4 December 2015
18 December 2015


Incredibly, the prayer that can “move mountains” has become almost unknown while the prayer of sadness and suffering has become virtually the only alternative. Where are the might, the power and the joy when I speak with my loving, omnipotent Father? What has become of my memories of the examples of Jesus when He performed miracles, walked on water, cast out demons and moved mountains? Am I still surprised by the embarrassing difference between the first fans of Jesus and those of today’s Matrixian times? How can I even begin to imagine that looking down towards earth, and not up towards God, I can become similar to Jesus and so to the Father? Doesn’t my polestar tell me that I am transformed in the image of my Savior by looking Him in the face with face uncovered (see 2 Corinthians 3:18)? Do I behave like a slave humiliated in flesh and in spirit who cannot even look his Father straight in the eyes when He speaks to him or do I behave like a proud and humble child of the King of the universe to which the rule of planet Earth has been entrusted?
The time has come for me to shake off the smelly, sweaty clothes that make me constantly remember that I am closed in a prison because of my DEBT. I want to be washed by Jesus and wear the marvelous outfit that He has prepared for me, symbol of the unlimited CREDIT that will grant me immortality. I feel that my father wants me to talk to Him barefaced… what uncontainable joy!

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