Caught up to the Third Heaven

II CORINTHIANS 12:1-2  It is not expedient doubtless for me to glory, I will come to visions and revelations of YHWH. I knew a [woman] in Messiah above fourteen years ago (whether in the body I cannot tell: YHWH knoweth:) such a one caught up to the third heaven.

When I first wrote this testimony in the form it is today, at the word fourteen in the above verse I wrote eleven years, because the event about which I testify in this post occurred eleven years previously. I was astonished to discover a few days ago it is now fourteen years later, the same number of years after which Paul wrote about his trip to Heaven.

I mentioned this episode in my life at the end of a previous post Third Trial: Sell All You Have and Follow MeNot only is it precisely fourteen years after the event, but exactly one year ago that I wrote about my third trial. As I sit writing this it is 19 October 2013. I wrote Third Trial  on the 24 October 2012. I expect it to take me those five days difference at least to type this up as it is seven pages in length. We shall see. There is a time for everything under the sun, and Father’s timing is always perfect. It should not surprise us.

Despite it being so long, I have chosen to put this conclusion to my blog in one post. Every word of it is true. I suggest reading Third Trial first to make the acquaintance of Michael, and understand the circumstances surrounding our voyage beyond the stars.

Richard the Lionheart

It was 24 April 1999, a coal-black Saturday evening. The previous night I had been delivered of a rock-hard heart of obsidian. I was in a strange trance-like state. Father told me I must go to Heaven to be prepared for the work I was to do.

“It is too important to fail,” He continued. I could not receive the necessary strengthening any other way.

I pulled my three children out of bed and we all lay down on the floor. They were still almost asleep having no idea what was happening. As for myself, I sort of expected an angel to lift us heavenward or something and wondered how we were going to breathe in space!

Just then the sun started to dawn in the eastern sky. My deliverance experience had taken all night. Just Father, the angels, and me. Now it seemed too late to go to Heaven that day. We were en route to Melbourne from Brisbane and had soon to hit the road.

“Tomorrow night,” Father said.

We got up, packed the van, and left for Melbourne.

That night, Ric–Richard the Lionheart, Father had nicknamed him–my chauffeur, was driving. He had flown up to Brisbane to accompany us down. My little family was going to live in Melbourne with a Christian group calling themselves The Hope of Israel.                        

In Bathurst we stopped to buy fuel. sitting in the front passenger side of my old Econovan, I was wide awake worrying about Ric’s driving.

“Go to sleep,” commanded Father.

That was enough for me. Closing my eyes I slipped into somewhere between a trance and a dream. It was the strangest experience. I was asleep while knowing what was physically happening around me. Yet when I awoke next morning and talked to Ric, these things were a little different to what they had seemed. In my sleeping state, I was having a vivid dream, the memory of which is still almost as fresh today.

The dream, therefore, is in italics. What I felt happening with my physical senses is in normal Roman script. (What I thought was happening I have put in brackets.)

Michael the Archangel

The van was being driven down the highway towards Albury. We were rushing into the night–cold night air–through the stars to Heaven with an angel driving very fast. Our driver was Michael the archangel (whom we had previously met in Redcliffe). The children were asleep in the back seat. As we went up, I felt the angel stop many times, take things out of the van, and let them fall off into the darkness. At each of three stops, he took my children out one by one and let them too fall away into the blackness of outer space. Each time the act terrified me. But Father had instructed me at the outset to stay asleep, no matter what, until He told me to wake up. I did so though I felt more like I was pretending to sleep.                                                                                                                          

When each of the children was taken out, my heart broke. But I knew I had to let them go. I gave them into Father’s hands and somehow knew He would take care of them, that they were not my concern. After all were gone one of the children whimpered in his or her sleep! They were still in the back and had been all the time. Father was just testing my heart. (In reality Ric stopped to put blankets, coats, and towels over the sleeping children. It was these items he had pulled out of the van, not the children.)

We sped past myriads of stars (the headlights of cars passing us on the road). Gradually I started to see glimpses of a great light in the distance. We had to slow down and stop a number of times to adjust to the brightness or would have gone blind. Eventually I saw a huge crowd of people in the distance, all waiting for me, but also waiting on someone at the very point of our destination. I suddenly realized we were on our way to the Throne Room of the Father and I cringed in terror at the thought of coming face to face with Him.                                                                                                                

My fear seemed to plunge me to another place. It struck me that before this trip I may have actually been on my way to Hell. If I was so afraid to go to Heaven, I must, I reasoned, be going to Hell. I felt afraid of that potentiality too.

