Chronology of Joy

“Anyone who doesn’t have principles that they are willing to die for at any moment is already dead and of no use to anyone, including himself, and will be miserable their whole life because of it.” 

–William Cooper

Grace and peace, saints.

I’m just a guy with a blog.  I’m just a guy who wants to bring as many people as I can to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.  I’m just a guy who wants to see people get saved and freed from bondage to Satan the way I was freed.  I’m just a man who tells the truth.  I am nobody special, except for the fact that Jesus Christ died and shed His blood to save me.  But I must be pretty important to somebody.

Right now, the time is 1:52 a.m.; and I can’t sleep; or rather, they won’t let me sleep.  I went to bed at 11:30 p.m. last night and at about 1:00 this morning the index finger on my left hand jerked me awake.  I’m assuming it was the index finger on my left hand, because that’s the finger that normally jerks me awake when I try to go to sleep; that is, when it’s not the baby finger of my left hand, or that of my right hand, or a foot, or the muscles in my thigh, or the muscles in my lips.

Saints, I seem to have made somebody angry.

This lends credence to my belief in the Bible and that at the root of all the evil that is going on in the world is a religion, and it’s not the worship of Jesus Christ.  You see I don’t know jack about politics.  I don’t know squat about economics.  I don’t know diddly about nuclear physics.  But I do know the Bible.  And everything that Satan does and is going to do is based on and is foretold in the Bible.  The so-called New World Order that is coming to a neighborhood near you is foretold of in the Bible.  And everything that I talk or write about is Bible-based; therefore, whomever I seem to have angered is angry because I talk about the Bible, because that’s basically all I ever talk about.

Therefore, the Bible must be right about the Roman Catholic church being behind everything that is going on in the world, including the Norway massacre.  Therefore the Bible must be right about the Roman Catholic church being the Great Whore of Babylon responsible for spilling the blood of the prophets and saints of God and having caused all the wars that have ever been fought. Therefore I must be correct in my belief that the pope is the Antichrist, and I must be correct that the Great Persecution of the Christian church is imminent.

I must also be right about the Roman Catholic Charismatic Movement being used to beguile the Christian Church into uniting with all the other ungodly religions in a one-world church headed by the pope.  I must be right in my contention that the Rapture is a farce.  I must be correct that the New Age Movement has united Freemasons and other secret societies, along with witches, occultists, homosexuals, feminists, and anyone else who hates Christians, into one giant fraternal organization bent on destroying the Christian church.  I didn’t make all this up; it has already been established by many other people, most notably William Cooper.  But I did the research on my own and came to the same conclusion; and my research has been confirmed by the fact that people in St. Louis are paying an awful lot of attention to me–an awful lot.

But all this didn’t begin in St. Louis.  It actually began in Munich, Germany, in around 2002.  This is why I believe the Bible when it calls the Roman Catholic church the Great Whore.  And since they won’t let me sleep and are determined to mess with me no matter where I go and no matter what I do, I am going to tell you about it—to pass the time.

First of all, when I say I don’t have any knowledge of those subjects, I mean it.  I was born into a poor family in St. Louis, Missouri, and received an average public school education.  I enlisted in the Army in 1982 at age 21 as a Combat Engineer and did my basic training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.  My first duty station was Fort Sill, Oklahoma with the 299^th Engineer Battalion.  I had done two tours of duty at Fort Sill and one in Panama before I changed specialties.

One day after coming in from a field training exercise, I saw an announcement that was to be the catalyst for a great change in my life.  It was for the Bonus Enlistment and Re-Training (BEAR) program.  As the title says, this program allowed soldiers to retrain into jobs that were classified hard to fill; some because they were jobs that no one wanted to do, and others because it was difficult to find and keep qualified people to do those jobs. After successful completion of the training, the soldier reenlisted for a minimum of three years, at which time he received a cash bonus.

One job caught my eye.  It was MOS 97E, Interrogator.  Though the name sounds high-speed, it was not.  The job was basically as a translator, who during times of war, was supposed to interview enemy prisoners of war in their native language.  If you saw the movie, “Saving Private Ryan,” you probably remember the scared American soldier who spoke German, and who let the German soldier go free who later killed a valiant soldier.  Well, I was the modern-day equivalent of that guy.

