Where I get My News From: Jesus Intervenes Revisited

Where do I get my news from? Where I get my news from is an interesting question, because it really isn't from the "media." I get my view of the news from experiences I have had. I read and hear the news we are given through a filter of understanding, and I go with THAT. Let me explain. (This is going to review a lot of what I wrote in "Jesus Intervenes" (https://lettersforasister.blogspot.com/2024/09/dear-lauri-my-80-papers-2.html).

Remember 631 Third Avenue, La Puente (I'm speaking to my sister here)? I didn't have very many friends there, as there were few kids my age to play with. It was a pretty boring and lonely place. I spent a lot of my free time sitting on the barstool next to the little AM radio, searching KFWB, KRLA, and KHJ for rock and roll music to listen to. Mom took me to church on Sundays, and had me join the Methodist Youth Fellowship to give me some social experience. I even joined the church. I got into the Beatles and Rolling Stones when they came out. About that time Dylan was a big thing, and the Maharishi, Eastern religions moved to America in a big way, and my high school friends gravitated towards drinking and pot and spiritualism/the occult. It wasn't just about dancing and partying anymore.

I experimented with the Ouija board with friends, learned about meditation, Zen, and Tantra, devoured the Whole Earth Catalogue, and while I wasn't a hippie, I sure was in San Francisco with the kids looking for them. Let's flip forward to 1975, where I was in Honolulu. I was living in the back of my 1959 Chevy Fleetside in the Ala Wai Harbor, listening to Crosby, Stills and Nash, and trying to figure out the meaning of Dylan songs. I haunted the local bookstores, reading everything I could about chakras, mysticism, and the Sufis. I took a class on dream analysis at the metaphysical bookstore, and signed up for their meditation class.

I was making some progress, some interesting phenomena were happening, and then came the possession exercise. They didn't call it that, but I figure that is what it really was. In meditation, we went down to our imagined workshops, formed a door in the wall, and opened the door to whatever was outside of our mind. The idea was that an ascended master spirit-being would come in to teach us the spiritual arts, mano-y-mano. I looked out my door, and it was all dark. Then in the distance, I saw a ramp, and descending it a man. It was Jesus, who was coming to teach me the things he had discovered of the spirit and had taught his disciples. There were some other suggestions I heard, like it had been unspiritual clerics who wanted to control the people who had lost the spiritual secrets the church was for, and it was because I was an earnest seeker like his disciples that he was coming to instruct me personally, etc., etc.

Then, as the bearded, robed, and sashed figure got closer to me, and I gazed upon his appearance, all of a sudden I could see through the light that was emanating from him. The light was a façade; he was all darkness within. Those words--"all darkness within"--came to my mind, and immediately I knew that something wasn't right. I realized that this was a deceiving spirit. The devil also knew that I knew, and gave me a deer-in-the-headlights, "Well, this is awkward" look. I closed the door.

I had immediate multilevel epiphanies:

a) this demonic spirit had been influencing me toward this moment for YEARS; I had been being cultivated.

b) he hadn't wanted me to see his real nature, but he had no power to stop the one who had exposed him.

c) the spirit had to influence me from the outside, because it had less authority than I had. It couldn't get in me unless I lowered my authority to it, which I was just about to do.

d) the one who had opened my mind's eyes did not need my permission to act upon my mind; he was of higher authority than I.

e) the one greater than the spirit and me had been USING the spirit to cultivate me for his own purposes. He had been monitoring us, the deceiving spirit and me, all along. He had chosen this moment, my being matured to this point, to harvest me.

I was quite out of the meditation when we got up to leave. I rode my bike right to my truck and opened the old King James Bible mom had given me. I looked up 'deceive' in the concordance, and found Revelation 12:9, "And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him." The passage goes on (verses 10-12): "And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ: for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death. Therefore rejoice, ye heavens, and ye that dwell in them. Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and of the sea! for the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time."

Oops! That stuff is REAL. There is a real God, a real Christ, a real Devil, and real deception over the whole world. THIS world is, unbeknown to us, THAT world. Though defeated, the Devil never gives up, and what Revelation says is happening . . . is.