Fear, fear, fear. so much fear. How could I possibly be afraid of my Father, my beautiful Creator, King, and Saviour? Because I was so sinful, so dirty, so evil before Him. Then I must be going to Hell.                                                                                                        

“Well, would you go there?” He asked, “That’s where you deserve to go. There is no one in Heaven in your condition.”                                                                                                          

I cringed at that thought also. I did not want to. The idea terrified me more than going to face Father. But I decided if that is where I was going, I would somehow sustain it–somehow. Nevertheless, I asked Father if He would just strengthen me to endure it.  Again I had a sudden thought. I remembered Yahshua had died and gone to Hell for me!                                                                                                                                             

“Didn’t Jesus (I still called Him that then) go to Hell for me?” I asked Father.                        

No answer, but immediately we were again rushing towards the light, which was my answer. A sigh of relief left me deflated and helpless on the ground. We were still in the van but for each experience I was not. I was standing instead with Father or someone else.                                                                                                                                                              

I said to my Beloved, “I still cannot come to face You like this; I am so filthy,” I cried to Him pitifully.                                                                                                                                          

“What are your sins, Child?” He asked, “Won’t you give them to Me and get rid of them? Cry out to Me to help you. Keep crying out to Me no matter what.”                                

“Yes, yes, that’s a good idea,” I replied, sagging in relief again.

David the Prophet

Suddenly, all of my sins, all of my life started passing before my eyes. A little man came forward to greet me. He had a fat belly. “I know him,” I thought. It was David Kriss who had travelled to Brisbane to invite me to join the fellowship in Melbourne. “That’s strange,” my thoughts continued, “I expected Jesus would be up here to greet me, not just a little fat man.”                                                                                                                              

“THAT LITTLE MAN WAS JESUS!” Father told me in a rather black tone (MATT. 25:40).   I was stung to the core at His piercing condemnation of my pride.

Sagging yet again, in discouragement this time, I asked Father, “How can You ever forgive me for treating You the way I treated him?” (On the day we met, David had rebuked me for the way in which I had greeted him. My talkativeness had dominated the conversation.) “How can You forgive me, how can I be forgiven? Is there no way?”                

Looking around ahead of me I saw the great crowd all wore white robes. There was Ric next to David.                                                                                                                                      

“And he is Jesus too,” Father said.                                                                                                    

I saw Father in David’s eyes speaking to me with His eyes of love, chastening, and truth about myself. I remembered the abysmal way I had treated Ric, as if I was his commander giving him orders. I went down on my knees before Him in David and Ric, and washed their feet with my tears, kissing them and drying them with my hair.  (Ladies, if you don’t have long hair, how do you expect to do this for Yahshua if ever the opportunity arises? Those with afro hair excused.)                                                                     

“You did that,” Father said, “when you massaged David’s feet for Ric, to relieve him of the duty, and to make up in small measure for not welcoming him properly the first day. (David was diabetic, so Ric would rub his feet each night.)

“I did that, Father?” I asked, “You mean, I did something right?” Suddenly I recalled reading about the judgment of the saints when Yahshua will give them their rewards. He is not going to condemn but reward, and say, “Well done, good and faithful servant!”              

Looking at the other people in the crowd, I saw my parents, my brothers, sister, and their families. I saw my Christian brothers and sisters from Redcliffe and other places (–none of these people were dead at the time). I saw all the unbelievers I had met. I saw all the abominations I had committed against them. (Until that moment I had not realized this. What I consider the utmost respect is often vastly inferior to that expected by the One who is love personified.). I saw my children. I saw the babies I killed–more than I thought. (I once worked on a gynaecology ward in London where abortions were performed, and I had used IUDs which cause early abortions as birth control measures. These sins had as then been repented of by me.)

Father declared, “I’m giving them back to you.”                                                                          

Each time I remembered the sins I had committed against these people–all dressed in white robes, all Yahshua Himself–I would cringe again on the floor in agony and a part of me would cry out, “Help me, forgive me.” I would feel a chip being taken off me and fly away into the darkness, feeling utter relief. Then Father would show me some little thing I had done for them out of even the smallest measure of love. I would cry out with relief that I could be the tiniest bit righteous.  

