The Messenger in Seoul

The sky hung low over the rice fields west of Seoul. As our bus jostled back and forth, I watched the Messenger look upon the gray landscape of apartment blocks, construction cranes, highway flyovers and the many, many greenhouses that seemed to fill every space in between.

Our bus turned upward and passed over a long bridge. Marshall gazed out the window over the coastal planes of Incheon. We spoke about the Great Waves of Change, and began to consider together Korea’s position facing the mounting force of both economic and environmental change now effecting the East Asia region. Could the tremendous growth experienced in Korea over the last 50 years be sustained and stabilized in a world of shrinking wealth? As we passed into the city of Seoul, the true extent of Korea’s growth became apparent.

So too did Korea’s predicament. Along the highway stretched vast industrial centers ringed with apartment buildings – the biggest I have ever seen – which rose in clusters like the seedlings of newly planted cities. New parks, new malls, new sub-cities of Seoul, all seemingly under construction or expansion. According to the Great Waves of Change, the favorable conditions that enable today’s prosperity are evaporating with each passing year. How will this affect Korea? This country of 50 million has lept from pre-electricity village life to super-city modernity in only 40 years. As the buildings and lights of downtown Seoul filled the windows of our limousine bus, we took in the seemingly unstoppable energy of Korea. Industrious and innovative, this country has marched itself to the top of the world’s economic elite in the shortest time imaginable. Yet can it be sustained?

Marshall gazed steadily at the passing streets. The New Message from God he brings has an important revelation for this country. Yet who can stop and listen? Or simply stop? Seeing Marshall, Messenger of the future, pass through Seoul, mega-city of a past era now in its final years made me stop, and think: “The Messenger is here. He has brought God’s New Message for this place and these people. Now, who will coe to meet him? Who can receive what he brings?”

 

Over the Far North

The Messenger’s journey to Korea began on a cold October morning in Colorado. His flight would carry him across the Pacific, brushing the norther arctic and taking him over the wilds of Russia and then south to the city of Seoul.

We shared the plane from Denver to San Franscisco with 50 Korean school children who, before takeoff and at the request of the flight staff, sang in unison the Korean and American national anthem. The plane filled with the sound of children’s’ voices. These children would make the long flight with Marshall to Seoul. His relationship with the Korean people had already began.

In Denver, the airline made Marshall put his bag under the plane, a minor request of government in return for his freedom to journey wherever he needs to go on Earth to bring the New Message from God to people waiting to receive it.

Departing San Francisco, our plane passed above the mountains of northern California, an important location in the reception of the Allies of Humanity briefings several decades ago. From there, our plane arced further north, over the inland passage of Alaska, the Aleutian islands and then away, past the final edge of North America and into a vast expanse of blue ocean.

After some hours we struck land once again: the upper arctic of Russia and the coastal mountains of Kamchatka. Sweeping mountain ranges stretched to the edges of the horizon and beyond – an enormous wilderness without roads or settlements, snowswept and empty. Night was now falling over North America, but morning was illuminating the frosted peaks and large rivers far below us. As our plane turned south, the snow receded from the landscape, clinging only to a few remaining peaks. Now we entered a region of lakes and tundra, still empty for many miles until a small settlement appeared, and then a road, and then a small coastal port. After this our plane left land once again, flying down across the sea of Okhotsk until we reached the small peninsula of Korea.

Korea was green and forested. Farms filled the valleys in a patchwork of pale yellow and blue, which appeared to be either greenhouses of fish farms. The hills were pristine, with healthy forests and few structures. Instead the valleys were the site of humanity, like veins of civilization, small leading to large, large ultimately leading to Seoul.

More images, videos and stories in the days to come…

As the Sun Rose over Tehran

(Part 2 of the Messenger’s Journey to Iran)

A tapping sound entered my dreams and I labored in my sleep to make sense of it.

There was a man standing in the dark shade of fir trees. Behind him was a hillside of gold aspens and up between the branches I could see white rocky peaks against the sky. Snow was everywhere.

He stood looking at me, tapping his ringed finger on a wooden post at his side. I didn’t see his face and could only concentrate on the metal ring, tap tap tapping on dry wood.

In an instant I was up in bed. The tapping was behind me, on the door, not hard but urgent: tap, tap…tap,Tap, Tap.

I laid there for a moment. The room was dark and shadowy and the hum of Tehran’s early morning streets permeated the background.

I opened the door and my father was there. “Reed, I need to record.” Honestly, in that second, I had no idea what he meant.

But then it all returned to me: where I was and who I was with. I was in Tehran with my father, The Messenger. He had been awoken by the angelic presence to be given a revelation for humanity. It was the first of many nights in Iran and the next stage of God’s New Message was about to begin.

