Archive | February, 2015

Evangelistic Urgency

22 Feb


Anarchy: A state of disorder due to absence or non-recognition of authority. It’s synonyms are nihilism, mobocracy, revolution, insurrection, disorder, chaos, mayhem, tumult, turmoil. In a political sense, it’s defined as “absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual, regarded as political ideal.”

I’ve written much on this blog about order. There is even a fictional short story I wrote titled: “ORDO AB CHAO” – Order out of chaos. The Latin that is written on the American dollar bill. There is an urgency and clamor for chaos, because in all things we are actually seeking – order. I debated in mostly friendly tones with a man on social media recently regarding the current posturing of Russia versus the world. We are both American citizens, but both with completely different takes on the same situation. After much jostling back and forth, I finally coaxed out of him to admit what he was. “If I had to identify with a political movement, I’d probably say I was anarchist. I believe in ideas of home rule, shared decision-making, and voluntary association of individuals.” If you do not know, this is a sentiment that is prevalent in the youth of today. It’s spreading like wildfire. The source of it currently on the surface comes from the disinformation agents of the very nation he was arguing with me was not a threat to us at all – Russia. The Soviets and now the Russians have saturated America for well over half a century with sentiment designed to tear us to shreds from within. But the real source of that is not Russia or any other nation. This is a repeating pattern that began in the Garden. It’s the spin of Lucifer.

Ironically, America is a place of home rule, shared decision-making, and voluntary association of individuals. We are a constitutional republic, a union of individual states, and declared upon our founding that the rights of man are provided by God, not man, and that no man can infringe upon them. The anarchists claim to want that same ideal failing to understand the very nature of the title they give themselves, which is the title of chaos, disorder, mayhem and turmoil. It’s brilliant the way the twisting of man’s deepest need is turned against him. Lucifer is of intelligence far beyond our capabilities and to that due respect must be given. Mankind’s quest is a spiritual one, and it’s the quest leading to the final order. The Kingdom of God or the earthly hell of Satan?

We have an evangelistic urgency in this world. The evangelism of Lucifer is beating us around every corner, while apathy grows fat in God’s hands and feet – the Church. But there has always been a great need for evangelistic urgency since God breathed the spirit into the apostles and sent them on their way. In the worldly hatred of so-called Christians, none other is despised more greatly than the conservative-minded evangelist. They are the ones that dare to speak the living word. They are the ones that take it to their neighbors. They are the ones that will not bend to the whims and changes of each generation. Why are they so hated? It’s not because the people hate the message. It’s because we have failed to live it ourselves. We have failed the command of Jesus to become his likeness on earth. And they hate us for it. The harvest is spoiled and Lucifer is there to pick the rotted fruit and drag it back to his pit to rot for all eternity.

So here we are at this pivotal point in human history…on the cliff of chaos, on the cliff of that desired anarchy. Order hanging in the balance. You hear every world leader talk about the great need for the new structure – the new order. What do we do? Most of us are climbing deep into the giant sea of grace we’ve imagined and are hiding. We are taking shelter behind the shallow promises we made to God like we were buying life insurance. We fill giant halls of worship as if by duty to the bylaws of the insurance plan, but we walk out of them no different from when we first came. The agents of the masterful Lucifer playing us like a fiddle, as his teachers inside those halls go about building up the self…building up the me…filling up souls with selfishness and sending them away sinking in a grace that doesn’t exist for them. Each of us as guilty as the next. Then we dare tell the rest of the world how wrong they are. We should be hated for it and we are.

What is the most revolutionary act a human being can make? Actually allowing the self to die. The holy spirit will not share space with you. It’s either you or God. We are warned just how narrow that path really is and how few will walk it. Does grace exist? Absolutely, but only to those who are true on that path. The pool of grace should be imagined more as small pond we dip in while we are in transformation. It shouldn’t be imagined as the largest sea in the universe, but that’s what we have made it. By making that revolutionary act we are saving the world…we are creating order…as Jesus did for us, we do for His. It isn’t about personal salvation. It never was. If the cross was about one man it would have all ended right there with the death of a prophet. We are saved so that we might save many.