Philip, My Husband

I saw a picture of Roadie, David’s black dog, lying on the floor beside his master. Feeling the dog was symbolic of somebody, I asked Father who this was.                                              

“Who is small and black (with sin),” He asked me in return, “that you treated like a dog, worse even?”                                                                                                                                  

Philip, my husband, laying there in YHWH’s hands all this time. (Philip was violent and I was in terror of him so I kept our whereabouts secret from him for four and a half years. Philip saw this as rejection. Father saw this as a lack of faith in Him.)  I had a flash in my thoughts that Father would restore Philip to me as my husband and was waiting for me ahead. I felt a shudder of revulsion but realized that too was an awful sin against him. I decided despite that revulsion and fear of being with Philip, if it is Father’s will, may it be done.                                                                                                                                                            

After Philip (Roadie) appeared Christian men I knew – Vince, Peter, Ric, David, Geoff, as if they too were each going to be my husband and I was being brought to be prepared as a bride. I had the same thoughts towards them all, first shock and revulsion then acceptance and consenting to let Father’s will be done. The burden of sin against them would be lifted off giving me immense release.                                                                            

I was like a bride rushing to my wedding, but unprepared in filthy clothes. Father told me all of these men had been sent by Him to be a ‘husband’ to me in my lack (to give me a measure of spiritual covering and training in how to properly treat men and a husband), but I had treated them dishonourably. Now, however, I accepted them all gladly because they were chosen and sent by Father in His infinite wisdom.                                         

“What can I do to make up for rejecting these men, Father?” I asked.                                    

He answered, “A person must give just a cup of water to one of My friends to be raised up on the last day. I thought of Philip and cast my mind about for something he had done for me. I felt grieved to the heart at the thought of him going to the Lake of Fire. I could not think of anything he had done for me. Not one thing. Then I remembered the rissoles.                                                                                                                        

I cried out to Father. “Does offering to cook rissoles for us qualify him?” I pleaded.          

“Yes, Child, it is worth even more than that,” my Father relieved my anguish.                    

That time I had not allowed him to cook, though Philip had strenuously offered, because I knew he couldn’t cook. This memory made me feel terrible.                                        

But Father assuaged my guilt by remonstrating, “That was out of a heart of love for him, especially considering the exhausted and ill state you were in. And don’t worry, Child, as Roadie lays beside David on the seat, head on his lap, so Philip has been and will be in My hands.”                                                                                                                                        

Later I recalled many other things Philip had done for me: made toy swords for me as leader of King’s Kids in Bible College; defended me against a wrongful accusation by one of the student leaders there; stood in as my daughter’s father at a Father’s Day event; built us a house with his own hands in his village; bought a house for us in Madang; started a new business to support us; sent letters, cards, and gifts.                                    

As I rushed closer and closer I felt colder and colder when I would expect to feel warmer coming to Heaven. I suddenly realized that I was going to be naked before Father and all these people! Naked! I was shocked, embarrassed, and ashamed.                      

“Please, Father, don’t let me have to be naked. But if it is Your will, sustain me and I will somehow do it.”                                                                                                                                

I felt Him put a beautiful soft rug of animal fur, like a brown bear skin, over me making me feel warmed and covered. (Ric had stopped the van at this stage and put my large red beach towel over me. I was so deeply engrossed in the dream, I did not realize this until the next morning when he told me, but I did feel him putting something soft and warm over me. I had also felt the cold night air as he opened the passenger door. I felt the towel with my fingers and genuinely believed it to be a bear skin rug.)

Knowing how unclean my heart was, I imagined the Sword of the Spirit cutting it out. The thought of actually falling on the point of that sword, for that is what I felt I must do, was agony and horror to me.                                                                                                          

“I can’t do that!” I cried, “No, no, no! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t fall on a sword like that,” recalling Rick Joyner’s visions of it (from his book The Harvest I think) and how I had judged him and many others. I deserved the Sword.                                                             

“Let us do it, Father, if it is Your will.”                                                                                            

But I could not do it myself. So Father did it. An angel stood on either side of me holding my arms to support me if I fell. The sword point went in with a tiny prick, twisted, and came out so quickly I hardly felt it. I fell back on to the seat (of the van) under the rug. I was naked. I remembered a previous dream I’d had of a future wedding night. In it my husband and I wore snow-white kimono type robes with a patch of red over our hearts.  

