See I sinned right and left there. NIV sucks, correct? Or is it KJV or any or every one of these?
And am I sinning to write a blog article while I’m sitting in a Protestant Church? Am I supposed to sit here mummified and then vote for pig shit Donald Trump in November?
Should I pursue Rune Stones or is that witchcraft and of the…Lucifer? Well what if I told you Satan is allegory, angels are angels, Jesus prepares temples, and I KNOW about all that? I don’t just pretend to know, I KNOW about all that.
Okay. #HappySunday. 😂✌️😘🙄😜🤷🏻♀️
Surrender is the second word. I’ll do a piece of art hopefully this week like above. Dad told Me at least once emphatically as we built, conducted house church, and supported the call for Us to have ten children seven of which were born in Austin, Texas, that He would give this beautiful property away. He would walk off.
And then his daughter was conspired against and I didn’t surrender it. It was stolen from Me yet I am still here. But I will walk off like Dad if I’m led to do so, but not in this season. Not in this season will I physically walk off and I have my reasons. They are faithful reasons. But I listened to my father. I listen to my father still. You cannot make a possession more than a person and yet Christians do it in America all the time. I Am living testimony of this FACT.
This blog article is testimony concerning June, July, and perhaps even August of 2013. I had to reach back and write this after having taken some highly allegorical/poetic writing off my blog. I am going to place that poetic writing in a series here on the blog and I will interpret what I was going through as I wrote what I did as I continued to pray. This first article introduces what I was doing, how I got there, and the major characters written into the poetry.
I will begin by sharing the dream I had some years ago which prophetically indicated I would be doing what I did in mid-2013. Please keep in mind I had not had blinders removed at the time of this dream; therefore, I did not know I Am a Sorceress. I was still in the valley of the shadow of death of Psalm 23 that was the first 40 years of my Christian existence.
I cannot remember the exact time when I had the dream, and I tried to have it interpreted once by someone skilled in dream interpretation. She did not know the meaning and neither did my mother though double moons depicts two months, and that was true in the case of this prayer initiative. But nobody could help with interpretation of anything I have written and testified.
This is as according to Revelation 2:16-17: Repent; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches; To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it.
It is noteworthy that I also have prophetic prayer and testimony experience with the Church of Thyatira (written directly after the above reference) which is shared on this website (in 2013 I had one blog; I now have four as a Sorceress), and I have heeded the warnings of Revelation 2 concerning that witch Jezebel. You will see testimony of how this is true within the Double Moon Prayer Initiative series.
My readers will have to believe me or not; as to your judging this as prophecy you cannot according to First Corinthians 14. That is because it is testimony and prayer, idiot Christianity.
In the dream, I was standing in some sort of large hanger. I found out later through different means that it was a rocket hanger and not an airplane one. I was on the left, and at the entrance. I was wearing Mennonite attire because I had the dream when our house church went into the bondage of teaching about head coverings and modest dress of the Mennonite Church.
I held a baby on my hip and looked up. There were these two huge moons standing side by side in the starless night sky. They were very near the earth. I looked over, and four or five fighter jets came in to take out me and my family, but then they passed by.
This dream depicts the last five years of this ministry being born, and we were not destroyed. The double moons were two months which began June 22, 2013 when our oldest child went under a marriage contract. Unknown to us until later, that was the summer solstice and the night of the largest super moon of the year.
One month later, #8 had a 9th birthday. This is being used against her, and people have tried to control her, since the release of this dream in 2013. I have removed these issues from her life as a Sorceress and you can go to hell those who did that. In two days, John Paul Jackson is alive on both sides of creation in knowledge five years now. There are those aware of the fact John Paul has come back to Earth in the Presence of Cara Coffey in Austin, Texas. (Additions 2/16/2020 according to how I am a woman who gets my dead back within Hebrews 11.)