Evangelistic urgency is required. There isn’t a moment to waste. Are you capable of transformation? I swam in that giant sea of grace for the longest time, but I noticed all I was getting from it was pruny skin. I was still so thirsty. I shed tears for the longest time and asked to be shown the way. I’ve been in a very painful transformation ever since. Dying isn’t easy, y’all. The remains of me are still fighting making it so much harder than it needs to be. Maybe some others go easier…but for me…it hurts a great deal giving up this world. It was buried into my core and ripping it out is at gut-wrenching as ripping anything from the body. But God answered my prayer and did show me the way. I’m listening…I’m biting bullets while he rips me apart to fill me back up. I want to be an evangelist of the living word. I want to be what I’m called to be. I want to make my Father pleased. Most of all…I want to learn. I want to learn everything. But I can’t until I’m complete.

So that’s my sales pitch to you to save the world. How does it sound? I don’t offer you personal joy, glory, riches, peace or anything of the sort. I offer you deep, agonizing pain and a lot of tears. Join me?

Gary Abernathy


The Malignant Tumor of ISIS

9 Feb


I paced around my living room, then my kitchen, then my dining room, and then I sat. I ate dinner with my family still with it swarming through my mind. I paced my upstairs, and I paced my office. I lay flat on my futon still trying to find the words. They never came. There is no adjective that has been invented that adequately describes what ISIS/ISIL is doing to human beings in Syria and Iraq.  There is no prayer that I feel sufficient enough to send them other than begging for God’s intervention.

I’m certain this is the most difficult piece I’ve ever tried to put down in a coherent and effective way. My inner wrath wants to unload in this forum with such biting force, that I leave nothing but scorched land as far as the eye can roam. My soul wants to grab all of the woman and children and huddle them under my protection as I watch those men burn one by one. My intelligence wants to break the reason why the world is mostly sitting back and letting it happen. My curiosity wants to figure out the end game, as the world comes unraveled in all corners as if guided by a knowing hand with a specific plan in mind. I know there is master plan. I’ve written of it continuously these last many years, but I do not know what the end of it looks like for certain. I do not know if they are in control of this, or if ISIS is the result of it spiraling massively out of control. ISIS is a symptom. The world is gravely ill, and ISIS represents the visible malignant tumor of the cancer that ravages below the surface. ISIS is representative of the red horse unleashed. My soul cries. My faith yearns for instruction. But the right words…I chase them around in a blur unable to grasp or see them. There are none.

So I’ll provide a glimpse of the words written by the few witnesses to it all that managed to live long enough to speak them. The United Nations issued an extremely detailed report in November of last year, 2014, titled, “Rule of Terror: Living Under ISIS in Syria.” Their title is nowhere near sufficient either. There are no words, and there is no writer on earth that will find them. They must be sent down to us. Throughout the report, dozens and dozens of times, it is spelled out in horror that ISIS is guilty of the most heinous of war crimes and violations of human rights. Not since NAZI Germany has the world seen anything remotely like what they are doing, and they are making the SS look tolerant. If ever there were a justification to engage in war, ISIS has provided it in spades, yet the world is responding only in a bomb here and bomb there, as these men run amok in Iraq and Syria like horned cockroaches sent straight from Hades. To show indifference to this event as a fellow human being, is…well…this is where I have to lockdown my desire to scorch the earth. I have to seek Christ. I have to hang my head and pray. I have to wipe my tears away and do what He needs from me. I have to seek love. God demands this…not requests…and we won’t and don’t understand the reasons why. So I’ll report to you what the UN reported, because I know that 99.9% of people aren’t going to see or read it. I’ll keep as much of my wrath away as I can stand to keep within.

Here are my notes…

–  “The failure to find a political solution or any other alternative to stop the violence in Syria and to relieve the population’s suffering, left a dangerous vacuum that was filled by radicals and their foreign backers.” Question not answered: Who are these foreign backers?

– “Charity organizations and wealthy individuals funded radical entities willing to promote their ideologies and serve their agendas.” Question not answered: Which charities and what individuals? What ideology and what agenda?

 Arms and support provided to armed groups deemed as moderate have repeatedly fallen into the hands of more radical actors, including ISIS.” Note: President Obama and Sen. McCain have both strongly encouraged and authorized training and arming the so-called moderates. It’s not working. 

 – The leader of ISIS is, Abu Bakr Al-Baghdadi, and he holds absolute power within the group. Note: Why has our media not singled him out as they have done so effectively in every other case of conflict in our history? He has total power. He’s the head of the snake. Why is he being sheltered?

– “ISIS has engaged in the systematic destruction of Christian churches, as well as Kurdish and Shi’a mosques.”

– “ISIS has beheaded, shot and stoned men, women and children in public spaces in towns and villages across northeastern Syria.” Note: Read again and again until it sinks in.

