VISION: THE WRINGING OF THE FLAG
29.3.07
Some time ago, I saw a brief vision of The Multi-Colored Eagles and the American flag. I have not felt led to share that yet.
This vision I share here disturbed me greatly. I request you to stop here and pray, before reading this.
THE VISION
I saw the American flag, flying high on a pole. The place where the flagpole stood was a wide open space, dry, arid and nothing much was growing there.
The sun was shining. It was day.
Then suddenly I saw the flag, twisted tight, and it was like a cloth, ready for wringing. Pointing ground-wards, I saw a flow of blood pouring to the ground, from the flag. (I saw no hand; neither human nor divine visibly wring it)
It began as a narrow steady drip of blood, but soon it was growing to a quick and rapid flow of blood, pouring to the ground, from the wringing of the flag.
I expected to be shown where the blood came from but instead, I was made to listen to the spine-chilling, cries emanating from the blood.
In no other vision have I heard blood speak.
But in this vision I heard the blood cry out.
As the blood flowed in torrents, I heard screams; I heard pain, I heard sorrow, I heard grief. I heard sounds of great unbearable torments. I heard what I was made to understand were screams that emanate when arms/legs are amputated. I was not allowed to hear the blasphemies but was made to understand that the varied sounds I was hearing were interspersed with
occasional sounds of some people blaspheming.
Within the blood, as it was wrung out of the flag, I heard voices crying, pleading, asking frantically, ” Where is my sister? Where is my brother?” I heard sounds, hoarse and exhausted from crying, screeches of failing strength, as are heard from torture chambers.
I heard agonizing sounds.
Within the vision, I was reminded of the parable Jesus told of the rich man and Lazarus.
The blood held within it the screams for help. The blood was crying, the blood was pleading, the blood was screaming, the blood was shrieking. It was a sound of weeping and wailing. People were mourning aloud. I heard men clutching their hearts, and people beating their chests.
The blood was crying out.
It was at this point within the vision, I thought perhaps, these people, though I saw them not, I only heard the cries of the blood, must surely be Iraqi / Afghani / some other nation that were lamenting at the bloodshed at the hands of the Americans.
I was then directed to look at the ground on which the blood was falling. I was shocked to see that it was American ground, and the sounds were that of the American people. Not a foreign land or foreign people.
After a while the blood stopped flowing, the flag unfurled and now it looked as discolored as a menstrual cloth.
The stench within the vision was so strong, from the flag cloth, I was nauseous. I even turned within the vision, towards a wall, as if I would throw up, the stench was so strong that even physically a minute longer and I would have left the vision to rush to vomit. But immediately, though the foul smell continued, I was not allowed to linger long to smell the stench.
From hearing the crying of the blood, now I was allowed to see what else was transpiring, around that time.
Now the scene changed.
The flagpole stood tall, and the American flag could be seen from the four corners of the earth.
I saw watchmen from the four corners of the world watching. One or two, took binoculars to see, but they were told not to see through the binoculars but with their eyes. The flag was looking it’s normal self now.
I saw a large American naval ship. It was somewhere out at sea. The runway was clear; there were no aircraft upon it. There was an officer standing there, in uniform. He looked up and saw some American flags falling from above, onto the ship. ‘Are they for hoisting?” he asked, looking up. He was told they were not for hoisting but for covering coffins.
In the middle of all this I was shown a woman, who resided in America.
I saw that it was still day. There was a lady in her bedroom, she looked married but was living on her own. She was sleeping on a day that was a working day, at an hour that was a working hour. It was a small sized bedroom with an average size window; light-weight sheer white net curtains covered the windows. They looked grey reflecting the grey lined curtains that hung on the sides, and the largely grey décor within the room. The curtains could not keep the daylight out of her bedroom. It seemed a room that was simply furnished with the basics. It was neat and tidy, but did not look lived-in. It looked like any hotel/motel room, but I could see that it was her home. The room had a grey carpet. It overlooked the road.
