction that my hatred could not so easily correct.

I sought souls as dark as mine; I found unity in them. I sowed the hatred and fed on the harvest. They were naturally repulsive; tender from birth, I had to learn their ways; and experience overcame nature. They obeyed me easily. Dirt commanded dirt, and the disease spread. I was repulsed; I gained respect. I wished them ill; they prospered. Knowing the art of battle, I gave them much and promised them more, and my troops brought me victory after bitter victory.

I ached for peace, so I commanded war.

How my soul grieved! – for every soul grieves its own death. I dissected it, replacing its very nature, and the seams never healed. Yet I was getting used to my misery. I delighted in things most unholy; what should have brought anguish, made me laugh. I ordered this fortress built, and from its heart I sent away the doves of fake treaties and ravens of attacks. I spilt blood to obtain and burned the spoils. I learned the art of magic, and the terror of my reign grew stronger. Even my very servants learned to fear me, for the darkness of my soul overshadowed theirs.

Yet I was not done.

I ordered every story about my knightly days burned; I took down memorials; I tore away pages. I threw my very name into the waters of oblivion and watched it sink. Who would suspect that such a grisly figure had known days of camaraderie, of love and fame? The knight was gone; only the king remained.

Even so, after all these years, my soul ached. Sometimes, after a day of dark madness, I would see a single ray of light come through the heavy clouds and weep; useless, empty tears! – like the rotten and disgusting ichor seeping from a fevered wound. I wished for love and respect; I obtained hatred and repulsion. I wished for salvation; I saw the entire land unite against me. I saw heroes rise to strike me down, the cries of their horns making my heart stir. Their steeds trampled my burned fields, their swords stroke down my armies. Young hearts, reckless hearts; I cursed every one of them, knowing that my curses will never come true. I wanted to take them down; now I see my armies broken, my fortress besieged. You must be one of them, my friend. I heard your horn at the gate; I must hurry.

For, as you see, lately I tried very hard to wish for life.

I spent hours upon hours, seeking enjoyment in my existence, thinking of the smallest blessings, the bleakest gifts; and now I want to keep living more than ever. Just as a single ray of sunlight finds its way through the storm clouds and lights the silenced battlefield, the sunset of my life is lit up with sublime clarity. I know that, with my death, this land will finally enjoy peace and happiness. My heart trembles with bitter bliss. Please, hurry, my trusted quill, for I will be needing you no more; you have served me well, you may lay to rest. Please, hurry, my friend; let your sword be as sharp as mine was when it cut down the fairy king, and let your luck be mightier. Don’t hesitate; deliver the greatest gift you could have given me; I am here, I am waiting.

My friend, if I may ask for a single favor: erase all my victories, all my bloody gains. Take down my kingdom, destroy my fortress, don’t leave a sign of anything that misery constructed; let dust and grass cover the battlefields; let rust eat away the obsolete swords. Oblivion is the highest reward I could ask for; let the terrors and fire wash away as a heavy dream before the dawn.

Farewell, my friend! My heart aches for rest; please, bury it in the ground of my beloved, hated, tortured land.

I served it well, and it had never known a heart more loyal.

[themonologuearchive]