THAT is where I get my news. I know this is a-world-without-God God is trying to make into a world that is His perfect Manifestation. The whole world is deceived, but there is a narrow path that leads to becoming God's manifestation. The Devil is fighting it, pulling every trick, inventing every diversion he can come up with to keep us from discovering it. But we are destined to fulfill the scriptures. Well, we MIGHT be. We CAN be. There is the taking of that narrow path. Can you find it?

Donald is a dork, almost as bad a one as I am. He is stupid, and he is deceived in many ways. No body in their right mind would ever vote for him if he were not up against Hillary or Kamala. Those in my estimate and opinion--from years of studying history and of observation how the Devil works--are manifestations of The Bad Guy himself, or they are at least faithful soldiers in his army. I personally will not vote to be enslaved by the Democratic party's governance. We can only hope that if the Donald gets in, he will learn to be better.

SATAN'S GREATEST DECEPTION - Most People Believe It! Bible Study, 37 min. in

The end of Ben... Reaction!

Dear Sister: My 80 Papers (9) The Story Is Enough

Regarding the Bible, I have got 49 years of studying theology, and 49 years of reflecting on apparent "reality" and the Bible. Of the two, I'd say that reflecting on the Bible and reality were the more important and fruitful undertakings. Reality comes in three forms: 1) what the Bible says is going on, 2) the reality we experience, and 3) the ontic spiritual reality.

My impression is that the spiritual ontic reality is a field of consciousness that wants to be known so that it can exist in "form" via its knowers. In the reality we experience, we are agents of this form's manifestation. Trying to pick this apart would drive us mad, as it has (reportedly) some people. Does anything really exist? Are both God and ourselves imagination? You can write books endlessly on the questions that arise; philosophies--some conflicting--complete with proof texts, and not get one inch closer to what anything is really about.

The Consciousness and Its mission are not really that complex. We are to live in a consciousness of faith, of expectation of the Consciousness being what It says It is. We are to rely on Its reliability, to be in the state that It is in, to trust and obey. All of this is to be a state of mind, an attitude that no matter might come up, the Field and the Consciousness are right, because they were first, and the Ineffable was before them.

This doesn't sound very romantic, but it is. It is a love story, a romance: we're a bride. Our husband is our maker, and he has paid EVERYTHING to win us. Even to the simplifying of all the complexities of our formation and ascension via the qualities and interactions of forces in the ontic reality, into a simple, simple story about people getting through this life and accomplishing what the Consciousness wants and its mission fulfilled. Do I believe in a "fer real" historical human Jesus Christ--Eashoa Msheekha in his language? Yes, I do. But I do not think a historical HUMAN Christ is necessary. It is the Jesus Christ QUALITY the bible story is ABOUT that matters. That spiritual-reality QUALITY created us, died for us, justified us, provides the spiritual breath's enlivening of us. WE ONLY HAVE TO BELIEVE THE STORY ABOUT THE MILTA AND IT MISSION, ITS MAN. The reality is behind Him. We believe the story, and the GOD-QUALITY accounts it as believing Him, which is where we went wrong in the first place. This puts us back where we should have been when we became humans, even a little bit better: we graduate from here as the man.

It matters that we believe, for that is the scientific adjustment of our spirit to being like the Consciousness. It is our faith that His Word is true that saves us. We do not want to pass into that world without matching its quality. That Quality is with us all the time, monitoring us 24/7 from within, influencing us, guiding us to the Life It desires for us. I'd think that for you girls/women it would be easy to accept this marriage, for that is what it really is: Someone loved you enough to die for you.

Dear Sister: My 80 Papers (8) Nothing Is More Convincing Than The Guy Himself: The Eighth Sign

I have to thank you for this exercise I've elected. "You never learn as much as when you're teaching," and I've been learning a lot.

I once heard a scientist say something to the effect that if he was sitting at a cafe, and the person at the next table suddenly shot up and disappeared into the sky, he would not think that he had just seen a miracle, but that he had just observed a hitherto unknown physical law in action. That is kind of where I am in my faith in God. I SEE things, I know that they are real, but I do not know exactly what they are. There could be a number of explanations, but no explanation could negate what I have seen: e.g., the person DID shoot up into the sky. One of my favorite explanations is that everything is the imagination of "God," the Consciousness of the Ineffable Being, for He is imagining us.

