Listening to Ezekiel Finally Pays Off

Today I had one of the strangest thoughts I’ve had since becoming a Christian. I ran it by my fiancee Rhodah to see how it checked out with her. I didn’t want to call it “revelation” until I had talked to someone who was full of the Holy Spirit. Now I’ll run it by you.

For at least a couple of years, I’ve felt as though my earthly responsibilities didn’t matter much. I didn’t feel it mattered whether I invested or concerned myself with taxes. I felt it didn’t matter if I let home maintenance tasks go. The feeling I had was that the age during which these things had meaning, if ever they did, was about to close. If you knew you were going to move to Mars tomorrow, for good, you wouldn’t paint your house today. If you knew you were going to die next week, you wouldn’t bother counting calories this week. If you were on a sinking ship, you wouldn’t fight over who got to sit at the captain’s table for dinner.

I do try to take care of my responsibilities, but my motivation is not strong. I almost feel as though I’m humoring myself when I cut the grass or consider building a tractor shed.

Of course, I often wonder if the Holy Spirit is telling me the rapture is coming soon. Is he saying handling the mundane obligations of life is a waste of my time, because I won’t be here to eat the fruit, whether good or bad?

I never had much ambition. Now I have none at all. It doesn’t bother me at all that I’m not a high-earning patent attorney, which is what I would be had I cared about practicing law. It doesn’t bother me that I dropped out of college when I was a pre-med student. I don’t feel bad about the people I could have healed or the discoveries I might have made. I don’t feel pain over abandoning physics as a graduate student. I never think about my career as a writer, which is over after three books that didn’t go anywhere. There are people out there ignoring their families, working late nights, and cutting throats in order to win awards and recognition. It never bothers me that I haven’t won a prize since I came in first in The Miami Herald spelling bee.

Other people remind me of bugs, fighting over the choicest balls of dog poop. The things they chase may bring them pleasure for a short time, but none of it goes with them to heaven. Think about it. What will LeBron James be the second after he dies? Penniless, unemployed, obscure, and uninfluential. What will Jeff Bezos be? Poor. What will Beyonce be? A person who walks everywhere, because she has no limousines, and whose autograph no one wants. If there are lines, she’ll have to wait in them just like everyone else. If there is clothing, hers will be just as cheap as the next person’s. She will have no gold albums. She will have no Grammys. She won’t even have her weaves.

I’ve noticed that wealthy Jews love putting their names on things. I think this comes from their ancient relationship with God, even though they don’t know it. The ancient Jews knew there was no bigger curse than to have your name forgotten. Most Jews are distant from God, but the concept remains ingrained in their collective memory. Rich Jews donate money to all sorts of philanthropic projects, and what is the condition? Someone’s name has to be mentioned. The Morty and Sadie Weinberg Cancer Pavilion. Fishbein Hall. The Saul Rosenstein Observatory.

It’s all pointless. Two weeks ago, I visited structures built by some of the most powerful people on earth. I took pictures in King Tut’s tomb. I posed on the empty sarcophagus deep inside the Great Pyramid. The human beings who built these things made people tremble with fear. They were considered Gods. They had the power to execute people arbitrarily. They were wealthier than Bill Gates. Now tourists take funny selfies in the burial chambers the pharaohs thought people would forever be afraid to desecrate.

I saw a fancy box containing the mummified guts of a pharaoh. They looked like old bread crumbs. The pharaohs don’t scare anyone now, they have no power, and although their names survive in heiroglyphics, their language is dead, and no one is sure how to pronounce any of it.

We fight over excrement. When we get the big balls of excrement we want, we perch on top of them, possibly decorated in fancy clothes, and we toot our horns so people with less excrement can ooh and ahh. Then we die, our dung balls go to other people, and our bodies themselves become excrement. The excrement of lowly creatures like worms and beetles. Even embalmed people rot eventually.

You know what Jesus is going to do when the tribulation is over? He’s going to destroy every pyramid. All of them. Egypt. Mexico. Turkey. He’s going to destroy Angkor Wat, every mosque, every Hindu temple, and every Buddhist shrine. He’ll destroy every dirty movie and book. He’ll destroy every print, tape, and disk of The Wizard of Oz. He’ll destroy every naked Renaissance statue and painting. He’s not going to care about the loss to history. He won’t care about the artistic merit or the financial value. It will all burn.

No one in heaven will know you were your high school class’s valedictorian. If you hold an Olympic record on earth, you won’t hold it when you die, because there won’t be any Olympic records. There won’t be any Nobel Prizes in heaven. There won’t be a bestseller list.

It’s all garbage. Earthly achievement means absolutely nothing in the long run, and everyone will be alive to see the long run. Some will live on in heaven, and some in hell and then the lake of fire. No matter who you are, you will live to see your wealth taken and your accomplishments disappear.

The only things that will be remembered will be things we did for God, and our only treasures will be people we helped save. Cleaning ladies will be honored royalty in heaven while billionaires and famous actors scream and cry in hell without a trace of dignity.

To get back to the point, I was never highly motivated to “make something of myself” on earth, and now I feel even less motivated. I don’t owe the world that. I do have a duty to do God’s work, but I don’t have any obligation to become a doctor and cure cancer. I don’t have an obligation to become a soldier and defend my flag. I don’t owe the world books, symphonies, inventions, or paintings.

