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When did everyone stop having simple common morals?

Not long ago I sat one late evening talking with my aging Uncle Buzz, seventy five years old, suffering from Non-Hodgkins Lymphocytic Leukemia, he was but a shadow physically of the man I knew and loved my whole life, yet in spirit he was as strong if not stronger then I could ever remember.

Not often did I hear him speak of his youth, yet as the end seemed to approach in his own life, more and more these late night discussions seemed to be ever increasing in necessity more then a mere casual convenience.

I recall one particular night Uncle Buzz recalling with more then a single tear in his eye, the hardships that he had to endure as a young boy during “The Depression”.

His mother and her two children, alone in one of the toughest economical times this country had ever endured. Poor, uneducated, and abandoned, with virtually no hope for sustaining themselves, in a time when many fought for any means to sustain themselves. Yes there was government programs, but for most this direction was not only a last choice but fell below a level of self dignity that many just could not venture.

He spoke of a mother that no matter how bad it was, would not take a hand out. Working all day cleaning houses for a mere nickel a day. When they could no longer afford the home in which they lived, being forced out into the street, they at least were blessed with the ability to rent, at a nominal rate, maybe five cents a week, the basement of her sisters house.

He said rent, because he knew his aunt had often offered to let them stay for free, but it was his mother knowing the dire financial situation of her sister as well, that insisted on paying and would only stay if she could pay a fair rate.

The walk to school every day was an adventure of exploration and blessings, his mother would accompany the two small children each way when she could, taking a bit longer route then normal, as to venture along the train tracks gathering coal that had fallen from the passing trains for their stove each day. Young Buzz would run further into the brush gather the largest pieces often filling his mothers bundle long before they came to the end of their trek.

When the mother held all she needed, any extra was placed in a separate sack for Buzz and his sister Pearl, of which they could collect until the end of the week and sell for a single cent, just enough for one piece of hard candy each. Sometimes life was good.

Times were extreme, the bitter cold would on more then one occasion find its way into the wear holes that appeared in shoes that were just a bit older, and over used, then usual. Sometimes the cost of a new sole or a needed repair was more costly then could be found.

Out of the question was any thought of asking for it for free, my uncle had on more then one occasion, worked all day in the shoe repair shop sweeping and polishing until his fingers were black, for merely the cost of a single repair. But the smile on the face of his mother after seeing her son earn the much needed repair, far exceeded any physical cost.

There were always people who would lend a helping hand. Food and services were always exchanged, some people engaged in a sort of barter system, giving what they could to one and receiving what they needed from another. But many people just took pride in helping each other, and on occasion, his mother had to bend to accepting such a gift for partial loaf or small can of beans, knowing that when a time would turn for a winter half of bag of coal, or much needed afternoon at the wash bucket, so developed a way to repay.

There was an inherent sense of good that resided in most people prompting them to share what little they had, and finding pleasure in the payment of a smile received from a child or father able to eat today after skipping the last three meals. Where have those days gone?

One generation later, is it in an office after hearing my patients spill through the topics of today.

I wonder if a kind act, a true word, or a simple sharing of things needed has completely escaped us.

I find myself fighting almost on a daily basis, on behalf of patients for authorization for care that not only have they been prescribed, but I concur they need. Not a day goes by when I am not seeing an example where patients are being denied care they should receive, being lied to by the very companies that had contracted to care for them, an insurance company or attorney is trying to cheat me out of paying for care already provided, people using the system for their own purposes other then to get healthy, or just flat out apathy to the needs of people in general all for the purpose of increasing profits.

On another not so special day, a woman explaining in a general manor her plan to walk away from her home. A home only a few years before, she loved and found herself very privileged to own. She explained that it has declined in value to half what she had mortgaged it for.

Her plan no different then many others of a similar situation, find and purchase another less expensive home while the credit score allows, then stop paying on her present home six months maybe ten. She explained with a sort of gleam in her eye, she has heard that back ups in the courts have delayed evictions for as much as a year or more in some extreme cases.

She was planning to get into only a slightly smaller home for a quarter of the monthly payment, and with all the money she will save over the next seven plus months from not paying any rent of mortgage, should have no problem paying off the credit cards, or purchasing that car she has wanted.

But then again maybe she would just lose the credit cards, file bankruptcy, keep the money, go on that vacation she has always wanted, her credit would be shot anyway, “what does it matter!”

“I’d take everything you could get!” another person volunteers, “take yours, nobody is going to give it to you!” They all laugh.

People realizing that there was a hail storm several months ago, somewhere in Phoenix, and suddenly everyone has hail damage. An entire industry springs up of people dedicated to collecting moneys they believe are due to them, whether they suffer the damage or not. I know several people even openly bragged about taking a hammer to their house or yard barbecue just to justify their claim for thousands of dollars for repairs they have no intention of ever performing. They sit back and wait for “their” check!

How many people that actual where the Katrina victims received the money’s allocated for relief? I had heard someone say that over 60 percent of the money paid out, went to people who had later shown to never have resided in Louisiana, many of which may have even been in prison at the time they collected.

People today only seem to care about others when it somehow, or in someway improves their own situation. I see more people who proudly brag about obtaining disability while holding down other means of income, making money for doing nothing except manipulate the system, and feeding their addictions, in the last few years, then I had seen in all of the last twenty years combined.

When an elderly person no longer can contribute they are cast away, locked away, a person no longer wanted, discarded! Children used in porn, tossed in dunpsters, elimanated at a mere whim, abused, used and forgotten by the very people that should have dedicated themselves to raising these.

Wives, husbands, when the going gets tough, those who may have, get going! Honor, integrity in the work place, honesty in politics, treating someone fairly, the honor of the handshake, my word is my bond, even simple curtacies such as opening a door for a woman, telling the truth, all discarded from normal social behaviors.

My point is people in general seemed to be more concerned with getting what they believed they are owed, what they want, and this personal entitlement seems to be based purely on when they see other collect, they feel they should some how receive it as well. Greed has run rampid!

