THERE was a one,O’bajuthby name who left the priesthood of Mithar. He searched the more ancient scrolls in the libraries of Lindol and found himself crying to the face of God. He was called by God and even for a bold season that touch radiated in his life beyond reproach of any. He spoke both day and night of the wonders and powers of God the Almighty. The glory of the stars of heaven and the majesty that filled the earth with such diversity was what that prophet always spoke of. He offered love, compassion and forgiveness to all.
Then, for some untold reason; maybe a fall in his personal life, a shadow fell upon him with an engulfing silence. A stumbling block did the thorn in his side become and he no longer shared the touch of God upon his heart. All he saw was the disillusionment of men who called themselves good. But their outward deeds were evil all the day long as they were blind, even to those wicked standards among the street people.
O’bajuth became known as the reluctant and neglected prophet, and then in time, the forgotten one. Though the presence of God was ever felt as a burning in his soul, he quenched that spirit to share daily out of self-imposed fear or shame. Everyone who looked upon that man of God saw that there was something most peculiar about him; special and different, even though he kept his radiance hidden as if veiled. His heart yearned to burst in opposition to the ungodly and judgmentally condemn the corrupt wrong doers of both Mithar and Lindol. Yet ever did a shadow turn him away with the emptiness of regret. With grave clarity he beheld the tolerance about him of everything evil, but he was weakened by the deaf ears that only laughed scorning him with railing words recalling his own failures. They shouted that it was he who was intolerant of new things, and his thoughts were ever on an old and dying world of by-gone days. He was crushed by their remarks that God loved the sinner as all were the same in the eyes of the gods and judgments were wicked saying of the frail minded. Even so, the silent voiced prophet knew they were wrong but his words fell moot. He lived a defeated life like a eagle, whose wings were not clipped; yet ever did he peck among chickens in the field.
His name was not listed among neither the three Major, nor even among the three Minor Prophets. Kyonand Aeire both referred to him, not by name; when they said: ‘We were not called to be timid, but empowered to speak the truth. In season and out of season, no matter who is offended by the Word of God, it must be boldly pronounced unto the poor and Kings alike.’ Again when she spake out: ‘For thus is the servant, whether he stumbles in the day or night must not forget his master’s voice. Truth remains durable like a mountain, regardless the countless storms that press against it. March forth being ever faithful, faithless and disloyal no more as you once were; before his call.’
The money raised will go directly into the PayPal acct of his father. No money will be received by me. And for all that knows Tony Cox, you will see this fundraiser re-submitted on his Facebook acct. I am just setting this up as a favor because he is currently on his way to be with his son. Any one that wishs to call Tony can do so on his cell phone. 325-642-8931
Any donation you can make would be extremely appreciated and helpful.
WHEN I was a kid, going to Church meant nothing to me; we went to the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses. We did not have 'Sunday School' classes or anything broken down into age groups, we all met in the Hall for the Watchtower Study together as a Congregation. As old as kids could be trained to sit quietly beside the adults; we eagerly awaited our chance to answer questions. Actually the answers were already provided in the prepared paragraphs that were read by a Brother from the platform behind the podium, (we didn't dare call them altars). Attendants would pass microphones, with their cords wrapped about extended poles, for the raised hands to parrot back the answers. Independent thought was not only strongly discouraged, it was viewed as being outside of God's will. Critical thinking was worldly; Theocratic Thinking was to be in lock step with the religious teaching of the Governing Body. The Truth was our term for it. The Biblical scriptures that were sighted or quoted fro's doctrinal laced articles were there to back up the New Light and understanding we needed to be good servants to the Organization. The Society was a term that strongly implied Jehovah himself. After the Watchtower Study was a song and Theocratic prayer. A Public Talk was given by an Elder, and it was never called a sermon; that was a term used by non-Witnesses who were worldly. The "talks" were read word-for-word from scripted form. If you have ever heard a Talk so did everyone else in the world on that same day.
Tuesday night we would have the Congregation Book Study, (not a Bible study); either at the Hall or in an Elder's home. We went to home studies. Every Thursday night we attended the Theocratic Ministry Guide School at the Kingdom Hall. I remember studding for my three minuets Bible verse readings. After reading a few mandated verses and delivering a Theocratic message, the Elder would critique my presentational delivery afterwards.
We attended "Assemblies", conventions of several congregations that came together for a weekend. Four times a year, and only here is where newly interested persons were baptized. In the name of Jehovah, his son and the spirit that rules the Organization." My entire family had been baptized as Witnesses, and even after 13 years I was never one of them. Out of everyone in my family, to this day I still think I was probably the only one who earnestly and honestly believed "hook line and sinker" everything I was ever taught to believe. When I began studding the 80 question for my turn to be baptized a lot of major transitions had occurred in our family. By then I had more than 80 of my own question s about their distorted doctrinal teachings. I was not allowed to be a baptismal candidate because I had "too many of my own independent thoughts".
