Fifth Edition

When we left off in Edition Four, I was standing in the middle of a South Sudanese night staring into a flickering campfire listening to the most prolific arms dealer in Africa tell me the next President of the United States would be an Islamic plant – put in America by OPEC and radical Islamic leaders over twenty five years ago. He was tasked only to undermine the Western way of life and make sure that when the Arab countries attacked Israel, America would be unable to come to their assistance. Step by step he laid out the entire plan for me: how this man would orchestrate the destruction of our economy; bring riots to our streets; create chaos between the races; shatter our loyalty to Israel; and undermine and dismantle our military.

 As if that was not enough, he also began describing how he and his family had smuggled the bio weapons of mass destruction out of Bagdad while France and Russia tied the hands of the United States in the United Nations, giving he and his family time to hide or destroy what they couldn’t smuggle out of the country. He stated this would taint almost anything the conservative leadership could bring to the table. He actually knew more about our two-party process than most college graduate students and how not finding weapons of mass destruction would divide our country and put a cloud over our sitting president. With just a little prompting, he revealed that they had taken the bio weapons and nuclear material they had hoarded for decades to Egypt and Libya and had stashed them in Osama bin Laden’s old training camps under the watchful eye of Muammar Gaddafi.

At this point I couldn’t stand to hear any more of his fantasy swill, and without thinking that this man could kill me and no one would even ask him why, I told him what I thought of him and called him a drunken loud mouth that only talked to hear the sound of his own voice. He responded at the top of his lungs, cursing me with every English profanity he knew – acting like the self-conscious bully he was. He said, “I’ll prove it to you.” Throwing back his head and puffing up his chest he blurted out, “To prove to you I know what Al Qaeda is doing, fourteen days from today Rafic Hariri [the ex-prime minister of Lebanon] will be killed in Beirut on February 14th along with his entourage. When you see this, you will know I’m not just a drunken Arab.” Almost speechless, I realized that I just poked a bad dog with a stick, and I treaded very lightly for the rest of the trip.

Upon arriving in Kenya a couple of days later, I went straight to the American Embassy and met with the head of the regional Security (a polite way of saying he ran the African desk for the CIA). As I sat in his office trying to tell him about this hair raising experience, he just stared back at me through his almost black glasses and said, “These guys are always trying to act like they know more about Al Qaeda than anyone else. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.” For the entire thirty minutes I sat in the taxi trying to reach the safety of my hotel room, I kept running the whole scenario over and over in my mind. Had I dreamed the entire thing? Was I the only person in the world that could see this plot to destroy America; and if everything I had seen and heard in the desert was true, what could I do to prepare my generation for the upcoming events? You can only imagine what I felt when on the 14th of February I woke up and turned my TV to the BBC morning news and was met with bloody bodies and tangled steel of what was left of Rafic Hariri’s entourage. They had driven straight into a trap in front of the International Hotel and a planted bomb was triggered just as the ex-prime minister’s vehicle drove past. I grabbed the phone and called the Embassy but they were too busy talking to the State Department trying to explain to someone, whose pay grade was far above their own, how this could have happened on their watch.

 As the day waxed on, it became evident that alcohol had played a part of my conversation with the arms dealer in the desert two weeks earlier. Just before lunch, the arms dealer called and offered me $90,000 just to fly to Yemen and talk to his uncle (who is also a smuggler) about bringing medicine into parts of the Middle East. The alcohol had loosened his tongue, and he had revealed too much classified information to me. Suddenly I knew if I went to Yemen, I would never be seen again. Now for the first time since my arrival in Africa, I caught myself looking over my shoulder and using all the evasive tactics I had been taught. Later that day I called my wife Sharon back in Keller, Texas, and told her if I suddenly disappeared to have the State Department look for me first in Yemen and then in the deserts of South Sudan.

In Edition Six, I will tie more of this into the open vision I experienced on the mountains of Colorado, the Prophetic Words God has given me over the years and to scripture. So please be patient – there is much more to come.

***I have had several friends mention to me that the blog almost reads like a book, but I assure you that this is not fiction. Every word of this is true, down to the smallest detail.

Fourth Edition

For years I tried to piece together the prophetic visions I saw on the mountains of Colorado with Matthew 24, Daniel 7 and Ezekiel 12, but without divine guidance and spiritual insight, they were just one prophetic enigma after another. Now, standing in the heart of darkest Africa with one of the most powerful arms dealers on the continent, I was having a Eureka moment as he shared with me the innermost working secrets of a terrorist group called Al Qaeda. Suddenly, all the visions began to run together, and now it was not just quick snippets of “open vision flashes,” it was a full feature film being orchestrated by the hand of God. After all the years of frustration and confusion and hours of prayer trying to understand what God was showing me, I realized what He had revealed to me had not been as clear as black and white but gray and beige. Now it was all coming together with lighting speed and vivid living color. For the first time since my first prophetic vision, I could see not only the actions, but now I could see what was causing the actions and the force behind the actions.

You cannot imagine how I felt as this man stood in front of me, silhouetted by our campfire against the black African night, telling me that our next president was going to be an Islamic–that he had been placed in America over twenty years ago by Arab power brokers, educated by America’s greatest political minds, had his finances orchestrated for him and tasked only with the destruction of America. My newly found friend went on to say that the Islamic world did not have the armies that could march through our streets, the air force to bomb our cities or the personnel to occupy our nation after they crippled it. They could, however, destroy our currency, crumble our economy and negate any influence we had on the world stage. He said this newly discovered Islamic Senator would rise from anonymity to world fame on the magic carpet platform that would take him from a Kenyan slum to the White House as part of a diabolical plan to destroy Israel by destroying her greatest ally from within.

I sat there speechless as this man described in great detail how riots in our major cities, stemming from racial outbreaks, would divide our nation. How the minorities would wage war against our police and first responders and how this new Islamic President would call for the United Nations to send “Peace Keepers” to dominate the “Land of The Free.” Sighting incident after incident, he went down the list confirming everything I saw in the visions and everything I preached to that small but attentive congregation in Denton for over twenty years.

For those of you who have read my book ”The Seer Chronicles” subtitled “The Caliphate,” you can only imagine the shock I experienced when the arms dealer started describing how the New Islamic President would devalue the U.S. Dollar to the point that the International Monetary Fund would recommend it be dropped as the reserve currency of the World Bank. Ironically, this actually happened today. The newly elected President would allow China to become the largest owner of property in the United States, and the Chinese Yuan Renminbi would be orchestrated to replace the dollar as the strongest currency in the world.

For those of you who may find this vaguely familiar, please note my meeting with the Arms Dealer was in 2005, and I wrote the book in 2000. God was already at work preparing the message I was destined to take to the body of Christ.

I will stop here and ask that each and every one of you call, text or contact all your friends and ask them to catch up on the blog, and get ready for the ride of your life. After this edition I’m taking the gloves off and will share with you what happened when I went to the CIA in Nairobi trying to save the life of the Prime Minister of one of our allies and how an “Agency Black Team” came to my house and scared my family to tears in an effort to silence me. How, in a Kenyan slum I was introduced to President Obama’s grandmother and as she embraced me, she shared with me that she had birthed him right there in her hut and only in America could a slum born child be a senator in the United States of America…… But that is for the next “Edition” !!!!!!