Update 29 September, 2014 (5 Tishri, 5775)-
Wanted to leave you brethren with this image of what’s coming to the USA in approaching years-
First, these solar eclipses are 2422 days apart, just 98 days (7+7 x 7) shy of the famous 2520 of Tribulation and The Writing on the Wall. This is also precisely 346 weeks, related perhaps to rebellion(?). Now, I’m by no means suggesting that the USA will still be a viable nation in 2024, or even 2017; however, the signs even if post-fall are ominous in their clarity. Note that the two eclipses essentially intersect in SE Missouri, which is spot-on the most active part of the New Madrid Fault which “divides” America, and also note that this position is likewise on the Mississippi River and is, in fact, only 150 miles downstream from the precise USA population center in extreme eastern Missouri!
On another note, thanks to all of you sisters and brothers who signed up for the new blog; the numbers are humbling indeed, despite some surprising omissions. The signup period is now effectively over, and the e-mail address is being retired. It’s 5 Tishri and I’m being obedient to the Father in preparing for my new role on the front lines of defense for the True Church in America, high upon the watchman’s wall, and in addition learning the ways of the Hebrew sofer. Comments are now closed as we’re well into the High Holy Days of Tishri in this Shemitah year. Shalom, dear sisters and brothers, and “see you” at the new blog shortly.
The understanding that America is the end times Babylon the Great is still a minority view amongst Christians world-wide, although the sheer volume and authority of the Biblical proof is beginning to have an impact as this world enters the latter of the latter days. Understandably perhaps, it is especially difficult for Americans themselves to grasp this truth, especially those with a military background and/or active membership in the established “Church”. Protestant evangelical American Christians in particular tend to be patriotic types who are nationalistically-blinded. I know, for I was one of them not that many years ago. In fact, there was no-one more fervently patriotic in the wake of the 9/11 events than I was, believe me. I flew the American flag in front of my house proudly for several years beginning the week of 9/11, and even had a series of flags which adorned my car antenna over the succeeding years. When eventually each tiny American antenna flag would get soiled and need to be replaced I’d be sure to dispose of it with a proper military-style burial, which is to say with “full honors”. I mention all of this because it seems many readers think that to acknowledge America as Babylon must mean that person despises his or her country. This could not be further from the truth, at least most certainly not in my case. What it means, instead, is that one’s spiritual eyes have been opened and the person has undertaken a concerted study of the Word of God on the matter. As per my own situation, post-9/11 I immediately began to research Islam. One could say that I was “awakened” by 9/11, and unlike most Americans (short attention span that we’re known for), I never went back to sleep. Instead, early on I spent countless hours on World Net Daily and similar sites, and read multiple books. And, of course, as a “patriot” I was gung-ho to attack both Afghanistan and, somewhat later, Iraq. This study of Islam was eye-opening, although in hindsight my views on the wars have changed dramatically, as has my opinion of then-President Bush II likewise changed to the negative. Suffice it to say that I’m aware that true Islam as practiced by pious Muslims is a savage and barbaric religion. Why? True Muslims truly follow the Koran, and these followers are tragically deceived by their prophet Muhammad, who is actually the ultimate false prophet. His “Angel Gabriel” was none other than a high level demonic entity, therefore his continued veneration and powerful influence throughout the centuries represents a profound spiritual victory for Satan, as over one billion souls, nearly a quarter of mankind, are headed to eternal torment. Of course, I’m aware that “the future must not belong to those who slander the prophet of Islam”, words spoken by Mr. B.H. Obama at the United Nations two years ago, nearly to the day. If speaking the truth in 2014 America is now “slandering”, then I stand duly accused by the most powerful man in the world. However, as a watchman I must continue to speak the truth, and so there is more to say. Starting with this: to equate “Allah” with the One True God Yahweh, as Bush II did years ago (and so many continue to do today), is absolute blasphemy, an abomination.