She was pondering on her dreams which were as nightmares, to her. She was in dread and torment from all that she was dreaming. Her fears were hindering her from grasping the warnings that were so obvious in her dreams. She woke up in fear and dread; She seemed to be suffering from mental fatigue. She would go to the window, to look out, but never really focused to look long enough to see what was going on in the world around her. All she saw recurrently were the contents of her nightmares, looming ever before her eyes. This distracted her from seeing what was going on outside her window.
I saw that her gripping fear within, was barring her from understanding the contents of her dreams. It appeared that within her own dreams, given to her, was a description of her present state, her problems and what she must do to overcome them. But she was not able to sit in peace or quietness of her spirit, long enough to hear those instructions, ever present in her dreams. All she seemed concerned about was how to make the ‘nightmares’ go away. Though she was perplexed, fatigued, fearful, she had not come to the end of herself. She was yet trying to ‘figure things out.’
Another strange thing was that she was not sleeping in her nightgown but rather wore a white business-like blouse made of some synthetic fabric and a grey closely fitting pencil-line fine woolen skirt in bed. She was slim (the kind of figure that comes from dieting) and tall. She appeared as if she was full of fears and doubts, as she stood looking out of the window. Earlier as I saw her laid down, I noticed that she did not cover herself with a sheet or covers. It was cool but not a cold day. Because of her nightmares, it appeared that her sleep had not been restful. She did not venture to go out of her room, though she was dressed. She looked obsessive and oblivious of all that was around her. She appeared self-consumed. She looked dressed to go out, but she went nowhere. She seemed as a woman by herself, to herself, for herself.
Next, I saw that:
In the entire earth atmosphere, there was no visible sign of wind. Suddenly a whisper, a slight touch of the Wind sent the American flag fluttering vigorously and wildly. All the ground of the nation shook at just a slight touch of this Wind, and the flag was blown off, by the power of this slight Wind.
The watchmen watching from the four corners of the world were amazed. They looked around them, for the slight touch of the Wind that shook the flag, and caused it to disconnect and fly off into the skies, away from it’s flagpole, that same slight Wind, wreaked no havoc elsewhere; in fact, all looked calm and normal everywhere else.
(In the natural world, if a wind blew so slightly, it could not have even turned a leaf.)
But here in this vision, this Wind had sent the nation into turmoil.
The flagpole that was deeply imbedded in the ground, it seemed had, with it’s lower part/it’s foot which was hidden under the ground, controlled and restrained the underground network beneath, which were full of blood. Underneath the ground, the foot of the pole had for ages controlled everything, around it. Many times it had silenced and pushed back the flow of this blood, causing it to be hidden. The flag pole had never allowed the blood that was forcibly banked beneath to come up near the pole.
Through many mud/earth embankments down below, the flagpole had held captive the blood of the land, never allowing it to become visible.
But now this blood crying weeping wailing was as a flood, it could not be hidden, or silenced.
The blood’s constant crying weeping wailing had seeped and soaked all that was beneath, and now flooding the underground, broke the embankment, and freed itself from the firm hold of the flagpole roots that had long suppressed it. The blood now suddenly gushed up with such great force that I saw it explode out through the top of the pole, reaching sky high, and now no more could it be hidden or restrained. A thick torrent of blood flowed forcefully and continuously out of the mouth of the flagless flagpole.
I asked the Lord, “whose blood is this, Lord?”
I was told, “It is the blood of the innocent”.
I sat stunned and numb, for quite a while.
Later I asked the Lord what about those there, who serve Him day and night?
I was reminded of parts of the dialogue between the king and Daniel.
Daniel 6:20b
Daniel, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the lions?
