My Conversation With God, or, The Gospel According To God, Part One
In my baptism in the Holy Spirit, the verbal portion of my conversation with God was brief: "Remember this, and it is all right." Yes, that was the whole kit-and-caboodle of what God said to me. Just remember that which he was referring to, what I had just seen and said, and if I remember that all is right between God and myself. I now had forgiveness for EVERYTHING, acceptance by the Almighty. My whole life had been placed before him, and he had just touched Reset. I got a do-over. All that is required of me is to "remember this."
What had I seen and said? Recognition and respect to the reality that my life is his and that he is in control.
As an individual imagining of God I had seen mud of the earth formed into a living man. The body was there, complete, and was given life; but the mind, was it blank? I wondered what a man freshly formed from mud might think seeing things for the first time. As consciousness I tuned in to the form's mind. "This is earth," it thought. "This is day. The sun will set and it will become dark and cold. There are hills and trees. I had better find shelter there."
In my mind's eye I followed behind the mudman's head. Before long I was looking through his eyes and his thoughts were my thoughts. There were all kinds of things he needed to get done: find a cave or build a shelter for safety, find firewood for warmth, and forage for food. I wondered how I would identify food, never having eaten before.
The slam was emotionally painful. For it suddenly dawned on me that I was completely absorbed in what I needed and what I was doing, yet I HAD JUST BEEN CREATED AND GIVEN LIFE BY GOD AND HAD NOT ASKED WHY. What had he made me for? He must have had a purpose, a reason. But I had just taken the life he had given and pursued my own purposes. As the man I now was knew, I had just been created, and I had not acknowledged God, not asked what he had made me for, not even thanked him for making me to live. God in his grace had given me life, and I had ungraciously run off with it. I was a thief. I had robbed God of whatever purpose he had made me for, and I had none of it, none of that purpose to offer him.
Here is the key, my friend: I had taken control of what was not mine. I was in rebellion. Having found why I was unacceptable to God, I determined that my only chance to become acceptable was to undo the control I had taken. I had to submit myself utterly to his control. Spiritual exercises I had undertaken in occult meditation before this moment enabled me to accomplish the casting out of my self-control and to achieve utter submission to God. I thought I might flop to the floor like a blob of jelly, and I ought to have, but I didn't! I became keenly aware of the presence of God, and I said to him, "You are Glorious God. I am a mudman. Whatever you (desire, will, purpose, want, direct) me to do, that I will do."
Control. That was the matter. He is Glorious God, this is his life, and he is in control. It isn't that I don't do anything, but what I do he is in control of. I am his imagining, his consciousness enlivening this mud. I am a bit of him and a bit of his Son, imagination. My house/wife is this mud, the soft scum of the mineral earth which lives. The Life is his.
What had I seen and said? Recognition and respect to the reality that my life is his and that he is in control.
As an individual imagining of God I had seen mud of the earth formed into a living man. The body was there, complete, and was given life; but the mind, was it blank? I wondered what a man freshly formed from mud might think seeing things for the first time. As consciousness I tuned in to the form's mind. "This is earth," it thought. "This is day. The sun will set and it will become dark and cold. There are hills and trees. I had better find shelter there."
In my mind's eye I followed behind the mudman's head. Before long I was looking through his eyes and his thoughts were my thoughts. There were all kinds of things he needed to get done: find a cave or build a shelter for safety, find firewood for warmth, and forage for food. I wondered how I would identify food, never having eaten before.
The slam was emotionally painful. For it suddenly dawned on me that I was completely absorbed in what I needed and what I was doing, yet I HAD JUST BEEN CREATED AND GIVEN LIFE BY GOD AND HAD NOT ASKED WHY. What had he made me for? He must have had a purpose, a reason. But I had just taken the life he had given and pursued my own purposes. As the man I now was knew, I had just been created, and I had not acknowledged God, not asked what he had made me for, not even thanked him for making me to live. God in his grace had given me life, and I had ungraciously run off with it. I was a thief. I had robbed God of whatever purpose he had made me for, and I had none of it, none of that purpose to offer him.
Here is the key, my friend: I had taken control of what was not mine. I was in rebellion. Having found why I was unacceptable to God, I determined that my only chance to become acceptable was to undo the control I had taken. I had to submit myself utterly to his control. Spiritual exercises I had undertaken in occult meditation before this moment enabled me to accomplish the casting out of my self-control and to achieve utter submission to God. I thought I might flop to the floor like a blob of jelly, and I ought to have, but I didn't! I became keenly aware of the presence of God, and I said to him, "You are Glorious God. I am a mudman. Whatever you (desire, will, purpose, want, direct) me to do, that I will do."
Control. That was the matter. He is Glorious God, this is his life, and he is in control. It isn't that I don't do anything, but what I do he is in control of. I am his imagining, his consciousness enlivening this mud. I am a bit of him and a bit of his Son, imagination. My house/wife is this mud, the soft scum of the mineral earth which lives. The Life is his.
posted by Daniel C. Branham-Steele at
2:39 AM
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