Watching an economic analyst recently on a famous news show, a man who accurately predicted not only the bubble breaking of the stock market, but also accurately predicted the real estate crash we currently find ourselves in, he was asked what we could expect in the future?

His response; “following an almost certain severe and immediate devaluation of US currency, an era of true depression will occur.”

The commentator then went on to ask; “As bad as the Great Depression of the 1930’s?”

The man responded in a most solum tone; “The Great Depression? No! The Greatest Depression! Because in the Great depression people helped each other, they cared, they shared, they had morals. In the next Depression the people will not care, they won’t help each other and when things get tough, people will just take! We have become a people without honor, without morals!”

Some where along the way in our most recent years, just the last few decades, we have changed from a society that in most cases placed honor and integrity above their own personal desires, a people that would never take a handout, to a people that not only eagerly take a handout, but actually have a common belief that getting something for nothing or without working for it is some how our right. This is evident completely across the board in the lives of people all the way up to the expectations of big business.

We have gone from a people willing to help each other, actually caring about others, to a people who “follow their heart”!

I wonder if this is how the way it was at the time right before the flood?

By Peter Colla

“Dear Lord Jesus soften my heart and that of my brothers and sisters, to see the absolute destructive nature of greed and thus observe the effects it has not only on myself but on everyone around me.”

“Help me combat it where I can, and pick up a sword to actually engage into this battle, the battle of charity.”

“Charity in a world of greed.”

“Forgive them father for they know not what they do.”

One of the last statements made, by the greatest man that had ever lived right before inviting yet another sinner into paradise and then declaring; “It is finished”.

“Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do”, has been a statement of discussion, example of forgiveness, and call fraise for countless interactions for nearly the last twenty centuries.

Believer or not, sinner or saint, nobody denies He lived, and while people have wrestled in their own hearts for centuries with one single question; “Was He or was He not the Son of God?”, all agree Jesus of Nazareth, was a good and extremely wise man that had done nothing to deserve the torture and death that He had been sentenced to. These facts were meticulously documented not only by His followers, but also by the Roman government, perhaps one of the most totalitarian, but also clerically meticulous societies that ever existed.

He stated these words when a world not only turned its back on Him, but also betrayed Him in the most heinous and brutal way. He spoke it out for God to hear, but also voiced it into the reality of the world, for all around Him heard the words.

Let us examine this for a moment not merely from the standpoint of the words and their content, but also as one might examine a painting; such as taking in all of the subtleties of the color and balance, including content, making references to time and space, spacial orientation, emphasis, contour, basically lets examine the total picture.

First, He spoke it for all to hear? He could have said it softly to Himself, He could have said it silently in His head for only the Father to hear, private end words only to be exchanged between Father and Son, but no, He said it out and for all the world to hear.

The spoken Word, here again an example of a single fraise, an idea, an entire philosophy, that has been created from nothing into reality with “The Word”! The Word becomes reality, the Word is reality. If ever a single statement voiced by any man has carried more weight, been more often repeated, had a more pronounced effect, used for more examples of moral excellence, touched more ears, crossed more lips, all because of this one man’s statement, I don’t know but I would venture to say: “No!”

From the worlds standpoint, many Kings have come and went, rulers, heroes, rich men, important all in their own minds and those of many people, all having the desire to be remembered, have any of these ever been as remembered for anything they have created let alone their words? No!

I have spoken before of the absolute reality of the spoken word, the fact that it sets us apart from any other creation, basically demonstrating in us our God given ability to create with but a spoken word. Of course we are created in the Image of God. Here again Jesus at one of His last moments of His life choses to teach, and not only just exist. His every moment on this world, an example and literal demonstration of the word “Teacher”.

Spoken to create!

A second point, He could have said that statement many times earlier, for example; when He was going to be, and later was betrayed, when He was in front of the pharisees and sadducees being falsely accused, when He was being beaten and chained by the temple guards, when He was in front of Pontus Pilot, when the Roman’s were whipping Him, when the people tormented, ridiculed, spat, threw garbage, laughed at, turned their back on, as He was being led through the streets with the cross. He could have even as He was being nailed to the tree, and left to die?

No he did it at the end, at the end of His time, because they, being us, truly didn’t know what they were doing. It is a demonstration of our time today, the majority of the things we do wrong, the many things we place in front of God, the multitude of act of sin we not only perpetrate against others but also against ourselves, have become so common, so accepted, we don’t even see them as sin any longer.

Is it so much different today; we live in a time when we literally swim in filth, vile and vice, that we people ourselves have created, chosen, and even lifted up as something we wish to follow and dedicate our lives to. When you begin to see so much darkness around, so much cruelty, everything is so loud, so harsh, so unloving, so dark, so self centered, when “following your heart” becomes a call fraise for freedom at anyone else’s expense, is it me, or do you just get numb to it, to the point where a person doesn’t even notice something that would have shocked them only years before.

Twenty, thirty years ago, the image of death, was still so shocking that it wouldn’t be allowed on public accessible television, and even entry into movies where violence and clear demonstrations of vice was restricted to people under eighteen unless accompanied by a parent. But today the images are so common, even to the point of being allowed and promoted in the programs watched by children, not to mention the games they play, that our children are hardly shocked when coming face to face with the horror’s of death in real life.

Twenty years ago, morals and purity seemed to be a common place, people could leave their children play in the neighborhood or yard unattended.

I remember with fond memories a childhood not all so far past when a young boy of perhaps seven or eight could venture outside on his own. The television had not yet became the babysitter, or teacher it has become today, and often for parents to seek moments of quiet work at home without the ever increasing demands placed on their time by their children, an innocent; “go out and play” was issued, even though perhaps ideas for play activities or availability of fiends may lack.