I looked out the door to watch him walk wearily down that brashly lit hall.

Back in the room, Darlene lay awake, looking up at the ceiling. “Does he want us to be there?”

“Yes we can be there.”

“I need to get the recorder ready.”

In the dark I pulled it all together and went back to the door. Darlene followed me but more carefully; she had to cover herself with hijab – the law, even at 4:45am in the empty halls of a hotel.

I entered his room. It was lit only by a candle. Marshall sat in a chair in the far corner, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Hearing us come in he peered up, wanting to know who had entered the room. Then he relaxed down again. Patricia sat ten feet away, looking at him steadily.

I set up the recorder next to Marshall. And then I checked to make sure it worked. It did. I left it there beside him and took my place with Patricia and Darlene.

We sat in quiet. A gray light was in the window behind the curtains. Somewhere a sun was rising over the deserts to the east. Tehran was awakening. And then the revelation began:

“God watches over the world, for the world is a troubled place.

It has always been so.

That is why you have come to the world.

It is a place where God has been forgotten, and your true nature has been forgotten.

It is a place of competition and conflict, where life is difficult, where you must constantly solve the problems of your daily existence.

It is a place where people seem foreign to one another and foreign to themselves, as God has created them.”

It is a place of appearances.

It is a place of sensation.

It is wonderful and dangerous, beautiful but confusing.

It is where the separated have come to live, to learn how to give again and to bridge the gap so that the separation may be ended in time.”

and it continued…

God Speaks at 12,000 Feet

On a fall evening in 2011, Marshall, Patricia and I walked at 12,300 feet in the hills above Leadville, Colorado.

Its a tortured landscape above this former mining town: hewed ridges, residue slides, broken mine equipment and hills that aren’t actually hills, but mine tailings heaped several stories high. The tailings mounds are mono-tone gray, red or jet black and they deny the growth of any plant life. Healthy fir trees grow in tight stands but only in those places where humanity hasn’t touched.

Tortured but immensely still; almost deathly still. A pair of birds flew up the mine road that leads to barren mountains high above. That barrenness is a result of elevation, not humans. But after centuries of human impact, the barrenness of peaks seems to be creeping down into the places where trees should be able to grow, but now never will.

We stopped along the mine road. I sat on a piece of upturned concrete and gazed into the valley below Leadville. Deep rich forests grow unperturbed, filling the valleys thick and spreading up the mountain side until green gives way to gray in a natural gradient we call “tree line.” It’s a beautiful place, healthy and original.

But at the mouth of the valley, patches of brown forest are beginning to appear. This is a sign of encroachment from the adjacent Dillon-Breckenridge valley, which has been ravaged by the Pine Bark Beetle infestation to an astounding degree. Imagine mountains brown with trees, not brown with rock. Of course a brown forest is a waypoint, lasting a geological second, towards a permanently barren place.

Already, 2 million acres of dead trees blanket the Rockies from Colorado to Wyoming. The barrenness which formerly belonged to peaks, which formerly was caused by mining and human industry, is now an unstoppable natural event, a disease spreading into the highest, healthiest, most untouched valleys.

These are the Great Waves of change in motion. Earth has been altered. Dangerous natural forces have been unleashed. And because of this, God has spoken again.

Sitting there on that mine road, I thought of these words: “Certain regions will be devastated. Others will be impaired….Large areas of the world that are now highly inhabited will become uninhabitable…there will be immense migrations of people away from such areas. There will be environmental refugees and there will be war refugees on a scale never seen before. The areas of the world where humanity will be able to live will shrink, forcing millions of people to move elsewhere. You must prepare for eventualities. Nature is unmerciful to the unprepared.

God has provided a New Message for humanity to warn humanity of the Great Waves of Change, to warn humanity of intervention from the Greater Community and to teach that humanity has a greater spiritual power called Knowledge that represents its core strength. Humanity must use this Knowledge and its own native abilities to restore the world.”
The Great Waves Prophecy

Below us the town was darkening. The last rays of light shot across the valley and lit the peaks and slag hills above us a profound red or purple or yellow.

Across the valley, a massive body of mountain cut a sharp silhouette into the sky; Mount Elbert, second highest peak of the United States, was descending into its massive shadows. Below it, the small lights of Leadville shined out.

Despite what it brought into this valley long ago, the town looked innocent and guiltless; a small human settlement that could never alter the vast and powerful landscape that surrounds it. Though that’s not really true. Down the road, Climax, one of the world’s biggest molybdenum mines, is still carving deep into the mountain side.

The New Message from God speaks of retribution, not from God but from Nature. It says that humanity has violated the life-systems of this planet to such a degree that there will be retribution from the world – “the times to come are the fruits of humanity’s labors, the bitter fruits of deception and conquest, of greed and ambition, of the misuse of the world.”