01 - Chorus

From: Agamemnon, by Aeschylus

Genre: Drama

Topic: Exposition

Character: Male; many characters as one

Note: monologue is under a read more because it is seven pages long

It’s now ten years since Menelaus,                                    Priam’s great adversary, and lord Agamemnon, two mighty sons of Atreus, joined by Zeus in double honours— twin thrones and royal sceptres— left this country with that fleet, a thousand Argive ships, to back their warrior cause with force, hearts screaming in their battle fury, two eagles overwhelmed by grief,                                      crying for their young—wings beating                                             like oars, they wheel aloft, high above their home, distressed because they’ve lost their work— their fledglings in the nest are gone! Then one of the supreme powers— Apollo, or Pan, or Zeus— hears the shrill wailing cry, hears those screaming birds, who live within his realm,                     and sends a late-avenging Fury to take revenge on the transgressors. In just that way, mighty Zeus,               god of hospitality, sends those sons of Atreus against Alexander, son of Priam— for that woman’s sake, Helen, the one who’s had so many men, condemning Trojans and Danaans to many heartfelt struggles, both alike, knees splintering as the fighting starts. Now things stand as they stand. What’s destined to come will be fulfilled, and no libation, sacrifice, or human tears will mitigate the gods’ unbending wrath of sacrifice not blessed by fire. But as for us, whose old bodies confer no honour, who were left behind when the army sailed so long ago,              we wait here, using up our strength to support ourselves with canes, like children, whose power, though growing in their chests, is not yet fit for Ares, god of war. And so it is with old men, too, who, when they reach extreme old age, wither like leaves, and go their way three-footed, no better than a child,            as they wander like a daydream.                 But you, daughter of Tyndareus, queen Clytaemnestra, what’s going on? What news? What reports have you received that lead you to send your servants out commanding all this sacrifice? For every god our city worships— all-powerful gods above the earth, and those below, and those in heaven,        and those in the marketplace—                   their altars are ablaze with offerings. Fires rise here and there and everywhere, right up to heaven, fed by sacred oils brought from the palace—sweet and holy, their purity sustains those flames. Tell us what you can, tell us what’s right for us to hear. Cure our anxious thoughts. For now, at one particular moment,            things look grim, but then our hopes,         rising from these sacrificial fires, make things seem better, soothing corrosive pains that eat my heart. I have the power to proclaim that prophecy made to our kings, as they were setting on their way, a happy outcome for their expedition. My age inspires in me Persuasion still, the power of song sent from the gods, to sing how two kings of Achaea’s troops, united in a joint command, led off      the youth of Greece, armed with avenging spears, marching against Troy, land of Teucer. They got a happy omen—two eagles, kings of birds, appeared before the kings of ships. One bird was black, the other’s tail was white, here, close to the palace, on the right, in a place where everyone could see. The eagles were gorging themselves, devouring a pregnant hare                  and all its unborn offspring, struggling in their death throes still.               Sing out the song of sorrow, song of grief, but let the good prevail. Then the army’s prophet, Calchas, observing the twin purposes in the two warlike sons of Atreus, saw the twin leaders of the army in those birds devouring the hare. He then interpreted the omen, saying,            “In due course this expedition will capture Priam’s city, Troy— before its towers a violent Fate will annihilate all public goods.                      But may no anger from the gods cast its dark shadow on our troops, our great bit forged to curb Troy’s mouth. For goddess Artemis is full of anger at her father’s flying hounds—she pities the cowering sacrificial creature in distress,   she pities its young, slaughtered before she’s brought them into life. Artemis abominates the eagles’ feast.” Sing out the song of sorrow, song of grief, but let the good prevail.                                  “And lovely Artemis—  though you’re gentle with the tender cubs of vicious lions and take special joy in the suckling young of all wild living beasts, promise things will work out well,                 as this omen of the eagles indicates,  an auspicious sign, but ominous. And I call Apollo, god of healing, to stop Artemis delaying the fleet, by sending hostile winds to keep the ships from sailing,                        in her demand for another sacrifice, one which violates all human law, which no feast celebrates— it shatters families and makes the wife           lose all respect and hate her husband.  For in the home a dreadful anger waits. It does not forget and cannot be appeased. Its treachery controls the house, waiting to avenge a slaughtered child.” Calchas prophesied that fatal destiny, read from those birds, as the army marched, speaking by this palace of the kings.                                   And to confirm all this sing out the song of sorrow, song of grief,     but let the good prevail. O Zeus, whoever he may be,                 if this name please him as invocation, then that’s the name I’ll use to call him. As I try to think all these things through, I have no words to shape my thoughts, other than Zeus—if I truly can succeed in easing my heart of this heavy grief, this self-defeating weight of sorrow. As for Uranus, who was once so great, bursting with arrogance for every fight, people will talk about that god as if he’d never even lived.             And his son, Cronos, who came after, has met his match and is no more. But whoever with a willing heart cries his triumphal song to Zeus will come to understand all things. Zeus, who guided mortals to be wise, has established his fixed law—                       wisdom comes through suffering. Trouble, with its memories of pain, drips in our hearts as we try to sleep,              so men against their will learn to practice moderation. Favours come to us from gods seated on their solemn thrones— such grace is harsh and violent. So then the leader of Achaean ships, the elder brother, Agamemnon,                      did not blame or fault the prophet, but gave in to fortune’s sudden blows. For Achaea’s army, stranded there, on the shores across from Calchis,                 was held up by opposing winds at Aulis, where tides ebb and flow. Troops grew weary, as supplies ran low. Winds blew from the Strymon river, keeping ships at anchor, harming men with too much leisure. Troops grew hungry. They wandered discontent and restless. The winds corroded ships and cables. The delay seemed endless, on and on, until the men, the flower of Argos, began to wilt. Then Calchas proclaimed the cause of this— it was Artemis. And he proposed                a further remedy, but something harsh, even worse than the opposing winds, so painful that the sons of Atreus struck their canes on the ground and wept.         Then Agamemnon, the older king, spoke up: “It’s harsh not to obey this fate— but to go through with it is harsh as well, to kill my child, the glory of my house, to stain a father’s hands before the altar                            with streams of virgin’s blood. Which of my options is not evil? How can I just leave this fleet, and let my fellow warriors down? Their passionate demand for sacrifice                               to calm the winds lies within their rights— even the sacrifice of virgin blood. So be it. All may be well.” But when Agamemnon strapped on the harsh yoke of necessity, his spirits changed, and his intentions became profane, unholy, unsanctified.                                He undertook an act beyond all daring. Troubles come, above all, from delusions inciting men to rash designs, to evil.                                   So Agamemnon steeled his heart to make his own daughter the sacrifice, an offering for the Achaean fleet, so he could prosecute the war waged to avenge that woman Helen. In their eagerness for war, those leaders                              paid no attention to the girl, her pleas for help, her cries of “Father!”— any more than to her virgin youth. Her father offered up a prayer,                                          then ordered men to seize her and lift her up—she’d fallen forward and just lay there in her robes—to raise her, high above the altar, like a goat, urging them to keep their spirits up. They gagged her lovely mouth, with force, just like a horse’s bit, to keep her speechless, to stifle any curse which she might cry against her family. As she threw her saffron robe onto the ground,                  she glanced at the men, each of them,                                             those carrying out the sacrifice, her eyes imploring pity. She looked just like a painting dying to speak. She’d often sung before her father’s table, when, as host, he’d entertained his guests, a virgin using her flawless voice to honour her dear father with her love, as he prayed for blessing at the third libation.                                                           What happened next I did not see. And I won’t say. What Calchas’ skill had prophesied did come to pass. The scales of Justice move to show                                  that wisdom comes through suffering. As for what’s to come—you’ll know that when it comes. So let it be. To know would be to grieve ahead of time. It’s clear whatever is to happen will happen, like tomorrow’s dawn.                                

