Based on a True Story

“What do I care if they are hungry?” Comrade Snezhana scoffed.  “We’ve put up with them all day long, and are taking a well-deserved break.”
Lyosha could hear whimpering down the long halls in the orphanage and it made her feel uncomfortable. She knew how little the children had to eat today, and it wasn’t any better yesterday, or last week either.

A half-hour later Comrade Roksana handed her a glass of wine to go with the expensive white chocolates that were topping off the meal but she felt too full or was it sick, to take another bite.
A toddler’s fretful whimpers were turning into lusty wails. Lyosha knew she should go comfort Klava before Comrade Snezhana strode over there and started slapping her around. But Lyosha didn’t dare. She knew she had the reputation of spoiling the ‘brats’ and didn’t have the nerve to make a scene in front of the other comrades including hardened officers who were partying with them.

I suppose you are horrified that something like this really did happen in Russia during the war. Why is it that we can sympathize with physical needs and want to do something, yet hardly hear the hidden cry of our or their hearts?
How many children, young people, and others are starving spiritually while those of us that should be helping are feasting on what the world has to offer and barely take enough spiritual manna to keep our own souls alive?
When’s the last time we have had a truly satisfying hour of studying the Bible? When is the last time we fasted, not to be seen of men, but because we had such a deep longing to pray, that food or earthly pleasures just didn’t seem important? I fall so far short but pray that I can do better!

Destroy the Enemy!

Do you know there are victims of sex crimes right under our noses practically that we don’t even know of? Do you know how evil Sex Communes are? Have you ever spoken to a victim who endured unspeakable torture in one of these horrendous strongholds of Satan? Christians Awake! These powerhouses MUST be destroyed! The evil “Daddy’s” must be routed out and brought to justice. These girls need to be cared for in loving, Christian foster homes and receive the emotional and physical care most of them have never experienced before!

I am not talking theoretically. I know some of these victims and have come to love them dearly.

Please, do me; do them, a huge favor. Pray for them: fast, also, if you feel the desire to. Sign this petition to say you will join in prayer; its high time Satan’s demons are confounded!

The Flood From a Child's Viewpoint

The Flood from a Child’s Viewpoint

Have you ever gotten the feeling that there were things in the Bible that didn’t seem right but you thought you should bury your head in the sand and pretend you didn’t notice? One question you might have asked yourself is: why did God allow man to have a free will then destroy him with a flood?

Shaba’s eyes rounded in horror and he clasped his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting, or worse yet screaming. He couldn’t keep from staring at the charred bones in the pit of ashes. At first he was totally frozen to the spot then completely involuntarily his foot nudged at the bones. Yes, it was a skull, a tiny human skull. He knew it was, had known it would be. A shadow felt across the pit, a huge black shape holding a machete. Before he had a chance to flee or even scream he was yanked by his hair and dangling a foot above the ground.

                “Ha! I knew your curiosity would get the better of you sooner or later! Yup, that’s your kid sister alright. Made a mighty good sacrifice, she did, but not as good a one as you would have.”

                Shaba wanted to wriggle and try to get free but was too terrified. The monster-like man whipped the machete within a hairbreadth of his neck then slowly pressed it closer, drawing blood.

                A small crowd was gathering around, some cheering him on.

                “What do you think guys? Should we take this one?”

                “Nah,” one of his companions drawled. “He’s too skinny. One brute a night is plenty or it will get too common.”

                Faintly over the breeze they hear someone with a strong voice speaking.  Shaba saw the crowds’ attention shift from him to the distance preacher. Mobid’s grip slackened and Shaba fought desperately to get away.

                “Hey, I didn’t say you could go!” But Shaba had vanished, a ripped piece of his tunic dangling from Mobid’s hand. Mobid lunged after him but he didn’t have a chance.  Shaba was fleeing for his life.

               

                “You okay, Shaba?” The small boy shrank back in terror into the dark recesses of his thatched roof hut. He was pretty sure who was looking in on him but wasn’t about to let his presence be known. Not yet.

                “C’mon Shaba, you’ve been hiding here most of yesterday and all night. Mobid and his gang are picking on other prey. Let’s go find out what Preacher Noah is talking about. It’s pretty safe if we get up close to the ramp.”

                Shaba knew that was true. People hurled insults or even rocks from a distance at the old man but they seemed afraid to do it within twenty feet of him. Did they think he would strike them dead or something? It took a long time for Raibo to convince him to come out, and when he did it was only because Raibo had slashed open a pineapple and coaxed him to come out and help him eat it.

                The boys slipped stealthily through the lush, over-grown jungle, ever keeping a wary eye open for vicious animals and even worse humans.

                Raibo pushed his way through the restless, scoffing multitude hanging around the ark that was being built, with Shaba at his heels.

                Shaba felt his tension slowly ease away when he gazed into Noah’s kind, gentle eyes.

                Most of his sermon was hard to understand but he knew that Noah was pleading with the people to repent of their wicked ways. Shaba knew what wicked meant. He saw it every day. Every day someone was being abused. He didn’t know the words to describe what was happening mainly to little kids like himself and Raibo, but he knew it was evil, very evil, and terror haunted him wherever he went. He looked longingly at Noah and his wife, his three sons and their spouses and knew with a certainty that they never ever had treated each other in the way that every kid and women in his village were molested.

                Noah was begging them to find safety in the Ark because a flood was coming to drown all the bad people. Shaba didn’t need anyone to tell him what a flood was. He would never forget how some older boys had thrown him over a small waterfall and he had thrashed and screamed his way to shore. How he had survived he would never, ever know.

                “Shaba!” The barked command made Shaba’s knees buckle. Was it Mobid? No, but it was just as bad.  The crowd quickly parted as his dad shoved his way through and flung Shaba on the ground. A woman tittered nervously as Jakal thrashed him.

                A sharp cry came from the Ark’s doorway. Jakal rose and shook his black hair out of his eyes, glared at Noah then continued beating the lad.

                Another stern command came from above, and Raibo said later he thought for sure Noah and his sons were going to plunge into the crowd and break up the fight, but just then Jakal yanked Shabo to his feet and dragged him away. Raibo didn’t dare follow, he was sure Shaba would be killed anyway.