But, I digress. Back to the story of post 9/11. So, as I was saying I learned much about true Islam, which has been extremely beneficial in viewing the world with clear spiritual sight . . . think ISIS, Al Qaeda, Hamas, Boko Haram, Islamic Jihad, Khorasan, Hezbollah, etc. ad nauseam. Next, realizing that 9/11 was a watershed event in world history, I started again to ardently study end times Bible prophecy. You see, I had much earlier been a huge fan of the writings of the 70’s and 80’s “prophecy gurus” led by Hal Lindsey with his classic treatise Late Great Planet Earth (and other books), but as I went on with “normal life” and thereby backslid from the faith I had put my studies aside for a decade or two. Okay, so as I began to fervently study end times prophecy yet again I dove headfirst into the Left Behind series by authors Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins . . . a lot of deception there, as well, I see in hindsight, but this reading did act as a “trigger” (Praise God) for me to start opening up my Bible first and foremost and to look at the prophecies myself. And when I did so I came back again and again to the most perplexing question of all (in my mind)- “what or who is Babylon the Great?” With the invasion of Iraq many Bible eschatologists were convinced that end times prophecy was happening right before our eyes, that great Babylon the city would be rebuilt in Iraq and that eventually the world would be led from a seat of government based there (this was also echoed in the Left Behind series). Well, I didn’t buy it, too many things did not fit once I opened my Bible and read the prophecies for myself. For one thing, I couldn’t corroborate the “harlot” with “Iraq”; not a fit, no way Jose. Therefore I next went to the internet and read everything available on all the various theories involving the identity of Babylon. These included the aforementioned Iraq, as well as Rome/Vatican, Jerusalem, London, Turkey, and Saudi Arabia. I also found a few articles which promoted America (and/or New York City) as Babylon. Like I said, I read everything (I’m a very thorough person; therefore when I undertake a project I exhaust the references and possibilities; for example my M.S. Thesis “Bibliography” section contained every single referenced book or article, from multiple languages, ever published on the specific topic, which totaled several hundred!). Dear readers, it was not until circa September 2008 that it hit my spirit (hit like a ton of bricks) that Babylon was my own beloved America. The Biblical evidence is simply overwhelming for those with spiritual eyes to see. Of course, I was heartbroken, and let me assure you that the grieving has been a process. It takes time. But we simply have to face the truth. Now this is not the article in which to discuss the dozens of reasons “why” America is end times prophetic Babylon, also called Babylon the Great and the daughter of Babylon, but this background regarding my own patriotic past was necessary to provide to you, the readers, as I’m now going to discuss just a bit of my family history, specifically on my maternal grandmother’s side.
A Family Story-
My ancestors first came to America well before her birth as an independent nation; in fact, about 130 years before, in the 1640’s. My forefathers fought in the American Revolution, including a many-greats grandfather who was a proud Green Mountain Boy from Vermont, a true revolutionary in every sense of the word. In the Civil War with the Union Army, I’ve an ancestor of my father on his mother’s side who fought with the famed First Minnesota Volunteer Infantry at Gettysburg which sustained a horrific 82% casualty rate while turning the tide of battle (and the war) to the Union. Back to my maternal grandmother’s side, however, there are early California roots. The Angle and Haskett families moved out West as part of the “Gold Rush” in the mid-1800’s and settled in northern California not far from Sutter’s Mill* (wonderful song from the late great Dan Fogelberg here, and a nicely-done video which serves as an excellent short history lesson)-
One uncle indeed struck it rich and owned the lovely ranch on which the famed racehorse Seabiscuit would, only decades later, be born and bred (and buried). But it is my great great aunt of whom I wish to speak now. Her name was Delia Buraguard Haskett (married name Rawson), and she was born exactly 100 years and a day before I was born! Not to mention that we were both born in northern California, as I’m a Sacramento native. I was pleasantly startled, but somehow not surprised, a couple of years ago when I walked into my local Wells Fargo Bank branch in Texas and saw my great great aunt’s picture and short biography on the screen above the teller’s booth, as part of a slideshow-
At the age of 14, Delia Haskett was the first—and perhaps youngest—girl stage driver ever to carry the U.S. mail in California.