It sounded exciting, and I thought that it would give me better opportunities for a career after the military than I would have as a combat engineer.  So, I went to talk to the in-service recruiter (the guy one talks to when one wants to transfer to another specialty).  I learned that this job fell under Military Intelligence, and that I would have to be willing and able to go to school for a year to learn the Russian language.  Well, to make a long story short, I went to Russian School at the Presidio of Monterey, California, and on to the Military Intelligence Center and School at Fort Huachuca, Arizona.  The entire process took about 18 months.  I was then stationed in Stuttgart, Germany.

Eight months later, the Gulf War broke out and in December 1990, I was sent to Saudi Arabia, where I spent the next six months.  After the war, the unit disbanded and in September 1991, I was sent back stateside to Fort Carson, Colorado.  At that time, this was one of the best duty assignments in the military.  A couple of years later I was transferred to Fort Bragg, North Carolina where I was assigned to an airborne Intelligence unit. 

I must say at this time that I believe my whole career in Military Intelligence was a fluke.  Military Intelligence soldiers are among the brightest men and women in the military.  They can also be some of the weirdest.  I was not all that bright and I certainly wasn’t weird.  But I was a very good linguist and a good soldier.  However, it was difficult for me to find where I fit in.  I’m black, and there were very few blacks in Military Intelligence at that time, and those few were not at all what you would expect.  So, it was sometimes difficult.  Overall, though, my experience in Military Intelligence was priceless, as I learned things about myself that I probably would not otherwise have learned.

After two years at Bragg, I transferred to Augsburg, Germany, about 45 minutes from Munich.  It was here that I met my wife, which occurred one Saturday afternoon on this wise: Occasionally soldiers would have to pull an eight-hour shift at the airport to await incoming soldiers and arrange for their units to pick them up. 

On this particular day I was sitting at the inbound flights section talking to a new found friend of mine, also a soldier, when this beautiful black girl walked past us emptying ashtrays into a plastic bag.  My friend took notice and attempted to strike up a conversational with her, which didn’t go well, because she didn’t speak English and he spoke neither Portuguese (she was from Angola) nor German.  Moreover, the entire time he was talking to her, she was looking at me; so my friend suggested I talk to her.  I was reluctant, however, because I had no idea what possible common ground there could be between an African girl and an American solider.  Uh-huh, I was just that stupid.

Well, I gave her my number half-hoping she would not call, because I dreaded the thought of struggling through a conversation with her.  It wasn’t the prospect of trying to talk to a foreigner that daunted me, because having been in the military for fifteen years at the time, and having been stationed overseas twice before, I was used to the mechanics of language.  It was the idea of looking like a fool.  Well, needless to say she did call and we went on a date the next weekend. 

We went to McDonald’s (where else does one go on a first date in Munich?) and had struggled for fifteen minutes trying to understand each other–her German and my English locked in mortal combat–when it suddenly occurred to me that many Africans are multi-lingual.  So, I asked her what other languages she spoke.  Among the several she mentioned was Portuguese.  It so happened that when I was taking Russian at the Presidio, I had befriended some Rwandan soldiers who were there learning Portuguese.  They had tried to teach me some, and I learned that it is similar to Spanish.  So, I started speaking Spanish to her, which I had picked up in Panama.  That’s when the floodgates burst.  That quiet, demure girl instantly morphed into Joan Rivers, and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, which was perfect.  It was a great first date.  And many more followed.

In 1998, I retired from the military, and, after a short stint in the U.S., I went back to Munich to be with my girlfriend.  Shortly afterward, I managed to land a job as an IT consultant with a German firm and I and my wife and newborn daughter settled into a comfortable life.  That is, until one day, while at home in St. Louis visiting my hospitalized mother, I was in my car on the way to the VA hospital, when I got a call from my little brother.  He told me that an airplane had just flown into the World Trade Center.  That day forever changed my life.

I was in shock.  I sat in the lobby of the VA hospital watching in stupefied horror as the tower burned.  Then suddenly out of nowhere in plain daylight a second plane crashed into the second tower.  That was when I knew that this was no accident.  Sometime later came the announcement that this heinous crime was perpetrated by Islāmic terrorists.

I instinctively knew that something was terribly wrong.  Though I knew nothing of United States national security, I knew that NORAD sits in Colorado Springs, and that it watches the skies over America day and night.  How then, could not one, but two planes manage to hit the twin towers and F-16’s not blast them out of the sky?  Something was wrong, and I was very confused.

