For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
He had never known aloneness such as this. it was, he thought, a price he was obliged to pay for seeing through every veil of deception, to the core. The reverberating bare bones, bold in their sincerity but always so far from the outward appearance.
The world was segregated. All citizens in his beloved Italy had been ordered to remain in their homes due to an international pandemic. Little short of martial law. But he knew what was going on. It was a playbook on a worldwide scale, like all historical events. Psychological operations or "psyops", designed to produce an effect in the population and to engender the social changes needed to prevail, as they believed possible, in the spiritual battle against the One True God. He knew it. He had seen it time and time again... the chinks in the armour, the minor inconsistencies, the bold lies, all of which revealed the huge underlying deception.
This kind of mindset - his own - had, of course, been labelled dangerous in glorious historic tradition. Deluded, a sign of psychological illness, something to be discouraged, ostracised, cured. Subtly came the directive, through fiction, movies, news articles, university curricula, advertising, healthcare practices... And it had been going on for a long time. Years, decades, centuries. Millennia.
So he had never known aloneness such as this.
Every opportunity to participate in civil society had been diverted, misrepresented, blocked, and used to cause him to doubt his absolute reliance on the Word of God. And the church was no exception... in many ways it was the most formidable adversary.
But some people, he reasoned, one or two, here and there, would start to look around and understand that reality is not precisely as they had imagined it to be. The gloves were off, for a moment, and the steel fist had been revealed.
The trouble however is that reality is not simply a bit different from what is mainly perceived. It's not merely a matter of fake space expeditions, wars, and terror attacks. All these being arguments that have already alienated almost all potential friends or companions. It is completely different, in a very deep and radical manner. It's too much to contemplate.
We wrestle not against flesh and blood indeed, but we are facing foul hordes of demons, principalities of wickedness, satanic armies from the bowels of the Earth. And he knew this. He had seen it, he lacked the skill to articulate it, but he knew it. He could only look on in mute horror as the horsemen advanced, their swords flashing, their mounts whinnying and foaming at the mouth. He tried to shout a warning but the response was laughter or concern for his mental health.
And so he was alone. Day after blessed day, night after blessed night.
Waiting for the sweet release of death.
He had never known aloneness such as this. it was, he thought, a price he was obliged to pay for seeing through every veil of deception, to the core. The reverberating bare bones, bold in their sincerity but always so far from the outward appearance.
The world was segregated. All citizens in his beloved Italy had been ordered to remain in their homes due to an international pandemic. Little short of martial law. But he knew what was going on. It was a playbook on a worldwide scale, like all historical events. Psychological operations or "psyops", designed to produce an effect in the population and to engender the social changes needed to prevail, as they believed possible, in the spiritual battle against the One True God. He knew it. He had seen it time and time again... the chinks in the armour, the minor inconsistencies, the bold lies, all of which revealed the huge underlying deception.
This kind of mindset - his own - had, of course, been labelled dangerous in glorious historic tradition. Deluded, a sign of psychological illness, something to be discouraged, ostracised, cured. Subtly came the directive, through fiction, movies, news articles, university curricula, advertising, healthcare practices... And it had been going on for a long time. Years, decades, centuries. Millennia.
So he had never known aloneness such as this.
Every opportunity to participate in civil society had been diverted, misrepresented, blocked, and used to cause him to doubt his absolute reliance on the Word of God. And the church was no exception... in many ways it was the most formidable adversary.
But some people, he reasoned, one or two, here and there, would start to look around and understand that reality is not precisely as they had imagined it to be. The gloves were off, for a moment, and the steel fist had been revealed.
The trouble however is that reality is not simply a bit different from what is mainly perceived. It's not merely a matter of fake space expeditions, wars, and terror attacks. All these being arguments that have already alienated almost all potential friends or companions. It is completely different, in a very deep and radical manner. It's too much to contemplate.
We wrestle not against flesh and blood indeed, but we are facing foul hordes of demons, principalities of wickedness, satanic armies from the bowels of the Earth. And he knew this. He had seen it, he lacked the skill to articulate it, but he knew it. He could only look on in mute horror as the horsemen advanced, their swords flashing, their mounts whinnying and foaming at the mouth. He tried to shout a warning but the response was laughter or concern for his mental health.
And so he was alone. Day after blessed day, night after blessed night.
Waiting for the sweet release of death.
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