– “Many reports of ISIS hanging children on crosses.” Note: Read again and again until it sinks in.

– “Witnesses saw scenes of still-bleeding bodies hanging from crosses and of heads placed on spikes along park railings.” Note: Read again and again until it sinks in.

– “The brutal attacks, torturing, kidnappings and murders of many journalists have largely been ignored by mass media.” Note: Why? Why is the media burying what is happening to so many of their kind? Who is making that call?

– “ISIS is guilty of brutal subjugation of women.”

– “Stoning women to death – The women were made to stand, while veiled with their hands bound to their sides, in a shallow grave, while men hurled large rocks at their heads until they collapsed and eventually died.” NOTE: Read again and again until it sinks in.

– “Females are being abducted and taken to Syria and sold as war booty in markets They are held in ISIS rest houses and are raped by ISIS fighters returning from battle.” NOTE: Read again and again until it sinks in.

– “Raping and intentional forced child bearing of infidels in adherence to signs of the Apocalypse and their ideology, to affect ethnic and religious compositions.” Note: Same

 “Young women of puberty age being sold or married off to avoid ISIS wrath.” Note: Same

– “Forcing children as young as 13 and 14 to serve as fighters.” Note: Same

– “Using children to execute other children to perpetuate long-term loyalty, adherence to their ideology, and to learn to see violence as a way of life.” Note: Same

– “Forcing the worldview of ISIS into the minds of 14-16 year old Kurdish boys by screening propaganda of mass executions and desensitizing them to extreme violence.” Note: Same

– “Many heads hanging on walls, and mass executions and mass graves in many towns and villages.” Note: Same

– “Systematic killing of children belonging to religious and ethnic minorities by the so-called ISIL, including several cases of mass executions of boys, as well of reports of beheading, crucifixion of children, and burying children alive. Note: This is genocide. Children…innocent children…buried alive. Buried alive. Buried alive.

Those are the notes I took before I had to stop. I couldn’t take anymore of it. There is far more in the report. My request as this article travels all over the world via the internet, is that you will join me in prayer. That we will tame our human wrath and thirst for revenge, and plead instead for God’s justice and instruction on how to stop this. That God will spare these women and children from further atrocity. That we, as the creation of God, will interject our souls on the behalf of these Iraqi and Syrian people suffering so greatly, and stand down Satan’s own army by the providence of God. I make this request with tears flowing down my cheeks. Please. God.

Gary Abernathy

Growing up Carolina

7 Feb


This is a nostalgic look back triggered by the comments of my daughter here on a run-of-the-mill 21st century Saturday afternoon in the state of Florida. I was born at Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte, NC on July 14th, 1966. I remained entrenched there, forgiving my occasional attempts to peek over the hills, until May of 2003. That’s when fate decided I needed to be the one Abernathy in my clan that went and buried roots in another slab of ground that wasn’t made of red clay. Fate sent me to the sandy, shallow soil of the west coast of Florida. But I’m a North Carolinian.  A real one.

Andy Griffith, THE iconic representative image of the state of NC once said…

“I want to say just a few words about North Carolina – my home state – possibly the finest state in this entire union. We got industry of all kinds – pretty country, raise corn, cotton, tobacco, peaches, peanuts, all like that. Got colleges all over the state – fine quality, pretty girls, and run off the finest white lightning made anywhere.”

Children that were raised in North Carolina my age and before, keep that inside them at least for as long as we are here on earth. I have good reason to think it goes to the afterlife too, and nobody with exception of possibly Jesse Helms, that was from NC goes to hell. God deems it so. That’s why He made the sky Carolina blue. We seriously learned that like the 2nd or 3rd thing we were taught. Sit up, walk…God loves North Carolina more than the others…now you can speak. North Carolina in the 70’s and 80’s was a magical place to be a child. I can’t speak to what it’s like now, because I’m not there, and it sure looks a lot different when I come home. But I can speak from the authority of the highest about what it was like then. I have a badge and everything that says so.

I’ve never written a nostalgic piece on here. I’m a watchman…I write about what I see and I warn. I’m a man of God. I write about what I see and I warn. Reading my blog is not usually a happy experience, but it’s an honest experience, and I do the best I can. But this is my blog…and when I titled it the way I did, which was borrowed from a favorite line in an Old 97’s song, I intended this place to be just somewhere I wrote things just like this – Pleasant, detailed stories of well-lived life. So hey, we might as well have an entry like that. This site has reached over 100 nations across the planet. I feel kind of bad that I’ve spread a lot of negative thoughts that far and wide. God forgave my sins as far as the east is from the west, and sometimes I feel like I’ve spread gloom just as far. This world is seriously messed up. But not today.

