Title: Ah's enslaved as early as three.....
From: Ah's enslaved as early as three... (a moment of emotion, that happened today, and yes most of this is from that approved Private Revelation, which binds me to believe. No one else has to, nor is expected to, in my view. Yes, I am personal today.)
Hi,
Ah's enslaved as early as three, twas God the God of Thee; It is God, who enslaved me. Yu'd think Slavery is all bad, tis not so with God, tis not so.
Slavery makes you think. I thunk. I thunk and thunk and thunk. One day, the doors were opened, to God not thee. God opened up the doors to me.
Floods of grief, did I endure, from the moment I saw God, not knew. I always heard there was Purgatory, well one day, I asked for that, not. I did not want more pain. I did not. No slave was I. No slave at all. How can a white man be a slave? How?
At 26, being enslaved since three, presented to me was a life in Thee. I said yes, I will not count. Yes, I do not care. I like it. I like not counting. I like it.
Time passed. Some of my master's would leave soon. I was not put out, I still worked on. My minor masters left; others replaced them; I did not know of The Main Master yet. Now, I just had more masters, and she was severe. The men were also. I had many. God thought, yes your God, God thought it good you see, to further enslave, to teach me. (Tears form, in how Sweet He is. Such training, such joy. Why? The tears form again in edits. It is that sweet, to me. It still...)
Years passed, some Twenty and two. More years passed and soon I knew; God. It was not until fifty and two more years passed; from three.
As a slave, a slave does not question, her Master, his Master, S/he just works. Pain is now a familiar nostalgia. Service is too. I just worked and hoped; for death; such was my pain; such was my enslavement; at thirty thousand; I stopped counting; I was forty five then. At Sixty and Eight even now, some days, I hope for life not death; Biblical life not death; but in earthly terms; yes death.
Eventually, I loved that God I just did and did, realizing, that yes, a slave am I. Manufactured; out of life; but that I did not know yet; I just knew I was made, because Christians had told me that; again, again, and again. They even told me God is Good. I actually believed that; I don't know why.
It was not until that God of yours, caused more of a crisis in the girl above, that she looked and looked and looked; Finally she?; she found God. Years would pass, and she would find out that is wrong. Twas not she, but God who called her. Why? I don't know why, but it is God who calls, not me, not her, not her enslaved in a body, not you who say, it is you work, to find God, as it is God Who Calls; and gives Faith, for you to believe. It is the same for me. It is all God, not you, not me; not her; not him.
This girl one day you see, listened quite distraughtly, as God The Father had Gabriel ask, if I would. I knew His voice, but by then his voice, and I don't know why. I knew his voice, and his son's. I knew.
All sound stopped, as He, God The Father approached, this slave, this me. When he spoke, not He, quite upset; was I. Tis not about you. It is not. Who are you? WHY are you speaking. This is about Him and me. Not you.
((( Sorrow now lances me. Sorrow lances. One day, He, The Holy Spirit would not tell me, how I had hurt Him. I don't know how. I don't. He wouldn't tell me. My sorrow is; I hoped to never hurt a third of God, a brother to me of Jesus, and still a son to me of The Father. I do not; and I did not. To me, it is in not admitting when it is He, and not He or He, when I am told things; or things are made know to me, and it is He, The Holy Spirit, but 'Luvvie' to me, as He displaces Himself, to give us information from Jesus, or God The Father. Knowing that, I call him love times love, as he uses love to displace himself and love, which is "doing the will of the one you love". In doing the will; love; of the one you love; Jesus or The Father, it is love times love, to me, thus I call Him that, personally.
I call Him, Luvvie. And no, I will not change that; Ever; I think and hope. It is what and who he is, to me. )))
Why when God approaches, all sounds stop; only now can I guess and guess. It is not the first nor the second time that this occurred. All three times, it was God Who took all of my attention. When God comes, it can be only He, that one thinks of or Sees. It was that way, each time, those three.
Now back to enslavement by God. I did not know I was ever enslaved. I did not. Today, I am not, except by my heart; As how can you say; to all that was; You gave of yourself, to Your Son You gave and to Me. You gave of yourself, freely; how can I say to o/One who died a little for me, Jesus and the Sent One, The Holy Spirit, How can I say to one who died for all of us, A little, go away, I don't care about Thee. For Jesus He gave up one third of Himself. He died by one third; to me. For The Holy Spirit, it is the same. He gave up one third of Himself. Freely He gave and He died, by one third......
So my God, now my love, captured me, but not until that 'in', that 'san', that 'it', that 'y', left me.
It took long to realize, tis a form of insanity, to not love, the One Who Died a Little for me; God The Father, He died a little for me to be.
Is that Heresy?; or is it true? It is my view.
LOVE,
...Mary Katerina., .... .