Yes, Aunt Delia will always remain a “legend of America” as revealed below (bold emphasis C.M.). From http://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-womenlist-r-s.html
Rawson was born Delia Buraguard Haskett on December 7, 1861 in Ukiah, California. Her mother, Miranda, was a school teacher, and her father, Samuel owned the Ukiah Hotel, a blacksmith shop and was the agent for the local Wells Fargo stage line. As a very young girl, she was constantly asking him to let her hold the reins. She also became very skilled at trick riding, roping and shooting. When she was just 14, one of her father’s regular drivers took ill and she was given the opportunity to drive the stagecoach, carrying the U.S. Mail, from Ukiah to Willetts. The trip began in the afternoon would not be complete until about 3:00 a.m. the next morning.
Warned against the danger, she set out on the trip and around midnight became very alarmed when a group of horseman came up upon her coach.
Though she was sure it was road agents, she was very relieved when she realized they were a group of singing men on their way home from a church meeting. Before long, Delia became a regular backup driver on the 45 mile Lakeport-Ukiah run, which she continued for about ten years.
She later married and moved to southern California in the 1880s with her husband and had three children. In 1934, when the Pioneer Stage Drivers of California Association was organized at Carpentaria, she was elected Vice President. By the time she was in her seventies, she was living and working on a 10-acre orange grove in San Dimas. She died at the age of 87 on May 15, 1949.
The following article by Katy Tahja is exceptional, and I will quote her, and her quotes of Aunt Delia, extensively (bold emphasis C.M.)-
I find ideas for my Kelley House articles in some rather strange sources. Here’s a tidbit from a 1937 Pony Express Magazine.
‘The Girl Who Once Drove a Stage,’ by Delia Haskett Rawson tells the story of an occasional driver from 1876 to 1888 who drove the stage between Ukiah and Long Valley or Ukiah and Willits for her father when help was short. The trip, to quote the language of the times, was ‘through redwoods, over torrential streams, on slippery mountain roads, avoiding highwaymen (robbers) and with delays arriving at her destination far into the night.’ Delia was writing about her own girlhood driving a four-horse stage with government mailbags.
When not dealing with a ‘motley assortment of wanderers’ as passengers, she rode in horse races, did trick and fancy riding in rodeos and took prizes in shooting matches. She was also expert with a muleskinners long whip. This was not a woman to mess around with.
On the feminine side, Delia also won beauty contests and sang professionally. Her father, Samuel W. Haskett, had moved to Potter Valley in 1860 and owned a hotel, blacksmith shop, and a stage line. Her mom was a school teacher for 48 years. Delia drove stages until 1885, and went on in later years to be a mine owner, oil baroness, rancher, horticulturist and inventor. Her daughter, Dale Fuller, became a movie actress in Hollywood.
When the California Pioneer Stage Drivers Association formed in 1934, Delia was the only woman accepted into the group.
In an 1878 Beacon story, it was stated that the two great evils faced in stage travel were women. Firstly, was the woman with too much of a gift of gab. Secondly, was the woman who had not enough. The former will talk you to death by asking questions and telling you things you care nothing about. The second will sit and stare at you.
In 1877, tips for stagecoach travelers included getting the best seat, such as being up by the driver. When the driver asks you to get out and walk, do so without grumbling. Abstain from liquor in cold weather or you’ll freeze twice as fast. Don’t grumble about the food you ate at the last station because the stage company provides the best they can get locally.
It was also suggested you don’t smoke a strong pipe. If you have anything to drink in a bottle pass it around. Procure your stimulants before starting as ranch whisky is not nectar. Don’t flop over on a neighbor while sleeping. Never shoot from the coach, as it may frighten the horses.
If there are women passengers present, do not point out where murders and robberies have been committed. Don’t discuss religion or politics. Don’t imagine for a minute you are going on a picnic. Expect annoyances and discomfort.
And in addition this fine article by Joe Blackstock (bold emphasis C.M.)-
Suddenly, young Delia Haskett’s worst fears were coming true on that dark road in Northern California’s Mendocino County about 1876.
