Counted Worthy 35
“Rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer for His Name!”

       (Note: We recommend that parents or teachers read this story first and confirm with the Lord before reading it with children. There are some things that some might find disturbing, and others that might be over the head of the younger ones.)

The Escapade

--By the Unnamed Disciple

       Esther never looked more beautiful. It wasn't just her sexy near-nakedness, but the “I'm here just for you” look in her eyes. Then the light diminished as she closed the door behind her and slowly entered the bedroom. Now in the pitch dark, I could only hear the sound of her slippers moving across the carpet. Trying to hold back my breathing, I awaited the feel of the duvet being lifted and folded back. Ah, I would soon be holding in my arms one of the most exquisite works of art the Lord had ever created. …
       “Blang! Blang! Blang!” The room filled with an awful cacophony of clangs. Simultaneously, the once dark room was filled with light of such intensity that it burned though my tightly shut eyelids. Planting my hands firmly over my ringing ears, I knew I had to open my eyes. You cannot grasp the depth of disorientation that rocks you to the core when the human spirit is exposed to such an assault of noise and light.
       The guards ceased banging their sticks on the bars of the “classrooms,” since I and others were by now assuredly awake and standing at attention by our bunks … or at least, we'd better be.
       Opening my eyes when my feet touched the cold cement floor almost erased my vision of Esther, my angel, but I fought to retain that part of my life. Yet, like the image on a turned-off TV screen fading down to a dot, the details of her touch of Heaven all but disappeared. Reality had pushed away my peaceful yet passionate dream and I was once again aware of my surroundings.
       “Redlands Law School.” I was a “student” … one of many. We had been “enrolled” as deviants, brainwashed cult members who had to be “rescued” from the evil cult leaders, and were being “reeducated.” It was fine to believe in Jesus, but their “Jesus” asked us to twist the Scriptural injunction to “resist not evil,” and instead follow the Antichrist. Since I continued to call a spade a spade-in this case, railing that this “Jesus” was none other than Satan, and that the great leader was possessed of him, I was placed in the more “intensive” course.
       That meant less food, less exercise and fresh air, less contact with others (solitary confinement), and, yes … less sleep. Not everything was less though. More lectures, more recorded ranting and martial music, more abuse, more humiliation, more tests and trials.
       Now for the good part. Having really forsaken all, not just my “goods” and comforts, but my loved ones, my comrades and shepherds, my library of Word, I had nothing but Jesus. It was strangely liberating to have nothing but Jesus. Having less of me and other things made more room for Him. My existence was so miserable, I couldn't dwell on it for a moment, or I'd go under. I had to keep looking up to Him. I no longer could rely on being trained; I had to put my training into practice. It was as if I had been forced to graduate and put away childish things. I had to stand alone-with God- against the world.
       One amazing miracle was that often when the day was done and the lights had mercifully been switched off, the walls would seem to light up like a color LCD screen and they would display beautifully laid-out pages of key promises, Psalms, Bible prophecies, MO Letters, and prophecies. “Displayed prophecies”-that was a new way of Him speaking to me. Yes, He'd still speak in my head, but to see fresh living words displayed on the wall was unique and new-and very inspiring. Sometimes, there were snippets of multimedia clips of Jesus, and also of my Family being strong and doing exploits. And no, I was not going mad.
       Jesus did many things like this to show He was with me. There were the sheep, both amongst the guards and the other prisoners, who let me know by very subtle gestures that they were with me. And there were also my tormentors, like Ken, the “sheep” who had turned me in, yet had also managed to be thrown in jail for other misdeeds. He blamed me for that and seemed obsessed with turning others against me-especially the “principal” and his staff.
       But prison life is not the point of the testimony-my escapade is what He wants me to share with you. One night on prophecy wall … hey, God likes to write on walls: Remember “Mene, Mene”?--Instead of graffiti, God-ffiti, ha! … One night on the wall He wrote this strange childlike poem-or you could call it a riddle.
       I knew Samson of old liked riddles, so I asked him to help me “crack this one.” He cryptically answered me with, “Sorry, I deal in pillars, not walls!”
       Ah, John the Revelator!-Surely he'd help me decode these words on the wall. “Take it”-he said-“and eat it up; and it shall make thy belly bitter, but it shall be in thy mouth sweet as honey.” I figured that was a good start. “Thou must prophesy again before many peoples, and nations, and tongues, and kings.” Now that sounded good, as to do that I had to be free to travel, unless they were all going to travel here to my cell. But none of this explained the riddle. Oh, I almost forgot to quote it to you. …

Trust no one but Me; not those who set you free.
Go left when told right and keep Me in sight.

Pass through the red, and you'll be full of lead.
Go through the green, and you'll be unseen.

Now go right when told left, and you'll not be bereft.
Trust not your own mind, in this case lag behind.

       Okay Lord, is this necessary? Why write this simplistic poem on the wall? Well, I know You don't make mistakes, and it seems You're going to deliver me to carry on Your work. I'm not sure I get the gist of it all, Lord, but please help me follow Your advice when the time comes. Your ways of communicating are best, and like You said, I'm to not trust myself or others.