So earlier this afternoon as my bride served lunch, I switched our old giant television over to the Duke basketball game on ESPN. My eldest daughter, the artistically talented one with the quick mouth, said, “You never cared one thing about basketball until a few years ago, and now the last two seasons you suddenly care.” My mouth agape at just how little she understands about me and my past, I mustered up the best reply I could think of at such a blasphemous charge – “This is the sounds of my childhood.” I explained to her that when I was a boy ACC basketball was everything in the state of North Carolina. “When I go back there, I never hear one single person talk about basketball. North Carolina doesn’t care about basketball,” the blonde daughter chirps. She was born there too mind you…at CMC Hospital in the year of 1998. Both my daughters were. The youngest in 2001 just after the attacks of September 11th. A day that I had to evacuate my 7th month pregnant wife from the largest building in both the Carolinas. So much history. My wife, from Kentucky and a huge Big Blue fan, and I were shocked at her basketball statement. Have we taught her nothing at all? North Carolina doesn’t care about basketball? That’s like saying Kentucky basketball means nothing in the Bluegrass State. It’s kooky talk is what it is.

So it all made me nostalgic. A simpler time and place where things made sense to us growing up in it. Despite the specter of the USSR nuking us to smithereens, we never felt America was in danger. Just to have for historical record for people like my daughter, I thought I should put the pen to paper (or finger to key) and provide a list of memories from a much different world than today – North Carolina in the 4th quarter of the 20th century.

– Young childhood was spent mostly outside. Everything happened outside. Lightning bugs were plentiful and begging to be put in a jar. Friends were always ready to play any kind of game there was, and imagination was such that we could make up new ones at ease. There was nothing but homework or chores to keep us inside, so we went out…as soon as they other two things were completed. If you were a boy, your chores were probably outside anyway. Mine all revolved around yard maintenance. To this day, they still do. Though I hated it with a deep passion back then, living in the scorching heat of central Florida now, I would give anything to go back and rake all those beautiful Autumn leaves that fell from the over 100 trees in my yard. One of my fondest memories is the time my dad and brother were all out raking leaves one Saturday afternoon, and my oldest brother, whom my oldest daughter takes a lot from, smarted off to my dad about something. It was a last straw kind of thing. I was holding the trash bag for my dad and my brother was about 15 ft. away. Suddenly the rake that was previously in the grip of my dad was falling in slow motion to the ground, as his body leapt forward like a Carolina mountain cougar, and he was off to end the mouthing of said brother. Watching him try to catch my athletic and quick sibling was quite a sight. I’m still glad to this day he didn’t. There was a lot of anger present. That’s not a good time for a dad to catch a rebellious child. I just kept raking leaves and putting them in the bag, but inside I was cracking up.

Childhood in North Carolina for a boy mostly meant 2 things…being in the woods or playing sports. I did a lot of both. I spent so many hours in the massive natural woods of my Grandparents property, that I might as well have built a permanent home. There was a big creek filled with everything a boy could possibly want to keep his brain engaged, and I had never heard of a video game or anything electronic that wasn’t a television or radio. When I think about being at my grandparents I think of the following things – Those amazing woods, sweet tea, the best green beans in the history of all mankind, food…like so much food, Sanford and Son and All in the Family (Grandpa Fred’s favorites and he had great taste in the funny stuff), Lawrence Welk (oh how much suffering there was watching that bubble blowing Welk), and happy family everywhere. My parents, my uncles, my aunts, my cousins, my grandparents, and the various friends and family that would drop in. Their house was the center of the universe as far as I was concerned. It was Jerusalem for the Abernathy’s. My early childhood couldn’t have possibly been better. It was as good as going to the lunch counter of Eckerd’s Drugstore in uptown Charlotte, or Morrison’s Cafeteria, and anybody that was anyone back then…knows those 2 things were real tough to beat.