Vs22a My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions’ mouths, that they have not hurt me: forasmuch as before him innocency was found in me;
Bombay-India
Swarna Jha
Showing posts with label Vision: The Wringing Of The Flag. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vision: The Wringing Of The Flag. Show all posts
Friday, March 30, 2007
VISION: THE WRINGING OF THE FLAG
VISION: THE WRINGING OF THE FLAG
29.3.07
Some time ago, I saw a brief vision of The Multi-Colored Eagles and the American flag. I have not felt led to share that yet.
This vision I share here disturbed me greatly. I request you to stop here and pray, before reading this.
THE VISION
I saw the American flag, flying high on a pole. The place where the flagpole stood was a wide open space, dry, arid and nothing much was growing there.
The sun was shining. It was day.
Then suddenly I saw the flag, twisted tight, and it was like a cloth, ready for wringing. Pointing ground-wards, I saw a flow of blood pouring to the ground, from the flag. (I saw no hand; neither human nor divine visibly wring it)
It began as a narrow steady drip of blood, but soon it was growing to a quick and rapid flow of blood, pouring to the ground, from the wringing of the flag.
I expected to be shown where the blood came from but instead, I was made to listen to the spine-chilling, cries emanating from the blood.
In no other vision have I heard blood speak.
But in this vision I heard the blood cry out.
As the blood flowed in torrents, I heard screams; I heard pain, I heard sorrow, I heard grief. I heard sounds of great unbearable torments. I heard what I was made to understand were screams that emanate when arms/legs are amputated. I was not allowed to hear the blasphemies but was made to understand that the varied sounds I was hearing were interspersed with
occasional sounds of some people blaspheming.
Within the blood, as it was wrung out of the flag, I heard voices crying, pleading, asking frantically, ” Where is my sister? Where is my brother?” I heard sounds, hoarse and exhausted from crying, screeches of failing strength, as are heard from torture chambers.
I heard agonizing sounds.
Within the vision, I was reminded of the parable Jesus told of the rich man and Lazarus.
The blood held within it the screams for help. The blood was crying, the blood was pleading, the blood was screaming, the blood was shrieking. It was a sound of weeping and wailing. People were mourning aloud. I heard men clutching their hearts, and people beating their chests.
The blood was crying out.
It was at this point within the vision, I thought perhaps, these people, though I saw them not, I only heard the cries of the blood, must surely be Iraqi / Afghani / some other nation that were lamenting at the bloodshed at the hands of the Americans.
I was then directed to look at the ground on which the blood was falling. I was shocked to see that it was American ground, and the sounds were that of the American people. Not a foreign land or foreign people.
After a while the blood stopped flowing, the flag unfurled and now it looked as discolored as a menstrual cloth.
The stench within the vision was so strong, from the flag cloth, I was nauseous. I even turned within the vision, towards a wall, as if I would throw up, the stench was so strong that even physically a minute longer and I would have left the vision to rush to vomit. But immediately, though the foul smell continued, I was not allowed to linger long to smell the stench.
From hearing the crying of the blood, now I was allowed to see what else was transpiring, around that time.
Now the scene changed.
The flagpole stood tall, and the American flag could be seen from the four corners of the earth.
I saw watchmen from the four corners of the world watching. One or two, took binoculars to see, but they were told not to see through the binoculars but with their eyes. The flag was looking it’s normal self now.
I saw a large American naval ship. It was somewhere out at sea. The runway was clear; there were no aircraft upon it. There was an officer standing there, in uniform. He looked up and saw some American flags falling from above, onto the ship. ‘Are they for hoisting?” he asked, looking up. He was told they were not for hoisting but for covering coffins.
In the middle of all this I was shown a woman, who resided in America.
I saw that it was still day. There was a lady in her bedroom, she looked married but was living on her own. She was sleeping on a day that was a working day, at an hour that was a working hour. It was a small sized bedroom with an average size window; light-weight sheer white net curtains covered the windows. They looked grey reflecting the grey lined curtains that hung on the sides, and the largely grey décor within the room. The curtains could not keep the daylight out of her bedroom. It seemed a room that was simply furnished with the basics. It was neat and tidy, but did not look lived-in. It looked like any hotel/motel room, but I could see that it was her home. The room had a grey carpet. It overlooked the road.