Sitting on that hillside, I looked out on the scars of mining and at the patches of brown disease now creeping into this valley. On the surface, it was a quiet evening; pleasant and still scenic. But I could feel the disturbance. Something is approaching: “bitter fruits,” retribution from nature, a series of eventualities we cannot stop.

This is why God has sent a new Message and a new Messenger into the world. And tonight, seeing the tenuous situation of this single valley of Earth, I could feel that burning need. It burns in so many other tenuous situations across the world. Doesn’t humanity need a New Message from God?

We passed down the mine road and back into the neighborhoods of Leadville. In that moment, I didn’t know that Angelic forces were already in motion, responding to the presence of my father, the Messenger in this one valley. In the morning, when Marshall Vian Summers would awaken, God would speak again; here at 12,000 feet delivering a message for world titled “Living in a Time of Revelation.”

The Messenger in Tehran

(In 2008, I accompanied the Messenger to Iran. This is part 1 of my recollection of that important journey. Part 2)

Heat rose like steam off the streets of Tehran. Every few blocks we came upon a new river: six lanes moving fast and no street lights to slow the rushing cars. It was 5pm and a city of 8.5 million was eager to get home.

Darlene and I were on a day’s walk through this vast city, trying to find our feet so that we could better accompany the Messenger. He was arriving that night on a plane from Frankfurt.

It would be a three week journey in Iran, taking us from Tehran to Mashad, near the Afghan border; from Shiraz to Yazd, one of the last centers of Zoroastrianism; then on to Esfahan and Qom, the center of Shiia Islam; finally returning to Tehran.

A yellow sun beat down between the high buildings and combined with the car fumes to create a sepia glow. Like in Manhattan, Tehran’s avenues are long and straight. But today we couldn’t see far into the ochre haze which seemed to consume everything on the horizon.

We stood at the gates of Tehran University. This campus has been at the epicenter of nearly every Iranian freedom movement to arise in recent years. As a result, it’s shut to foreigners by law.

But the guard was far too sweet for the law. I told him we were from the United States and that we just wanted to see the campus. With furtive looks and a smile of pure satisfaction he pushed aside the road block and showed us onto the main pedestrian thoroughfare which runs down the campus.

Along the way, we met a group of medical students gathered on the steps of the School of Dentistry. A young guy asked where we were from. “Uniteeed States, alright!” he said with great energy and a big nod. “That is so great. Welcome to Tehran.”

Their friendliness and desire to connect was palpable, as it was with so many others we would meet in the days ahead.

Yet right after his emphatic welcome, the call to prayer sounded at the University mosque nearby. A discomfort entered the air and some of the medical students turned away and began talking about other things. The young man continued to look at us with a warm smile, along with another another girl in the group. Yet for some reason, a moment later we were on our own again, walking south.

We passed the campus gates and stood outside. The fervor of the streets seemed even greater; taxis fought for lane-space and an aged city bus dumped its fumes and sounds on us at gunned forward to make a light.

By now, the sun was sinking into a red horizon, red beyond belief. 30 minutes later, we were watching it from our hotel window 10 floors up. A beautiful sight, but grim. The sun setting on miles of humanity forced to live beneath a poison sky.

It stirred in me a feeling of the future. Today, this is Tehran. But some day, it will be Earth; oceans dying, farm land drying up; broken governments and cities crowded beyond capacity; the world’s resources being depleted for survival.

I thought of Marshall, who was then somewhere high above the Black Sea coast. Soon the Messenger will be here, I thought; with these people, in this city. He brings with him the wisdom of the Creator and a New Message from God for humanity.

“Soon the Messenger will be here.” What a remarkable thing. Soon the Creator will be able to speak to all humanity under this red sky, alongside these millions of people, in a city ringed by deserts and dry mountains, facing an uncertain future.

After all, this is why we came: for the Messenger to be with these people and to receive in Iran a series of revelations from God.

Several hours later, I stood alone in the lobby of our hotel. A black car pulled up and with a wave I stepped outside.

My driver took me through the southern slums of the city. Orange and green lights illuminated the empty streets. Alleys winded in a thousand directions leading into dense neighborhoods; so many families packed into a single room, another night leading to another day when the sun rises hot over Tehran and the grinding press of daily life continues.

At the edge of the city all lights flickered out. The road became a highway, fully lit by hundreds of lamps in tight succession. We were the only car on it; like a lone particle traveling down a light tunnel surrounded by total dark.

I remembered this darkness from several days ago. Even as my plane neared the ground everything was dark – not a single light, except for one lone highway, brightly lit, snaking for miles like a canopy boardwalk above a deep unknown.

The Messenger Marshall Vian Summers was now seeing the same. Soon he would join me and take this lone highway back into the city of Tehran.