Many a time, I can remember a more then lengthy trek into the farmers corn field and the treasures that waited in the dump that he kept at the center of the fields. Piles of unidentifiable materials, metal containers, wood, piping, fencing, any and all material necessary for various venues of life on the farm, now no, but once yes. Abandoned articles of generations past, old tractors, a refrigerator, oven, all forms of discarded apparatus, used, rusted, and dysfunctional, often more costly to dispose of, then to just store in this out of the way place for the outward chance that a spare part could be salvaged in the future.

One mans trash is another man’s treasure, well maybe not a man but a boy. Many boys, for all the boys from the neighborhood knew of this veritable treasure troth of wealth that provided all the material necessary for any construct of fort imaginable. We all played there at one moment or another, all the parents knew. How? Who knew, but seemingly out of some mystical knowledge one or another dad would call from the mid point in the corn, not needing to venture completely through, when calling his child home for dinner. And they just seemed to know where their kids were playing, but more importantly that they were safe.

Walking to school was also a pleasurable time for me, a time of reflection and contemplation, a pondering of all things around. Un-rushed by the glimpses my children can only enjoy from a speeding car, giving little or no chance to settle a gaze on something new one might spot out of the passing scene through the glass. The calm that seemed to blend with my own walks to school always evolved a sort of conversation that I knew in spirit and heart was with God.

Granted, many of non-belief might speculate that such conversations where mere ramblings of a playing child, or perhaps even the early signs of more less desirable diagnosis, often including hearing voices or even multiple personality type disorders, but frankly speaking as one who lived it, the calm intelligence that spoke in always a loving and accepting manor, coupled with the peace felt when such a voice was felt, gave no doubt, at least to this recipient where the origins lie.

Walking through alley ways, past homes with little or evident life within, had only a frightful effect when one or more haunted tail was attached to the weathered home, and these stories were often fabricated by other children, most often told by an older sibling or friend with less honorable intentions.

My point is, we are told and taught that we are an evolving species, getting smarter, stronger, taller, and venturing toward a more perfect existence? Then why can I not even trust my seven year old child to venture around the house, or for that matter into the front yard without my direct, or another adult’s immediate supervision?

Surely abductors, rapist’s, murderers, people, animals, creatures of destruction have always been with us? Where my parent merely naive, or perhaps was it because there were more people in a smaller area? Doubtful, I’ve been in many rural communities of today, where even keeping a single door unlocked while the residents sleep inside is unthinkable, yet only a few years ago, keeping the doors unlocked even when the family away for much of the day was a common practice by most, if not almost all of the residents in the area of the city I had then resided.

What happened to people? When did they become so distrusting? It can’t only be experiential, if it where, there would be pockets of distrust, but also areas of business being as usual, no this phenomenon seems universal and constant throughout all reaches of society and community.

My guess is we have developed this distrust because of things we have heard, seen, and felt around us. This experience must be uniform and constant. The distrust was taught! We learned to not trust the world, people, our community, our very security in our own home because someone, something whispered in our ear; “you can’t trust your neighbor!”

The neighbor, the town, the people, the community, they have been accused, and it has developed fear, where peace once resided. The world has become such a place of common crime, acceptable immoral behavior, tolerated behaviors that are not only destructive to those around the people that are perpetrating them, but also to themselves.

My children will never know the freedom of exploration of a famers field.

This is the world we live, this is the end of times, and it is now because of the fact “He is returning” that the statement; “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do!” applies more then ever.

To be continue….

By Peter Colla

Jesus, I pray you open not only my eyes, but the eyes of all around me, as to the effects of all that surrounds us. Let me not be complacent with my children and those who I have been blessed in my care, let me recognize those earthly things that would harm not only them but myself, and cause me to pull away from you. I know you created me, and everyone else in your perfect image, please cleanse from me all that would pollute that perfect creation, grant me the wisdom to see that pollutants and build a hedge of protection around me and those in my charge to guard us from these attacks.

Amen

A father, a brother, a son going about his business, he has heard the commotion, people talking about the show at the temple. But people talk. There are fish to catch, he has his children to feed. Not that he has a difficult life, work can be hard, but with good hard work comes good reward. Seeing the faces of his children as they smile at dinner, a dinner provided by the strength of his arm, the commitment of his work, and the love of a father who knows the lives that have been placed in his care, are worth every discomfort the efforts may cast.

The father of his house recalls to himself thoughts and memories of his life in front of him; “I’ve heard what they say, the dancing, the music, people go, and then don’t come back for hours at a time. My wife says that it has gotten out of hand, people lose themselves there, I don’t see how that could be possible.”

Beautiful brown eyes of his children as they play at his feet, how he loves lying on the ground playing with his son, picking up his daughter, holding her close to his chest, how beautiful she is. It is so easy to see his wife’s eyes in her, the purity of the child’s smile tickles his memory for the days of his youth, the sweet smile of his wife on their wedding day.

“My earlier years were less complicated days, the pressures of responsibility was only just beginning to shine its light through the morning trees. A man only had to think of himself in those early days, care for himself, work enough to feed himself, but the joys of a wife bring their own comforts and added tasks. Work for food, build a house, raise enough harvest, fish enough, carve and sand enough wood, to take care of the family we both wanted. Funny how a life will change one step at a time, a brick here, a table there, a babies bottle, children’s cloths, bedding, shoes, food, oh but it is so worth it, to watch my beautiful children eat and grow.”

“I don’t know if everyone feels this way, but I certainly have seen the pleasures of my labors, the gift of love, given to me by an adoring wife, and loving children that count on me to provide all they need.”

“I just don’t see what’s all the excitement about watching the priests and priestesses carrying on.”

The temple he was speaking of, is the temple of molech. People come and stare for hours, at the goings on. Priests engaged in all sorts of shows, demonstrating every act of vile, vice, war and death imaginable. Priestesses, the most beautiful of the beautiful, voluptuous beyond belief, men of strength and stature, engaged in all manner of sexual perversion. The more shocking and degrading, the more the people gaze in wonder, stare, gawk and cheer.