She was pondering on her dreams which were as nightmares, to her. She was in dread and torment from all that she was dreaming. Her fears were hindering her from grasping the warnings that were so obvious in her dreams. She woke up in fear and dread; She seemed to be suffering from mental fatigue. She would go to the window, to look out, but never really focused to look long enough to see what was going on in the world around her. All she saw recurrently were the contents of her nightmares, looming ever before her eyes. This distracted her from seeing what was going on outside her window.
I saw that her gripping fear within, was barring her from understanding the contents of her dreams. It appeared that within her own dreams, given to her, was a description of her present state, her problems and what she must do to overcome them. But she was not able to sit in peace or quietness of her spirit, long enough to hear those instructions, ever present in her dreams. All she seemed concerned about was how to make the ‘nightmares’ go away. Though she was perplexed, fatigued, fearful, she had not come to the end of herself. She was yet trying to ‘figure things out.’
Another strange thing was that she was not sleeping in her nightgown but rather wore a white business-like blouse made of some synthetic fabric and a grey closely fitting pencil-line fine woolen skirt in bed. She was slim (the kind of figure that comes from dieting) and tall. She appeared as if she was full of fears and doubts, as she stood looking out of the window. Earlier as I saw her laid down, I noticed that she did not cover herself with a sheet or covers. It was cool but not a cold day. Because of her nightmares, it appeared that her sleep had not been restful. She did not venture to go out of her room, though she was dressed. She looked obsessive and oblivious of all that was around her. She appeared self-consumed. She looked dressed to go out, but she went nowhere. She seemed as a woman by herself, to herself, for herself.
Next, I saw that:
In the entire earth atmosphere, there was no visible sign of wind. Suddenly a whisper, a slight touch of the Wind sent the American flag fluttering vigorously and wildly. All the ground of the nation shook at just a slight touch of this Wind, and the flag was blown off, by the power of this slight Wind.
The watchmen watching from the four corners of the world were amazed. They looked around them, for the slight touch of the Wind that shook the flag, and caused it to disconnect and fly off into the skies, away from it’s flagpole, that same slight Wind, wreaked no havoc elsewhere; in fact, all looked calm and normal everywhere else.
(In the natural world, if a wind blew so slightly, it could not have even turned a leaf.)
But here in this vision, this Wind had sent the nation into turmoil.
The flagpole that was deeply imbedded in the ground, it seemed had, with it’s lower part/it’s foot which was hidden under the ground, controlled and restrained the underground network beneath, which were full of blood. Underneath the ground, the foot of the pole had for ages controlled everything, around it. Many times it had silenced and pushed back the flow of this blood, causing it to be hidden. The flag pole had never allowed the blood that was forcibly banked beneath to come up near the pole.
Through many mud/earth embankments down below, the flagpole had held captive the blood of the land, never allowing it to become visible.
But now this blood crying weeping wailing was as a flood, it could not be hidden, or silenced.
The blood’s constant crying weeping wailing had seeped and soaked all that was beneath, and now flooding the underground, broke the embankment, and freed itself from the firm hold of the flagpole roots that had long suppressed it. The blood now suddenly gushed up with such great force that I saw it explode out through the top of the pole, reaching sky high, and now no more could it be hidden or restrained. A thick torrent of blood flowed forcefully and continuously out of the mouth of the flagless flagpole.
I asked the Lord, “whose blood is this, Lord?”
I was told, “It is the blood of the innocent”.
I sat stunned and numb, for quite a while.
Later I asked the Lord what about those there, who serve Him day and night?
I was reminded of parts of the dialogue between the king and Daniel.
Daniel 6:20b
Daniel, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the lions?