– Basketball, and other not-as-important sports. North Carolina Tarheels, North Carolina State Wolfpack, Duke Blue Devils and Wake Forest Demon Deacons. Tobacco Road. The heart of all of college basketball. You picked a team. There was no choosing from out-of-state. You picked one of those four teams, and you followed them like Jesus on His way to his date with Pilate. I’m sure there had to be boys that didn’t care, but I never met one, and I wouldn’t have socialized with them if I did. You picked a team and you followed them. Period. I was a North Carolina State Wolfpack fan because my brother told me I was. Seemed ok with me. I hated the North Carolina Tarheels because my brother told me I did. Seemed ok with me. Why make things complicated? We also had a college in Charlotte called UNCC, and in 1977 they pulled off a miracle and ran all the way to Final Four in Atlanta to eventually lose to Marquette University in the last second. Waiting in the championship round was the hated North Carolina Tarheels. My brother and I followed every game of that season. During the conference tournament, my friend Jeff Taylor and I got our programs autographed by every single player, including the famous, Cornbread Maxwell. We beat New Orleans to win the Sunbelt Conference title and make it to the NCAA big dance. It was such a thrill ride, that after every road win, a good portion of the city of Charlotte would show up at our then tiny airport to greet the team back home. We knocked off mighty Syracuse and number 1 Michigan on that ride. Nobody in their right mind would have predicted that. We got to the Final Four, and there was Marquette and their massive center, Jerome Whitehead. North Carolina waiting in the final. UNC vs. UNCC. It was a state of North Carolina wet dream. Euphoric. But Jerome Whitehead destroyed that dream with a turnaround jumper at the buzzer. My brother, never one for the calm stuff, slammed his fist so hard into a cabinet that the house shook. My mother cried. Chaos ensued. It was a devastating moment in our lives. But man…what a ride it was. I’ll never forget those games as long as I live.

But the big one was 1983. If you were a school kid back in those days, the entire school system came to a halt on the Friday of the ACC Basketball Tournament. That’s not an exaggeration. TV’s were rolled into every single classroom, and every school in NC started watching the noon game. That game was usually UNC (No. 1 seed) beating up Clemson (a joke). We didn’t care…school was stopped for basketball. How awesome is that? In this pansy world of today, they might do that for the World Cup, but that’s about it. It makes my past boy sad when I think how much fun kids miss now. World Cup? Are you kidding me? This was 1983 and I was a junior at East Mecklenburg High School. My Wolfpack, coached by Jim Valvano, didn’t have much of a chance that season. Our star, Dereck Whittenburg, had been injured most of the season and we had lost too many games. The consensus was that we had to win the ACC tourney to make the NCAA. That seemed highly unlikely with Michael Jordan, James Worthy and UNC standing in the way, and Ralph Sampson and No. 1 Virginia too. Our first game was against Wake Forest. We had just blown them out on the last game of the year by a gigantic margin. This time was far different, and it was a dogfight from start to finish. By the skin of their teeth, the Wolfpack escaped that game and won.

Next up was Michael Jordan before the Nike shoes, the Bulls, the endless championships, the marketing…you know…MICHAEL JORDAN. He also had a guy with him named James Worthy that would go on to star for the Los Angeles Lakers and win a bunch of rings himself. We had a crazy Italian coach from nowhere near North Carolina, and a bunch of misfits that came together at just the right time. We beat them. We beat them. WE BEAT DEAN SMITH AND ALL HIS STUPID ALL-STARS! The season could have stopped right then and I would have been pleased. I loathed Dean Smith and that smirk of his. L-O-A-T-H-E-D. It was a beautiful moment. One more game to win…the ACC Championship…against 7 ft. 4 in. National Player of the Year, Ralph Sampson, and the University of Virginia. The blue bloods of the ACC along with Duke. Nobody in NC paid much attention to Virginia honestly until that giant monster came along. They were about as much of a threat as Clemson. There was no way we were winning that game…except…we did. We chopped that giant tree down like Abe Lincoln with an axe and a head of steam. We won the ACC Championship of 1983. The NC State Wolfpack. Yes we did. We made it to the NCAA.

