• 02Jan


    2018 - Preacher Diary

    But draw near hither, ye sons of the sorceress, the seed of the adulterer and the whore. Isaiah 57:3.

    Continued from '6. Not by a Naked Eye'


    Let us get back to the harlot-sorceress with her philandering man. The prophetic camera does not stay long on them to show what that strange relationshipmight have done to the man. The spotlight moves on quickly in the subsequent verses to the sons, who had been the subject of the discuss from verse 3.

    4 Whom are you mocking?At whom do you sneerand stick out your tongue?Are you not a brood of rebels,the offspring of liars?

    5You burn with lust among the oaks and under every spreading tree;you sacrifice your children in the ravinesand under the overhanging crags? (Isaiah 57:4-5, NIV).

    From verse 3, the prophetic voice had been addressing the “sons”; the address continues to verse 4 and 5, and further down. Those sons were mockers; they did not just scoff at mortal men but the Almighty God Himself. They were sacrilegious young men with little respect for holy things and holy personalities. Their reckless lips respected no holy boundaries. On occasions, they even went disgustingly dramatic with their irreverent tongues stuck out.


    The boys were also “a brood of rebels” a gang of rebellious boys. The word “brood” (plural) describes a group of people who share similar social characteristics, or a group of offsprings from the same biological parentage. In the New Testament, John the Baptist uses the same metaphor to describe a venomous religious sect, whom he said were a “brood of vipers” (Matthews 3:7, NIV). The Greek word translated brood in the New Testament (gennema), and the Hebrew word (yeled) similarly translated in the Old Testament, have the same sense of “offspring,” of fruits that come from a kind of tree, as we read in Matthew 7:17-18: every kind of fruit is the product of a kind of tree.

    Describing those boys as the fruits of a tree of rebels and liars both tells us what kind of life their parents lived, and also pictures the children as sharing in that wrong lifestyle of their parents. The parents were rebels and liars, and their boys also became rebels and liars. Of course, everyone expects rebels to lie, and liars to rebel. With these boys, however, lying was also the culture of the “brood” that they were part of.

    I wonder how many times their rebellious tendency got them into trouble with the police, their headmasters, principals, landlords, etc. I wonder how many times they lied to how many people about their birthdays, theirstolen sports cars, their forged results, their hired dresses, their names, etc. I wonder how many girls they fooled by that fast and glamorous lifestyle of falsehood.


    The boys were “the offspring [children] of liars.” Their parents lived a life of lies. The Adulterer lied to his wife at home that he was going out of town on a 'business trip' the board room of which was the bedroom of the witch at the bend of the road. How often he must have sought to impress that whore by lying about the famous places in the world that he had been to, the monies he had in many banks, his father that was the King of England, and the princes that were at his beck and call. Meanwhile the sorceress rolled her eyes and twirled her hips lasciviously as she cast her spells on the unfortunate victim, lying also to him how much she loved him better than all the previous men she had ruined; then she licked her lips lecherously as she waited to lick his blood. Their boys picked it up from them.

    The parents were also described as rebels. Maybe that was how the girl ended up in the streets surviving as a whore, after she had fled home from parents whose orders she would not obey. For the Adulterer, the traits speak for themselves in a man who rebels against the restrictions of marriage and goes fishing in forbidden waters, until he gets hooked in the net of a sorceress, and fathers sons worse than he.


    Those boys “burned with lust,” like their adulterous father and whorish mother.   Whenever that evil flame started to burn in them, they would be unable to rest until they have raped an old woman in her bugled house, or a helpless baby in the crèche. Like father, like parents. Over time, the community learned to beware of them, to walk a different side of the road from those street lords.


    Those “sons” didn't care about the many children they fathered by the several girls they raped or deceived. They dispensed as easily with the children on the altars of abortion and witchcraft. They sacrificed not one child, not two, on any available altar: “in the ravines / and under the overhanging crags.” They were active and passionate Satan worshippers, like their sorcerousmother. Unlike her, however, the boys raised the stakes. She was a sorceress, but she didn't kill her babies; they swam in human blood and served as high priests sacrificing their own children to Molech the Canaanite baby-eating god of fire.

    Did their babies giggle and smile as they got flung into the ritual flames by their fathers? No. The babies screamed in sudden agony, letting out cries that were sharp enough to have pieced any normal heart, but not the stony hearts of their boy-fathers. What did the mothers do? Maybe they were helpless; maybe they stood by to watch in romantic solidarity, having been converted 'in love' into the perverted ways of their presiding boyfriends.

    To be continued.

    From The Preacher's Diary.

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