The Milta (Miltha) being the Ineffable's becoming the manifest form of Itself is another associated favorite, the Milta being that imagination.

The rather flat story in the Scripture being just exactly what it says is another possibility, but the language needs a lot more and better translation and a lot of explanation.

Any one of these can account for the "law" that I have seen.

The law, the "Kingdom (powers) of God," has to do with attitudes, and the scriptures seem to be illustrating, explaining that. There is a tension between the symbolic value of the stories and the ontic realities, the forces they illustrate. My point is that the ontic is ontic, i.e., "fer real." And while believing the stories may be enough, there is no reason the forces of the Kingdom could not become the real characters of their story to DO what they said they were going to do. God is big enough to do that. Whether He did or not, I don't know - I wasn't there, but I believe the Milta DID imagine Itself Jesus Christ and literally DID what He said He was going to do through Christ, which was to fulfill God's promises. Those Old Testament promises are the "glad tidings" we are to believe, and our belief seems to be what activates the law.

(Ah, I'm finally getting around to what I wanted to talk about.) I mentioned my friend seminary Janet, who got caught up emotionally to heaven, and was healed of tuberculosis. She entered the pattern of the law's operation, which is to believe God and to humble oneself in submission to God. Taken to the extreme, God responds by killing, as it were, the life or spirit of whatever is wrong with that person. Something had caused my left arm to be stunted. The life of that fault died, and my arm grew out t its proper length. Janet was afflicted with the life of a germ. She ascended to the presence of god, and the life of that germ died, and she was healed. A boy was in epileptic convulsions, his father asked Jesus if He could help. The spirit giving life to epilepsy was cast out--died--and the boy was healed. My back was severely injured in Honolulu. I recovered enough to get back to Walnut, where I asked Vern and Dio to pray for my back. I remember Vern saying, "Lord, let my hands be Your hands." He laid them on my back, and my back was healed.

I am a big fan of T. L. Osborn. He was a failed missionary, and he wanted desperately to find out how to succeed at leading people to Christ. He wanted so desperately that, at six o'clock one morning, Jesus walked into his bedroom. In the air. T. L. saw the concrete person, standing in transparent glory. Do I believe it? Yes, I do, because a) I have known T. L. Osborn. Pretty much the only message he preached for seventy years was: the Jesus then is the same Jesus now. And b) if Jesus could transcendently speak tome physically, why couldn't He physically respond to Osborn's ATTITUDE? The life of whatever failing was in T. L. must have died, because there has never been another missionary like him. Having SEEN Jesus alive, Tommy acted with purpose, driven by what he KNEW, that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and for ever: our resurrected Savior. He is the manifestation of the Law that the Consciousness of the Ineffable is: every thing is set right as the Ineffable in form.

Dear Sister: My 80 Papers (7) On Time

I am not sure how to figure this one; it's probably the last one I'll write to you for awhile. No, I'll probably report T. L. Osborn's experience to you in a short while. But this experience I had was weird. In 1988, 1989 I lived in Hacienda Heights, at the very northern edge, right by the train tracks. I was working at the McDonnell Douglas plant at Lakewood Blvd. and Conant Street in Long Beach. It was 25 miles from my home to the factory, and I think we had just changed from starting work at 7 AM to starting at 6 AM.

All I remember is that I woke up and saw that the minute hand was at 40 after the hour. Not a biggie. The clock was set ten minutes fast, so I had half an hour to get to work. Not that I was going to make it. Give me at least five minutes to brush my teeth, get dressed, and to the car. Twenty-five minutes to work, and I'll still be late getting from the parking lot to a clock across the street to punch in. I was going to be tardy.

Not a biggie. I hadn't been tardy before, and it took at least three tardies before they'd fire you. First you'd get a warning, then you'd get a counselling, then they'd fire you. Interestingly, this was the only violation for which the union could NOT get you back on the job. If you were fired for being tardy, you were out PERMANENTLY. I know guys who had stabbed their supervisor and had still been returned to work, but tardy? Good bye.

