THIS WORLD IS TIRED AND WEARY. The garment of time has waxed old and worn thin. One could say that sin’s moving is hardly powered by true malignant momentum anymore, but we see as it were the final revolutions of the once seemingly unstoppable wheel of wickedness, sin’s perpetual motion now nearing the end of its own inertia.
Both good and evil, it seems, long for the end. For, it is almost as a life and death struggle between two contenders, in which even the loser is well-nigh resigned to accept his defeat in preference to continuing an excruciating and unsustainable struggle.
For millennia, carnal man has attempted to outrun the consequences of his actions. He has tried to outsmart, outthink, outplay, outwork, and outperform what he knew was sure-
ly coming. But now it is catching up. The whole weight of sin ever committed by humanity is now descending upon the world at once.
This world is groaning, weary in its wait for judgment. Fatigued by the seemingly endless deferment of the restitution of all things, voices of the past–“Watchman, what of the night?” “Wilt thou then that we go and gather them up?” “How long, O Lord?”–are now rising in one cacophony of wearisome yet eager restlessness.
The grapes of gall that hang thickly from Sodom’s vine have reached rotting ripeness and will fall into the winepress at the slightest touch of the sickle. Not only are fields of wheat white for harvest, but the tares, now most easily distinguishable, are mature enough to be plucked up by their very root.
Though the devil does not desire the end, yet he knows his reactive responses to prophecy have been severely limited as he has not been able, in this time, to form an entirely
“new” beast, but even his eighth, though distinct, is, by prophetic constraint, but the gathering together of all that has already been. And he has done this knowing that the Faithful and True has conquered every single head and horn until now. Realizing that none of his reactive inventions by themselves have ever come close to vanquishing the white horse cavalry, the enemy’s only hope is that somehow, with the sheer use of force, somehow, with the gathering together of all the forces of darkness, there would be enough of his minions so as to surround the camp of the saints, and crush them.
Yet, the spirit of prophecy is never behind. There are birds in the king of Syria’s bedchamber that inform God’s Seers of every movement and strategy, and we have received Prophetic intelligence that at the moment we are surrounded, the HEAVENS will rain down fire, and devour–forever–our enemies.