2/5/11
Dear Jehovah God,
For they, for we sow the wind, and we reap the whirlwind. The standing grain has no heads; it yields no grain. Should it yield, strangers would swallow it up.
We who sow iniquity will reap vanity, and the rod of our fury will perish.
According to what I have seen those who plow iniquity and those who sow trouble harvest it.
For the scepter of wickedness shall not rest upon the land of the righteous; that the righteous may not put forth their hands to do wrong.
For behold, You will come in fire and Your chariots like the whirlwind, to render Your anger with fury, and Your rebuke with flames of fire.
And the light of Israel will become a fire and his Holy One a flame, and it will burn and devour his thrones and his briars in a single day.
Behold, the name of Jehovah comes from a remote place; burning in Your anger, and dese in Your smoke; Your lips are filled with indignation, and Your tongue is like a consuming fire.
For Topheth has long been ready, indeed, it has been prepared for the king. You have made it deep and large, a pyre of fire with plenty of wood; the breath of Jehovah, like a torrent of brimstone, sets it afire.
Please, Jehovah my God, make me stop fantasizing and concentrate on praying to You. I know I sow the wind and I reap the whirlwind. I am sorry. I am sorry the standing grain has no heads. I am sorry it yields no grain. I am sorry that strangers would swallow what is yielded up. I sow iniquity and reap vanity, and the rod of my fury perishes. I am sorry for harvesting iniquity and trouble. I do not know how to stop. I am not righteous. Jehovah my God, I am not righteous. The scepter of wickedness is resting upon me and I put forth my hands to do wrong!
You come in fire and Your chariots like the whirlwind, rendering Your anger with fury, and Your rebuke with flames of fire. And I deserve it. I am ready and I understand and I totally deserve it.
You will burn and devour me in a single day. You will send Your Son Your Holy One a flame to burn and devour me for my unrighteousness and wickedness.
I know Jesus Christ/Michael/Your Son, the name of You comes from a remote place and burning in Your anger and dense in Your smoke, Your lips filled with indignation, and Your tongue a consuming fire will kill me, burn me alive in my sins, and I will die. I deserve to die because I cannot stop. And death is the only way I can stop.
You have made me deep and large in a pyre of fire with plenty of wood and I know by the breath of You, like a torrent of brimstone, sets it afire. I am dead.
I am waiting for You to come and kill me. Put me out of Your misery, I beg You. Amen, Amen, & Amen.