But I hope whatever follows will be good, according to the wishes of our queen, who governs here, our closest guard, keeping watch all by herself, protecting Peloponnesian lands.

[live4yahushua-blog]

Amightywind prophecy #11

Prophecy 11

Rise Up, Speak Up, Tell The Devil To Shut Up, In MY Name!

Given to Apostle Sherrie Elijah (Elisheva Sherrie Eliyahu)

This is from Prophecy 105, YAHUVEH said to put this up on all Prophecies from now on: I warned you a long time ago Elisabeth (Elisheva) not to name this Ministry after a man or a woman even before there was a Ministry. I put it in your spirit for none of this has been done by your hand, none of this has come forth from your mouth. It is from the Mouth of YAHUVEH that has given birth. It is from the Mouth of YAHUSHUA your MASHIACH that has given birth. It is from the Mouth of the RUACH ha KODESH your IMMAYAH that has given birth. If it had only been by your hand it would have failed long ago. It is by the SHKHINYAH GLORY’S Wind that blows across this earth, the Holy Wind of Revival, it is not by your breath or it would have failed. (Isaiah 42:8)

In July 2010 YAHUVEH GOD also said to add the following from 2nd Chronicles before every Prophecy:

2 Chronicles 36:16, “But they mocked the Messengers of GOD, despised HIS Words, and scoffed at HIS Prophets, until the wrath of the LORD arose against HIS people, till there was no remedy.”