Under the Cross    

We drove up to and stopped in a sort of pavilion–a tent set up in a field. It was night, but dim lights somewhere cast enough glow with which to see. There were trees and neatly trimmed lawns like in a beautiful park.                                                                                     

The angel carried me out of the tent where our van, the spaceship, had parked. He put me down and I stood naked and unashamed. I was under the Cross looking up at Yahshua. He likewise was naked. He looked down upon me with eyes of such indescribably pure love it was as if we were one person. We were in semi-darkness. He and I with not another living creature within sight or sound. The brilliant glow of Heaven shone distantly behind the Cross.                                                                      

Suddenly a spear was thrust into Yahshua’s side. Blood and water poured out and over me like a shower, washing me clean. I basked in it. The flow felt like a hot shower when one has been cold and unwashed for a long time. It was so brilliant and pleasurable. I danced under it with joy.                                                                                              

Then I stood in the middle of the pavilion, a small tent like those at medieval jousting tournaments, with my hands up and horizontal like a cross. Serving women–handmaids–dressed me for my wedding. I was given flowers to hold and more were put into my hair.                                                                                                                                              

In that instant I became aware I was not marrying any of these men in my dream but Yahshua Himself. And we would be going to the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. The people in white robes were the guests.                                                                                      

Into my mind popped that other husband and children, already named, I’d hoped to have one day.                                                                                                                                            

“Would you give them up for Me, just Me alone?” Yahshua asked.                                          

“Yes,” I replied, “How could anyone compare? I’ll gladly have you alone.”                            

Yahshua said, “These little ones, your children in Heaven, are the ones you named. And I will give them back to you.” I did not quite know if He meant in Heaven or on Earth, but I was satisfied with that. (I have three children now. When the last was born his birth was so incredible I wanted to go back next day to have twins! Prior to that I had not wanted more children. After it I decided I wanted many–two, four, ten, twenty, as many as Father would give me. So I set about naming them.) I saw in the dream Father, as David I think, standing among a group of small children of different ages. One’s hand He held while another, a baby, was in His other arm.                                                                      

Then it was our wedding night. (This part of the dream was an exact repeat of the other dream I’d previously had of my husband and myself in white kimonos.) 

“Wake up!”                         

I could see through my eyelids the dawn coming on. Ric had stopped the van. I kept my eyes closed wondering what to do, when Father said to wake up. The trance-dream had lasted eight hours.

I opened my eyes but felt I was still somehow in the trance. I looked at Ric sitting in the driver’s seat beside me having driven all night and saw Yahshua Himself. I determined I would not miss one word He said or one gesture He might make. I had things to learn from Him. I had to obey his every command. My Yahshua. My Husband.

We drove to a resort where we would be staying that night. Ric needed sleep. Being almost closed for the winter, it looked to my eyes a dreary place. I had expected to be brought to a luxury hotel, and with my children be given a banquet beyond my wildest dreams. Instead we were given what appeared to be the tiniest shoddiest caravan. My hopes fell.

As I walked inside, however, the large size of it surprised me. “This is beautiful,” I thought. The palace must be coming later. But I felt so grieved that Yahshua had to stay in this shoddy looking place. I made His bed with the only decent sheets I had – pink floral ones given to me by my mother. They were all I had to offer and had even been slept in by me once before, the fact of which I forgot to tell Ric.

As I made the bed with these splendid sheets I had a most remarkable revelation. When in Papua New Guinea at Bible College, engaged in secret to Philip, I’d had a dream that I had made my marriage bed with some gorgeous pink flowers that grew in profusion up there. I loved them. There were no sheets in that dream. The blossoms were the sheets. Making the bed for Yahshua in that shoddy van was the fulfillment of that dream. I had thought the bed was for Philip and me.

“I Am Your Money”

Yahshua, before bedding down, instructed me to go into Albury, withdraw some money out of my bank account, and then buy some food for us. We were to be back by two. The money to purchase our petrol for the trip down had been donated by a pastor in Sydney who did not, at the time, know me.

We left Yahshua in Ric’s tired body to sleep in peace and drove into town. Once there, while looking for the bank, I heard a voice like Father’s in the dream say to trust Him, He is our money. I did not need to go to St. George (the bank).

