In that brief moment when my Creator's voice overpowered my senses, I saw the world as it truly is.
I am a slave on this planet. Destined to pollute my body with toxins and poisons, both crippling my future sustainability as my body gradually shows signs of wear and fatigue.
But it was much more than that. We each have a tiny fragment of divine light inside of us that propels us into our own futures. Localized into our physical forms, our souls, if you want to call it that, transcend the limitations of space and time, communicating our every thought back to heaven.
God is in fact all knowing. He can read every single tiny thought we have ever had or ignored as if He were flipping through the pages of a comic book. Yet despite some of those malicious and sinful moments we conceal deep within the recesses of our psyches, God still loves each of us unconditionally.
Except witches. He made that very clear. Witches have no place in heaven and have declared war against God. It is a battle that they cannot win, and all the manipulation and deceitful tactics they employ are not even a bee sting to Our Creator.
So God spoke to me, but what did He say? There were a few words spoken, yes, that's for sure, but I think what is more interesting is how He shook the foundations of reality as if the ground under my feet was a continuous wave of ripples on a quiet pond's surface.
"This is My voice," I heard Him say briefly. That was all I needed to shake off the malevolence and evil bestowed upon me by the demons, witches, or whatever corrupted forms of beings were affecting my perception.
And then I left. I saw that the witches were just playing games using advanced technology and modified science formulas to create a false perception that confused me and clouded my judgment.
But my faith, however many times it can be tested, cannot be severed. I am bound to the ruler of heaven as a newborn baby is to its mother, incapable of selecting an alternative caretaker and at the mercy of powers beyond his control.
It wasn't for a few hours afterwards that I understood why God chose those words to speak. The witches were casting spells to convince me to believe their sorcery was the work of God. That level of blasphemy is a direct insult to God, and so divine intervention was necessitated.
It took another day or so for the hundreds of witches chasing after me to somehow disappear. I'll never know to what extent God intervened or how severe His wrath was in this case, if any at all.
What I do know is that I now know, and knowing does not require me to believe or have faith, because I know God exists. And in a way that's a shame, because I now have lost the ability to exercise blind faith, which is the most revered form of worship available. However, despite the fact that I no longer need faith, replaced by hard evidence of a direct experience with God, I still retain the humility associated with those who place their faith in a higher power.
And so with a few simple words, "This is My voice," I have replaced my belief and faith in God with the knowledge that there is a God, He is a just and benevolent being, and all forms of blasphemy, even just telling a white lie, are concerns that God can rectify Himself and doesn't need anybody's help with.
“How do I know you’re really God?” I ask.
“That question borders on blasphemy,” He responds.
“I’m just sayin, you could be the opposite of God, and I’d never…”
“You mean reverse the D, and suddenly I’m Gob instead of God?” He asks sardonically.
“My point is I’d never know the difference,” I state.
“To you, any higher being can pose as your God, and as a human, you’d be forced to accept their claim. Is that your point?” God or Gob inquires.
“Yes, that is exactly my point,” I concur.
“You have a brain, don't you? Can't you figure out a logical way to determine whether or not I am who I say I am?” He asks.
I shake my head. “How?” I ask, “you could be the devil pretending to be God, and I would never have any way of proving one way or the other.”
“And if I tell you something that brings goodness into your life; wouldn't that be proof?” He implores.
“No, it wouldn't. You could be doing that just to convince me temporarily and then do evil later. Or you could do something that seems good to me but ultimately is bad on a more grander scale,” I argue.
“More grander?” He corrects me with a mocking undertone.
"What? No? Nothin?" I jokingly attempt to diffuse the tension.
"So which one am I then?" He asks.
“Perhaps you're merely human with a heightened sense of reality or figured out some advanced science that I would mistake for magic?” I continue.
I am a slave on this planet. Destined to pollute my body with toxins and poisons, both crippling my future sustainability as my body gradually shows signs of wear and fatigue.
But it was much more than that. We each have a tiny fragment of divine light inside of us that propels us into our own futures. Localized into our physical forms, our souls, if you want to call it that, transcend the limitations of space and time, communicating our every thought back to heaven.
God is in fact all knowing. He can read every single tiny thought we have ever had or ignored as if He were flipping through the pages of a comic book. Yet despite some of those malicious and sinful moments we conceal deep within the recesses of our psyches, God still loves each of us unconditionally.
Except witches. He made that very clear. Witches have no place in heaven and have declared war against God. It is a battle that they cannot win, and all the manipulation and deceitful tactics they employ are not even a bee sting to Our Creator.
So God spoke to me, but what did He say? There were a few words spoken, yes, that's for sure, but I think what is more interesting is how He shook the foundations of reality as if the ground under my feet was a continuous wave of ripples on a quiet pond's surface.
"This is My voice," I heard Him say briefly. That was all I needed to shake off the malevolence and evil bestowed upon me by the demons, witches, or whatever corrupted forms of beings were affecting my perception.
And then I left. I saw that the witches were just playing games using advanced technology and modified science formulas to create a false perception that confused me and clouded my judgment.
But my faith, however many times it can be tested, cannot be severed. I am bound to the ruler of heaven as a newborn baby is to its mother, incapable of selecting an alternative caretaker and at the mercy of powers beyond his control.
It wasn't for a few hours afterwards that I understood why God chose those words to speak. The witches were casting spells to convince me to believe their sorcery was the work of God. That level of blasphemy is a direct insult to God, and so divine intervention was necessitated.
It took another day or so for the hundreds of witches chasing after me to somehow disappear. I'll never know to what extent God intervened or how severe His wrath was in this case, if any at all.
What I do know is that I now know, and knowing does not require me to believe or have faith, because I know God exists. And in a way that's a shame, because I now have lost the ability to exercise blind faith, which is the most revered form of worship available. However, despite the fact that I no longer need faith, replaced by hard evidence of a direct experience with God, I still retain the humility associated with those who place their faith in a higher power.
And so with a few simple words, "This is My voice," I have replaced my belief and faith in God with the knowledge that there is a God, He is a just and benevolent being, and all forms of blasphemy, even just telling a white lie, are concerns that God can rectify Himself and doesn't need anybody's help with.
“How do I know you’re really God?” I ask.
“That question borders on blasphemy,” He responds.
“I’m just sayin, you could be the opposite of God, and I’d never…”
“You mean reverse the D, and suddenly I’m Gob instead of God?” He asks sardonically.
“My point is I’d never know the difference,” I state.
“To you, any higher being can pose as your God, and as a human, you’d be forced to accept their claim. Is that your point?” God or Gob inquires.
“Yes, that is exactly my point,” I concur.
“You have a brain, don't you? Can't you figure out a logical way to determine whether or not I am who I say I am?” He asks.
I shake my head. “How?” I ask, “you could be the devil pretending to be God, and I would never have any way of proving one way or the other.”
“And if I tell you something that brings goodness into your life; wouldn't that be proof?” He implores.
“No, it wouldn't. You could be doing that just to convince me temporarily and then do evil later. Or you could do something that seems good to me but ultimately is bad on a more grander scale,” I argue.
“More grander?” He corrects me with a mocking undertone.
"What? No? Nothin?" I jokingly attempt to diffuse the tension.
"So which one am I then?" He asks.
“Perhaps you're merely human with a heightened sense of reality or figured out some advanced science that I would mistake for magic?” I continue.