Timeline of Double Moons Prayer Initiative
1. I began a United States Prayer Initiative in 2012.
2. I went into repentance in knowledge as according to the ladies of leisure of Isaiah 32 and also Proverbs 31 when it talks about how it is not good for women to rule. I have removed a lot of that writing, but I have in the past pointed out how in America, women rule to a large extent. And so I tied that in with Isaiah 32 particularly because I am “married to Isaiah” as a testifier.
3. The marriage contract appeared.
4. I had learned to write prayer lists, and so I systematically began burning some of them as I continued to walk in this neighborhood and pray. In this whole process, I was mimicking the priests of the Old Testament, but at a home level as according to Second John. I was removing anti-Christ from my home and repenting over and over again in the process. (In Allegory, burning is used to slay vampires. Burning is used for various cleansing purposes in the world of pagans. Book burning is used in the book of Acts and you can stuff your arrogance up your own backside America and find that yourself and stop judging me.) This artwork below depicts what I was doing in allegory just as well as my writing you are privileged to read the edited version of which is going to be short and sweet since America decided to lie about the testimony of Cara Coffey. I’m not writing as her anymore. I write as Cara Beaty.
5. I first went on a “Jericho March” prayer initiative where I did eight figure eight walks in Austin, TX, at the zip code 78736.
6. I then went on a “Tower of Babel” prayer initiative where I did another eight figure eight walks in Austin, TX, at the zip code 78736.
Who knows when the first priest molested and raped a child. Who knows when a man of leadership in the Catholic Church had sex with a nun and got her pregnant. In this day, they require the mother of their child to abort the baby. You don’t do that. You support her if she chooses it, you support mother and child if she chooses to keep the baby, and you confess and go to jail, maybe.
June 9, 2013
This week, Curtis shared with me a tragic murder tale that happened in the 1960’s. It is possible that a young woman who went to a confession in the Catholic Church was dumped in the bottom of a river by the priest she had presumably gone to for confession. This was after she was raped and suffocated. I do not know if this ex-priest is guilty, but I do know that the Catholic Church has been very good at moving priests away from sexual sin situations regarding children, and now I see the possibility that this pattern was repeated in a murder.
When you hear about child molestation/sexual assault or rape/murder of women once, you generally need to accept the reality: it has happened so many more times and been hidden. And this is by the leadership of the Catholic Church.
Ah, this is so glaringly simple for Satan.
(Satan is allegory and not in real life. Satan is the men of the church government in this case who shuffle these bastards around instead of calling the police. Satan is the wife in the Protestant world who hides what that bastard she is married to is hiding. Satan is also a number of things in people like White Supremacy, racism and sexism which justifies lying to somebody and I have people like that around me who haven’t touched children……).
Until the Christian world, whether we be the Catholic side or the Protestant side, start repenting together as both leadership and grassroots people, then please stop being horrified and stop pointing your sanctimonious fingers, oh Catholic and Protestant Nation at everyone else in the world because they have horrendous stories of women stowed away for a sick man’s sexual pleasure for ten years, children and teachers being killed in schools, or any other atrocity.
And there are so many atrocities the world over that I weep constantly on the inside as a Pagan who realizes we can stop a lot of this horrific difficulty by simply putting down our differences, stepping into the Light regardless of what it may do to our “precious reputation” and go to jail if we have sinned in such a way that we should indeed just go to jail.
What a concept. Countless religious people and people people giving themselves up for proper punishment out of the fear of God because they have done horrendous things to other people while maintaining their silence and staying in the shrouds of darkness so easily provided by monetary or authoritarian power.
Why 1,999 years? You’d have to realize my testimony from 1966 through 1999 to evolve to that point of my commentary. Good luck with that, Bitch. 2/16/2020
So this morning, and right before I awoke, the angel in a dream put his finger on my lips while saying, “Don’t ask why,”. I did not see this but experienced it and knew it happened without seeing the angel, if that makes sense.