In the ensuing anti-terrorist frenzy that followed, I panicked.  My first thought was that someone, knowing that I was in Intelligence and spoke Russian and owned a Koran, might think I was a terrorist.  You see, though I didn’t talk about it much, when I was in Saudi Arabia during the Gulf War, I had studied Islam and had actually become a Muslim.  I later abandoned it, when I realized that I could not reconcile Islam’s view of Jesus Christ as merely a prophet with my Christian upbringing of Him being something more, though at this time, I didn’t know what. 

Now, because everyone was talking about how these terrorists had studied in America, had commercial pilot’s licenses, and seemed to have led ordinary lives until that fateful day, people no longer trusted anyone who wasn’t “normal.”  In my eyes, that included me.  So, one day, I got all my Russian books, dictionaries, and tapes, my Koran, Hadith, and everything that didn’t “belong,” and drove to the Goodwill, where I deposited the lot.  I then flew back to Germany in a daze.

Back in Munich, a friend of mine came to visit me in November 2001, and handed me a book.  The book was entitled, Secret Societies and Their Power in the Twentieth Century.

DISCLAIMER: This book is full of New Age propaganda, Eastern Mysticism, and disinformation, designed to mislead those who have realized that something is wrong in the world.  God used it as a means to guide me into His truth, but Christians should STAY AWAY from this book.  It is dangerously deceptive.

That was the second event that forever changed my life, for that book introduced me to what has commonly become known as the New World Order.  It also introduced me to a group that has almost become cliché, the Illuminati. 

This book blew my mind, because it suggested that all the wars, famines, depressions, dictatorial regimes like Hitler’s Third Reich, and events such as 9/11 were not just random accidents, but planned events brought about by those who constitute the real power in the world.  This was a lot to handle, but it made sense.  In fact, it was the only thing in my life up to that point that had made sense.  Now, things that had always puzzled me about the world and even my own life began to sharpen and solidify.  But there were still many questions, chief among which was how something like this could be happening without anyone knowing anything about it.  Well, it turned out someone had known something about it and put it in a book entitled, Behold A Pale Horse.  That someone was William Cooper.

William Cooper was a former Naval Intelligence Officer and Vietnam War veteran who began to study the New World Order ever since the Kennedy Assassination.  Cooper had a shortwave radio program called The Hour of the Time where he presented evidence that the NWO stems from an ancient plan to create a One-World, totalitarian Socialist government that will supplant God with the worship of Lucifer. 

Cooper’s research led to a 42-tape series on his broadcast called “Mystery Babylon” where he presented “the history, the dogma, and the identity of those who operate in secret to bring about a One-World, totalitarian Socialist government,” and he proved that this New World Order is actually based on an ancient pagan religion.  I managed to acquire the series and, using it and the references that Cooper gave, conducted my own research.  I found out that Cooper was 100% correct.

Now, in the course of my research, I found that the common thread between all the disparate groups that make up Mystery Babylon is the occult.  I also realized that they all hate Christianity.  At this time, I was not a Christian, so it rather surprised me, because I reasoned that if the devil were a fantasy, then these people would not have a problem with Christianity.  Therefore, I surmised that not only must the devil be real, but also so must Jesus Christ.  And if Jesus Christ is real, then so is the Gospel.  This realization eventually led to my salvation.

Shortly after I got saved in Munich in September 2005, I discovered Chick gospel tracts and began a tract ministry distributing tracts at train stations, subway stations, and basically anywhere there were people, and I managed to personally lead one person to Christ.  But strange things began to happen.  People became increasingly hostile towards me. 

One day for instance, I was riding my bicycle down the bike path when a German man just walked up and pushed me off my bike.  I pulled myself off the ground and confronted him, never once, mind you, losing my cool.  I simply wanted to know what had prompted him to act in a way that could have resulted in me getting seriously injured.  As we were talking (he was yelling), an Asian lady, who had nothing whatsoever to do with this, walked up and told me that she was going to call the police and tell them that she saw everything and that I had assaulted the man.  And she meant it.  I got on my bike and rode away.  Something in me though, told me that the thing was staged.

There were many more events such as this all feeling similarly staged.  Besides this, strange things were happening at home.  Once someone had allowed his dog to poop on our doormat.  Another day, someone had dumped trash on our first-floor balcony.  Often I would find my bike tires punctured, and someone would ring our doorbell early in the morning or knock on our living room window.  Occasionally when my wife and I were having an intimate moment, someone would knock on the floor of our apartment just beneath us.  There were many, many such incidents.