In the center is the huge image of molech, a rectangular cut out in it’s belly, revealing the constant hungry fire that sits within, a large grotesque figure of demonic imagery, a beastly image with a hateful look on its face. Who does it hate? Seemingly everyone and everything, maybe even itself. Hands out reaching, wanting, ever more, unsatisfied, grasping, for something anything to quench the ever present hunger that burns within. The large rectangle cut out of his stomach, this is the place they throw various sacrifices in, priest’s and priestesses cast various elements of precious wealth into the blazing chasm, screaming in a combination of ecstasy and pain, pain from the burning tentacles that reach out and touch, any and all that come near.

The gaping maw is never satisfied, and actually burns brighter and hotter with every sacrifice. The tormented destruction of everything that is thrown in is evident, and radiates on the faces of all that sit and watch.

The ever growing and constant fire within heating the creature to a point of almost white hot, glowing even pulsating along the edges. Gyrating figures all around enticing more and more onlookers. People of all ages and status, sitting in front of the image, watching in a sort of trans, staring for hours upon end.

The most popular and beautiful are solicited into service, this service is not without compensation or costs, they receive the highest pay of the land, nearly rivaling the kings, their every want and desire fulfilled. But to the costs; they pay with their servitude, for their demonstrations are not their own, everyone knows them and as a result, their every movement watched and scrutinized, for they must always conform to the behavior dictated by the temple, or their position and maybe even life, will be forfeited. They of course, must perform as they are instructed whether they believe in the ritual or not. They pay with their soul, for they must bow down, and confess with their mouth the lies that the head priests instruct. The priests and priestesses give all of their body, hearts, and minds to this image, the very acts they eroticize are designed to draw the onlookers in with every site, sound, and movement. The rituals and potions that they must take in, have the severest consequence on these young beautiful bodies. Age, and stress wears them before their time, and only when the beauty of youth seems to have left, are they discarded without concern or ceremony.

The growing crowds of onlookers who worship them with their eyes, ears, time, and hearts, long to engage them, mimic them, even but touch them for the lusts and acts they impress into the audiences souls.

Two thousand, two hundred years later a simple man sits at his desk, and has a vision of this similar man to himself, working though his daily tasks, unabated by the constant drum of everything around him. He glances up at the TV, mesmerized by the beauty and eroticism displayed there. Images of actors engaged in all sorts of shows, demonstrating every act of vile, vice, war and death imaginable. Actresses, the most beautiful of the beautiful, voluptuous beyond belief, with men of strength and stature, engaged in all manner of sexual perversion. The more shocking and degrading, the more the people gaze in wonder, stare, gawk and cheer.

I see our family man being brought to the image by his friends, first, then later just coming on his own, sitting more and more in front of the image. Staring into the rectangle of wonder, the ritual unfolding before him, he is hardly noticing the gradual deterioration of the events playing out in front of him. The displays are increasing in vile and vice every day, even when sporting contest are played out, they are becoming increasingly violent. The images ever increasing in volume and intensity, more and more, longer and longer, into the night. When did they all start dancing with each other naked, when did it become acceptable for the strong to abuse and rape the weak, when did the cursing just flow like filth through open sewer ditches, when did the thief, the murderer, the child abuser, the criminal, become the hero?

When animals are cruelly tormented and put to death for all to see, women brutalized to the cheer’s and ecstasy of the onlookers, children victimized at the creatures very hands, people didn’t even notice the progress. When onlooker give up family, love, job’s, life, to sit there and worship, the transition is hardly noticeable.

When people start burning themselves on the white hot hands of the their god, it gives the onlookers an almost sexual feeling, while watching the pain it solicits. The audience almost erupts in orgasmic ecstasy with each ever increasing act of human destruction. Crying for more, they will pay anything, their last coin, their pound of flesh, for one more moment of ever increasing perversion.

The priest’s constantly call for more and more, but there is no satisfaction granted the actors plea’s, because there is no quenching the hungering fire that burns within molech. So common is the burning of flesh, sacrificing of beauty, sexual perversion, it hardly has an effect on the onlookers any longer. The degradation continues, priest’s having sex with men, actresses with women, so common that it almost becomes the norm instead of the exception. Children are solicited at a gradually younger age, first against their will, and later even willfully, until the point where even babies are not safe from the clenches of the ritual. Actresses throwing their faces into the fire, Priestesses laying prostate naked in the image’s hands, convulsing in burning pain with screams of delight. Actors sacrificing body parts even their entire body willfully against the white hot image, knowing the flesh is destined to burn, and only disfigurement awaits.

Finally the high priest turns to the audience and says; “molech demands; you give us your families, no you give us your children now, because the time has come and strong is he!”

One after another gives their own children to the clenches of the actors and priestesses as they rip them from less loving hands. There is no safety, no kindness, no compassion, just a ever present hunger and greed to take the young lives and use them. “Put molech in every room!” the priest screams and men rush off to obey. “Lay your children in front of him!” a priestess demands, “and watch the fire devour the virgin flesh!” she screams with a witches voice.

A wife comes to our man, pleading with him to come home, come back to her family. A home that has fallen apart from lack of care. Our man no longer has time, he barely has time to function, but his service to his family is in direct proportion to his interest, and right now his interest are only to get in front of this image as soon as possible, sit there in a euphoric coma all day, even falling asleep in front. Worship!

His children that used to play at his feet, climb on his lap, nestle against his chest, come less and less each day, because all he does is push them away. One day they stop coming all together, and eventually even his wife stops bothering.

He is not alone, many have jumped into the fray even screaming with ecstasy as they lay their babies on the burning white hands of this filthy demon. Putting them in front of the merciless hot flames, any and all purity burned from them. Screaming in pain the sweet innocent children’s cries are only drowned out by the louder insane screams of the lusting onlookers. One after another cast into the fiery maw of the filthy beast, now black with the soot of the many innocent victim’s within. Baby after innocent baby, thrown in without care or concern. The screams of the onlookers, why do they care, as long as these children don’t interfere with their fun.

