Precious Jewels

Photo by Rakicevic Nenad on Pexels.com

I’ve been reading some books on spiritual sight (seeing in the spirit) and traveling in the spirit. Last night I finished a book by Michael C. King entitled “The Beginner’s Guide To Traveling in the Spirit”. The last chapter provided some simple exercises for getting one’s spiritual walking legs under them, so to speak.

I must pause here to explain that this type of thing is entirely out of my comfort zone. It breaks the doctrinal mold of my upbringing. One of my primary concerns with spirit travel and conscious participation in waking visions, has always been the perceived danger of becoming a victim of deceiving spirits, or practicing some sort of divination or other types of witchcraft. I don’t trust my fleshly imagination. I don’t trust unknown spiritual entities. Only Creator God Himself is perfect and completely trustworthy.

That being said, God has been drawing me out of my comfort zone for the last several years, and I want to cooperate with Him in any work into which He wishes to invite me into partnership. Author King dealt with many of these concerns in a practical and biblical way. Toward the end of the book he made a comment that resonated deeply with my spirit. I don’t have the exact quote in front of me, but in essence the author said, “God’s power to keep you is always more powerful than the enemy’s power to lead you astray.”

He wasn’t being naive. He talked about the role the human will plays in choosing life and death, righteousness or iniquity. He devoted a whole chapter to malevolent, deceiving spirits that love to oppose us in the Spirit realm. He described the difference between occult astral projection and sanctified spirit travel. (Hint: Unregenerated people are spiritually dead and do not have a new spirit birthed within them. Their soul must therefore be detached from their bodies using rather traumatic techniques in order for them to astral project. Yet, while astral projecting, if their soul does not remain attached to the “silver cord” that Solomon describes in Ecclesiastes 12:6, they can physically die.) He warned about not having pure motives in our attempts to consciously access the heavenlies, and how demons can hijack those self-serving motives to lead us into false or distorted spiritual experiences.

Yet, overall, he insisted that redeemed Christians are spiritually alive, and because we are, we have full access to heavenly places. In fact we are seated with Christ in those heavenly places. So as sons of God we sit far above all principalities and powers and have inheritance rights to move freely in the spirit realm. Of course, our rights and authority are always subject to the will of our Master, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

So, when I had finished the book, I lay back and stilled my mind, using a simple breathing technique described in the book. I had a conversation with Father God and told Him that I didn’t want my fear, legalism, and comfort zone to hold me back from stepping into whatever type of spiritual exploration, growth, or work that He had for me.

Suddenly, in the Spirit, I found myself in a corridor that seemed to be lit by the light of torches, although no torches were visible. The walls seemed to be plastered with adobe or else carved out of sandstone, but were inlaid with tiles forming ornate mosaic-like designs. The patterns reminded me of some architectural motifs from Turkey or Iran or somewhere like that. The roof of the passageway was arched and square pillars were carved into the walls at regular intervals.

I was spooked. Immediately I backed out of that image and had a conversation with the Holy Spirit.

“What do you want me to do? Shall I explore this passage?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

“Well, I’m not going alone. Please cover me with the Blood of Jesus and I need you to go with me and lead me.”

“Absolutely. I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Reassured, back into the Spirit I went. This time, I felt like I was riding on the back of a giant dove. At the same time, a normal-sized dove flew ahead of me, about 18 inches in front of my face and 3 or 4 inches above my head, leading the way.

The tunnel-like passageway wound upward. There were dips and curves, but steadily we seemed to be going up. We traveled this hallway for some time, what seemed like perhaps the equivalent of at least a mile. Then ahead of me I literally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. The passageway ended in an opening. I couldn’t see what was beyond the opening because of a light that was brilliant, yet suffused. It was as if a bank of mist or fog began at the end of the tunnel and that somewhere behind or inside that fog bank was a blinding white light pointed at the mouth of the tunnel.

Again I felt a sense of trepidation, but reassured by the accompanying presence of the Holy Spirit we plunged together into the bright mist. Once beyond the enclosed passageway, I found that I could see a few feet in front of me. My surroundings were still obscured by mist, but in front of me I was able to see that a sort of suspension bridge met the mouth of the tunnel and continued to proceed upwards.

The suspension bridge didn’t really seem to be suspended from anything. It consisted simply of a succession of short planks held together by a knotted rope. A rope handrail of sorts hovered horizontally on each side of the path about four feet above the planks. The rope handrail was attached to rope balusters, so to speak, spaced about four inches apart, which rose from the knotted ropes which connected each end of of the planks.

This mysteriously hovering suspension bridge continued the upward winding course that the tunnel had traced. We continued to travel until, at last, the boardwalk ended in a platform. The platform was roughly hexagonal shaped, with a plank floor and rope railings around the perimeter.

Lying about haphazardly upon the platform lay a disarray of a large number of natural-colored muslin bags, kind of like mail bags. They were all stuffed with something and their drawstrings were cinched shut. It looked liked someone had just tossed them there and abandoned them.

As I continued to look around, I noticed that there was a large iron lever protruding from the platform immediately to my right. It was set into a sort of bracket with a J-shaped slot in it. It reminded me of the gear shift in an automatic transmission. At the moment the lever was at the top of the J. Intrigued, I forgot my inhibitions and took hold of the lever. I shifted it downward and to the left until it rested in its new position at the tip of the hook on the bottom of the J.

Immediately the platform began to… I don’t know how to describe it. It was as if it was fracturing into small segments and the segments were rotating and sliding and realigning themselves into a different format. It was an unsettling sensation.