Of course, my neighbors were responsible for all this, in particular the family who lived next door to us.  Often when I would be in my study, the next-door neighbor would bang on the wall or, as he had access to the janitor’s room that was underneath our apartment, he would bang on the floor with a hammer or use very loud power tools.  And ever single day for almost three years, he would play his music as loud as possible in the early morning hours.  This family also practiced witchcraft. 

The spiritual warfare that went on between that family and me is a very interesting story indeed and shows not only the existence of witchcraft, but also the power of Jesus Christ. But it went further than just harassment.  One day a young lady walked past my family in the subway and burned my daughter with a cigarette.

At this point, in the interest of fairness, let me say that not all Germans are bad, just like not all Americans are good.  In fact, if I didn’t say that I am extremely grateful for the time I spent in Germany and for all the great people I met, not to mention the great life lessons I learned there, I wouldn’t be very honest.  Hey, I got saved in Germany!  The Germans are a great people many of whom have been engineered to be racist.  I had once heard that Satan hates Germany because the courageous Martin Luther, who started the Protestant Reformation, was German; so by setting up the Nazi regime and exterminating over six million Jews, Satan knocked off two birds with one stone: he partially eliminated an old enemy and he forever altered the world’s opinion of Germans.  Germans are a largely misunderstood and very deceived people, whom I can’t help but love.

Now, to continue, I had chocked all of this up to neighbor hostility and hostility towards blacks (or at least this black) and I figured that perhaps my presence in the building disturbed something that shouldn’t have been disturbed.  I tried to see things from their perspective and this actually helped.  So, even though there was always this feeling that everything was choreographed, I eventually let it go, and I thought no more of it.  It was just one of those things that you can’t change.

Then I came back home.  And the same thing happened here.  When I first got back to St. Louis, I lived in an apartment in a four-family flat in one of the roughest neighborhoods in town.  The landlord was a man in his thirties and was without a doubt a drug dealer, who also lived in the building as well as his mother and cousins.  In fact, the only tenant that wasn’t in his family was me.  Even though I was a very good tenant, this guy and his family just didn’t seem to like me.  And they let me know it.  What was strange about it was the way they let me know.

There would be knocking on my wall, stomping on the floor from his cousins who lived above us, and water leaking from the ceiling as if they purposely let water run on the bathroom floor upstairs so that it would leak into our bathroom.  Sometimes I would come home from school to a quiet house.  Yet five minutes after arriving, the front porch would be full of people making the worst racket.  One time my kids and I were coming home from grocery shopping.  As we approached the apartment building, which was empty and quiet, someone peeked from behind the curtain in the apartment above us.  Suddenly there was a stream of people onto the balcony as we approached.  There was a familiar choreographed feel to all this activity.  I struggled to remember whence I had felt it.  I made up my mind to move.

I moved about 15 miles away to what I thought was a quiet suburb.  Everything was fine for a couple of days until one day my kids and I went to the store.  While we were at the checkout counter, a lady behind me subtly pushed her cart into my leg.  When I looked at her, the most sadistic grin coupled with feigned ignorance crossed her face.  My youngest daughter, who saw the thing, told me that the same lady had followed us all over the store.

On another day we had come out of the store onto the parking lot, where I found that a shopping cart had been pushed with great force against the front quarter panel of my car, making a dent.  As I looked around, realizing that there was no wind to blame, I spotted a lady looking at us from her car, parked a short distance away.  She was smiling.  For reasons totally unrelated to these incidents, we moved six months later to where I live now.  You guessed it: the same things happen here, only much more sinister.

If you were to see my street, you would think it was one of the most idyllic, quiet streets you had ever seen.  And yet, some of the most evil people on the face of the earth live on this street.  The neighbor to the right of me is a chronic drunk.  He is only thirty-six or thirty-seven years old, yet he looks like he has lived a hard life.  He is unemployed, and he rarely, if ever, leaves the house.  He maintained a strategic silence the first couple of days after we moved in, but soon made his presence known. 

Had I known that my next-door neighbor would be a drunk, I would not have moved into this house.  After six years of living next door to a drunk in Germany, I was not in a hurry to relive the experience.  I tried to get along with him for my children’s sake, because I don’t have any family.  If something had happened to me, there would have been no one to take care of them.  Men like this are often a prison sentence just waiting to happen to some poor unwitting fool.  They will start it, hoping you will finish it, so that they can call the police and have you hauled off.  My drunken neighbor in Germany had tried to do this to me.