I went and parked outside the police station instead. I watched people passing by. They looked strange: lost, sick, poverty-stricken, in rags. The second-hand shop, I noticed, was the best appointed building in town. It was resplendently decorated and lit up like a palace. With a sunken heart I remembered all the clothes I had thrown out in Petrie before embarking on this trip because they needed washing or mending. Previously I had always taken old clothes to these thrift shops and shopped there myself too.

“My people always find second-hand shops most beautiful and most inviting,” Father whispered to my heart. Such a compliment (thrift shops help the poor and needy).

I was still in a trance state. I had a vision of Michael the archangel coming to drive us to a new house or van. Father (I believed) said I wold never have to drive again. In welcome to them I started cleaning the inside of my van while my patient children sat in the back wondering what I was doing. Stuff I thought I didn’t need including the map to the resort was thrown out into a bin on the sidewalk. Father said also that people would follow us.

Whilst engaged in this cleaning spree, the man who starred as ‘Jesus’ in the film by that name–Brian Deacon is the actor’s name–got out of a vehicle on the road, walked over to me, and handed me the book of LUKE with his photo as Yahshua on the front cover. At least, that man or angel looked exactly like Brian Deacon. I thanked him in some surprise before he returned to the vehicle which was then driven off.

As if a veil was suddenly lifted from my befogged mind, the lateness of the hour entered my consciousness. It was 3 p.m., an hour after Yahshua had told me to be back. I had neither been to the bank nor shopping. I realized I had been in some kind of daze doing stupid things and that I had left Yahshua and disobeyed. Oh, my rebellious heart made me feel sick.

I jumped in the van and drove off to the bank but couldn’t find a park. Thinking to go round the block, we started to get further and further away instead of closer, hopelessly lost. In the pain of my hopelessness I cried out, “What am I to do? How can I do this? I’m hopeless. My heart is so rebellious.”

Father’s voice made me focus. “What is the most important thing now, Yahshua or the money?”

“Yahshua,” I answered. The conversation was taking place in my mind. “I must go back and beg His forgiveness immediately.” But I was fast becoming lost. I was so afraid.

Father rebuked me, “I told you to stand against fear.” He had commanded it two nights previously before removing my rock-hard heart. We had been surrounded by demons so thickly that night my legs shook uncontrollably, “You must, Debra.”

Calming down I asked Him what to do.

“Go to Yahshua,” He directed.

“What if I can’t find my way back? What if He left because I wasn’t there, and won’t forgive me?”

“Is that what My Word says?” He asked, “Use the map He gave you.” The map which showed the way from Albury Wodonga to the resort.

The map! In my stupidity I had thrown the map away! I thought I wouldn’t need it, that Yahshua would be my map as well as my money. How the enemy lies to us.

“Find it, Debra, find the map,” urged my Father’s voice, or it could have been my own.

I drove back to the police station, fished it out of the rubbish bin, jumped in the car, and drove, careful to stay legal. Yahshua would not like me to break the law, even to obey Him. He kept the Law and so must I–perfectly. We raced back.

A Banquet of Fish

On the way I envisioned Him having given up on me and giving the banquet alone without me. He was at the banquet with all those people.

“I don’t care,” I thought, “I’ll go in, throw myself at His feet and beg His forgiveness. I’ll wash His feet with my tears and dry them with my hair even in front of all those people. Like the prostitute.

The realization hit me that I was that prostitute–not Deborah the prophetess–but the harlot. I physically took my hair out of its bun in preparation as I drove along. Feverishly. I had not even brushed it properly that morning. It was a mess. To appear before Yahshua, at our wedding banquet like this!

Finally, there. Ric held out his arms and hugged me. Compared to my disastrous thoughts, his reaction was so gentle and compassionate with hardly a hint of rebuke. He had been wondering where we were, looking for us, asking everybody at the resort if they had seen us. He wanted to take us fishing! Yahshua wanted to take my children and me fishing! What an honour.

Everything was so strange. The place was so dirty–so earthly–and expensive, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was solely attendant on me and my children. All focus was on us. And then he paid me the loveliest compliment.

He said, “It’s the demons. They are getting very worried because they know you are  going to be set free soon.”

“Really? Set free? How? When?” I wondered.