And this is a flashback experience of thirty-three years ago though it happened differently this time. Patrick Clayton Beaty lay dying on the street. I ran down the street when the neighbor boy warned us and called 911. Dad went in the car. I glimpsed my brother lying crumpled on the concrete and I think the ambulance was already there. I wished, oh yes how I wished, I had gone to him because then perhaps I could have said goodbye.
Instead, I went to my mother and we headed for the hospital. It didn’t take long that day. He died very shortly after we all got to the hospital. The whole circumstance was, and still is, a slow motion blur that I remember clearly. It made no God sense to me that my brother had been raised up two years before only to be stricken again.
Why, God, why put us through this twice? That was my thought as I walked out of the hospital that death day knowing I would never see my brother again (I’m smiling because I just took a walk on the palindrome day of 02/02/2020 with my two youngest children and I smiled then remembering how I’d never see my brother again is NOW a mirror image since that process began in 2014, directly after this dream.)
The Holy Spirit said it then, as well. ‘Don’t ask why….,” and so I didn’t. I didn’t ask about a good many things like why I had ten children, why a good many of my Christian friends divorced, why my uncle committed suicide, or why I felt and witnessed a lot of things I have.
Endnote: Robert Paul Beaty built this house with Robert Hilton Beaty, Jr. Uncle Paul died from the attempt five days after my birthday in 2010, on April 19, 2010. Mary Virginia Klonek, and though she had betrayed me and disinherited me from this house my dad and his brother built for me and my family, she died exactly nine years later after a ten day death experience I orchestrated as her remaining kin, on April 19, 2019, Good Friday.
This testimony above took nine years. You don’t forget the look on your father’s face the day his brother shot himself. But I never saw my father deny GOD. I never deny GOD. I could tell you in an angelic sense which One denies parts of GOD. Instead, I will tell another death experience. That is because I must. For one of them denied my testimony; one of them did not deny my testimony but misused it. I was caught in the middle and disinherited. Which one was a living form of Jesus Christ? I was. Others were the Elder Brother, Jacob, etc. We all had our parts to play.
Anyway……October 18, 2015 was a day. My second Beaty cousin, the great grandchild of my father’s only sister who died in my bedroom when I was ten years old from brain cancer, died of a double bout of brain cancer when he was ten. I sent my phone number to a maternal second cousin that day, the only man at that time who I sent my phone number to.
Then there was John Paul Jackson who I watched die from a distance in February of 2015 after having prophesied the death of Bob Jones through buying a standard poodle puppy for my birthday and naming him Valentine while Bob Jones died on Valentine’s Day of 2014. Neither John Paul Jackson or I chose to break the face to face silence between us.
He had gifted the mountain given to him in New Hampshire to Scott Evelyn. And Scott had a tractor fall on him and kill him on the eighth anniversary of when something pretty hefty spoke through my voice and the lies began because, you see, there is a war between intelligence and spirituality that I am finally getting to a point of understanding as it concerns the ministry of Uncovered No More. That’s over two years of work because Scott was killed September 25, 2016. I have two poems from the deaths of Scott Evelyn and Bob Jones. I guess they better go back up too, soon.
I can say something about angels on earth. They argue too.
I’ve worshipped in Christian Churches 48 years. I’ve been obedient, worshipped in abandoned and strange ways, looked just right everywhere, and cursed the Christianity which elects persecuters of the common people in largely white~skin run churches.
I’ve been gossiped about, had my children turned against me, had them love me and I love them anyway, and kept going back to largely Protestant Churches. Went and got Mom back from her stupid family who betrayed me big time and love them still even though they lied about Dad (Curtis is witness) and just use me all the time (my kids are like damn that is toxic lol) and so Mom disinherited me and THEN on the way home told me not to call her back down when she did die. I’m like blankety blank blank MOM I DO NOT CONTROL STUFF LIKE THAT in my head as I kept driving her safely home. I’m not going to cry tonight. I miss the last three years of my mother’s life like I miss some other time-frames. You be me. You aren’t. You cry this time.