So, I put up with him until my children returned to Germany.  I even tried to witness to him and gave him a Gospel tract.  But, the man is full of self-loathing and hate, and hate needs no excuse.  Even though I tried to be friendly with him just to keep the peace, he has called me the ‘n’ word on three occasions.  So, I left off speaking to him.  As in Germany and in my first apartment, even this man’s actions seemed choreographed, and he one day confirmed my suspicions. 

Once, when I was washing my car, he walked up to me, inebriated as usual, and slurs a greeting.  I told him in the nicest way possible that I didn’t want to talk to him at that moment.  He seemed stunned and walked away to his own house.  When he reached his porch, he yelled, “You’re a f-ing racist!”  This blew me away.  I had never been accused of being a racist before, especially just for saying that I didn’t want to talk to someone.  This seems to be a growing trend.

I have had the same thing happen to me here that happened at the other locations.  Trash dumped in front of my house, people kicking or hitting the side of the house, setting off my car alarm, someone taking the flea collar off my cat (she even disappeared for two days), and knocking on the side of the house when I go to the bathroom.  And they make tons of noise:  Dogs barking constantly.  Lawn mowers, chain saws, and weed eaters screaming.  Loud music.  Loud talking.  And everything has this choreographed feel to it.  But it doesn’t end there.  Wherever I go I am followed.  If I go to a restaurant, twenty minutes after I arrive, it is packed to capacity.  And the noise is deafening.  One of my neighbors, whom I had never met, just “happened” to be taking his trash out at the same time I was and I realized that I had seen him before at my school.

And hardly anyone works in my neighborhood.  Virtually everyone is always at home.  The streets are as filled with cars during the day as in the evening.  When I’m at the store people nearly run into me with their carts and almost bump into me coming around corners as fast as the Indy 500.  And everything and everyone feels choreographed.  Before I realized what was going on, I sat down once and tried to find a common denominator to reconcile the same behavior manifesting in people of different colors, nationalities, income brackets, and on two continents.  I could find none, until one day I remembered the family that lived above me in the four family flat.

One day after they had been particularly annoying, my kids and I had gone to the park to relax.  When we came back I noticed an interesting development.  The window on their front door, which had a plain white curtain on it, now sported a curtain embroidered with the Roman Catholic “Mother and child.”  Suddenly everything that had happened in the last ten years made perfect sense.  Religion was the only thing that all these diverse groups could have in common.  It then hit me that Munich is staunchly Catholic as is St. Louis, and the neighborhood where I live is seriously Catholic.  Could this all be Roman Catholic persecution in response to my evangelism efforts?  I am thoroughly convinced of this.

But I think it goes even farther.  I have taken a mental inventory of the people who literally follow me around and congregate wherever I am.  They include a large number of homosexuals and lesbians, and I have even seen on occasion, Muslim women dressed in the typical headdress.  There are also many Chinese.  All of these groups are hostile towards Christianity, and I have passed out Christian tracts speaking out on homosexuality, Islam, and Communism.  It seems I have made some enemies.

And there’s a high-tech element.  I don’t know how they do it, but they do manage to wake me up and even keep me from sleeping by causing my muscles to spasm or twitch.  Last night for instance, when I started writing this, it was 2’oclock in the morning.  It is now 7:08.  As I was typing this I nodded off for a second.  Immediately my back spasmed, waking me up.  And it is always accompanied by what feels like a minute electric shock.  William Cooper said that it was possible to do this sort of thing to a human body by remote control in his four-part series on Mind Control.  Now I’m a believer.  But God is faithful.  He always sticks a few days in there where I do manage to get some sleep, and thus, I am able to keep going.  

Once, I was on my bike on the way home from the university.  As I was about to cross an alleyway that I have crossed dozens of times, something told me to stop immediately.  A split second later, a large truck came flying out of the alley onto the street.  If I had not have stopped, I would have been killed, or, at least, seriously injured.  On the side of the truck was written, “Irish Construction.”  My neighborhood is Irish Roman Catholic. 