I saw many people called to the Elect being gathered together, in a place like that resort, for teaching, training, and fellowship in preparation to be sent out for the harvest. They will live in booths (caravans or vans that are mobile and temporary). I saw J-, our future king, and was disappointed he just ran past on his way to the banquet without noticing me. He’s up ahead of me. A hint of jealousy welled up before I put it down. I only care that I’m here, not whether I’m first or last.

Actually, I am last and they are all waiting to welcome me with their open arms and eyes of love.

That night we dined on trout caught with Yahshua, the Fisher of men, at the neighbouring trout farm. I hated killing those fish when we caught them. I saw the terror in their eyes as I smashed in their brains.

Next day we arrived in Melbourne where I was destined to meet about half of the twelve men called to be, according to my understanding, the new apostles of the Lamb.

Ric I was not sure about for many years afterwards. He would go from being Yahshua in the flesh to just plain Ric in a twinkle. I now believe he was being Ric as he was created to be when he seemed to be Yahshua, to another Ric with leftover traits from his time in the occult before he became a Christian but from which he was not fully delivered. But it was the fact I was still in a trance that made me believe at the time he was Yahshua. Whatever the explanation, it was due to him I fell in love anew with my King. We discovered his car registration plates had my name on them – DEB.

The man who was pastor, in whose house we lived, was named Philip and he nicknamed me ‘Debra of the Most High’, though the group cast us out after two weeks, just as the disciples denied Yahshua. There was a fear of Yezebel in the group which resulted in all the women being ‘under the thumb’ so to speak. Women were treated like second-class citizens just as they are in the religion of Islam. It was submission gone mad. Consequently none of the ladies’ gifts was acknowledged, appreciated, or used.  All the ladies ate separately to the men and had to cook for and serve them. One evening I was doing such serving when, as I approached the three men at the table for that meal, I ran into an invisible wall. It stopped me dead as if it was a sheet of glass. Father did this to show me a demonic spirit in control of these people: a division between the men and women. There were many others too, and other incidents too numerous to write about here. But ‘Debra of the Most High’ was never going to last long in a group like that. The demons wouldn’t stand for it.

Philip and I did come together again for a time. But he rejected the treasure Father offered him, returning to Papua New Guinea and his other family up there. On our return trip to Brisbane after having spent several weeks in Melbourne claiming those men for YHWH, Father did a grand work in my heart. He made me again fall in love with my hitherto despised husband. When Philip received my first letter after four and a half years of silence, he ran out of the Madang Post Office shouting, “It’s a miracle!” And it was. He remained backslidden for fifteen years. But I knew from the dream Father had him tightly in His hands. He never let Philip go. His head lay upon Father’s lap. Three years ago after years of silence I found him in PNG and had the honour of leading him back to his Messiah via a mobile phone.

David Kriss has since died. Father had told me he would.

My beautiful, beloved oldest child is a prodigal right now. I have had to surrender all of them and everything to Father at one time or another. It was Ranyhyn who told us prophetically when we ran out of petrol on the way to Melbourne, we each had 12,000 angels surrounding us. That’s 12,000 for me, another 12,000 for her, and 12,000 for my two boys with 12,000 in reserve. Jed now has 12,000 of his own, and they have their work cut out for them. The other day, he tells me, that space cadet son of mine picked up a brown snake with his bare hands and ripped it apart.  The snake had killed two tiny orphan calves Jed had rescued and to say he was angry at it would have been an understatement. Jed takes the Bible literally where it says “Fear not,” and that we will pick up serpents without harm. I must admit to having a little way to go yet in that department, though I have chased three snakes away in the last three weeks.

The night we ate fish at the resort I told Ric/Yahshua about the dream the previous night. Not the whole dream–though I dearly would have loved to–just that I’d had one. It was either that Yahshua knew about it already or Ric didn’t care (sometimes I couldn’t tell who was manifesting), but He/he told me just to write it down for a future time. I guess that time is now. My hope and prayer is for us all to come to that place of Spirit and Truth…

REVELATION 22:20-21  He which testifieth these things saith; Surely I come quickly, Amen. Even so, come, King Yahshua. The grace of our King Yahshua Messiah be with you all. Amen

…bringing with You a new age when even fish survive in their watery home unmolested, snakes don’t bite, children don’t go walkabout, and husbands love their wives enough to die for them but never have to.                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

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About daughter of the Most High

Unveiling end-time truth and mysteries.
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