Vs22a My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions’ mouths, that they have not hurt me: forasmuch as before him innocency was found in me;
Bombay-India
Swarna Jha
29.3.07
Some time ago, I saw a brief vision of The Multi-Colored Eagles and the American flag. I have not felt led to share that yet.
This vision I share here disturbed me greatly. I request you to stop here and pray, before reading this.
THE VISION
I saw the American flag, flying high on a pole. The place where the flagpole stood was a wide open space, dry, arid and nothing much was growing there.
The sun was shining. It was day.
Then suddenly I saw the flag, twisted tight, and it was like a cloth, ready for wringing. Pointing ground-wards, I saw a flow of blood pouring to the ground, from the flag. (I saw no hand; neither human nor divine visibly wring it)
It began as a narrow steady drip of blood, but soon it was growing to a quick and rapid flow of blood, pouring to the ground, from the wringing of the flag.
I expected to be shown where the blood came from but instead, I was made to listen to the spine-chilling, cries emanating from the blood.
In no other vision have I heard blood speak.
But in this vision I heard the blood cry out.
As the blood flowed in torrents, I heard screams; I heard pain, I heard sorrow, I heard grief. I heard sounds of great unbearable torments. I heard what I was made to understand were screams that emanate when arms/legs are amputated. I was not allowed to hear the blasphemies but was made to understand that the varied sounds I was hearing were interspersed with
occasional sounds of some people blaspheming.
Within the blood, as it was wrung out of the flag, I heard voices crying, pleading, asking frantically, ” Where is my sister? Where is my brother?” I heard sounds, hoarse and exhausted from crying, screeches of failing strength, as are heard from torture chambers.
I heard agonizing sounds.
Within the vision, I was reminded of the parable Jesus told of the rich man and Lazarus.
The blood held within it the screams for help. The blood was crying, the blood was pleading, the blood was screaming, the blood was shrieking. It was a sound of weeping and wailing. People were mourning aloud. I heard men clutching their hearts, and people beating their chests.
The blood was crying out.
It was at this point within the vision, I thought perhaps, these people, though I saw them not, I only heard the cries of the blood, must surely be Iraqi / Afghani / some other nation that were lamenting at the bloodshed at the hands of the Americans.
I was then directed to look at the ground on which the blood was falling. I was shocked to see that it was American ground, and the sounds were that of the American people. Not a foreign land or foreign people.
After a while the blood stopped flowing, the flag unfurled and now it looked as discolored as a menstrual cloth.
The stench within the vision was so strong, from the flag cloth, I was nauseous. I even turned within the vision, towards a wall, as if I would throw up, the stench was so strong that even physically a minute longer and I would have left the vision to rush to vomit. But immediately, though the foul smell continued, I was not allowed to linger long to smell the stench.
From hearing the crying of the blood, now I was allowed to see what else was transpiring, around that time.
Now the scene changed.
The flagpole stood tall, and the American flag could be seen from the four corners of the earth.
I saw watchmen from the four corners of the world watching. One or two, took binoculars to see, but they were told not to see through the binoculars but with their eyes. The flag was looking it’s normal self now.
I saw a large American naval ship. It was somewhere out at sea. The runway was clear; there were no aircraft upon it. There was an officer standing there, in uniform. He looked up and saw some American flags falling from above, onto the ship. ‘Are they for hoisting?” he asked, looking up. He was told they were not for hoisting but for covering coffins.
In the middle of all this I was shown a woman, who resided in America.
I saw that it was still day. There was a lady in her bedroom, she looked married but was living on her own. She was sleeping on a day that was a working day, at an hour that was a working hour. It was a small sized bedroom with an average size window; light-weight sheer white net curtains covered the windows. They looked grey reflecting the grey lined curtains that hung on the sides, and the largely grey décor within the room. The curtains could not keep the daylight out of her bedroom. It seemed a room that was simply furnished with the basics. It was neat and tidy, but did not look lived-in. It looked like any hotel/motel room, but I could see that it was her home. The room had a grey carpet. It overlooked the road.