I am at Bethel Austin tonight, typing after a short time of participating in this charismatic worship performance. It is a drug to all of them. They are performing worship songs I can take down in interpretation. It is inaccurate and has been since 1966. And Who is going to speak to my Protestant People and gently lead them out of their own rat races where they elected a puppet of wickedness?
I must go elsewhere that I will not testify this Sunday, the 2nd of February. My one exception is to say there is a large rock. It is noted in these parts. I have not been to it, but evidently it has a spiritual atmosphere that is quite remarkable.
The Catholic Church’s doctrine is always safer. The Protestant Church was met with breaking away from the religion of the Catholicism that was murderous, though, and that gets tricky. But when it comes to the paranormal, it is the Catholic Church that generally-speaking won’t deny somebody like me because they aren’t looking for my spiritualism to give them goosebumps though people get goosebumps around me (smile) and they won’t take it too much to heart if people drop dead around me like Protestants do. I am not good for Protestant business.
That much at least Life Austin on Hwy 71 has figured out. Austin Oaks denied me membership because Curtis wasn’t gonna go. He quit going and particularly with me. That is good. I’m weird and I do not want my family to go off on me again. (laughing) Can you tell we don’t care about this shit anymore? There are a lot of Christians like us. We have been through the Revelation 2 and 3 wring- our-necks-off-our-bodies dance so much that we JUST DO NOT CARE. Austin Oaks cares. I’m a chicken and I do dance the pentecostal way with my head wrung right off my neck but you cannot eat me. This is definitely allegory.
It’s kind of like my daughter the other day. I was saying hi and told her I need to lose the fat pad above my confused belly button. It is taking time. She was like, Mom, stop because your body is holding on to that you probably need it and when you lose you will lose it everywhere else.
Which, to be clear, I was like okay I will take that into consideration. But when I was going to Jasper, Texas, all of a sudden being alone for that long gave me a chance to laugh real good because all I could see was me, my father’s well-known chicken legs, and my torso looking kind of like Gru in Despicable Me.
I want to quote from Bernie Sanders’ book tonight because I had the same interpretation of a Catholic Man as he did and I think that is something considering how Catholic Priests are still being called out for rape of children and for hiding such things for generations when they ought not to have. Yeah I guess my article about THAT is going back up over here, too. God Almighty!! Spare me from repetition? Father says NO ya’ll, He says NO all the time to this Baby Girl. (laugh)
“….And this campaign would ask the right questions.
In that regard, I was very much helped and guided by Pope Francis and the role he was playing throughout the world. To my mind, Pope Francis was distinguishing himself as one of the great moral and religious leaders not only of our time, but of modern history. His focus on the “dispossessed”– the poor, the elderly, and the unemployed, who were being cast aside by country after country– was awakening to conscience of the entire planet. His call for a “moral economy,” an economy that addressed the needs of ordinary people and not just capitalist profiteers, was also inspiring millions.” taken from “Bernie Sanders Our Revolution” Chapter 4, ” How Do You Run a Presidential Campaign?”
Sanders, Bernie; Our Revolution; New York, NY; THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS; 2016
Hey ya’ll aren’t you proud of me? I actually looked up the proper way to quote a book and I didn’t do it the lazy way this time like I did earlier today and just snap a picture of the title page and load that puppy up on my website blog.
Do you feel like Cara took you to high school or freshman college year just now? Well I done took you to church tonight twice America. You gonna own your shit one of these days. Ahem.
Here is how I felt in some snapshots of allegory in 2013, and it was after I prayed through an initiative called “Double Moons” because of one marriage and one child having a birthday in the time-frame of June through August. There were two super moons then. The summer solstice was equally involved.
I know this woman’s name now; it is none that will be heard publicly. Don’t think I cannot travel back. But how convenient for you, lazy bastard, if you think that way.
Today, it is time to write about a woman who sits sometimes in this place not seen but yet exists. There are no conclusions of thought in this place, but there are questions to be answered nonetheless. And there are pondering thoughts that probe without requiring the finality of conclusions.