Anyway, I still had twenty-five miles to drive, and the freeway was traveling slow. Bumper-to-bumper, I was seeing thirty-five on my speedometer. I know it picked up sometimes, but I had miles to drive on surface streets, too. So I plugged along. Hmm. I still had fifteen minutes on my car's clock, which I kept accurate. I hit the surface streets. Still had five minutes. I found a parking space waaay out there, but still had a minute. I ran to Lakewood, through the parking lot across the street, and punched in just in time.

The thing is, I just couldn't do that in half an hour. I didn't have times or spaces where I could speed up to catch up with where I should be. I was late, the traffic was slow, time just did not allow for the distance, and yet I was on time. It was just super weird to me (but I appreciated it!).

Danny

Dear Sister: My 80 Papers (6) My TB Didn't Go With Her TB

While I studied at Melodyland, I became friends with Janet, a neighboring student in the apartment complex. I think she was a bit younger, a very nice Pentecostal Jewish girl. We had some classes together, and she would sometimes invite me to share lunch with her at Belle Isle restaurant down the street. Then word came from the school that she had contracted tuberculosis, and we all had to get tested. I came up positive. To kill the TB germ in my body, I had to take a prescribed medicine once every day for half a year. Janet, of course, could not attend classes while sick.

Janet loved God like no one I have ever known. She stopped me one afternoon just outside the laundry, which was just across the walkway from her apartment. "Dan," she gasped. "I've got to tell you. I was worshipping in my private devotions, and I was so caught up in them, in the Lord, that I seemed to be in heaven itself. I mean He was right before me, and I was exalting Him, praising and worshiping Him. I felt I wasn't on the earth anymore, and then I heard, 'You are healed.' I felt it. I went to my doctor for another chest x-ray, and the hole in my lung is filling in. I am healed. I don't have tuberculosis anymore!"

But I did. And I had to take my tuberculosis medicine every day for the rest of that half-year.

Danny

Dear Sister: My 80 Papers (5) I WATCHED It; Jim WATCHED It

During junior high and high school, I went with Mom to Saint Matthews' Sunday morning services. It wasn't unusual for me to wear a long-sleeved shirt, suit, and tie. I mainly went to please Mom, get a donut after the service, and to have some social life. Third Avenue didn't provide  much social grouping (and by the way, the United Methodist Church is considered to be an apostate church nowadays). The long sleeves at church always bugged me: tight on one side, loose on the other. I figured that the cheap shirts were poorly made.

After I became a Christian in the 1970s, I attended Melodyland Christian Centers' services. Being a Pentecostal sort of church, they hosted an annual Charismatic clinic during the summer. One night, a healing evangelist named Charles Hunter was speaking, and he had everyone in the audience, about two thousand people, stretch out their arms and/or legs to compare them. My left arm was about 5/8 of an inch or more shorter than my right arm. Dang; it wasn't the shirts that were poorly made; it was me.

Anyway, Charles asked us to hold still, and he asked Jesus to make our limbs as long as they were supposed to be. I held very still, and I watched as my left fingertips grew out to match my right fingertips. I WATCHED them grow out. I didn't move, did not adjust; it was just me frozen, and out they grew. And my arms are STILL the same length, so I wasn't hypnotized or anything like that.

Jim? Jim Spillman was an associate pastor at Melodyland. He left to start his own church, Omega Fellowship, in another city. I visited and supported that church for awhile. We talked about some of the things he had experienced during his time at Melodyland, as he had participated in many of their healing services. He said the biggest shocker to him was when he had been asked to pray for a young woman who was blind in one eye. He dutifully prayed for her, and asked her to remove the gauze patch that was over her eye, so she could see her vision restored. He said he was shocked to see a dry socket where her eye should have been. "They didn't warn me. I wasn't prepared for that," he said. He braced himself, trying to put on a brave face for what obviously wasn't going to work. But as he looked at the woman, he saw an eyeball forming in the back of her dry socket. He WATCHED it grow into its place. She was healed, just as he had asked and, apparently as she had believed. "I'm not afraid to pray for anything, anymore."

