Was God, Our Son, Your Father Sleeping
On A Californian Mountain?
Great is the Lord, and most worthy of praise,
in the city of God, his high mountain.
Be of good; it is I; be not afraid
The journey from Jerusalem to the California's wildernesses took exactly thirty days. The mind didn't inquiry shortly during the watching to the southwest or northeast of Antelope Valley and Spring Canyon Road where vast scenic heights and mountains faded strongly into a blue-white sky. There were the replies to the sound of the driller machines digging deepened into the sandy soil and the sinister holes through the squares of canyons a hundred yards down the road.
First off, my idea to come to this isolated parts had emerged during the last visit in Babylon, where I had made the same journey that Abraham had done from Ur to Noah. Tired by the black thoughts of anxiety that there was another place to find the image of God, I had spent the afternoon at prayer and wanted to go back to Mountain Sinai that evening. When I decided to call off, I was in a deep shock and doubt. I fingered the Bible and read Psalm 73. Closing to the end, I made another stop.
But as for me, it is good
to be near God.
I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge;
I will tell of all your deeds[ Psalm 73:28]
But somehow I felt I was losing something else. I knew it was all right to feel like this, and there was a stillness that was holding me. I ran to Ephesians and reached out vesicles 16.
In addition to all this,
take up the shield of faith,
with which you can extinguish all the flaming
arrows of the evil one.[ Ephesians 6:16]
And then slowly as with a great lover, I was there next to Hebrews, And since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having out hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having out bodies washed with pure water[ Hebrews 10:21 v22.].
After that I took nothing for my journey as Luke has said to us. I felt good but the idea had strengthened me beyond what I would expect in Mt. Sinai after my last lesson. I went back to Jerusalem. I had thought the idea of California would go away and my last training for the priesthood could be the main reason to hold. But still.
This is the fate of those who trust in themselves,
The first phrase of my anxiety passed when I telephoned the California Office of Tourism for a complete information packet of the cities and towns, but most important about the California mountains. It was a dangerous step, and I became aware that
here was the solution of praise and God, as my friends Pert, Joran, and my spiritual teachers had said about the assemble. It weighed on me so I accepted it completely. But I felt I could not possibly go directly from city walls in Jesus' time to the Old City without saying goodbye to my teachers Huld Behistta and Bloss Nippavris. As I did, I remembered my first walk through the City of David and Fish Gate, which took it three months to complete. Learning that Alderfonio, my hutkeeper in Hinnom Valley would hurry there was that echo: The Samaritans would not welcome him because he was on his way to Jerusalem, I was sure he'd be happy to see me. It was like a purity prune because all were there and smiled to me. An atmosphere of peace and spiritual depth really lifted me that moment.
That night I was in the company of God. My dream, and myself were part of it. I was not exhausted by a solo claim. His spiritual and lovely presence was all over me, listening His world, a world
of intelligence that mattered not if you are a doctor or genius. How many hours I spent in His company I did not know, but it was late when the sun so pleasant. I thought it was another morning. It woke me up and I felt in a high mood.
After I received the information from the California Office of Tourism in Sacramento, I did not realize it was four months since my last request for my priesthood -- and to be accepted for the first lesson in Assyrian Master Asshior's school; but he told me before this thought of you could be answered by the awareness of yours, you will be free to come back. I was about now tell him that these thoughts were part of my training, but his right finger stood up as a cross and his voice seemed to come from the scripture plus God's ongoing revelation through the traditional wave of coming 'our of the man, thou unclean spirit'[ Mark 5:8].
I understood; but I didn't inquired of my master. I won't. I have to do what it is inside me and to show him that I was pure and away from that transfiguration. My saliva and blood were part of that love.
I had received everything from Sacramento, but the most of my dreams were of the mountain sites. I chose one mountain that I knew I had to go to see God: the miracle that He had foreseen thousands and thousands years back -- it will be April 3rd. Up to now I was
I arrived at midnight this time at Los Angeles International Airport and spent the remainder of the night at a motel. I read all the details about the maps of the Office of Tourism had sent me. I had my last breakfast on the lodge and in the first light of morning I left the motel.
With a cane, a backpack filled with the Bible, a bottle of pure water from the Lake Urmia, and a hundred green menthol leaves from Hinnom Valley, my hutkeeper had given me. One person down the hall told me that I was on the right path before I reach Santa Clarita Hills. So I passed Santa Clarita Hills and I kept walking through the street and avenue, as Paul's trip to Damascus.
Keep me safe, O God.
for in you I take refuge
It was a long walk, 116 miles. I began to recognize cities from the maps and towns marked. Mar Vista. Sawtelle. West Los Angeles. Westwood, Bel Air, Sherman Oaks, Santa Clarita, Valencia, and Pico Canyon where I slept three hours.