So dark is the heart of molech.

Gone forever the beautiful brown eyes of his children, our poor man stares in foolish loneliness.

So dark is our man’s heart, black as soot.

By Peter Colla

“Jesus I pray for all who have been deceived by the spirit of this demon, and I pray that not only will those people who have been captured into the service of this dark temple have their eyes open, but You will also grant them wisdom of how they can bring the fight right into the enemies camp with an influx of Your Spirit, Your Will, and Your Actions. Let us turn from slaves to great warriors of Christ and take back the venues meant to enslave us, Your people, and turn it into a great weapon in the army of Christ.”

Not all to long ago, lived a Beautiful Loving King, who ruled a good and noble kingdom, a kingdom of light. Ruled with love and compassion, truth, kindness, undeniable justice, freedom for all, the King made everything open to His people, all the access to any wisdom they needed for life. The good King gave His people all they could ever want, health, wealth, peace, security, demanding nothing, not even their worship even though he could, maybe even should. Demanding nothing except that they value and cherish above all things goodness and love, loving everyone as themselves, even themselves, instructing His people to the things that hurt others and in turn hurt themselves.

So was the love of the Great King, loving His subjects even more then any father could ever love his children, loving them so much He even gave them all the freedom, to do anything they wished, even to the point of allowing them to leave the safety of His realm, into to areas of the enemy, if they so desired. As much as the Great King gave everything to His precious children, there were those who would choose on their own to leave, often when darkness just couldn’t loosen it’s grip from their heart, they would walk with their own two feet through the gate and into a world which only contained hate, anger, greed, and death.

How the Great Father wept for every soul that left, knowing once the kingdom of darkness wrapped it’s cruel greedy chains around the flesh of each of His children, none would ever return. What kept them away; shame, fear, guilt? Perhaps, but most likely the realization that the very chains that bound them, were the products of their own creation. Chained yes, but their hearts and spirits never forgotten where they came from. Great were the wailing’s of the Good Kings people in this far off dark land.

Then one day the Father had a Son, ever so much of a true Son of the Father was He. All the people loved Him, because He loved them first. And while He deserved every inch of the palace that the Father shared with the Son, He chose to dwell among the people. He ate and slept, laughed and cried, held them, loved them, all equally without any favoritism, never lifting Himself above any, even though they would have, should have, lifted Him at every moment. He was all Good, all Kind, Truth manifested in a man. Wise beyond understanding, Love beyond comprehension, compassion without Limit. Men and women loved Him, His kindness and charity had no bounds, Children played at His feet, for comfort, safety, and security; for all these qualities wrapped their arms around Him like the strength of a thousand soldiers. He was the ultimate Man’s Man, and no one loved Him more then the King.

A dark day rose, but maybe for the Prince a glorious day, for Word came from the enemy that all the prisoners might be freed. All the souls that wanted to come back could, chains would be broken, sentences pardoned, costs erased, all the debts of the greedy, selfish, people that took without thinking, walked into darkness of their own free will, would be free, the forgotten found, the lost returned. A door from that horrible place back to the kingdom of Light would be unlocked for any and all who would be willing to enter, and the only cost would be that the Good and Perfect Prince, the Man that never hurt a single person, a Son that was only ever True and Good in His Fathers eyes, as well as anyone else who had known Him, had to surrender Himself to the enemy in their stead.

Nobody who knew Him, wanted Him to go, no one thought it was fair, but he enemy thought if he just imprison the Son, torture Him, kill Him, so too would the Father fall. There was in reality only two that knew the Son must go; one, the Son who would gladly had went even to sacrifice Himself for a single soul, and two, the Father who knew His Son, and knew that it was perhaps for this single act that His Son was born, and to deny Him the opportunity to sacrifice Himself for even a single subject, would deny the very character of the Son, He so loved and was.

The Son gave Himself, the door was unlocked, and all that remained was that the prisoners just walk through.

By Peter Colla

“Thank You Jesus for Your sacrifice for me, as I know I am that one prisoner that You sacrificed Yourself to set free. I believe with all my heart You have paid the price for my errors, I am so sorry, and I shall never forget that fact; ever in my heart will the thought of Your sacrifice for me dwell.”

Being in a place of acceptance even if this is just a spiritual place, and not just the passing social/economical moments of our lives, can and always seems to leave us in a position of vulnerability that pulls at the very strings of our mind and sole. That feeling of uncertainty, accountability, openness, trends us to question our own stability in an already unstable world.

It is no wonder why everyone hates crisis, not to mention the usual resulting manifesting conflicts that always seem to fill us with dread, fear, and a deep feeling of insignificance, makes us stand back and look at ourselves often with resulting realization of how small we really are. This of course, plays havoc with our self esteem and/or the lack there of, making us just cherish every moment we live in crisis (I was being facetious), bringing to mind the scripture “consider yourself glad when you are being persecuted”! This is a very difficult situation and concept to wrap our arms around. How can we possibly count ourselves glad when we are in crisis? The answer; knowing that there is an opportunity for change and through this change we can become a better person.

I am no stranger to crisis, and if anyone knows me they also realize that crisis has been my middle name over the course of the last seventeen or so months. Thank God for this crisis, for it is through these many crisis situations that Jesus has truly done a work in my life. A great line from the movie “Shawshank Redemption” the narrating character remembers a quote from his friend “you can get started living, or you can get on started dying”, I believe in any true crisis, we find ourselves at one pivotal point where we must choose to “get busy living, or get busy dying”, this choice, whether we want to admit it or not, often manifests’ itself in the active drawing close to God or a departure from him. Death is what waits for us if we depart from Him! But now that is a very different story for a later time.