Watching my fingertips move to match the other hand is a biggie for me. The experiences of Jesus intervening in a spiritual deception, being baptized in the Holy Ghost, and watching Jesus be crucified were in my imagination. Though they were "other" for me, you and many others would discount such events as hallucinations and/or the influence of stress-induced hormones. It isn't like I am not aware of those things. But my fingers are out there, free of stress and delusion. I don't know how Jesus did it, or even if it was Jesus who did it, but whoever or whatever did it did it at the exact moment Jesus was asked to do it, and it was done. Obviously, SOMEBODY wants me to believe in Jesus, and whoever it is has got a step up on me.

Danny

Dear Sister: My 80 Papers (4) Jesus Vision Speaks

I mentioned earlier that some "Christians" deconvert from Christianity because they have no evidence that Jesus ever actually lived. I have no evidence that He lived two thousand years ago, either. I have evidence that He lives NOW, and I believe that He has lived in humans as long as there has been any.

The thing is: He is displayed in His ACTIONS. We don't recognize and acknowledge them, but all life is His working (He is qualities in the Field). Sometime after I was baptized in the Holy Spirit (the "Breath" of God), during a Sunday morning service at the House of Praise, the pastor asked us to share what God or Jesus (I don't remember which term he used) had done for us during the week. I couldn't think of a specific thing that stuck out (though I knew there was something - I just couldn't or wouldn't articulate it), and apparently neither could or would anyone else. Rod, the Pastor, rebuked us, saying we should always be ready to give an account/ share what God was doing in our lives. He told us to be quiet and think about what it was that Jesus had done for us.

I closed my eyes, and in my mind's eye I saw Jesus, which I now know as the Milta, being tethered between posts, or to a post, by Roman soldiers. They were going to scourge Him. And they did scourge Him with a cat-o-nine tails until His back was torn up as hamburger. I watched as they put the cross on His back to carry, and as He hauled it down the paved path. He passed out, going into shock from the pain. He was dying. They gave the cross to another man to haul, for they had to keep Jesus alive long enough to kill him. All the while, I was mentally reaching out, desperate to trade places with Him. "It was MY sin!" I mentally screamed. "It should be ME being crucified. The punishment deserved is MINE!" Almost like a voice heard, I saw that I couldn't pay for my own sin, because if I died I would simply be dead. For the wages of sin is death. I'd just be eternally dead. But Jesus Christ could pay for them, because he had no sin, up to and including doing this act in obedience, for His honor of and love of God. Jesus was doing this for the joy of winning the right to forgive me. He was going through all this for ME, for the joy that would be His, because HE BELIEVED THE PROMISE OF GOD: "You will not abandon me to the realm of the dead, nor will you let your faithful (or holy) one see decay" (Psalm 16:10). Talk about confidence!

They got to Golgotha, laid the head of the cross on a stone, and made Jesus to lie on that rough-sawn timber on His torn-up back. I know you have been to church, and that you are familiar with the story. But here comes a twist: I am in my imagination looking at Jesus from his right side. The soldiers stretched out His right arm and put a stake to it to fasten it to the cross. As the soldier lifted his mallet, Jesus turned His face to me and said, "Come unto Me." But not in my imagination. I heard it physically, in the auditory nerves of my brain. Not through the right or left ear, but transcendently from Him into my brain. It wasn't any voice of my imagination; it was full and strong and pointed directly at me. I thought: A) that is a really good trick; and B) I don't know how to get there. You are in heaven, and I can't fly. I've got no road that goes up there. I don't know how to get to where You are.

Did I mention to you that I am dumb? Christ Jesus is IN us. "I will never leave you, nor forsake you." "Lo, I am with you alway." "Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves how that Jesus Christ is IN you, except ye be reprobates?" (2 Corinthians 13:5). It was from within me that I heard a real, literal voice. Jesus is ALWAYS monitoring our thoughts, because He is in our BRAINS. And He can talk, too.

Danny