       Turns out it was good I didn't understand it all. You see, I was often accused of receiving outside communication, as I was kept well informed by the Lord and my heavenly helpers about things that happened or were going to happen to me.
For instance, one evening I was given extra food by a friendly night guard, Hank. He said he was doing this at great personal risk. The Lord spoke to me in prophecy-not via wall this time-and He gave me the story of Joseph. Although hungry, I managed to store half of that dinner until morning. The next morning, Tom, the morning guard, brought me a double portion for breakfast, which I put aside, as instead I finished my last night's dinner. I was one whole meal ahead, and things were kept fairly fresh. As predicted, this went on for seven days, and I ended up with quite a store of food.
       On the eighth evening, another guard said Hank was on unpaid leave, being disciplined for some reason, and he pointedly left me nothing. Thank the Lord I had some food stored up, and lacked nothing. (Water was available via a faucet.) The next morning a new guard likewise told me Tom was off duty until further notice, and again, no food was left. I figured this would go on for twelve more meals (we ate twice a day), and that proved correct. Miraculously, even the “oldest” food was preserved, and my last stored meals, although the usual fare, were not spoiled or rancid. (I will leave more details on the food and my daily activities for another time, as they're not the point of this testimony.)
       So I was fit as a fed fiddle, at least one in solitary, otherwise hopeless, incarceration. And on the eighth day, Hank and Tom were back on duty. Several stripes were missing on their uniforms, and they looked more dreary than usual, plus from the way they walked and from some visible marks, it was clear that they'd suffered some manhandling. But they didn't seem to harbor a grudge against me, thank the Lord.
       I felt a bit bad that they may have suffered for my sake. One week later, while eating my evening meal (let's call it “bread and gravy”), I was about to close my eyes and thank the Lord for supplying it, when my teeth felt something as I bit into the chunk of bread. Cleaning the something off, I saw it was a piece of cellophane that had some words written on it with a thin black marker. “Be ready to go tonight.”
       Later, lying awake fully dressed in the bed, a small bundle was quietly slid into my “dorm” through the bars. Taking care not to have the cot creak, I got up and found it contained street clothes, shoes, ID, and some money. (Cash was still used-albeit highly discouraged-amongst the street people and riffraff who hadn't yet been chipped.) I prayed about it, and got to put on the clothes and make ready.
       An hour later, smoke drifted into my cell and fire alarms went off. Guards were scurrying around, and in some cases opening “dorm” doors and herding the blanket-laden “students” down the halls. Hank came for me and roughly ordered me up and out, then gave me a special look and quietly whispered, “Are you ready and dressed to go?” At my nod, he then threw a blanket over me. I looked like one of many prisoners being escorted outside.
Tom, not usually on duty, appeared in uniform and together they rushed me across the field and pointed to their right and said go through that red door behind building C. “It's open and you'll be safe. Do not use any other door! Hurry!” Then they grabbed a couple of inmates from the throng and took them over to the group that was being gathered in the main field for roll call. Fire trucks had arrived and fire fighters were working on dousing the kitchen's flames.
Jesus' wall words were replayed. “Trust no one but Me; not those who set you free. Go left when told right and keep Me in sight.” That was clear, and was confirmed by a mind picture of Samson looking pleased. Of course, he was holding up the huge broken gates of that Philistine city. Fitting! Like he said, he definitely was a pillar and gate man-not into walls.
So obviously Hank and Tom were not to be trusted, and I was to go left instead of right. Then what? Daniel flashed in my mind and I heard the words, “Pass through the red, and you'll be full of lead; go through the green, and you'll be unseen.” Looking ahead I spied the green gate. (I rarely was let outside, so had no prior knowledge of the gates and their colors.) It was locked, but as I approached, the chain moved and slunk to the ground. Without hesitating, I chalked it up as a miracle, quickly thanked Samson and the Lord, and slipped out of the “school” into the wide world outside, unseen. Now what?
There was a sign at the end of the alley that said “No right turn!” I then saw (and heard) Daniel quoting, “Now go right when told left, and you'll not be bereft. Trust not your own mind, in this case lag behind.” I knew I should slowly turn right and not be in a hurry, although my mind was screaming, “Flee!” This was a good thing as several squad cars went by towards the main entrance of the school, and I looked quite normal to them, slowly walking down the street.
       The blast and wail of the school's speakers alerted that part of the world that there had been a jailbreak. That more than quickened my pulse, but I fought the urge to run. I then heard automatic gunfire and from my vantage point, now across the street from the main entrance of the law school, I saw a commotion outside of that red gate. The tower lights were focused on a scene of a bloodied lifeless body sprawled on the ground, partially covered by a shredded, blood-splattered blanket. I could see that Tom and Hank were among the first to approach the scene after the shooting stopped. The high fives they were giving each other and the black uniformed shooters revealed that this had been an ambush, an ambush prepared for me. All doubt fled when I heard them shouting, “That's a great way to get rid of incorrigibles.”
As I more tightly merged into the crowd of onlookers I wondered who had taken my place. Faithful John the Revelator had lived up to his name when he'd reminded me, “Pass through the red, and you'll be full of lead.” He then added, “Don't worry, the victim was your worst tormentor, Ken. He's in God's hands now. Go forth and Jesus will lead you to others who have stayed free, and they will help you and you will help them. You will prophesy many days and encourage many. Forgive me, but I have not the authority to reveal to you if you will die for His sake or be still standing when the Seventh Trump sounds and He returns to take His Own away in the clouds.”

* * *

       (Jesus:) The personality of the person telling the story is a light one, and that was a gift I gave him so that he could live through such difficult events. He sees things in a simple, uncluttered way. And there's nothing wrong with having a good time with spirit beings-they like to have fun too!

Copyright © 2005 by The Family International

End of file.