This place is meaningless, simple, and unnecessary to people because we are so busy being important. But yet, there is enough trouble today to just live whether it is important or not.
Although those humans who have decided to lose hope and love knowledge, they put up their flimsy walls of intelligence against I AM. They are in for one horrifying and important surprise because God cares for them or they wouldn’t exist at all. They don’t care enough in choices each day to admit it. Now there, that place of safety in surest stupid knowledge is the most important inconsequence there ever was. It is easy not to matter, and then again, it is easier still to strive for importance. People stay busy in both places that are indeed…..places.
She walked one day in 2013 and was praying, and she looked down to see herself crushed and dead. The little sparrow dead in the road, she identified with it. But somehow she kept walking. Sparrows are so beautiful through not to her eyes unless they are cute. And somehow she thinks she didn’t get to be one of the cute ones. There is it; that nothing-ness.
There was a little bit of something in the song of the sparrow the past five years while she wrote it, and she found out one can sing even in a spiritual death experience. Altogether humanity, and creation around that, sings though dead, alive, living, and dying.
She isn’t a grass to be sure. At least she got to be a dead sparrow. This was a little more important to her inconsequential way of thinking anyway. But my goodness, she knows she isn’t a hill much less a mountain. Or even an oak tree or a rock within the riverbed. She isn’t the solid sand upon the seashore or an eagle, leopard, or bear. These elements of humankind are indomitable, and they know it.
Oh Deity, help her. She still cries because they love to dominate. It is important somehow. They expected the sparrow to bow to that dominance, and she always did, but it is not yet that to speak of that which is deeper still because there is a place where none of it matters anymore in knowledge redeemed, love, faith, and hope. It is called simply abiding, and it is hard to get there because one thousand years equals a day today and the busyness is always there.
Her deepest personal agony in her last of the last of 144 allegorical years, what is it? She is afraid to say good-bye to it because at least it was real to her. How can she deny what was awakened, and what if God leaves her there in that dead place (of allegory) wide awake?
Will God be done with her now if she lets go and says good-bye? Just because there is something somewhere that has said this small, big thing is finished, couldn’t she just hold on to it and keep it alive? That would be more secure. Will He not require her tears and meaningless wanderings anymore, and if He does not need it anymore, then what? She wants to be necessary to God, and He taught her how to be in that small place.
He looks at the little crushed sparrow at the feet of Father God, and He grits his teeth; his eyes widen, and the look goes far away up to the Sun. This sparrow has something and she knows he needs it so why is she dead in spirit life, why do They torment the dove’s turtlesparrow this Way?
But instead of reviling, he chooses to sleep. He chooses to rage privately. He knows what happens to this sparrow later, and he must protect his knowledge up here until the Down There is not raging at him so much that it is easy to discount Tara Allegorically. Time always tells the tale of Tara.
Sparrow arises, she always does. That is a restraining reality of fiction in this place to be sure. Nonetheless, it happens. Hilarity, carnality, exclusivity, and domination are fiction as is success and failure. They are details that really don’t matter as much as they conveniently thought they did when they simply let their free will crush the bird and slay the dragon, because he chooses sleeps instead of revealing knowledge against their hateful legends. It is because of humans. And then GOD……
There came the time when he would know they knew she wasn’t a sparrow…….
11 years, and it was only a storm she walked within along the same path she understood the call of sparrow flying to the moon.
So there were these double moons; they had to be flown to by the sparrow for most of the 144 allegorical years. She reached them when she was forty-seven earth years old. That was a heavy weight upon the little frame that died, but she prayed it through miraculously in a very small sort of way day by day.
Do not awaken tomorrow until today is asleep so details are not missed. For here is a lovely secret sparrow found: big and small both matter. Detail and grand design are altogether gloriously important. And then, they are meaningless unless they are united.
