IHEAM:VOL. 2 VICTORY! AUNTIE YONNY: EPISODE 70 THE AVENGERS Part 2

IHEAM:VOL. 2 VICTORY! AUNTIE YONNY: EPISODE 70 THE AVENGERS Part 2

Sep 15, 2021, 6:07:36 PM Religion

 

I HAVE AN ETERNITY AHEAD OF ME: VOL. 2 VICTORY!


(Intermittent Waves Recorded From The Transformed Heart Of A Woman)

AUNTIE YONNY: EPISODE 70

THE AVENGERS Part 2


Often, there is nothing that can deter us from making the mistakes that we are determined to make. With all the blinking lights of caution flashing before us, we will ignore them to pursue the desires in our heart. This is why we must always be aware of what is in our heart and set our eyes upon heavenly things. Ironically and unknowingly, we can be led down a path of no return into the gaping jaws of self-destruction.

 

God has not left the fate of man and the world in man's hands. He promised not to destroy the wickedness in the world in the same manner as He did before, when He allowed floods to cover the earth, swallowing up the iniquity that man had sown and reaped. However, the end of a wicked man, led by the prince of darkness, has been determined, and the pit of fire stands ready to consume him. Men and women who embrace evil cannot see that they war against God. Their confidence is shrouded in ignorance. Their unbelief in The Master of Heaven and Earth has emboldened them to trespass against Him. No one watches, they say. No one can do anything to me. I am the master of my on ship and my own universe.


Believing we can disobey God, go around God, or, deny there is a God, we set ourselves up for the consequences of going against an already established Standard that has been set to rule Earth and Heaven. There is no need to check to see if anyone is watching, or, is aware of our plans. The spiritual atmosphere is tuned into the ying and yang that keeps it balanced. It knows when evil and darkness have trespassed and the watchmen are alerted. The Souls are on their guard and a hosts of Angels surround the Throne.


So, then, even after praising and thanking God for His many blessings, why is it so easy for man to give up on God and decide to take matters into his own hands? What is the recipe for amnesia that makes us forget that there is a God in Heaven who has all power in His hands? With what amount of audacity does it take to believe that we can make things turn out like we want them to turn out? What is the weight of salt for which we measure the value of another man's life as being worthy of breath or worthy of our time and attention?


Is it pain which clouds our vision to see holiness and righteousness, or, should we trace the origins back to the beginning of man in the Garden of Eden, when pride spawned a multitude of grief and sin? Day to day, we refuse to see the writing on the wall that warns us of the harm we do to ourselves. Instead, we choose to swallow the pill of pride and become infused with its poison that puts us under a spell in which we are controlled by the adversary. How can we diffuse this ticking time bomb, if we feel that we deserve our pain, as well as our pride? 


We look for reward or vengeance to follow our pain and pride, for that is all the world offers in return for capturing your soul to enslave you to darkness. We seek the tangible instead of the intangible and the promise of eternal reward, freedom, joy, peace, holiness, and righteousness. Why? Without a true relationship with God, we know of no other reward than that which we find within the world. We run toward sin and danger in exchange for material wealth and superficial relationships, having no depth, lasting meaning, or, value. We run toward the familiar and find ourselves in corruption and repetition of sin and sorrow. We know of no other fulfillment, peace of mind, or, ending, for we lack one thing, which is--unconditional love. It is through this deficiency that we become...nothing.

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Derek Graves was escorted from his limousine by Secret Service Agents and rushed to the stage of the arena, where a cheering crowd was standing and shouting campaign slogans. When he reached the podium, he found his speech loaded onto the screen and ready. All seemed to be quite normal and expected. Derek was pleased. He felt the bulge of his gun in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, just for added assurance and confidence. He wasn't taking any chances, even with added security around him. 


Seeing him arrive upon the stage, the cheering of the crowd grew louder. He decided to let them continue for a while, giving him a chance to catch his breath. Derek thrived off of the praises and worshipping of his fans. It made him come alive, even when he was tired or down. The louder and longer they cheered, the more he got fired up to deliver his speech. -But, he knew that he would have to be the one to quiet them down, which often took a few minutes, or, more. With no other speakers on the platform that day, Derek allowed the crowd to rage on, taking in all of the glory.


He began his speech in his usual way, praising his supporters and campaign workers for all of their support and hard work. He told them how none of this could be possible without them and that he was committed to fight to make their lives better. About ten minutes into his speech, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure appearing at the left side of the stage. Behind him was a taller man in the shadows, whom he could not identify from where he was standing. 


Derek returned to his speech, giving no thought to the men. They were probably volunteers for the rally, he thought. He was just about to present his economic policies when the figure seemed to be pushed into the light upon the stage. The lurching figure seemed reluctant and frightened. When the man lifted his head, Derek recognized his longtime attorney and confidante, Christopher Holland. The agents around seemed to recognize him also and one by one they began to stand down and alert other security to do the same. Derek kept talking, as Christopher Holland slowly and awkwardly approached the podium, shielding his eyes from the lights and trying not to look at the crowd. Derek tried to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary and Holland's entrance was planned.


"Well, Christopher...uh...you finally made it, huh? Okay folks...uh... give a hand for my personal friend and attorney, Mr. Christopher Holland! He always was one for making grand entrances. Trying to upstage your boss, huh, Chris?"


As the crowd cheered and clapped, Holland kept staring at Derek, still looking frightened and as pale as a ghost. Derek, having no idea of why he was there and what he was up to, was trying to make the best of his being there.


"...uh...wave to the crowd, Chris! Hey, folks, this man takes good care of my money. I'm going to make sure that he is there to take good care of yours, too."


Holland, whose hands were shaking, was unable to smile, but, he managed to lift his arm and give a half-hearted wave to the crowd.