Delia, only about 14, didn’t care that she was making history that night as the first woman to drive a stagecoach in California carrying the mail. All she knew was that she was very scared.
The young woman had gotten off the coach about 11 p.m. to water her team and was startled by the sound of approaching horses and men’s voices.
She remembered the warning she had been given about Black Bart – highwayman Charles E. Boles, who held up 28 Wells Fargo stages before his capture in 1883.
Delia, unarmed and driving a coach with no passengers, was resigned to being held up, when suddenly she was surrounded – by song. It turned out to be a group of men signing while riding on the trail back from a religious camp meeting.
Much relieved, young Delia got back on the coach and finished her run from Ukiah to Willits by 3 a.m.
Such were the experiences of a remarkable, but little-known woman who by all accounts was a California combination of Annie Oakley and the Unsinkable Molly Brown. She also spent some of the latter years of her life as a San Dimas rancher.
Born in tiny Potter Valley near Ukiah, Delia was the daughter of Samuel Haskett, the local Wells Fargo agent and later marshal of Ukiah. Her mother, Miranda, was a teacher.
As a child, even before her feet reached the floorboards, she enjoyed riding with her father as he drove the stages. Like a modern-day teen learning to drive a car, she was always asking to take over the “ribbons,” the reins . . .
. . . She also rode in horse races, won prizes for being a crack shot and was said to be an expert with the long whip used by mule skinners.
Delia was also one of the prettiest girls in town, and she earned spending money using her talent for singing. But it’s obvious she enjoyed the rugged life.
And a final quote (bold emphasis C.M.) from-
The San Dimas (California) Press in the mid-1930’s had several articles about Delia Haskett Rawson, who was then in her mid-70’s, living and working on her 10-acre orange grove on West Bonita in San Dimas . . .
. . . Delia’s parents, Samuel and Miranda Haskett, had come West in a “prairie schooner” in 1854, and first settled in Petaluma, then Ukiah, where her mother taught school for 48 years. She was the first California teacher to be retired on a State pension. Delia was born in 1861, and acquired many skills – taking prizes in trick riding, roping, shooting (with a long pistol) – and also was a singer and winner of beauty contests. She was most proud to be able to say at age 75 that she had enjoyed excellent health, had never worn glasses, and until 2 years before, had no dental work done! . . .
. . . In 1934 when the Pioneer Stage Drivers of California Association was organized at Carpinteria, she was elected Vice President, with Capt. William Banning as president. Apparently the meetings were mainly devoted to reminiscing and “swapping” tales. Mrs. Rawson said she was never held up by ‘Black Bart’, a notorious highwayman of the area, although he had ridden on her stage a couple of times. She was noted for entertaining her passengers with her singing, and when she sang in the evening at impromptu affairs, she was often paid in gold dust from the mines, a cow or a sheep, or even vegetables and fruits. (The latter were not thrown at her, but given in appreciation of her lovely voice.)
Delia Rawson had moved to Southern California in the 1880’s with her husband, and subsequently raised her family of 2 sons and a daughter. The daughter, Dale Fuller, worked in the early movies as well as helping her mother with the orange grove in San Dimas.
In the evening when their work was done, they sat enjoying the fragrance of the orange blossoms, and reliving the exciting days when Delia drove the ‘four-in-hand’ coach over the hills and through the redwoods to deliver passengers, freight and the U.S. Mail.
This fine children’s book, Stagecoach Sal, covers Aunt Delia’s story in a charming manner-
According to Goodreads-
An expert in historical picture books has created a wild and wooly adventure–based on real-life stagecoach driver Delia Haskett–that is sure to entice even the most reluctant of readers and celebrate history.