(Please understand I was not aware of the blood moons until sometime in 2014; though I was somewhat aware there were super moons involved with the writing of the Double Moons Prayer Initiative. These things were showing me and anyone associated with ministries that understand the relevance of heavenly doors worldwide how I am a pagan. I didn’t convert until 2018-2019 but I was not really converting nor was I denying my Christianity. I was discovering my true root spirituality. I had spoken things as a Christian in “pagan terminology” without realizing it well before this point.)
This next portion was both in my third book and displayed with other articles on my original website blog. That is called The Untold Story of Uncovered No More which I am obviously publishing in pieces. What is lethal about me? The American Population was not allowed to see my writing. That was a protection mechanism but it was not the fault of the Angelic Guard. I will tell you who the fault was…..later. How many blog books is Cara Ann Beaty going to write? That is a good, good question.
You didn’t think about that, America, when you threw me out of churches, sneered at me, and lied about me. Your judgment is always coming now and I don’t care. Why should I? You never care about me. Which one, Cara? Well I can tell you at this point it isn’t the sparrow above speaking in allegory this time, you idiot.
Telling lies is easy. Speaking the truth in pure love easiest still. It’s speaking the truth in love, when you are being destroyed, pulling back and destroying yourself while they keep at it, that is something to be reckoned with, Christian Church of America. I speak from 11 years experience.
I am definitely worse for wear. I can tell you there is a demand upon me, not from any human of my past acquaintance or close up relation, that requires I love myself better than THIS last 11 years. It will be #12 come September of 2020. Then we get another president. You should hear what fatalistic humanity said to me just today, the first day of February of 2020, about political issues ongoing. (LOLOL)
It’s easy to have a political opinion so you can ignore it all and live your life. Yeah I’m not doing that but so many people around me are. Own it your way. Austin, Texas, is already blue. Get a grip.
An Empty Gift, Part Two
October of 2013
I see a gift box of cardboard. There is a ribbon, and it is strikingly red and wrapped around the gift with a two loop, simple bow.
Simplicity never has been enough.
The gift doesn’t have anything inside of it, the box is empty but wrapped up anyway. And it was laid upon a dirty street of New York City. The weight of blindness kept it sitting there for years.
And then the gift awoke and knew it’s emptiness. It knew it had not been understood, filled, or opened with expectation. So it began to bring forth of the emptiness anyway, and that made it move a little and so it would be hit by the tires of cars and batted about though no one ever ran over it.
Eventually, it came to rest in the gutter along the curb and by that time it was crushed. Strangely the bow never did get harmed. Just the shell was crushed from all the jumbling around on the street of emergencies, dire necessities, and damaging realities of the Twin Towers collapsing. There it sits, the bow adorning the crushed shell as it shivers in the wet and windy gutters of time.
There was this woman who was dancing on a solitary skating rink. The waters beneath her feet were frozen for a long while; she skated in great big circles, turning round, and occasionally crashing to the frozen floor. (pagan cirlces here)
Then the waters thawed and she walked upon them. It was a mercy from God to have such faith, and the Master watched her, smiled, and empowered her to skate still though the waters were a tumbling ocean in which she danced. (there are 2 Masters and 1 Female Master; Mary Magdalene is the Female Master below stairs in allegory the whole of my time of expression)
Occasionally, the woman would skate to rest in the Lap of the Unjust Judge who Sat there. She would stroke the Right Arm clasped against the Chest. She did share the Lamenting. She did comprehend the Fire of the Anger of God; she still does and it makes her despair for who can comprehend it?
Then she was exhausted and so her dance ceased, Jesus took her hand, and they went below. Lying there on the sandy floors of an ocean is a peaceful place but the emptiness of unheard painful songs and dances does haunt the quiet soul of the woman. But He lies there, and they are facing each other. She sees His Eyes, and they are kind. He places His Hand upon her shoulder and beckons her to wait now too and trust……..She never knows who to trust.