The thoughts I had today made me feel less ambitious than ever.

I was in the car, listening to the Bible, and I didn’t understand what I was saying. I figured it had to be Ezekiel. When I hear the Bible, and I understand nothing, it’s always Ezekiel. I looked at my car’s display, and sure enough, I was right.

The prophet was talking about winged beings that flew in God’s presence, and it said their wings made a sound like many waters.

I started thinking. In the Bible, waters are words and voices. The Sea of Galilee represents the world, and the world, really, is made up of voices. God spoke it into existence, and people and spirits shaped it and filled it with words. The powers that run the world use the power of words. Laws are words. Prayers are words. Blessings and curses are words.

The Bible says Jesus is God’s word, and it also says his voice is like many waters. It doesn’t say “water.” It says “waters,” plural. “Many waters” means “many voices.”

Why would Jesus sound like many voices? Are there more than one of him?

I thought about the Beast.

As we all know, there will be a man called the Beast. What many of us do not understand is that the Beast will be a figurehead. He will be controlled by Satan, and he will be the voice of all the people in the world who do not belong to God. They will worship him and be ruled by him, but his rule will be a fiction. In reality, Satan will control him, and other spirits will control the people who are under his rule. The Beast will be a follower pretending to be a leader.

The people of the Beast can also be called “the Beast.” They will be one with him. They will be his body, just as we are the Body of Christ. Satan is small and weak, and he is not omnipresent, so he can’t have a unifying spirit like the Holy Spirit. There is always symmetry in the supernatural, though, so he will have a counterfeit. The Holy Spirit teaches all of God’s people the same things, and he empowers them. Satan will use the Internet and cell phones, or whatever comes after the Internet and cell phones, to simulate the Holy Spirit’s work.

Even now, we are seeing mobs guided by Satan via cell phones. Kids coordinate on social media, and they converge on stores and empty their shelves. The police can’t react in time. In the future, we’ll see many more mobs, and they will be bigger. Before long, electronic connectivity will replace the government. Governments are slow and clumsy. Internet mobs are too quick for governments to stand up to.

So the Beast won’t just be Satan or a man or a mob. He will be a combination of all of these. Many voices, acting as one.

There is always symmetry in the supernatural. If the Beast is a combination of voices and the persons they represent, and Satan always copies God, why can’t God be a similar type of being?

Today it occurred to me that God, on the throne of heaven, may be a combination of all the beings who serve him. Cherubs, angels, seraphim, people, and whatever else there is. All of humanity’s worst parts are settling into the Internet, like dregs at the bottom of a bottle of wine, and the Internet will be the Beast’s nervous system. All the filth in cyberspace will be in the mind of the Beast. I now think God the Father is the sum of all the best parts of the beings who are on his side.

It would explain why he speaks of himself in the plural. It would explain why his voice is like many waters.

If what I am saying comes from God, then every Christian is already part of God. What did Jesus say? He said he was in the Father. I believe Rhodah pointed that out to me. As she told me today, the Bible says that in God, “we live and breathe and have our being.”

It’s very nice to have a woman who knows God.

If our spirits are already part of God, then each of us has an innumerable number of powerful beings who are on his side, as long as we are not in rebellion. No wonder the word says, “The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

We are in the majority, all the time.

It appears that it works like this: every life comes from God. The lives of the innocent, including the forgiven, are attached to him. The lives of the rebellious are cut off from him, so they rot. Christians and other beings that are not damned are distinct persons, but we all have roots in God. Viewed with this in mind, the trinity makes sense.

My hand is part of me, and I give it life, strength, and commands, but it’s not the core of me, and if I sever my hand, I still exist.

If this is how it works, then it should not be that hard to get in touch with God and make the communication channel deeper and wider.

It would also seem that lower creatures would return to God at death, because they can’t be guilty of sin. Without sin, there can’t be a separation.

God doesn’t destroy beings he has created. Even Satan has eternal life. Instead of being destroyed, he will live on in a lake of fire. If God doesn’t destroy Satan and his fellow rebels, why would he destroy your cat?

Since I became aware of these ideas, I have felt less concerned than ever about what happens here on earth. I feel like an ambassador who could be recalled at any moment. If you were an ambassador in some messy little country, and that country had a revolution full of bloodshed and pain, you would be displeased, but you wouldn’t worry, because you would know our military would come and get you, unless you served under Barack Obama. The Bible says we are ambassadors, and we serve a leader who won’t abandon us.

I feel very disconnected to things here. I like it. I don’t like this place. I don’t like living in a body that can be hurt. I don’t like waking up and wondering if I’ll have a physical problem that day. I don’t like aging. I don’t like being surrounded by proud people who are impossible to communicate with and who get filthier every day. I don’t like living under the threat of man’s ridiculous, unfair laws. I don’t like death. I’m tired of death. I’ve seen so many deaths, and I’m only maybe two-thirds of the way through my life. I’m entering the death-rich third, which will also include my own death, unless the rapture comes first.

Feeling disconnected to Earth makes me feel like my trip to heaven is close. Maybe it isn’t, but I like the feeling. I am at peace today.

I want to marry Rhodah and have her with me during whatever time I am required to endure here, and I want to be useful in saving people and reducing their suffering. These are the only major goals I have now.

This all seems correct to me. Maybe it will be helpful to you.