Why am I telling you all of this? Because I am just a guy.  I’m nobody special.  I don’t have any special knowledge of what’s going on in the world, and I have no government contacts.  Yet, you would be amazed to see the number of people who follow me around, and the elaborate scenarios they set up to make it look authentic.  It’s almost like a movie where everybody is an extra.  Like the Truman Show.  It is of course intended to look that way which serves its own purpose.

When you think of the logistics of this, it is costing someone a lot of money.  All of these people who just stay at home.  All of these people shopping, eating at restaurants, or just standing around.  Who’s paying their rent?  Who’s paying their bills?  Someone with a bankroll.  Now who has that kind of money?

All this would make no sense unless the things that I say were true.  This would be pointless if I were not a threat to someone.  Everything I say comes out of the Word of God or is a result of Bible-based research.  Therefore, I am right to say that religion is at the root of this.  And that is what I want you to know.

There is a lot more I could tell you, but it may very well be that someone is experiencing something of this nature, but not to the extent as I.  I don’t want to make that person paranoid, because the enemy wants you to know what he’s doing and has even published books on this subject.  The purpose is to get Christians scared and paranoid always looking over their shoulder.  The less you know of their tactics, the better.  Suffice it to say that every single Christian-hating group is united in the New Age.

So, don’t get all wrapped up in conspiracy theories.  Stick to the Word of God.  Everything is in there.  Pass everything you see, everything you hear, and everything you read through your Biblical filter.  If you can’t reconcile it with Scripture, throw it out.  And listen: don’t be in a hurry to “fellowship” with everybody, especially Roman Catholics and Mormons.  By all means witness to them, because they are also souls for whom Christ died.  But don’t consider them Christians, because what they actually believe and practice as opposed to what they say is quite different from Christianity. 

Jack Chick writes that right before the Irish Roman Catholics massacred the Irish Protestants in the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, they gave them gifts.  And this doesn’t just go for Catholics.  Anyone in your life who is not a bone-e-fied born-again Christian you had better watch; for your own safety and that of your loved ones.  I’m hearing too many stories these days about friends killing their friend’s babies.

If you saw the things that I see every day you would be amazed.  I walk alone.  My wife took me to court and took my kids back to Germany in a court case that was so lopsided and crooked, I could write a book about it.  My kids hate Germany, but they are being forced to live there.  Can you imagine three black American children being forced to live in Germany?  

That they are blacks is problematic enough, but they are also Christian.  Regardless what you have been told, Roman Catholicism is the enemy of the Christian church, and Roman Catholics are persecuting Christians in secret.  If it is happening to me, it must be happening to someone else.  Like me, my kids are being persecuted for their faith, as the events I described above are also happening to them, especially my son.  Why?  Because he is my son.  

He has been beat up by groups of German kids several times, and once they busted his head so badly that he required stitches.  He once told me that a group of boys left him in a large hole on the school grounds where construction was being done—for three hours, on a school day.  This means that even his teacher was in on it, which doesn’t surprise me at all.  And the same neighbor who harassed me for six years is now harassing him.  He once told me that he couldn’t sleep, because someone beats on the floor of his room.  The same thing the neighbor did to me.  

Nothing will be done about this, because unfortunately, his mother is also a Roman Catholic.  Don’t be surprised; Jesus said that the day would come when a man’s foes would be those of his own house.  That day has arrived.  If you are a praying person, please pray for my kids.

As for me, my whole—and I do mean whole—birth family has forsaken me.  I don’t have one friend.  I am totally alone in the world.  That’s why I have to rely on Jesus: there is no one else.  But let me tell you something:  Because I am alone and everyone here knows it, they let their hair completely down.  They do things in front of me that they would never do if I had someone to tell it to.  That has enabled me to see wickedness of epic proportions.  I’m sure that’s the way God planned it. 

Folks, believe me: you don’t know people as well as you think you do.  Use discernment!  If you don’t have it, then ask God for it.

“We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed;

“We are perplexed, but not in despair;

“Persecuted, but not forsaken,

“Cast down, but not destroyed;

“Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body” (2 Corinthians 4:8-10).

“There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man:  but God is faithful, Who will not suffer you to be tempted above that you are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it” (1 Corinthians 10:13).

 

If you would like to know the Lord Jesus, click here. 

If you would like to read more of my testimony, click here.

Be encouraged and look up; your redemption draweth nigh.  

The Still Man

UPDATE June 14, 2014.  My family and I have been back together for two years here in Munich.  God is good!

Please pray for us.

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