I’d like to think that I have chosen wisely, and I am drawing closer to Him then away, but at the same time, realizing that He is all around us and in us; it is myself that will somehow on a spiritual level draws closer or moves away. Now that presents itself with a difficult dilemma, how do we move away from something that completely and utterly surrounds and comprises every aspect of the world we live in, including us! That would be like jumping in a pool and then just by a pure act of will, or choice, decide we don’t want to be wet! I’d like to think I ponder, on a regular basis such philosophical thoughts, but to be honest I have a hard time contemplating whether or not the SUNS should keep Nash next year, let alone my place in universe in reference to God.

It is for this reason that I believe God gives us visions, if He had to wait around for us meager Humans to ponder a deep thought, especially in this age where we are being bombarded with every aspect of mind numbing, psycho-distractions, I believe He’d be waiting until He was blue in the face, which He could be right now, who really knows the face of God? My point is in the muck and mire I call my life at this moment, God in his infinite grace gave me a vision. And while the interpretation eluded me, and may still elude me to its full extent, I feel God wants me at least to write it down.

This is the full account of the “Prayer Vision” and how it was discerned to me, or at least what it has meant to me;

Amazing, or at least as it is in the case of my life, whenever I feel I don’t want to do something, (most of the time, thing’s that I eventually realize will probably be good for me), is the particular thing I’m supposed to do, then it turns out, it would seem that God has something very good in store for me, if I decide to do it anyway!

So was the case of a particular invitation to a men’s prayer meeting 6:30 am on a Tuesday morning. It was my first of such prayer meetings, and I didn’t feel particularly at home, or did I get anything too significant out of it. I have never been much of a prayer, having never being taught, (Catholic school upbringing), and if I was, I certainly was either not paying attention, or didn’t remember.
As it began to draw down the men decided, or maybe this is a regular occurrence, to close with prayer. In typical fashion I closed my eyes, and maybe even started to agree with the prayers of the leader or other men that chimed in.

At a particular moment a different man spoke and for some unknown reason I turned my head without opening my eyes to look at the man speaking. This was a bit unusual for me, because it wasn’t like I was expecting to see anything in the dark of my closed eyes. But to my amazement I did see something; coming from the direction of the man I was looking at, I could see in my closed eyed darkness a distinct wave action emanating from his direction.

Pulsating from a distinct point, his point, and radiating up and out, almost in a wave like fashion of a pond or something, except still dark, I almost had the impression I was looking into a dark pool on a clear dark night, and someone was throwing stones into the pond. Waves moving out, but mostly up. This wave created an almost uniform undulation in the blackness of my eyes sight, or lack there of, creating only slight shades of black with very dark grays.

I sat there and stared for quite a moment, which seemed like a long moment. Thankfully the man leading the prayer was a bit long winded, because I had time to turn my head to the direction of the other men, those next to the one I first noticed, the others to my other side, and even the leader in front of me, realizing that each was creating his own sets of waves. They were each on their own pulsating tempo, and with their own strengths, and as I sat in amazement, I began to realize that all of the wave patterns were slowly starting to assimilate into one, a single greater and very directed large wave, and this wave was pulsating at such an intensity that I could almost physically feel the pulses in my body, especially as I became aware that they were coming. Kind of like the soft reverberations a person feels from the base during a concert.

The wave continued and that was the only thing I could see in the vast darkness of my closed eyed vision, but suddenly the enormous wave began to loose strength and eventually dissipated to nothing, only moments shortly prior to the conclusion of the prayer. I later shared the sight, vision, whatever, with my then mentor and very close friend Robert, but the meaning of the experience was not clearly brought to me until much later, ever days and weeks.

God spoke to me through many words including verbal confirmations, spoken words, written words, preached, taught, every sort of very Godly people and friends in my life, and even the “still soft voice” that I should listen to the most, but which admittedly, I ignore more then hear.

In clarifying the vision, He basically said; “all that you see, all that you touch, all that you hear, taste, smell, feel, is not really the real world, but the things you don’t see, feel, touch, hear, or taste are really the real things”. And as I pondered this He spoke to many other examples and how they play into the spiritual battles that are constantly waging around us unseen! “For we do not battle against flesh and bone, but against principalities and forces unseen…”

“For example; we are created in the image of God, and with that, unfortunately, come a responsibility of being a creator ourselves. That one fact being “creator” sets us apart from all other creations. The entire universe was set into creation with the spoken word! We confess our salvation before man with the spoken word. We will be accountable for every “word” that is uttered out of our mouth. And many more examples of where the word; “word” is mentioned as a powerful and creative force.”

Now scientists will tell us that energy can not be created or destroyed, and if that is the case, what happens to all of those spoken words that we have ever uttered? Do they just disappear, or as scientists may state with energy, and maybe even God verifies (as if he needs to verify anything a man should speculate), that it just keeps going, ever half-ing an effect, weaker and weaker as they dissipate, or precipitate an influence on the things around them, yet half of even a very small amount is still half!

Never quite gone, always having some effect on the world around us, our family, friends, this chair, ourselves, forever accountable! So maybe like the prayer, our words are real things, animate, real creations in an unseen world, but because we don’t see the effect on the in-animate, on that rock or on that wall, we assume they have no effect. But the effect, like the real action in the unseen world, is a real effect in the unseen world.

How significant in our real or seen world is the effects of things that are unseen; the effect of love, hate, slander, radiation, poisonous gas, phobia’s, to much sun, a flirting glance from a beautiful woman, a judgmental look from a boss or teacher, the poker face or lack there of, a smile, a babies breath, a lover’s scent, your stupid, your pretty, your fat, your a genius, being told you have cancer, or that someone is proud of you? Many of these types of unseen entities can have life changing effect, much more then permanent then even a baseball bat to same head.

Well if that be the case, maybe we can take it one step further, and when we sin, is it possible that it’s not just an arbitrary event. Often believing that if we don’t hurt anyone, or nobody sees the harm in it, that it doesn’t have a lasting and permanent effect?