The only ""joy"" I ever felt as a Jehovah's Witness was when we got to go the Assemblies. They had 'lip sink' Dramas. Biblical plays to illustrate Theocratic New Light. Assemblies was when New Publications were released, everyone was excited with the New Books filled with Theocratic teachings "in and out of season" Spiritual Food from the Organization's Governing Body was like hearing a word from Jehovah himself.
Seems a 'thousand years ago' and memories galore. Through many trials and tribulations, adventures and discovers; camping trips, amusement parks, forgotten number of various cars, four cities, three religious paths, too many jobs to keep up with, a child and three grand-children; and still the 'story' is being added too. On April 17, 2016 it will mark our 34th wedding anniversary year.
"Happy Anniversary, Alice; thank you for putting up with me for so long..."
I hung around with some college guys and they got me into the role playing game of Dungeons & Dragons, and R. E. Howard's CONAN, (we use to go visit 'ol Howard's grave). About a week after my 18th birthday I met the sister of a friend of mine. Not too long afterwards we began dating. I had never really gone against my parents before, and THIS picture proves the adventurous rebellious nature of me at the time as this was taken on my first trip alone ans without their consent. It was taken in Corpus Christi, Texas; a place where after we married we later lived for 20 years.
I am writing a book entitled: THE WATCHER'S BOOK: Tales From The Nephilim Age. There are various things I am doing: writing the story, illustrating scenes from it, trying to 'translate' it into a made up language, transcribe it onto a Text only Blog, design a graphics heavy web site; but most importantly (someday) actually get it published on the Kindle, then in a print-to-buy version from Amazon dot com. I "see" it visually in my mind, 'hear' the voices of the characters, and feel it as an overarching, unfolding single story. Life is complex and multi-layered with details I believe, and I am trying to capture that in my writing style. If no one ever reads my work, it's at least my own way of venting and dealing with my own personal life experiences.
Religions, politics, sex, death, sorrow, joy, goals, loss, lessons learned, truths, lies; what else is there in life but these. Once we learn, hopefully we are sharing... This is my sharing.
In a post middle earth world, a remnant of the elves stayed behind. In doing so they developed a cultic history where idealist doctrines centered themselves as divine teachers. Beginning with a boxed-scroll, the Watcher’s personal stories and later histories; these collected works became their sacred Scriptures. The Keepers were called: The Order of the Red Brotherhood. Their WATCHER’S BOOK and its forgotten religion witnessed the coming, not only of Noah’s Flood but the end of The Nephilim Age as well.
Turning back around, Fayendar realized he
was all alone on the bridge. His life
was filled with choices: to go back or to go forward. The choice was solely his alone. His resigning
smile pursed with resolution to press forward.
Life was about the consequences of his choices, and he had made too many
of those, it was now time to face things as they were. Deep inside, he felt as though he had been
running away from something, trying to live a life that somehow was not even
his own. Now was the time to correct his
course and follow what he knew was right.
From the bridge of Norwood he headed for the Gorge of the Talkers, as a side mission for Mereith. It felt like a warning, wrought with yet a looming twist
of its own...
When it's over, it's over, and we don't know any of us, what happens then. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed the full moon or the slipper of its coming back. . . . .
"...Twists and turns, open or secret, left or right; we all have paths that lead us to "bloom". ... We must not ever forget the joyous smiles along the lessons we've learned even when troubled times crushed them later, for they were there when we needed them the most. Never curse the tears..."
Things can always be worse, and better as well. By comparison I enjoy my job now; as opposed to being in Direct Care, in that - so many things are different, (different begin less stress overall). However, where the rubber meets the road reality I'm actually making even less money than I was before. No longer having the second shift-differential ($150), nor being a Home Team Leader ($150); my pay has gone down by at least $300.oo. So has the stress. Where before Over Time was a "feast" of overwhelming hours, it's now a "famine" of underwhelming striving.
Deep inhale, "this too shall pass" as all things have had a way of working themselves out and balancing the way they need to unfold. Feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. From here forward I will be focusing on (1) working Over Time as much and when I can schedule it; (2) Packing and cleaning and prep toward moving day, [August 1st, 2016]. Yes I know it's a 'long ways away'; however, it's slipping away already.
I will pack up my stories, hard-copy writings, and crafts as they are all too distracting. I may check here from time to time, but if I'm not here often...*sigh* ...am I missed anyway?