Heaven is sad, today.

Writing 3 Minutes

Heaven is sad, today.

Because, The King, is leaving Heaven, soon.

King Jesus, heads to earth, to bring heaven, to us.

Soon, His life, for my life, He will, trade.

His life, King Jesus, ends soon, due, to my sins.

Jesus’ Life, ended, mine, now begins.

Because, of Jesus’ Life, my life, remains.

Free, to choose living, Jesus’ death, gives me.

New life, as Jesus’ Life, is taken, on that sacred tree, The Cross.

Heaven, groaned, All of Heaven, moaned.

For The Great King, gasped His last breath, to save my own.

Now, saved, restored, freed, and renewed.

My life, joined heavens tears, and watched a Great Man, take His Last Breath, upon That Cross.

The Father, came, The Father, knelt. The Father, whispered, these words to me.

Cry, no more, Heaven. Cry no more, The Father, said to me.

My Son, Your Savior, is no longer There.

My Son, Your Redeemer, has gone down to hell.

He has a meeting with satan. King Jesus, has gone to get the keys.

The keys to death, hell, and the grave.

My Son, put on an open show!

Victorious King Jesus, told all of hell, His Earthly family doesn’t reside here.

My life, for, their life. Yes, My life, I gladly gave.

To, meet with you and tell you, this one thing:

As surely, as life my life breathes, I am going save my kingdom. I will then, return, to deal with you.

your days, SHALL end, soon. With gnashing, with gasping, your breath, I WILL take myself.

My Father, The Mighty and Righteous Father, will deal with the rest.

Laugh now, my foe. your life, soon, ends.

Surely, goodness and mercy, now resides upon the tree, that no longer contains me.

With those words, The Father, rose. My Dear Father, Pulled me, into His Embrace.

On Easter, He said, We shall, return to this place.

To, meet My Son. Then, I will escort Him Home.

Back Home, in Heaven. He waits, for you.

Truth by told, I await, too.

Because, of His Great Sacrifice, Heaven now, waits for you, too.

Waits for you, to choose to spend your life, with the Life, of The King.

Come home, my son, my daughter.

I wait, for you, upon, My Throne. King Jesus, beside Me, on His Own.

Dry your eyes, My Child.

Heaven, it’s time, for you to come, home.

King Jesus, is Home, in Heaven, rejoicing. His time, draws near.

Rejoice Heaven. Rejoice, my child.

Arise! Strengthen, thy feeble knees.

Run back. Go, tell them. The King is coming soon!

Tell earth, Jesus is bringing, heaven.

Tell hell, He brings the worst.

Heaven, dances now. I dance, with heaven, too.

We rejoice, for a Life soon ended, so all life can resume.

We rejoice, now, knowing what The Tree, The Cross, now means.

That Sacred Cross, means freedom. My freedom. Your freedom.

Our lives, purchased back. By, His Great Sacrifice.

Come Easter morning, His victory, over death, hell, and the grave, assured. My life, your life He now saves.

Salvation, is now offered. Offered, to me, to you.

As for me, my life, my house, I, choose/serve The Lord.

The choice, now yours, to decide.

His life, for your sins.

His blood, for you life, in Heaven you’ll then reside.

Choose, carefully. King Jesus, gave His Life, for You, as He Hung upon a Rugged Cross.

Heaven is sad, today. Jesus will be leaving Heaven, soon…

Jesus’ Best Friend,

Jaybird REDEEMED

Beloved, Easter comes soon. Maybe, it’s why I have not been able to rest. Have been up, for days: praying, pacing, in lamentation, weeping, hoping, entreating, beseeching, entreating God’s People, ALL people, to give Him a chance: to love you, to care for you, to save you from sin. Your sin. All you have to do is to ask Christ to forgive you, of your sins. And, to redeem you, through His Precious Blood, spilled upon a Tree, for you, for me. He will. He will be Your Best Friend. Your Protector. Your Support. Your Very Present Help in times of trouble.

If you don’t, know Jesus, and don’t believe, in salvation: At the very least, ask Jesus to stop by and visit. Ask Him, to be Your Friend. He will. He loves you, still. Whether, you choose Him or not, He has already chosen you.

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Published by Cassandra S.

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