But just maybe, we are creating entities in the spiritual world, real anomalies that just kind of gather around us, almost like spiritual dark balloons, or bricks, or something maybe even more dark, sinister, and not so desirable, that over time, and with enough accumulations, these things have the ability to isolate us from all who we love; God, our spouses, our children, everything good in the world even ourselves. We become dark!

A single glimpse of porn may not lead to a divorce, but coupled with many visitations to internet porn sites, might later facilitate a justification of dabbling in chat, and even later maybe a secret meeting with some other lonely darkened sole looking for companionship or something, sitting in the same dilemma not knowing where to look or at what. We might just find ourselves completely surrounded and engulfed in these dark bricks or dark balloons to the point where we can hardly breath, divorce not only becomes a viable option, but the only choice!
We can find examples of this in all forms of short lived gratification; drugs, hate, sexual promiscuity, homosexuality, all forms and kinds of sin, perpetrated against ourselves, creating around us an atmosphere of darkness and seclusion such as murmuring, blaspheming, pride, even suicide, and the ultimate act of self hatred! When all is dark, why continue? How sad that in most cases it was our own hand that built every dark brick, bit of straw and mud, one piece at a time.

But praise Jesus when he says “if you ask for forgiveness, I will place that sin as far away as the east is from the west”! Why, does he have to move it away if it doesn’t exist, if it is just some insignificant, invisible event in the past? Is he actually picking up something real and moving it!

“But if one is true, could the opposite be true also, we should also examine the other side of the coin; Love! When we love our neighbor as ourselves, when we do a kind unselfish things for our neighbor, our spouse, our children, strangers, our enemies, maybe we are creating something substantial in the heavenly realm, something that has a lasting effect on the entire universe, something that can’t be taken from us, something that we may even take with us in death!
Acts of obedience, when done for the Heavenly Father all have to be acts of love! Maybe we are building that spiritual temple that mansion that we, as created in the image of God, may possess also. “For all the commandments, the greatest of these is love” When we speak of Jesus, we minister or witness, is it not said that this can only be done through the Holy Spirit, which is Love in us. And is it also said that “Love can only come from God!”

Maybe this is what is meant by; “storing your treasures up in heaven, where there is no rust, no worm to eat, or no thief to steal. For where your treasure there your heart will be also.”

What a wonderful thought; to think that with each loving, kind and good word spoken from our mouths, or the very actions of our lives we are creating something total and indestructible, indestructible in the unseen but real universe.

If the spoken word has such creative power, and love has its own creative manifestations, what about the combination of the two, resulting in praise and worship? What a powerful effect that the combination of these two creative powers manifests, and it is no wonder why the Lord basks in the praises of His people! Did he not say that even the angels stop and take notice, and God himself turns His face towards the praises of His people!

He created us in his image and then so desires for us to express ourselves in a way that demonstrates our true master design.

It becomes a bit scary to think that with every action, that might not be particularly of God, we can be creating the negative influence in the universe as well.

This manifested is a bit of release from me also, in the realization that as a person creates a significant amount of black balloons around themselves, they begin then to become trapped in their private dark hell they have created, that it becomes impossible for them to find love or have a loving act in that secluded place. As if the darkness blocks the light from getting in.

It also became understandable how flesh, or the desire for darkness, would dominate in such a situation, and the spirit would be weak or nearly non-existent.  I often wondered how some Christians could confess Christ, and still act so dark towards each other.

I say a release for me, because when I think about a person engulfed in a quagmire or dark slime, built up with many layers of bricks, mortar, and filth, that has accumulated over years, months, days, or even a moment, it takes away the personal aspect of their attack, and kind of shows me where the real blame for this poor sole rests, making it much easier to hate the sin but love the sinner! To forgive!

Forgiveness an act of love, and the very act of placing away from us, in the same way God places away from himself sin; it is so comprehensible how the effect of the sin looses its hold on our immediate world. And while we often feel at the time, we are doing someone else such a service or a self sacrificing act, in reality we are doing something for ourselves that not only benefits us directly, but also the world immediately surrounding us.

In this way we also set down a hedge of protection around our family and friends and everyone we pray for, forgive and love. We build fortresses around all of the people we love, making it possible for them to experience love much easier then without our efforts. All of this through the miraculous gift of mercy, forgiveness, grace, and love; the greatest gift of God!

By Peter Colla

“Jesus let my actions, my words, my very thoughts be that of good, of light, of You, and forgive me for any and all darkness I have created. Give me the wisdom the very weapon to see the enemies lies and the ability to share this wisdom to others, with your Words and actions, each and every day of my life.”

As I run along this path that I seem to have found my self upon,
not any longer by choice, but one thankfully given,
yes free will, every choice my own,
yet prompted and guided by Him,
it is a path going to unrealized, and excitedly fulfilling,
Godly wonderful places.

God’s breath in those places,
rapidly unfolding themselves around me as peddles,
fragrantly glistening in the mornings cool dew.

Not always is the path of great pleasure,
no!, most one of hardship and only simple pleasure.
A narrow path, straight, true, eyes focused, arms strong,
seeing children’s eyes, a lovers tear, a gentle touch, a cool drink,
a path filled with love, agape love only God can give.

I hope, no believe, soon to glance to my side,
noticing her as she walks or runs beside,
going the same way, eyes focused on the goal,
then suddenly we meet, glancing to my side, our eyes touch,
exchange a smile, recognize each other, there’s a laugh,
but more the realization that friends is assured.

Then gently take her hand, my new friend I have found,
the warmth of her touch caresses my heart,
the laughter is intoxicating, but more so her breath,
where there is strength, there is only truth.
Where there is intimacy, there can only be adoration.
Gods greatest gift, that only He can give,

and we walk on… Is that to much to ask?

I pray not.

By Peter Colla

“Jesus I pray to be on that Path, your Path, and with it all the blessing that may come from being on the Path that Jesus would have me on.”