As a boy I spent many happy summer vacations in northern California visiting my relatives; aunts, uncles, and cousins. This is beautiful country even today with the effects of population increase and the ever-present urban sprawl. My parents were absolutely remarkable as far as providing travel and life experiences to we children, so I was able to visit the towns where Aunt Delia once journeyed on her stage route, and even had the opportunity to tour the Ridgewood (Seabiscuit) Ranch where, stunned, I viewed the graves of my great great uncle Rench Angle and 9 of his children; the children had all perished in the great cholera epidemic. Seeing those 9 tiny tombstones had a profound effect on me, and I remember being completely floored by the realization that they had never had another chance to play, to grow up, or to live their dreams. And I was especially affected in knowing that these dear children were related to me, my “little cousins” is how I considered them, even though they had been born a century earlier. When this realization really hit me, I recall just staring at their graves and sobbing uncontrollably. I somehow think that, for some reason, I was much more affected than the others in my family who were there also.
My Aunt survived the epidemic, yet tragically she was cheated out of her land by a crooked lawyer and ended up losing the ranch and dying nearly destitute. And how ironically tragic that thousands of visitors come to that ranch yearly to visit the burial place of a famous horse, Seabiscuit, but how many even notice the little hidden cemetery in which 9 tiny tombstones lie frozen in time, each marking a spot where an actual human child was placed?
A Childhood Story-
My dear mother passed away a couple of years ago; the timing of her passing was incredibly prophetic as it turns out, details of which I’ll discuss shortly on the “new blog”. Mom was a precious and overtly friendly woman who loved people and would “talk the ears off of a complete stranger by entertaining her/him with her entire life story”. She was also extremely tolerant of pain and disliked showing emotion, perhaps a very German tendency. So, what I’m getting at is that when we children were young Mom sometimes came across as somewhat aloof or even uncaring towards us, in stark contrast to how she was perceived publicly and amongst friends. What I mean is that Mom wasn’t very cuddling or outwardly compassionate. Hugs and kisses weren’t a big part of her repertoire, in other words. Mom also had an odd habit of frequently and matter-of-factly speaking about death; specifically the death of children. Some of my most clear and shocking childhood memories are of her stories about children who had passed away. Since she seemed to know everyone in the entire town (if not state, only a slight exaggeration), when my Dad would drive places Mom would point to houses and say such things as “there was a little girl in that house who died when she was 10, and her mother never changed the furnishings in her room so even until today it looks exactly as when the little girl was alive“. Considering that I was a sensitive boy about 10 years old myself when my mother relayed this story, I was quite affected! There was another story about a boy born with a hole in his heart who died at about 8 years of age, and yet another of a young boy who stopped breathing one night, died and “nobody ever knew why“. Finally, there was the boy who had a heart attack while running and died at age 12. Well, the effects these stories had on me psychologically and spiritually were “not good”. I would find myself convinced that I too was destined to die young, and sometimes I was certain that I wasn’t breathing fully nor properly. Other times, I’d feel pain in my chest and think I was about to have a heart attack. Basically, I was a mess. I could not talk to my Mom about the problem for as I said she was rather unemotional and anyway her own stories were a cause, nor could I ever tell my old-fashioned Dad either who I assumed would laugh it off as childish nonsense or perhaps even ridicule me. Likewise, my friends would not understand, and that said I didn’t have many close friends through childhood. Yet during all this confusion and emotional instability I did know Jesus way back then and would pray to Him for comfort. Jesus became my friend who would listen! See John 15:15! And I knew that there was one Book on my parent’s bookshelf that was perfect, and held all the answers: The Holy Bible. I never doubted this as a boy and have never doubted since, no matter what life has brought my way. Yet getting by day-to-day could still be difficult, so during these dark times I would remember the dream I had when I was about 5 years old, a dream in which an angel gave me 7 white beads, placing them in my right hand. When I fully awakened, the beads were still in my hand; they were real beads which were actually perfect holed stones! He was a real angel! That was one of my earliest memories . . . well, the years and decades passed and obviously I’m still here. Now a mature Christian who knows precisely what God wants for me to do on this earth, I no longer fear death. In hindsight it is clear that this childhood fear represents severe spiritual attack, with Satan attempting to disrupt me from my calling. During a particular very serious attack, however, I was 11 and a half years old and it was the summer of 1973. Although we were visiting my grandparent’s place on vacation, a favorite spot of mine, I was extremely melancholy and very fearful of dying. You see, I had just lost a friend, a boy I’d hiked with every summer when we were staying at my grandparent’s house. His name was Phil. Our mutual friend was Michael. So I got up that first morning of vacation and walked down to Michael’s house, where his parents invited me inside. Michael and I immediately decided to go play basketball at the school and then hike up the mountain. So I next asked “what about Phil?” And it was then that Michael’s parents told me he had died just months earlier, in May. He had been struck by lightning while hiking up the mountain just outside of town, the same mountain we’d hiked together many times before. So, here I was in this small town feeling very melancholy and, once again, fearful of dying. Michael and I shot hoops and did some hiking, but it wasn’t the same without Phil And during that week of vacation, the song which I kept hearing over the radio was the lovely, stirring Yesterday Once More by The Carpenters, which was marching up the charts (photo below is post-1973).