* * * * * * *

Don’t hinder the gifts I have given you, many are called, few are chosen. Gideon’s troops were called, but few were chosen. I your Father YAHUVEH weeded them out. MY Beloved, thus saith YAHUVEH, know this, I have not called you to fail, but to succeed in MY Name. I do not start a good work then not finish it. This calling is not of you but of ME. Does not MY Word say, “I choose the weak so MY power is manifested?”

All will know it is not you ministering but I ministering through anointed clay vessels. Sherrie [Elisheva Sherrie] cannot and does not take the credit for anything she does for ME, for she knows it is not of her but of ME. She knows now I am speaking forth through her to you. The doctors who practice mind manipulation would say this is mental illness, but surrendering yourself to the one who gave you the mouth, emotions and mind is not mental illness.

But by admitting or even believing YAHUVEH can even speak forth out of a person, doctors think it is mental illness. There would have been no Bible if they had succeeded in convincing MY Disciples of this. Yes, there is a counterfeit and these people are mentally ill but MY Prophets are not one of them. Satan causes mental illness and the mentally ill need deliverance. Would they not have accused Peter who walked on the water suicidal? Delusions of grandeur. The three Hebrew children, would they not have said the Hebrew children who were thrown into the fiery furnace had a martyr complex and spirits of suicide?

But the flesh is always at war with the RUACH ha KODESH (Holy Spirit) within you. You must overcome the flesh to minister. You can succeed if you do it in MY Name. But there is always a war. After every prophecy the prophet has to war against his flesh. As it rears up and says who do you think you are to speak to YAHUVEH’s people and say he speaks it? If this doesn’t happen to MY Prophets and they don’t admit this war, then I am not speaking forth out of them.

A sure sign MY Spirit has spoken or written out of a person is if they encounter that voice which causes them to wonder is that really you YAHUVEH? The one writing you now, your sister has this battle constantly for she feels unworthy to be used in this way. I have to remind her as I am going to remind others by causing this to be shared with others, do you really think you can speak so beautifully and full of anointed power? Do you really think you have this much wisdom? Always MY true Prophets have to say, “You’re right, this can’t be me.” Do you really think you have this kind of boldness?

Then say, “Forgive me, Heavenly Father it has to be you, for I can’t, neither would I desire to do such a thing as to say, thus saith YAHUVEH when it’s not true.” This is the mark of a true prophet; they doubt the flesh, but have confidence in the RUACH ha KODESH that uses them. They know they can do nothing or desire to do nothing without the RUACH ha KODESH anointing them to do it. Stop fearing the gifts I have given you. I won’ t force you to feed MY sheep and you will still go to Heaven, but your rewards will not be as great and I shall raise another up to fill the place you should have been. There are souls waiting for you to minister to them.

Fear is the opposite of faith. Again I speak forth the confirmation, but don’t keep testing ME, for that which already has been confirmed. Time is short. MY coming is shortly. Do what you’re going to do for ME now, not later. Now is when I need MY Ministers, MY Warriors. Now is when I need those chosen to gather in the harvest of souls. Now is when I need you to be fishers of men and women. Now is when I need MY Prophets to speak forth.

Now is when I need the evangelists, Spirits like John the Baptist to come forth. Now is the time of salvation, tomorrow may be too late. So many of that called wait until tomorrow till conditions are just right for them. Yet tomorrow and the right conditions never come for them. Wake up, this is a trick of the enemy.

Another trick is, “I am not worthy to preach the Gospel of YAHUSHUA , I have too many problems. I have a past that brings me shame, you can’t use me” WAKE UP, I am the one who chooses who serves ME. Not you. Did I not choose Paul (Shaul) to serve ME in a mighty way and he was a murderer of thousands of Christians? How much worse of a past could he have had? Yet I took that past and used it for MY Praise, Honor and Glory. What satan meant for evil I turned around for your good. That’s what I do; I don’t call people into the ministry who have not suffered. They wouldn’t identify with MY suffering children. You don’t know how much a wound hurts, till you yourself have been wounded.