Then the movement stopped, and everything appeared to be just like it had been before. There were a couple of seconds of silence and complete stillness, and then I heard a distinct knock on a wooden door.

I turned to my left to discover that there was a door at the edge of the platform. It had not been there previously. About eye height and centered on the door was a round object which resembled a wall-mounted bell such as one used to find in school classrooms.

A little nervous, I approached the door and opened it.

On the other side stood a broadly-grinning Jesus.

I was speechless.

He stepped through the doorway and took my hand. He led me to the far side of the platform. Then he pointed upward into the distant sky.

It was a night sky, clear, and full of many twinkling stars.

At first I didn’t see anything. He pointed again. Then I began to make out a swirl of colored light with bright specks in it, sort of like a cross between a constellation and a nebula.

“What is it?” I asked. “What are you trying to show me?”

“That’s your home.” He said. “That’s where you come from.”

Suddenly I felt a cold chill wash down my spine. Something didn’t seem right. This sounded like some sort of Starseed theory of my origin.

Only then did I realize that the Holy Spirit had not been my visible companion since at least the lever. I began to panic. I ran back to the lever to find the Dove waiting for me there.

It occurred to me that I had operated the lever on my own initiative without consulting the Holy Spirit first.

I re-partnered with the Dove. Then I asked Him to give me discernment whether this character was the real Jesus or not.

As I did so, the white robed, beaming Jesus figure morphed into a sinister character in a dark cloak with malevolent, harsh angular features. He glowered hatefully at me.

I pled the blood of Jesus over myself and commanded him to leave.

He swirled his cloak, turned his back and headed for the open door. As he did so, I noticed the dragon wings an tail on his back side.

He left the way he had come in.

But no sooner had he left than a giant hornet, about the size of a small horse pushed its way through the doorway onto the platform. It was angry and buzzing threateningly.

I ordered it to leave also. It did so reluctantly.

“You had better shut that door.” The Holy Spirit advised me.

Quickly, I did so.

Then the Holy Spirit suggested that since I had monkeyed around with that lever on my own initiative out of curiosity, I had shifted realities. I needed to return the lever to its original setting in order to correct the mistake.

I wasted no time in obeying.

The sacks were still lying on the platform, and I became curious about them. I asked the Holy Spirit if it was Okay for me to look at what was inside. He said it was.

To my surprise, I found that the bags were full of precious stones and gems.

That baffled me.

I then noticed that there was a room ahead of me at the right end of the platform. It was a small room. It seemed to bed a simple office containing little but a desk on which rested a pair of red woman’s high heeled shoes.

I was trying to inquire about the meaning of the gems and the shoes in the office when my journey abruptly ended.

This morning when I awoke, I pondered my experience of the night before, and asked Father God about the gems. Was I supposed to take them and do something with them? Were they a sign of provision or something?

Suddenly the lyrics of the song, “Jewels” by William O. Cushing was downloaded into my consciousness. I haven’t thought about or heard that song in years:

  1. When He cometh, when He cometh,
    To make up His jewels,
    All His jewels, precious jewels,
    His loved and His own.
    • Refrain:
      Like the stars of the morning,
      His bright crown adorning,
      They shall shine in their beauty,
      Bright gems for His crown.
  2. He will gather, He will gather
    The gems for His kingdom,
    All the pure ones, all the bright ones,
    His loved and His own.
  3. Little children, little children,
    Who love their Redeemer,
    Are the jewels, precious jewels,
    His loved and His own.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I burst into tears at the implications. I remembered that elites who traffic children for perverted and Satanic purposes often signal to others with similar predilections by wearing red shoes. I was also reminded of the Harlot of Revelation who is clothed in scarlet.

This disheveled heap of sacks of jewels represented the abandoned souls of children whose lives had been snuffed out for selfish and devilish purposes.

Aborted children.

Pedophile fodder.

Victims of domestic abuse.

Crack babies.

FAS babies.

Adrenochrome livestock.

Ritual sacrifices to Satan and Moloch.

Now here, on this remote and desolate dock, somewhere in the spirit realm, their souls lay bound and abandoned by the spirits who had stripped their body of life.

I rushed back to the platform in the spirit, nearly dragging the Holy Spirit with me.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Call in the angels to transport them into the presence of the Father.”

So I did. I summoned angels. The began to fly in, landed on the platform, and each one would gently lift a bag of gems and cradle it to his chest as he shot upwards toward the throne room of Heaven.

Some of them weren’t there to carry jewels. These were the security. Big, powerful angels armed with swords of light.

There was warfare. Dark winged shadows swooped in to intercept the transfer. But the warrior angels met them and drove them off.

I saw, then, as all of the bags of jewels had been transferred to the throne room of heaven. They were piled in a heap at the foot of the throne. One by one, He who was seated on the throne would signal, and an angel would step forward and open a bag.

Like a swarm of fireflies, the gems would rise from the bag and converge on the throne, merging with the light and glory there.

Then they began to rise, spiraling upwards in a double helix formation, spinning swirls of twinkling light like columns of stars. Higher and higher, they rose. The helix grew taller and taller and more bags were opened and more baby souls were released to join their companions.

When all had been released, they changed formation and descended to surround the throne in a dome of sparkling stars.

Like the stars of the morning,

His bright crown adorning,

They shall shine in their beauty,

Bright gems for His crown.

Don’t ask me to explain it all. It will take me a while to sort through this. But I wanted to record these details while they were fresh in my memory.

Perhaps you can be blessed by what I have shared.

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