Do you want to know the identity of the antichrist and the lamb with two horns? What about the false prophet and the ten kings, or the three kings and the great harlot? All of these people are alive today, laying their plans for world domination. Are you ready for earth’s last days? Because you’ll probably see them. Believer or not. Christian or not. We are about to experience the Day of the Lord.
Things are about to get worse than any of us imagined possible. You must know Jesus. Honor Jesus. He’s the only one who can spare you from the wrath that is to come. Not the antichrist. Not the kings. Not the woman or the beast. But Jesus.
Targeted Age Group:: Adult Audiences
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 1 – G Rated Clean Read
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I don’t know how to describe it exactly. Sometimes I’ll just be sitting there and I’ll know a book is coming through. Often God will wake me up in the night, and I’ll write a chapter or a few chapters. It’s not something I can make happen. God makes the offer, and I participate. If I’d rather roll over and go to sleep, I can choose that, too. But then I miss out. So I try to never turn Him down when He wants to speak to me, that way everybody wins.
The world is at an end.
Close your eyes, and in your mind see a shiny, red ribbon, flowing, caught up by the wind. There is blue sky behind it. The ribbon is silky smooth as it twists and turns in the midst of the turbulent air. The gusts of wind catch it up, first here, then there. As the wind snatches at different places along its length, the end of the ribbon, which was first clean and crisp, is now frayed and beginning to rend.
As the ribbon continues to snap forward and back, up and down, it tears increasingly along its length. After a time, it is no longer a ribbon but a multitude of puffy red threads, many, many, knotted, tangled strands which resemble the initial ribbon only in color—and only that here and there, for the threads are soiled now. The wind and storms have caught them up and beat them together until what’s left is a far cry from what it was when I first made it.
That is your world. It’s unraveled. The most skilled weaver could not knit together what you’ve loosed in your world in the years since its inception. There is no doctor alive who can cure this illness. It is wholly unsound, from the top of its head to the tip of its toes. There is nothing solid anywhere. It’s punky, like rotten, termite-eaten wood. Your world doesn’t just need a renovation; it’s a complete tear-down. It’s not worth the piece of sky it’s hanging on.
Except in the mind of God. In My mind. You are worth it. You are worth the world to Me. You, My people, My land, My creation, My greatest experiment in creativity, the recipient of My richest blessings, the subject of My deepest longings and most profound dreams. I know it doesn’t look it, but your world—My world—is My greatest work. It’s My magnum opus.
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