But today, as her little obedience draws to an end, the woman went ahead and did get up and dance. She walked anyway; she got wet again. The suffering of her kind can still be held up before the Throne even down there in the depths of the ocean.
Emptiness can be simply beautiful. Crushed existence can be appreciated for what it is, but this woman is ruined in that place. She has determined as it is well put in Ecclesiastes: all is madness, perhaps even the Creator. All is madness and they chose it too, but GOD didn’t choose free will don’t they EVER understand the Rainbow?
Knowledge has come full circle, but it doesn’t make any sense at all like it didn’t in the beginning. I AM is the only Sense, it is obvious and they still don’t see it. And she has watched them not see it. She watched, waited, and was loved in such a way that she is undone. (another pagan circle)
This woman who skated for so short a long time realizes even being undone is meaningless without the shape of empty existence, and she realized again how, say, the woman in a hut in Africa trying to survive or the man who cannot get a job so must suffer with the death of his family in famine are worth so very much more than she is or ever will be. There is a guilty, disenchanted confusion with being an American. They who have real pain do mean more entirely than she ever did.
But somehow, she was privileged as she skated and danced while living normally how the Father was pleased with her whispering witness. And she fears, for she has seen the thunder, and the rains, come when He pleased as she kept walking.
So in her meaningless place this evening, and as the rain does fall heavy yet again, when the decision was made to keep praying anyway, there stood a Tall Man Who picked her up in His Arms and rose slowly out of the ocean depths and came upon the shores of the Throne Room.
“She is here, My Liege. She is choosing to pray here at the last.”
There is silence, and the Woman is laid bare, dripping wet there.
She does not, nor will she ever, stir the Father to ask for zeal for herself. She is too empty and she fears GOD UN~COMPREHENDED MYSTERY evermore. She knows she has seen sin; she knows she has seen so much horrible and despicable railings against this precious and impossible to comprehend AM.
There is nothing of it now because of the emptiness of humanity she realizes is there. We deserve it, every last bit of it. She realizes she is wanted somehow, somehow. And if she is wanted, so are all of them, all of them. There is no exclusivity in emptiness.
Woman recognizes the worth of purity, and how GOD UN~COMPREHENDED MYSTERY is pleased with it. And she has been one such. That much of her emptiness she realizes. And in that place is her greatest responsibility because she knows she can use it if she pleases because she did walk and not sin with them who led her. She did repent, too, and beg others to do it with her.
Those of them who did walk circumspectly have a little voice God can hear this way even in their emptiness, that is the red simple bow that is not touched. It is human free will woven in some little vessels that comes out as a small living sacrifice of faith, hope, and love these three. So she pauses in this little place, and she decides she wants to beg the Father a different way today carefully.
She gets down from Strong Arms, walks up the stairs dripping, and reaches the Face of the God Father. He holds His Hand out and helps her up the steps.
With tears in her empty, inconsequential eyes, she does touch That Face then draw back. She rests a hand upon That Knee, and as a tear slips down her cheek she implores Him:
It is nothing, truly. Do forget it, please? Even Your Unjustness is Just. But my little pain is nothing, and I know You did hear me, oh I AM. YOU honored me with a hearing. YOU made this gift, empty as it was. YOU take pleasure in this emptiness somehow, thank You Jesus.
This wide, deeply small hidden place does not contain Your Anger but Your Vulnerability instead, Father. I testify to YOU how there is none of Your Anger here somehow. Oh I AM, Your Tears, Your Tears, Your Tears across Time……..we were too busy to see Your Tears. We saw so many of Your Facets, but we did not see Your Tears. It has wholly been a privilege to cry with You 144 allegorical years, and this woman is awakened anew at how You love it when some of us will cry with You forevermore.
Was what I wrote before wrong? No no it was not wrong. It was misplaced compassion bringing forth a small truth that the Larger Truth declares null and void when the exorcisms and testimonial speakings are just and correct, over and over again. It is that simple. It is that complicated. Have a nice life. (Revelation 22)