Peter or Paul

Leadership is a privilege not a right, all authority is granted from above, whether we want to believe it or not, regardless, we are only allowed anything in this life because He gives it to us from above.

I was laying in my sleep and the Lord told me; “this is what I want you to say to my people;”

“As for the senators and congressmen that I have allowed to serve this great nation, they will bring dignity and honor back into their tenure. At the end of their terms, right before they decide to retire they will submit to two things to the people who put them in office;”

“They will open the financial records of their families to an independent audit and see if their families have benefitted unusually and significantly from the time they have been in office both domestically and abroad.”

“And;”

“The voting public will vote if they feel the senator of congressman has performed to the expectations of their promises.”

“If either are negative then the senator or congressmen will forgo any benefits of retirement pay after they stop.”

“Lying in bed, old and grey, with their own picture hanging above their bed, this will be the only legacy that one can expect that has not been true to his word to the people who have put him in office. He will die with only the painted image of his youth to reflect upon, smiling down at him with a its flat two dimensional stare.”

As I laid their I felt that this was a Word and in my mind, I asked if this was a Word that needed to be written or told, and He said; “yes and blog it” (however you do that?, since I haven’t yet).

He then showed me the time on the clock in the dream and it was straight up six o’clock. I was dreaming!

I then awoke and looked at the clock, no alarm, and it was exactly six o’clock straight up so I knew in my heart that it was Him.

By Peter Colla

“Lord Jesus, knowing that you are Lord of all, over all that is of this world, and nobody that has found themselves in a position of authority in this world would have that position if it was not allowed by The Father, allow all the Senators and Congressmen of this great country to have their eyes opened to the understanding of this fact. They are not in charge, but under charge from God. Allow all of those who have chosen public service to realize they are to serve and not be served, this is the Path they have chosen, the Path of Christ.”

Who is the greatest sinner?

The man given everything he has ever wanted or needed, loving parents, all the abilities to guarantee success in life, the best schools, a beautiful safe and secure home, a loving and faithful wife, healthy beautiful successful children, a great career, all the money he could ever want, or use, then one day he finds himself walking along, maybe a bit more frustrated then usual for a day perhaps a bit more challenging then average.

As he glances up his path, he notices a another man lying on the side of the road, derelict, dirty, unshaven, his appearance on the outside of his ragged and torn tweed coat mimics the condition inside paralyzing his life. Maybe he is even drunk, most certainly the man has pissed himself, because the stench of his life is already finding its way into our man’s nose, even at a distance.

Their eyes meet, the unfortunate man calling with eyes of hunger, need, want, quickly finds his glance to be met with contempt, repulsion, and even loathing. The only thing worse is the immediate turning away, as if he doesn’t even exit, further confirming what has long been whispered in his ear, he is insignificant, unloved, unwanted, and dirty.

“Why did he do that to me? What have I done to the other, how have I hurt him merely being there?” our perfect Creation asks himself as he receives yet another lash.

Our man turns his gaze away, and as quickly, steps into the street to cross, rushing a bit faster then normal to hurry along, as an attempt to dodge the inevitable confrontation inside his own spirit. Better to ignore, and act as if he didn’t even see the child in need, then to feel the pangs of guilt as he rushes past in his corner of his world. Just around the building and turn the corner, and forget he ever seen that creature.

Another man approaches from the adjacent street. His life not so blessed. Pain, and ridicule, coupled with abandonment where all his parents ever gave him, beaten and abused for as long as he can remember, his own drunk father would rather torture his young child with unending ferocity, then attempt to remember the beating he himself endured all the years of his youth. There was never a teacher that gave him a caring hand, never a woman who loved him, love seemed to just be myth that had never quite graced his lips, no kind words, no gentle touch, only the sting of the staff across his back, a fist in the face, spit, garbage, those where his bed companions.

As he hurries around the corner, he almost stumbles over a derelict lying in the street. Stepping on the man as he avoids falling on him, the poor old soul cries out in pain and fright. The voice has a familiar ring, smell laced alcohol, rough corse tone, and torn tweed jacket, that launch an explosion of memories, triggering reactions that have bottled up for years.

The beating the larger man ensues onto the defenseless child, is wild blood laced and extreme, animal in nature, no mercy is shown, for time is not taken to even consider it. Bone breaking from the severity of the many blows, would leave an onlooker questioning is it the attacker hands, or the poor mans face the are eliciting the many loud cracking sounds. There are two men crying out, one in utter agony, whimpers of pain and noises of life being kicked from his body, the other grunts and aggressive screeches of exploding forces that have been released after years of torment.

Finally realizing what he has done the larger man releases his limp, moaning victim from his vicious grip. Both men now crying, each for very different yet similar reasons. The large child turns to leave, his eyes wanting to turn away, as to not feel the guilt.

Their eyes meet, the unfortunate man calling with eyes of hunger, need, want, quickly finds his glance to be met with contempt, repulsion, and even loathing. The only thing worse is the immediate turning away, as if he doesn’t even exit, further confirming what has long been whispered in his ear, he is insignificant, unloved, unwanted, and dirty.

“Why did he do that to me? What have I done to the other, how have I hurt him merely being there?” our perfect Creation asks himself as he receives yet another lash.

Our man turns his gaze away, and as quickly, steps into the street to cross, rushing a bit faster then normal to hurry along, as an attempt to dodge the inevitable confrontation inside his own spirit. Better to ignore, and act as if he didn’t even see the child in need, then to feel the pangs of guilt as he rushes past in his corner of his world. Just around the building and turn the corner, and forget he ever seen that creature.

Which of these men are the greatest sinner’s?

Answer; Both equal!
They are both poor little children who happen to sin. Both deserving the same love.

By Peter Colla

“Forgive me Lord Jesus, for I am all of these men. Forgive all of my sins, my acts against others, my acts of avoidance, and my acts of laziness where I might allow myself to fall victim.”