Who better to tend to the wounded sheep than one who has known the pain? You won’t know how to bring someone out of sin and to the foot of Calvary’s cross, if you yourself didn’t have something to identify with them. A sinner saved by grace. How can you minister to the backsliders if you yourself have not at one time or another thought you lost your faith in ME. Your greatest weakness, I will cause to be your greatest strengths, for I will use that weakness and help you to overcome it, and prove the reality of YAHUSHUA. When I confirm you have been chosen don’t stand there and question ME, “Why me?” Only know I am the great “I AM” and I don’t make mistakes. It’s still your choice though whether you want to obey. But you will be miserable and always aware that you disobeyed MY calling on your life should you refuse it.

That’s why I said, “Many are called and few are chosen.” Which will you choose to be? I already know what you have chosen. Does not MY Word say those that put their hand to the plow and look back, are not worthy? Put your hand to the plow; leave your past at the foot of the cross of Calvary. I allowed the things that happened to make you stronger for ME, not weaker. For you have a testimony that is made of gold not brass. Use it to bring souls to ME, use it to bring ME Praise, Honor and Glory.

I your Master YAHUSHUA ha MASHIACH am returning sooner than you think. As the evil gets more rampant in this world, and evil ones flaunt the sin in MY face saying, “What you ‘gonna’ do about it YAHUSHUA? I will show them what I am going to do about it. As I show MY Children when I spank them, I will punish those flaunting MY commandments, homosexuality, immorality, and Bible in MY face and daring to mock ME. It’s coming, MY wrath is coming to this earth undiluted.

As they teach the babes to sin and that MY words are no longer for today, they are going to pay in a mighty way. I was only the sacrificial Lamb once; I come back as a mighty warrior next time. But first I gather MY Children home. MY wrath is reserved for MY enemies not MY Children. MY Children those loving and serving ME whose sins are washed in the shed Blood of Calvary have nothing to fear.

But MY enemies will never know such fear. For what they feared will come upon them and what they never feared will consume them. As MY Name is used as a curse word on the airwaves and all that is holy is mocked across the airwaves, I will prove that I am Almighty God, the great YAHUVEH “I AM” and it’s not ME who is being mocked and cursed. It is you who listen to this and not feel sorrow for hearing it and have hardened your heart and allowed this and not spoken out against it. MY Children take back the airwaves, in MY Name. You don’t hear Buddha being cursed or satan or Mohammed.

But you hear the name of Jesus Christ (YAHUSHUA ha MASHIACH) being cursed. You hear the God you serve being damned. It is not God Almighty that is damned; it is the one speaking forth these curses upon themselves. Only the Blood of YAHUSHUA will wash them clean from this sin.

I tell you look to the volcanoes and earthquakes, the terrors in the sky and you will know how soon MY coming is. As I control the one thing man cannot and never will control the elements in the sky and the weather. Man cannot stop the volcanoes, earthquakes, snow or cold or heat, tornadoes, hurricanes, flooding from torrential rain as evil gets more evil, good becomes more holy. I am separating MY People now and MY coming is eminent. Do what you are going to do for ME quickly.

The elderly are to be treated lovingly and with respect for they are elders who are storehouses of much knowledge. They are MY treasures upon this earth, yet how many are forgotten, locked away, treated like unwanted garbage. Their own children legally kill the sick and handicapped. They are a burden financially “Let the poor die, do away with welfare, what good are they?” Did I not say, “The poor would always be with you”? But you were to share what you have with them.

Feed the poor; clothe the naked, your brothers and sisters. Those called by MY Name, washed in MY Blood and you pretend you don’t see them. I SEE THEM! I HEAR THEIR CRIES! I allow it to see how many do care. But for the grace of God YAHUVEH, there go you. You are your brother’s keeper. When one part of the body of YAHUSHUA suffers, it all suffers. Stop ignoring the pain.

