Faith in faith:

There was a light, but it faded. It was not faith.

There were visions, but they twisted. They were not faith.

There was a feeling, but it was illusory. It was not faith.

Faith was to hold on, when all those things went wrong.

Because I saw that light, had those visions, felt what I felt.

The narrow way is a journey, and rest may only be momentary.

It is a life that leads to life.

If you believe, then you must believe this: that whatever evil, it will inevitably play into the purpose of God. This, I think, is the most difficult point to reconcile. This, I think, is the reason for many who simply cannot reconcile it, who fall away from faith entirely. For it is a deep point of faith in the greatness of God, and in His wisdom: that no matter how horrible, how horrific, that He can make it right in the end. There are too many things in the world that test this hypothesis. There are too many things that can shake this heart of belief. The true believer must be able not to turn away from the worst of the evil in the world, and still in his soul believe that God is good. Supremely good. If making us believe that the Devil does not exist is Satan’s greatest trick, surely it is his secondmost to make of the world a playground of horrors. For anyone who feels, it makes faith need to explain itself. And God seems so silent on such things.

If you didn’t notice about the world, you can always ask why. However much we figure out, if we do it properly, there are more questions than answers that are brought about from our efforts. What if, for one, there are infinite chains of interconnected why’s behind all things, in the vasty vast of what can be known — we will never exhaust it. And that God knows the answers to all why’s, whether we have gotten to them or will never get to them: this is omniscience, and this is omnipotence: to have made something of such depth, which speaks of the creator, who is greater. This is the answer to one question, whether you thought to ask or not.

Just so we’re straight about this: it is not my job to make an airtight argument for the existence of God and for the salvation of Jesus Christ. What I am trying to do is to make it scientifically plausible that what the apostle Paul calls the “unseen world” has some objective reality to it. That indeed, what all the prophets proclaimed to see was not just fanciful human fantasy. That perhaps (supernatural) miracles may happen, and that to be mysterious does not automatically preclude its feasibility. And to recognize making real sense of this visible world is greatly helped by (and may require) an understanding of that unseen world. (Which Paul calls the eternal, and remaining, the seen is temporary.) This should be fun, no?

Alright, so we can reasonable claim that this is a gospel. That means “good news”, and this does mean ultimately that we are talking about Jesus Christ. But what about the second part, “according to Judas”? Well, if we take the most positive view about the names of the four canonical Gospels, that “according to XXX” means according to what the author believes XXX would have us see things, there we have it. Because it is well known that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John did not, in fact, write their gospels. This is gospel as I feel Judas would like the good news to be known. Judas, after all, is a friend of mine. And maybe you should get to know him like I do.

Philip K. Dick described God as being found in the trash layer of the world. This struck me as having a high content of truth. Why would this be, though? Is not God found above the highest heaven? Is not Heaven God’s throne, and earth merely a footstool? (I’m cold, I’m cold…) Yet I look back, when He visited this world, and showed His true nature. After shouting as he rode on a donkey, “Hosanna in the highest!”, what happened then? Did we make Him, then, King over all the earth? (I’m cold, I’m cold…) What has the crowd demanded, if it can be believed? Who are we leading to His final fate, in the streets of Jerusalem? (I’m cold, I’m cold…) Who is being raised upon a tree, upon a cross? Who have we crucified, for all of the world and eternity to see? (I’m cold, I’m cold…) It is God. And we have thrown him out.

So I was having trouble reconciling Judas’ fate, trapped in his vial. Then, a thought came over me, waves of thoughts, more like. I had been wrong this whole time, I had been deceived. Judas trapped in his little world was actually a sign of the great mercy of the Lord, that Judas had done no such thing as volunteer to betray him. Judas had acted in malice. For why would the Lord treat a great hero like this? Oh, but I dreaded to write that I had been so wrong; what of the name of the book itself? But then… we know that Judas can experience Heaven through a non-causal link: he is the only monad who is truly windowless. He cannot leave the vial, but he can experience any part of Heaven as if he could, with one difference from the rest of us: he experiences it like he were earth-bound. It is unique. He will be the only one will be able to experience pain (though I’m sure, not in excess). And that is how you treat a great hero.

This came from a conversation with Rachel Maddow, in my visions. This was after the Lord had said he was, “gay as a maypole”. The War was going on, and I had caught wind of the Devil’s rules of play: it was “anything goes.” So OK, the Lord was like, if that is what you want, we of Heaven can do you one better: Heaven will be a place where anything goes, as well: any kind of twisted pleasure will be available to those who get there. The catch was that you have to be a saint to get there, and you may only do something if it is right to do so. Given that, leave your hangups in Hell. This is saying not that we would impose rules; just the opposite, in fact, for the right is true freedom. So as a consequence, for one, any kind of thing which some call perverse (of gays, transvestites, women who used to be men, that all kind of thing) — that’s covered, that’s a part of Heaven. And that’s the kind of Heaven I want to be a part of.