"Excuse me one second, folks." Derek covered the microphone and whispered to Holland. "What are you doing here?!!!"


In a shaky, cracking voice, Holland strained to get his words out.


"I-I-I'm...not...alone."


Derek had never seen Holland so utterly petrified before. He lifted his eyes and looked toward the corner of the stage. He could see the man's image better. He was tall and muscular with blonde hair which looked like it hadn't been combed. His clothes were disheveled, his face unshaven, and his eyes glazed with anger. Derek looked Christopher Holland in the eyes, as if to say, who is he. Clearly, still in his state of shock, Holland wasn't going to be too helpful. He only managed to say one word.


"R-r-r...Russsh...Russians"


Derek's eyes grew large as he ascertained the implications of what Christopher Holland was telling him. He reached inside of the pocket of his suit jacket, then, slowly withdrew his hand, realizing that it was not a wise move to make. He didn't know how many Russians were with the man or if there was a sniper near by ready to take him out. Perhaps, he thought, bringing Christopher here is a sign that they want to talk. He knew that alerting security could only make matters worse, if it came to be known that he was involved in the bloodshed and all out war that happened last night. 


Derek decided to play his cards, believing he still had a chance to make things right. Holland's text he had read that morning had briefly explained that things had gotten out of hand and now the Russians were involved. He had asked for protection for him and his family and help in getting them out of the country as soon as possible. Derek thought that he had time to deal with things his way. He had always been good at talking himself out of things and believed this to be another situation where his money could do the talking for him.



 ************************************************************************



Martin's Venezuelan comrades managed to get their hands on some clean, unmarked guns, along with an ample supply of ammunition in no time at all. They had offered to help him do whatever he was planning to do, but, Martin had refused to get them involved, telling them that this was something he had to do alone. They dropped Martin off in a parking lot near the arena where Derek's rally was being held. Martin's training and skills enabled him to find a way into the arena, undetected and armed. Looking like any other Derek Graves fan, he made his way into a coat room and settled in to wait. He had learned how to wait for the right moment, no matter how long it took. You waited and kept your mind focused upon your objective, visualizing every move inside of your head, until it was memorized and perfected. He slowed his breathing down, relaxed his muscles, and waited.


 ************************************************************************


Steve and Jake had amassed a stockpile of weapons in the building Hal had rented out to them, so, Hal had his pick of the litter. He chose the newest Glock out on the market and loaded his pockets with ammunition. No one in the stock room questioned him, knowing that he was their bosses' boss. 


Hal caught a taxi and instructed him to drive to a restaurant across from the arena. He wasn't worried about being caught, but, for some reason he was still taking precautions. Second thoughts, he asked himself? No, he told himself. In his mind, he knew what he wanted, and had to do, in order to ensure the safety of his family and avenge his father's death. After finishing a cup of coffee, he walked over to the arena. Blending into the crowd, he found a storage room close to the stage, then, crouched down into a corner behind some boxes to await his chance for revenge. Derek's voice could be heard throughout the arena. It would be easy to know when the rally was about to end. Then, Hal thought, then, will Derek Graves find out who he really is.


Hal shook his head trying clear his mind. He told himself not to think about what was going to happen next, just look for an opportunity and take it. Zenobia, Rachel, and his children would be better off without him. He had to do this for them. There would be plenty of money to give them a good life and take care of their future. Hal was convinced that he was the sacrificial lamb and it would all be worth it. He couldn't bring his father back, Miriam, Sam, or, Arturo, but, for now, it took some of the sting out of Derek's victory, the pain from missing his father, and the fear of Derek killing someone else he loved. 


He didn't expect anyone to forgive him for his mistakes and the mess he had made out of everyone's life. He couldn't even forgive himself, especially if Zenobia was going to die, too. He'd attained wealth and fame, and perhaps, this was as far as he could go in life. Now, it was time to pay up and pay the piper. He'd sold his soul and there was no turning back. -But, he decided that he wasn't going to hell without taking Derek Graves with him.


 ************************************************************************


It took the impatience of the crowd to unfreeze the two men frozen upon the stage. Neither man knew exactly what to do next. When the crowd began shouting, an aide came up to Derek and asked to be of help. Derek told her that he was alright and would be returning to his speech. He looked at Christopher Holland with a blank face.


"Tell him that I need to finish my speech, then, I'm all his."


Holland turned to look at the face of the man offstage. It was covered in hatred and determination. He wasn't sure if he would be able to convince him to allow Derek to finish. Sheepishly, he walked off stage and relayed Derek's message.


"He said that he has to finish his speech or everyone will be suspicious and it might alert security. You might not make it out of here. It's to your benefit that he finishes his speech. Then, he'll come talk to you."


Borgya wasn't keen on just standing around surrounded by secret service, police officers, and security personnel, but, he knew from the start that this was a one-way trip. He'd just have to wait for his best chance and take it. Looking around him, he took a minute to think before responding.


"Okay, we'll wait. You stand in front of me and don't make a move, or, you and your family are dead."


Keeping his guard up, he waited for Derek to finish his speech. He'd only need a second to do what he came to do, and in his state of mind, that second would be worth all of the time in the world to him. He moved closer to Christopher Holland, breathing down his neck, to remind him of the danger he was in and the fate that awaited him, should he make the wrong move.


 ************************************************************************


In the midst of our despair, frustration, and gloom, we may feel like giving up and giving in to darkness. All might seem hopeless and final. We may see no other options or choices before us, other than the one the enemy has suggested or whispered into our ear. It is then, in that moment, that we must make a choice to follow through on the now, or, begin to hope for the future. It only takes going out on faith to BELIEVE. Your belief in what God can and will do can and will change everything. 



Published by Michelle T. Kenner

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