As the murders of innocent babes yet in their mother’s wombs are ripped apart so savagely and you think because this sinful world legalizes it, it is legal with ME. Even your murderers on death row, you try and think of merciful and quick deaths for them. The laws give at least 10 years more in most cases at expense of taxpayers, your tax money, to lengthen their lives. To invent more merciful ways to kill those that took lives without any mercy. Yet babes so precious to ME, babes I have counted the days till their birth, put MY Spirit in them, caused them to grow strong and healthy in mothers’ wombs, so they will breath at time of birth, and these innocent babes never known wrong are tortured as their unheard screams echo in MY ears.

Those that have done these abortions and not confessed and asked for forgiveness and turned away from this sin, for all eternity you will hear the screams of all those babies. As one of your punishments you have waiting for you in hell and never a break from the cries of the murdered babies, or the screams. Do you know how a crying baby gets on your nerves? Imagine millions in your ears for eternity.

REPENT NOW, nurses, doctors, women doing these things for your own sake. REPENT NOW, politicians who passed these laws. Supreme Court, you’re not supreme in MY eyes. You are not above MY laws. Almighty God YAHUVEH alone is Supreme. Almighty God YAHUVEH alone is judge and jury and executioner. YAHUSHUA ha MASHIACH came so you could have life and life more abundantly. REPENT! Turn away from this sin for I will hold you accountable. The blood of the unborn is on your hands.

Why, because I have given mankind a choice? A choice to obey that which is instinct given to every woman and man, to protect the young, nurture the young. And yet they are savagely murdered. Woe unto the ones who call this legal. Woe be unto the doctors and nurses who take part in this murder. Woe be unto the politicians who passed the laws of these innocent babies being slaughtered.

Woe be unto you who have stayed silent far too long. For I hear their screams. The babies’ souls return to whence they came from Heaven. But their souls are ripped out of this world unmercifully. Cruelty beyond words. I allow the souls to leave only to prove man’s inhumanity to man. Knowing what choice that mother already made. Grieving and giving her every chance to repent. Knowing she won’t, angry because she won’t repent.

Tell them, tell them MY Daughter. Once again although even those who call them by MY Name yet do nothing but shake their heads and others I am so proud to call MY Children lay their lives, reputations, and finances down to protect the innocent babes in the mothers’ wombs. These are the ones I will reward. Why aren’t the churches supporting those willing to sacrifice their all to protest against these murders of innocent babies?

They lose their jobs, imprisoned, mocked, and why? Because they heard MY voice, and MY conviction that said, “Speak up, don’t say silent.” I have heard their prayers, I have seen their tears, and I have felt their pain, have you? Every church service should be praying for them. Every church service should be praying for MY conviction, MY judgment on those doing such things, allowing these murders, yet how few do. I am GRIEVIOUSLY ANGRY. For you say you’re MINE and you are ignoring the cries of the unborn, and the cries of those that sacrifice their all to protect and stop the slaughter of the unborn. Rise up, speak up, in MY Name, Pray, Pray, Pray, till you see this horror cease,

You want to know why I have allowed this to go on, because I have been waiting for MY Children to call upon MY Name to stop this. To prove they care. Not just a handful, but millions should have spoken forth as these laws against MY laws were passed. There should never be a church service without this prayer going forth. Pastors you will be held accountable. You have been warned. Congregations warn your pastors. They are supposed to be representing ME. Urge them every service to pray for this horror to cease, for MY judgment to come upon those that refuse to repent. Stop giving ME lukewarm prayers. I will not listen. Give ME prayers with passion and with a heart that cares. Stop the ritual prayers that are merely memorizing words, I will not hear. This is from your mind and mouth, not your heart.

Great sinkholes shall open up and the earth shall swallow these abortion clinics. Not anything man has done but MY hand shall punch the earth. Where the most blood is spilled, innocent blood. For not even in war is innocent blood shed like this. But upon the altars of satan these children are slaughtered for convenience sake, for vanity, for selfishness, for fear and for greed. I will give them something to fear. They will fear the Almighty God YAHUVEH who created those souls they so viciously murder. They will fear YAHUVEH whom they mock and say its legal. They will fear the ones that put the Christians in their faces to warn them this is murder, this is sin. For it won’t be anything the Christians do to cause them to fear, other than pray and move the hand of YAHUVEH through those prayers.

