The Trumpet Flower...

continued from prev. column...

Then I sought God and I put God into everything I did.

I prayed and sought for God to heal me and to deal with a people  hard of heart towards the rapture idea.

I began to pray and found that the spirit world heard of me. They  took me and threw me down.

I fell but refused, in all things  of life, to give up on God.

I held on, and then I held on more. I began to pray down the  powers that held the rapture power from being brought to pass.

I took up the rapture flower to God and waited for a word.

The days passed into weeks, then the weeks to months, then the  months to years.

Then I began to write about the clouds. I held onto them and told  people, "These are unusual things that are taking place around the  globe" only none of those who were Christian said it was  significant.

I sought God in the light of the rapture flower and prayed still  even when heaven was silent in all things regarding me, at least in  the sense of hearing clearly from God as I had before when life  wasn't quite so tough.

Yet in the final lease I held onto God. I held onto the lorn and  the lost and I sought until I had a release to form a page called  Code Rapture.

Now I bring to you this, a chapter, if you will, of the rapture  tale.

For if you find anyone like me on this world let me know, for I  am a rarity on this planet.

I have thrown my lot with God in prayer.

I have groaned daily in pain waiting for some kind of release  from spiritual battles which roar about me on a daily basis.

I seek and I seek to the point that I am warred out and seeking  release from this by having people say to me "I am daily, and I mean  daily, with you in this because I want a rapture also."

In the final leaf I held onto the rapture flower until it, with  life, raised up a cost to the people of tomorrow.

I held onto the frame of an idea and I held onto the cost of this  page, holding for a long time, at least until a word that was clear  regarding the trumpet rising up to shake the stock or stalk. For if  the sound was a clarification it became the clarion sound of a trumpet or horn rising up to begin a quest without venture in all  things right and smooth and cool in life.

Joel Akin

November 2010