Well, I’m a sentimental man now and guess that I was as a boy also. Today, the song reminds me of that troubled summer, of course, but even more strongly hearkens me back to America as she used to be, the America I knew as a boy, the America of yesteryear. The country I love was so much more innocent in the summer of 1973, despite the signs of her fall being in clear sight mere years after the summer of love, combined with increasing societal tensions, political turmoil, war, and the Roe v Wade decision of 22 January that same year. Basically, America was already beginning her fall, but compared to today the innocence of 1973 is striking. Here’s a nice video of the song featuring Karen Carpenter’s gorgeous voice-
For those interested in a complete history of The Carpenters, I recommend the BBC Documentary Close to You. By the way, in addition to Yesterday Once More as a favorite, I suppose the song Superstar registers a close second.
Some of you are aware that Karen Carpenter died very young, just shy of her 33rd birthday. She died of heart failure resulting from the condition anorexia nervosa. She essentially starved herself to death, with prescription medicines apparently also playing a role. Often overlooked also is her heartbreak over her loss of playing drums. You see, Karen originally started out as a drummer, but because of the sheer beauty of her voice her older brother Richard, and the group’s handlers, felt it best for Karen to “step up front” and take a much more visible role behind the microphone. She once remarked that having to give up the drums was like having her heart ripped out; she loved drumming so much and, besides, her reserved and shy personality was such that being the center of attention was not comfortable for her. Such a tragic story, that of Karen Carpenter’s death. Yet what an amazing talent she was! As with Karen Carpenter, the America of today, a youthful country, is unknowingly suicidal and will perish in her youth. America has mere years more to exist, and then she will be gone forever. Never in the history of the world will the greatest empire of the time be overthrown in “an hour” of “a day” [Isaiah 47, Revelation 18] yet, alas, this will be the fate of my beloved “The United States of America”.
This is intended to be the final article on the Chozeh & Nabiy blog**, timed for release one minute before the blog’s 4th anniversary, 29 Elul 5774 as transitions into 1 Tishri 5775. That’s right, one minute later we’ll be in a new year, and it’s a Shemitah year, one with profound implications for this nation and world.
Sisters and brothers, I leave you will this image which speaks about my mission and the subject matter of the new blog. This is the cover of Life Magazine from the very day I was born, 8 December, 1961. If you see this in the spiritual, you’ll let your eyes take you to the burning mountain (America) and the two candlesticks (Two Witnesses), as well as the silver (redemption). This perfectly illustrates my life‘s calling; to God be the glory! God willing we’ll be together again soon, dear brethren.
“Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.” [Jeremiah 1:5]
“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the LORD: And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.” [Malachi 4:5-6]
Repent now, for Tribulation fast approaches our shores,
*”Some would thank the Lord for their deliverance . . . and some would curse John Sutter’s Mill . . . some men’s thirsts are never filled . . .”
**As the Father leads; it is certainly possible that I might post additional articles here on C&N which do not “fit” the concentrated & precise subject matter of the new blog; such articles might involve current events, prophetic happenings, or areas of ongoing Bible research which He compels me to make public . . .
First Minnesota Volunteer Infantry-
Green Mountain Boys-
Karen Carpenter’s Superstar-
Cholera (see second pandemic)-
Dan Fogelberg’s Forefathers (very similar to my own family’s story)-