A Message To the Churches of the West

Hear the word of the Lord to the churches:
My idolatrous children! After diligently studying my word, you still pursue other gods! I have pleaded with you, commanded you, clung to your feet like a forsaken woman yet still you would not come back to me! Oh, faithless generation! You weep and wail during your lip service to me, but your true worship gets handed to your gods, your false images.
How I have longed to pour righteousness upon you, to adorn you with purity and love. I have wanted to exalt your humility and strengthen your weakness. But you refused. You turned to me and said, "I love you, I love you O God." And then immediately you turned back and groveled before the sewage you live in. I wish you would be true! True to me or true to them. To me you say the right words, but they hold your life.
You say to me, "Who are these gods? We have not seen them, nor have we worshipped any but You. You, O Lord, are our Father. We serve no other but You." I do not know which is worse, the false praise you give me or the self-deception you cover yourself with like a shroud. Do you not see? Do you not understand? Can I even call you children? For you hold my word so lightly.
On Friday you send your children to school to be taught by the ungodly. They are being raised to hate me and my ways, but you have no time to reconcile that. Instead, you must rush off to your work in which you maneuver petty positions, strive to be recognized and inflate your ego. Should you reach a blessed state of lowliness, you writhe and squirm and manipulate until your self-interest has been achieved. You work and strive to please the ungodly, not actually loving them with words that bring them face to face with me, but patting them like a fierce wolf who might turn on you and steal your reward.
And what is your reward? Friday night, you receive your reward for leaving me behind for a third of your day, five days a week— money. Oh, it seems so little to you, yet with it you move mountains. You think of it as sustenance, yet it is the good, the evil, the power, the glory, the whole of your life. It is the medium of choice. I have told you to live an exchange of love, but your love can only be defined in an account book (and how poor your love is even there!).
You take your medium of livelihood and run immediately to the Industry of Perpetual Greed and give them your hard-earned coin. They call it yours, so it says on their screens, but as they hold it in their coffers, they fondle and manipulate it, causing it to bear children. With those children this Industry rules the world, giving or denying permission to build or plant or live or die all over the world. And the profit from their duties they use to glorify themselves, allowing them to live in palaces dedicated to greed. These and those who live like them are your heroes, your imitatables.
When you arrive home you have a feast. Such a feast is no dishonor, but to feast every night? You pay servants to cook up a meal to your taste and you bask in your comfort, unless that night you deem it necessary to badger the servants with your petty complaints. You have achieved your society's goal-- you are king of your domain, completely in control: strong, powerful and unhappy.
After your feast you click on one of the many manifestations of a lust-machine. Such machines have as their only purpose to incite you to obtain. They have at their disposal such words and pictures to assist you to determine that you have not enough. After one hour, you cry "this!" After two, you cry "that!" After three you demand, "more and more!" The lust in your heart is exercised and becomes increasingly larger and larger-- nothing will stop you now. You must have and you will.
Saturday you rise with a gleam in your eye, ready to gather that which is not yours. You climb into your vehicle that allows you to obtain huge amounts of comforts and possessions at unbelievable speed. You dart around the city, avoiding the needy as much as possible, gathering the more and more and more you have lusted. More toys, more comforts, more and more delicious food, more knowledge, more man-made joys, and more trinkets. You are comforted. Your lust to spend has been sated in an orgasmic buying orgy and you yourself are bigger. You have grown larger, absorbing more into your kingdom.
On Sunday you walk in, obese and bloated, with your whole kingdom behind you, with you, in your mind. You sit down on the padded pew and sing half-heartedly: "Lord, I love you. You are the center of my life." You thank me for all I have given you and ask for blessings on your boated, swelling kingdom.
Don't you understand my anger? Do you know my reason for wrath? You unfaithful whore! I have called you to Me yet who do you serve? You serve Greed, you serve Comfort, you serve Ego, you serve Lust. Your petty needs and comforts are destroying the world! You serve yourselves so readily and yet claim to follow the way of love and sacrifice!
Yes, I have given you much. So much, you cannot comprehend. Yet you abuse my gifts. I give to all, some more, some less. To the ungodly I give much and I expect them to abuse it. But to you— my children! How can you act as a heathen!
I gave you children to teach my ways through word and deed.
I gave you trials that you may rejoice in your lowliness.
I gave you people to draw them to me.
I gave you money above your sustenance to provide for the needy around the world.
I gave you feasts to provide for the hungry and the lonely.
I gave you time to serve me through love, attention and sacrifice for the poor.
I gave you a vehicle to rush the hurting to the hospital, the suffering to those who will help.
I gave you a mind to consider how to love.
I gave you a heart to be renewed to me.
I gave you my word to listen to and obey.
I gave you a Sunday to gather together, to encourage each other to love and good deeds.
I gave you all this and so much, much more. How long will you be ungrateful? How long will you refuse my righteousness? Oh, I long to give you the full blessings of my love. I need you to step out and plead me for my love. As I pour out my love to you, so you will be filled with love, longing to love others as I have loved you. You will desire to be below all, so as to serve them better. You will pray for me to do great works for them that my name would be sanctified. You will have compassion that knows no limits, peace that endures loss and joy that grows in suffering.
Pray to me. Ask me for this gift of my love. Ask not in passing, nor in public, nor lightly. Rather in your closet, in your heart, in your soul of souls, plead and beg, cajole and rail, continue on and on. And I will hear. And I will respond. I will put justice in your heart. I will fill you with my Spirit. And you will see a transformation as you have never seen before. You will be a new creature— not just in word, but in every deed. You will be my son.