HEAVEN PAID!
Heaven was quiet. This had never happened, there was always noise. Music, loud music, was always heard. The choir of heaven never tired of singing on loud instruments the majesty of Him that sat on the throne.
Heaven was quiet not because of lack of music, there was singing but it was that of sobriety. I am certain angels don't cry but I could have sworn I saw water escaping some eye sockets.
All interlocked their trembling hands looking unto Him that sat on the Throne while stealing long glances at the severely beaten Lamp on the cross. It was enough that this happened, was the Father not going to intervene? When was the instruction to move to deliver going to be issued? If this Beloved Son were to die this shameful death on the cross, what would be the world's hope?
This couldn't happen. Some looked to Michael and Gabriel with that look that said let's plead to the Father. No one saw the Father's face but they knew that He was in control. But to plead with the Father, they needed the Lamb who alone gave access to the Throne. Will this death happen?
Angels had fear, yes fear, written on their faces; I saw one haplessly biting off his nails. There was no flying around that day, wings were heavy as iron too burdened by grief to lift.
A loud voice was heard from earth that shook heaven. The very foundations moved, the glory around the throne magnified forcing all eyes shut. The light was too bright to behold; we all lay prostrate and trembling as men under a life threatening attack.
The voice we heard was unmistakably from the cross, the Lamb of God shouted "It is finished!" and that was it. He submitted His spirit and gave up the ghost.
My body shook with the force of a high voltage of grief. I could feel the very life drain off me, my Lord and Saviour died this wicked death on the cross. Why then do I still breath? What then is my hope?
Is this the end?
Heaven was quiet. This had never happened, there was always noise. Music, loud music, was always heard. The choir of heaven never tired of singing on loud instruments the majesty of Him that sat on the throne.
Heaven was quiet not because of lack of music, there was singing but it was that of sobriety. I am certain angels don't cry but I could have sworn I saw water escaping some eye sockets.
All interlocked their trembling hands looking unto Him that sat on the Throne while stealing long glances at the severely beaten Lamp on the cross. It was enough that this happened, was the Father not going to intervene? When was the instruction to move to deliver going to be issued? If this Beloved Son were to die this shameful death on the cross, what would be the world's hope?
This couldn't happen. Some looked to Michael and Gabriel with that look that said let's plead to the Father. No one saw the Father's face but they knew that He was in control. But to plead with the Father, they needed the Lamb who alone gave access to the Throne. Will this death happen?
Angels had fear, yes fear, written on their faces; I saw one haplessly biting off his nails. There was no flying around that day, wings were heavy as iron too burdened by grief to lift.
A loud voice was heard from earth that shook heaven. The very foundations moved, the glory around the throne magnified forcing all eyes shut. The light was too bright to behold; we all lay prostrate and trembling as men under a life threatening attack.
The voice we heard was unmistakably from the cross, the Lamb of God shouted "It is finished!" and that was it. He submitted His spirit and gave up the ghost.
My body shook with the force of a high voltage of grief. I could feel the very life drain off me, my Lord and Saviour died this wicked death on the cross. Why then do I still breath? What then is my hope?
Is this the end?
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