But the women, doctors, nurses, politicians, those applauding the murders of MY innocent souls shall see MY face and MY Spirit upon MY Children sent forth as troops to pray. Remember the walls of Jericho. Remember how it was not human hands that brought down the walls of Jericho. So it shall be done again and they won’t be able to build the abortion clinics fast enough. Tell them MY Child and teach them.

There is yet time to repent, but soon there will be none. Remember Sodom and Gomorrah it was not human hands that brought the fire and brimstone, it rained from Heaven where it is stored up and it will come again. Evil ones, those practicing this and so much worse, you have been warned. Your laws can legalize homosexual marriages but I decreed it is sin. It is a mockery of marriage and what I created to be Holy. It is not legalized in MY eyes. Pastors, some of you have joined in these love feasts of strange flesh. By saying nothing, you have partaken in it. Rise up, speak up, tell the heathen to shut up in MY Name. Don’t listen to their lies anymore. They are out after the children. You have been warned, your own children.

You must REPENT NOW or you also will suffer what is to come and coming quickly. You have been warned. So worried about your tax exempt status but not worried about what the God you claim to serve will do to you, for not praying against this and for not moving MY hand to end this. Again there should never be a church service that ends without prayer going forth to end this spirit that has been sent forth to contaminate all that is Holy. The prayers of a righteous man avail much. Lukewarm prayers I don’t hear and I abhor. Either be hot or cold but don’t come to ME lukewarm, for I will spew you out of MY mouth.

Don’t say you are MINE and not stand up for all that is Holy or remain silent as you see others standing up for Holiness and getting persecuted for MY sake, and not help them anyway you can for fear of losing your tax exempt status. You will lose more than your tax-exempt status. You will lose more than your lives. You will lose your SOULS. You have been warned. The time is now. Rise up, speak up, tell the heathen to shut up in YAHUSHUA’s Name. One with YAHUSHUA on their side is a majority. A million without YAHUSHUA on their side is a minority. The time is now.

A broken vessel of clay, but mighty warrior of YAHUSHUA MESSIAH!

Pastor Sherrie Elijah (Elisheva Sherrie Eliyahu)

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From now on I am commanded to write the time in. I don’t know the reason. Also during writing this prophecy, I lost connection with Internet, I tried to reconnect only to find all the phone lines were being attacked in some way, it has been 2 hrs. Now and this is not sent. It’s 3:37 PM and I can’t even reach the operator.

For hours it has said, “This line is busy!” Never had that happen before. I cover this computer, and e-mail with prophetic message with the shed Blood of YAHUSHUA ha MASHIACH of Calvary. By faith, I believe all those that the RUACH ha KODESH wants to have this message will have it. Unable to connect all night and send this tonight. Can’t even reach operator, or dial long distance. Something has happened in the heavenlies as I write this. Only local calls are going through.

This is the first time I ever was told to start including the time, you will see something happen corresponding to this date or time. I know not what. I ask wherever this prophecy is posted, or sent, send the complete page.

For there Is a reason and again I know it’s YAHUVEH commanding me to say, don’t change or take one word out, leave it in complete state I am sending it. Devil must be mad. After all this is being sent across the airwaves and the Bible says satan is prince and has power over the airwaves with his principalities. But I cover the airwaves which this travels and the computers with the shed Blood of YAHUSHUA, and our telephone services and Internet services. The Blood of YAHUSHUA of Calvary, and Nazareth is against you satan.

And demons, you can’t cross the Blood. In the name of YAHUSHUA. Phone lines working now at 11:15 PM. Now it can be sent. Those with ears of the RUACH ha KODESH will hear the voice of Our Almighty God YAHUVEH, all others will remain deaf. In the name of YAHUSHUA ha MASHIACH, RUACH ha KODESH send forth your messages to all those that will recognize our Master’s and Creator’s voice.

Only for your Praise, Honor, and Glory YAHUSHUA I ask. Amen.