She was pondering on her dreams which were as nightmares, to her. She was in dread and torment from all that she was dreaming. Her fears were hindering her from grasping the warnings that were so obvious in her dreams. She woke up in fear and dread; She seemed to be suffering from mental fatigue. She would go to the window, to look out, but never really focused to look long enough to see what was going on in the world around her. All she saw recurrently were the contents of her nightmares, looming ever before her eyes. This distracted her from seeing what was going on outside her window.
I saw that her gripping fear within, was barring her from understanding the contents of her dreams. It appeared that within her own dreams, given to her, was a description of her present state, her problems and what she must do to overcome them. But she was not able to sit in peace or quietness of her spirit, long enough to hear those instructions, ever present in her dreams. All she seemed concerned about was how to make the ‘nightmares’ go away. Though she was perplexed, fatigued, fearful, she had not come to the end of herself. She was yet trying to ‘figure things out.’
Another strange thing was that she was not sleeping in her nightgown but rather wore a white business-like blouse made of some synthetic fabric and a grey closely fitting pencil-line fine woolen skirt in bed. She was slim (the kind of figure that comes from dieting) and tall. She appeared as if she was full of fears and doubts, as she stood looking out of the window. Earlier as I saw her laid down, I noticed that she did not cover herself with a sheet or covers. It was cool but not a cold day. Because of her nightmares, it appeared that her sleep had not been restful. She did not venture to go out of her room, though she was dressed. She looked obsessive and oblivious of all that was around her. She appeared self-consumed. She looked dressed to go out, but she went nowhere. She seemed as a woman by herself, to herself, for herself.
Next, I saw that:
In the entire earth atmosphere, there was no visible sign of wind. Suddenly a whisper, a slight touch of the Wind sent the American flag fluttering vigorously and wildly. All the ground of the nation shook at just a slight touch of this Wind, and the flag was blown off, by the power of this slight Wind.
The watchmen watching from the four corners of the world were amazed. They looked around them, for the slight touch of the Wind that shook the flag, and caused it to disconnect and fly off into the skies, away from it’s flagpole, that same slight Wind, wreaked no havoc elsewhere; in fact, all looked calm and normal everywhere else.
(In the natural world, if a wind blew so slightly, it could not have even turned a leaf.)
But here in this vision, this Wind had sent the nation into turmoil.
The flagpole that was deeply imbedded in the ground, it seemed had, with it’s lower part/it’s foot which was hidden under the ground, controlled and restrained the underground network beneath, which were full of blood. Underneath the ground, the foot of the pole had for ages controlled everything, around it. Many times it had silenced and pushed back the flow of this blood, causing it to be hidden. The flag pole had never allowed the blood that was forcibly banked beneath to come up near the pole.
Through many mud/earth embankments down below, the flagpole had held captive the blood of the land, never allowing it to become visible.
But now this blood crying weeping wailing was as a flood, it could not be hidden, or silenced.
The blood’s constant crying weeping wailing had seeped and soaked all that was beneath, and now flooding the underground, broke the embankment, and freed itself from the firm hold of the flagpole roots that had long suppressed it. The blood now suddenly gushed up with such great force that I saw it explode out through the top of the pole, reaching sky high, and now no more could it be hidden or restrained. A thick torrent of blood flowed forcefully and continuously out of the mouth of the flagless flagpole.
I asked the Lord, “whose blood is this, Lord?”
I was told, “It is the blood of the innocent”.
I sat stunned and numb, for quite a while.
Later I asked the Lord what about those there, who serve Him day and night?
I was reminded of parts of the dialogue between the king and Daniel.
Daniel 6:20b
Daniel, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the lions?
Vs22a My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions’ mouths, that they have not hurt me: forasmuch as before him innocency was found in me;
Bombay-India
Swarna Jha
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