Sent from my iPad
From: Ah's enslaved as early as three... (a moment of emotion, that happened today, and yes most of this is from that approved Private Revelation, which binds me to believe. No one else has to, nor is expected to, in my view. Yes, I am personal today.)
Hi,
Ah's enslaved as early as three, twas God the God of Thee; It is God, who enslaved me. Yu'd think Slavery is all bad, tis not so with God, tis not so.
Slavery makes you think. I thunk. I thunk and thunk and thunk. One day, the doors were opened, to God not thee. God opened up the doors to me.
Floods of grief, did I endure, from the moment I saw God, not knew. I always heard there was Purgatory, well one day, I asked for that, not. I did not want more pain. I did not. No slave was I. No slave at all. How can a white man be a slave? How?
At 26, being enslaved since three, presented to me was a life in Thee. I said yes, I will not count. Yes, I do not care. I like it. I like not counting. I like it.
Time passed. Some of my master's would leave soon. I was not put out, I still worked on. My minor masters left; others replaced them; I did not know of The Main Master yet. Now, I just had more masters, and she was severe. The men were also. I had many. God thought, yes your God, God thought it good you see, to further enslave, to teach me. (Tears form, in how Sweet He is. Such training, such joy. Why? The tears form again in edits. It is that sweet, to me. It still...)
Years passed, some Twenty and two. More years passed and soon I knew; God. It was not until fifty and two more years passed; from three.
As a slave, a slave does not question, her Master, his Master, S/he just works. Pain is now a familiar nostalgia. Service is too. I just worked and hoped; for death; such was my pain; such was my enslavement; at thirty thousand; I stopped counting; I was forty five then. At Sixty and Eight even now, some days, I hope for life not death; Biblical life not death; but in earthly terms; yes death.
Eventually, I loved that God I just did and did, realizing, that yes, a slave am I. Manufactured; out of life; but that I did not know yet; I just knew I was made, because Christians had told me that; again, again, and again. They even told me God is Good. I actually believed that; I don't know why.
It was not until that God of yours, caused more of a crisis in the girl above, that she looked and looked and looked; Finally she?; she found God. Years would pass, and she would find out that is wrong. Twas not she, but God who called her. Why? I don't know why, but it is God who calls, not me, not her, not her enslaved in a body, not you who say, it is you work, to find God, as it is God Who Calls; and gives Faith, for you to believe. It is the same for me. It is all God, not you, not me; not her; not him.
This girl one day you see, listened quite distraughtly, as God The Father had Gabriel ask, if I would. I knew His voice, but by then his voice, and I don't know why. I knew his voice, and his son's. I knew.
All sound stopped, as He, God The Father approached, this slave, this me. When he spoke, not He, quite upset; was I. Tis not about you. It is not. Who are you? WHY are you speaking. This is about Him and me. Not you.
((( Sorrow now lances me. Sorrow lances. One day, He, The Holy Spirit would not tell me, how I had hurt Him. I don't know how. I don't. He wouldn't tell me. My sorrow is; I hoped to never hurt a third of God, a brother to me of Jesus, and still a son to me of The Father. I do not; and I did not. To me, it is in not admitting when it is He, and not He or He, when I am told things; or things are made know to me, and it is He, The Holy Spirit, but 'Luvvie' to me, as He displaces Himself, to give us information from Jesus, or God The Father. Knowing that, I call him love times love, as he uses love to displace himself and love, which is "doing the will of the one you love". In doing the will; love; of the one you love; Jesus or The Father, it is love times love, to me, thus I call Him that, personally.
I call Him, Luvvie. And no, I will not change that; Ever; I think and hope. It is what and who he is, to me. )))
Why when God approaches, all sounds stop; only now can I guess and guess. It is not the first nor the second time that this occurred. All three times, it was God Who took all of my attention. When God comes, it can be only He, that one thinks of or Sees. It was that way, each time, those three.
Now back to enslavement by God. I did not know I was ever enslaved. I did not. Today, I am not, except by my heart; As how can you say; to all that was; You gave of yourself, to Your Son You gave and to Me. You gave of yourself, freely; how can I say to o/One who died a little for me, Jesus and the Sent One, The Holy Spirit, How can I say to one who died for all of us, A little, go away, I don't care about Thee. For Jesus He gave up one third of Himself. He died by one third; to me. For The Holy Spirit, it is the same. He gave up one third of Himself. Freely He gave and He died, by one third......
So my God, now my love, captured me, but not until that 'in', that 'san', that 'it', that 'y', left me.
It took long to realize, tis a form of insanity, to not love, the One Who Died a Little for me; God The Father, He died a little for me to be.
Is that Heresy?; or is it true? It is my view.
LOVE,
...Mary Katerina., .... .
Sent from my iPad
