I admit that for a few days I went fetal at night and sobbed silently into my pillow. When we lost
The Twenty-one, I was consumed with grief and terror. My feet began to slip. No sleep. My bed became a sanctuary for silent tears in the night because...
How do you speak of such things in the day?
What can turn a wonder bread, stay at home, homeschooling woman into a radical?
Try messing with her brothers.
Try severing their heads and stacking them, lifeless, on the backs of their shoulders.
Try sending a video all around the world that shows them being brutally murdered.
Try filming waves of their blood washing up on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.
Try stealing the testimony of THE MEN OF THE NATION OF THE CROSS, just try it!
Try to destroy this outpouring of love for The Twenty-one.
Try making a mockery of Jesus Christ.
God. Will. Not. Be. Mocked.
ISIS, you don't know what you've done.
Your wickedness has birthed a Christian radical. A woman, Christian radical.
Because I can't tolerate tolerance any more.
Our dread of being intolerant has given birth to a God- hating nation that...
wouldn't know truth if it cut off its head.
Who will seek the truth? Who will open the pages of The Word and inquire of Him? Who will know The Truth so The Truth can set him free?
And Christians, just as we are given the free gift of salvation when we repent of sin and trust in the saving grace of Jesus Christ, we are promised persecution. Are we now ashamed of the gospel, even though it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes? (See Romans 1:6) Are we hiding comfortably? Comfortably numb?
I begin to understand how we can bless our enemies, not curse them, and this is the gift
of THE TWENTY-ONE. How do you turn mild mannered women into radicals? How do you get mama bears roused from slumbering hibernation?
You mess with her family.
Sound the trumpets! Awake, Oh Sleeper! Awake!
The dying embers of our eternal destiny are being fanned into flames, and it makes me want to laugh! If I perish, I perish and...Oh death, where is your sting?
This is the last shot of the twenty-one gun salute, and time for me to say good-bye to my brothers. It is a message, written in my heart's blood as an unashamed woman of...
The Nation of the Cross.