The next morning, very early, I began to walk, my mind on God. Significantly, the idea began to deepen in good moments as the chilly light of evening popped up in front of me. Five hours later, I walked past San Francisquito and deep into the rocks.
As I got near to Dry, the green forest of Los Angeles was covered by the moisture of the last evening and the light of the houses below. Then I saw the high mountain, pure rock, and sublime. I could not wait for the natural light of the sun, which the only God knows. I raced toward it, finding myself climbing and climbing.
It became a pool filled with feeling and dangerous. The night was all over me. Thinking about it, I began to feel that I had finally, really seen the stars, which seemed exactly the same as I had seen them in Jerusalem and Damascus, closed to me. I never have seen to many so close, where God, I knew, was there watching me!
I was waiting for all those exciting meanings; to have the truth acknowledged by my visit. Is God here? Will God be willing to come before the day arrives?
Days passed. Months came and went.
This morning, however, I knew there was no grass when I arrived 90 days before. It was warm, and best for me was a snake. I was very surprised about it. I didn't know about it in the first place. There was nothing else; both, I thought, were enjoying our company and the rich texture of the grass and the light of the sun, which little by little was coming behind the horizon.
I took one of my hundred leaves and drained them with a little water. I noticed I had only ten left. While I was there, feeling so unique and high, I noticed that I was really high. On the top of the Mountain Rock, where the section of Palmdale and Lancaster took the road of limitation, one could possibly see the square and the holes below down there.
I began to pray. God will come to-day. I was stunned at these words and at the sight of all these rocky mountains brown, black, blue, yellow, and obviously blue. They were by the layers and years still that God will be here to-day.
I kept praying. Please, God, come, see me now.
A voice says, "By his knowledge, my righteous servant will justify many"[ Isaiah 52:11].
But Please, God, come. I need to see you and tell you I'll follow my priesthood.
It was the 93rd day, inhabited by the natural peeling of forces underneath the endless sky, it was soon brought to me. A face appeared around the layers. His introduction was already caught by a glimpse, then, by a tiny voice. What are you doing here, mister?
"I wait for my friend God."
He looked around.
"Here? In this place?"
"Yes. Here. In this place."
It sounded as though he was a thought but he did not say it. He stepped next to me and sat. "I want to see him, too, mister."
I invited him to take one of my menthol leaves. He smiled and took one. Like two couples in love, we looked at each other and smiled at our thoughts. I understood them, and he understood mine. God will come.
Hours passed. Gradually one by one, the people from the valley and the mainland came. It sounded. I watched them: women, mothers, sisters, young men, teens, people and people -- all smiling. All were curious to find an introduction to our thoughts: God is coming. Our God is coming here. I understood what they were feeling when I answered them. He is here, and he's coming.
Was this just a part of blessing meeting, part of God himself? They don't care because they were sure I had told them the truth. April 3rd. One hundredth-day and a third. God is coming.
I stood up, giving away half of my menthol leaves. Water was passing around, and happiness had returned to the mountains.
A welcomed child was playing the flute and snakes were dancing in front of us. Happiness is here, too, so God will be among us.
All were smiling and breathing very heavily because the night was ending, too.
The last birds from the forest below have passed north, curling and winging in their fast motion, spectacle dance. I cannot be denied on God's blessing and the white clouds above. This beauty seemed to have a mysteriously hold on all of us. At this hour, the California's sun was alive, red as a fighting dragon behind the dark clouds that apocalyptically view themselves as mid-nurse. The transformation was like a wide lane of the sky, a heaven mass with satisfied insights. All of it seemed below, lying on the grass, wishing for the east rains that were shadowy rocky mountains. What a wonder. It contrasted with the dimensional thought that truly seemed so small before the melted space around us!
I don't know if it was the earth or the space or the level lay of dispersed land setting or the setting of the sun that was so mysterious in the attractiveness or our stay. It was a great movement, I told them. The animals like us have the same tiny piece of life. God is all. I saw the rocks, the plants as an ocean in Damascus filled with the vastness of my contemplation. I was sure it was more than the continent that was still beyond the mountains. It was God.
As I stood up firmly, I smiled to them. "God was here, wasn't He?" I asked.
"I saw Him!" a man cried.
A friend's friends, perhaps, as if they agreed to me, saying boldly, "I squeezed God's hand!"
Then, slowly, I began to climb down. I learned my lesson, my drive of love isn't competition -- but the word of my teachers.
You have the desire of seeing, but you must dare to challenge anyone except you. God's all! For that I cannot say anything else. Just I smiled, sitting in the second class cabin to Jerusalem. Below, the clouds, and above me and this flying thing, God, the supplementary giver.
I told myself, having in mind Psalm 49; and I followed it with open purpose.