What would set up from that Virginia game and moving forward, was the most fun 3 weeks of my entire teen years. My friends and I had so much fun watching that NCAA Tournament that it will never be equaled in basketball to me again. One game after the next, the lowly Wolfpack pulled off upset after upset. We went wild each and every time. It was a magical ride and Jim Valvano became, Jim Valvano, to the rest of America. A star was born, and it wasn’t smirky old Dean Smith, or that young whippersnapper with the funny name at Duke. Jim Valvano became a legend in those 3 weeks. It all came down to the National Championship against the closest thing college basketball has ever seen to the Harlem Globetrotters – The 1983 Houston Cougars. Phi Slamma Jamma. Clyde Drexler. Hakeem Olajuwon. Las Vegas gave us as much chance of beating that team as a chipmunk has fighting a bear. There was no way. Except there was. With time running out and the game in chaos, Dereck Whittenburg fired up a shot just under half court that had no prayer of ever going in, but waiting under the basket for it was a nobody named, Lorenzo Charles. He grabbed the ball in midair just before the basket, and gently guided it in the basket as the clock expired. The North Carolina State Wolfpack had won the National Championship. The greatest underdog college basketball had ever seen. My whole house exploded in bedlam. Jim Valvano ran all over the court famously seeking somebody to hug. My brother and I went stark raving bananas.

That’s what college basketball means to this North Carolinian. Just remembering it now gives me shivers. I think I’ll go donate to Jimmy V’s Cancer Fund. Go watch it on YouTube. It’s there.

Other sports in North Carolina at that time? Wrasslin’, NASCAR, and watching the Braves on TBS, and all were huge, but nothing compared to King Basketball. For my sweet daughter to think I don’t care…is to not know an important part of her Daddy’s soul. Basketball, both the kind played by the greats, and the kind my friends and I endlessly played in my driveway…means the world to me. I would give anything to be that young white boy again with a enough spring to touch the rim. I couldn’t even get off the ground now. I don’t think. It would hurt. I know that. lol.

I could go on for thousands of more words here about life at that time in North Carolina. My friends, the beach, the mountains, the music, the memories…but I think I’ve made a good dent here for the sake of history. North Carolina is my home, and in North Carolina I shall be put to rest one day, as God brings me up through that Carolina Blue sky to my true home. I hope they roll out TV’s on tourney day in Heaven.


Gary Abernathy






The Rise of Antichrist

2 Feb


Control is defined as such: “To direct the behavior of (a person or animal). To cause a (person or animal) to do what you want. To have power over (something).” The entire world revolves around one thing, and that is – control. The act of controlling comes in nearly infinite forms…it comes from government and laws, it comes from religion, it comes from philosophy and ideology…it even comes from the people we share our own small worlds with intimately.

During any and all moments, something is wrestling for control over the individual (us). Anything whatsoever that attempts to use that control to guide us away from the truth (Christ), is effectively and certainly the spirit of antichrist. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. Nobody comes to the Father except through me.” That statement is our freedom from control. It leaves no room for other paths, it leaves no doubt to Christ’s importance, and it provides us the single purpose of our mortal lives – Get to the Father via the path of His son. God gives us free will to accept that or to attempt to debunk it. It’s not a controlling statement, but instead a given fact, and we are to decide if that fact is true or false. That sentence from Jesus is where every believer should constantly exist and all things measured against. Whatever it is, if it doesn’t measure up to the truth, then it is attempting to take you somewhere else…away from God.

The world and the spirit that resides in it are in a constant state of redirecting souls away from their purpose. In modern times that spirit is divided into 2 parts, one left and one right. That is the first law of control – to divide. Once divided, then comes conquer of course, and that is the stage the world (again) is currently under. The rise of antichrist. At the time of writing this, there is a great separation now taking place among the divided. A new group is being created that is singular and final in its intent. This is taking place in governments, cultures, sciences, and religions. Each have been infiltrated by the antichrist spirit, and each are being guided to the attempt of a ‘new world’ free of God and under its own “control.” Most do not see or believe this, but that doesn’t make it any less true. 1 John, 4:3 says, “And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is the spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come; and even now already is it in the world.” That spirit is an entity that does not rest, respects no laws, shows no dignity, and will use any and all matters of deceit to attain its goals. It is right there in plain sight for the believer to see, unless he is dabbling within it, and we were amply warned that a great many will and would.

The greatest enemy of the believer is laziness against the spirit of antichrist. Laziness to check what you’re being fed. From my own observations on social media, I see the sources of what many believers share in agreement, and having already checked those sources, know them to be of soured fruit. These same people will break down the contents of a simple orange or apple to its last biological cell, but won’t even notice that the Huffington Post is the very last place you want to get your spiritual shaping from. Unless it was spoken by Christ, the truth, we need to scrutinize each and every thing against His words and intents for us.

The immediate future for the body of Christ is getting very dark across the planet. The great separation is underway and now is the time for preparation. We will be forced under great distress to choose. Control will not be merciful with us. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Are you living safely within the eternal promise of Jesus Christ?

Gary Abernathy