h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It's Sunday again. My finger is hurting. I may have to go to the Doc to get it seen to if it doesn't clear up by itself. Which it should have a better chance of doing, now.

It's been a long and eventful night; lots has come out, and the worm has been given its marching orders.

A whole Sunday stretching out ahead of me then. Oh dear. Oh dearie me.

Nirgendwo hingehen, nichts zu tun.

Nirgendwo hinzugehen, nichts zu tun

Final score. I remember Dickie Davies on television doing the football.

The problem is boredom. I need work to do.

OK, tomorrow I need to go and pay my speeding fine and then take the gigabyte netbook in for them to replace the PSU and get it ready to give to Sindi for Christmas. I will get my 4G dongle capped so it doesn't go beyond 10gigs a month (it cuts out after you reach the cap) and she can have that to go with the netbook. I will set up the printer so that works with it too. Then, Sindi will have email and printing capability at home and we will be able to interact far better about my tracts than we can at the moment. I've got to get a new PSU for the netbook and take the dongle into the shop for them to fix it so that it cuts out after ten gigs. I am paying the sub for the thing and I do NOT want to be liable for any more big bills. I may even write up a contract indemnificating myself if she does.

I installed a new OS on Sindi's machine, "Linux Lite", which works fine; but the hardware problem persists. So I'll take it in tomorrow. Let's hope they can fix it before Christmas. If they can't I might have to buy Sindi a new cheap Netbook.

I'm really getting in big time from the prince's little helpers. Daniel says that the saints will be worn down and tired out. Even the woman I'm supposed to marry appears to have ... well I don't know. I need help, and I can't even say this because Collard mocks that as "needy". It's like the whole world is against me and the other saints are hidden away from me. I met one in the printing factory and I have asked him to pray for me for Tuesday. As to the rest they are... oh, I don't know. God loves us all, but sometimes, you know. I'm trying my best but I need HELP. And there is none forthcoming. Instead they wheeze on about judgement and prison and so on. They are content to just sort of play around having fun, while God's people suffer alone. I feel terribly alone at the moment. The world I find myself in is totally graceless. Full of judgement. Nevertheless Jesus says, if your righteousness is not greater than that of the scribes and Pharisees, you won't make it to the Age to Come.

Satan's little helpers are all calling for another mental breakdown. I am routinely ignored by my fellow believers or abused by them, as on Friday. Olga was so sweet to me but when she saw my shadow side she freaked out. But that's what we're given mercy and grace for - so that we can show it to others! As long as I was being good, she was all nice. But when the evil spirit inside me, which was forced into me as a small child, and against which I have been weeping my entire life, got a chance to wreck things, so it did, and she completely acted like a worldling. What is this travesty of the Biblical Faith?

Then when a nice Roman boy comes and says hello, I drive him away. I can't deal with this. I SO need HELP. Desperately. It's piano wire time AGAIN. Like Hitler's victims, I am strung up with piano wire and tortured and given medical assistance to ensure I stay alive and conscious to experience every last drop of pain and sadness and despair.

Yet I will not despair. Because JESUS IS LORD! Yeah, he is LORD and no-one can touch him now, and no-one can touch his sons, except that the Father allow it; and the Father knows how far we can be pushed until we break. It is light outside now and oh! how welcome is the light of morning today. The people are waking up and beginning to curse me. Acne, they joyfully accuse, Tell him. They are in time and they are in prison, and they speak their own judgement upon me. Oh, help me, Father, help me, Son, help me, Spirit of the Almighty. Your son and servant is in pain and alone and lonely. You see my book is spreading the blessing of the knowledge of God, and the enemy is furious about it, and he is stoking up the flames of Hell in the hearts of his people, and they are pouring out their bilious blodge all over my body, into my brain, and onto my very toes. Yet I will rejoice in God my Saviour; I will rejoice in Christ my Lord. Now is the time for worship; now is the time for praise and glorying in the One God, the God of Israel, who sits upon the Throne of heaven, from whom all power, all authority, all praise, all healing, all blessing flow in abundance like the train of a Bride's garment, filling the universe and the universes beyond with the cry of the seraphim and cherubim, as they proclaim the praises of God, crying, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty. We notice that the song of these supernatural beings states a threefold holiness, the holiness of the Father, that of the Son, and that of the eternal Spirit.

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty. Heaven and earth are filled with his glory. Bring me through. Shame them that lie in bed and watch and comment and condemn and judge and speak the word "again" with threats and lies and judgement. For we are moving on. We are breaking free of the curse with which my mother cursed me. We are delivered from all wickedness and vomit of the sinfulness of sinful people. We are delivered from evil. We are delivered from the wickedness of those who love a lie. We are delivered up unto the Mercies of the Eternal God, who puts a new song in our hearts. For out of the storehouse brings the teacher trained in righteousness, old things and new, old things and new, old things and new.

Tell him, they keep on saying, Tell him. Tell him. Tell him. They are trying to upset me. They are saying things they know will break my heart. I am really going through it at the moment. Torture upon torment. This is like old Wurmbrand only it isn't physical, it is mental. I was "shemped", apparently, which means, that I was made into a blind and foolish fool. And I need help. And even Collard scorns that. Scorned by my own brother. Abandoned by Olga when it transpired I wasn't holy enough for her. Abandoned to suffer in silence the cacophony of voices accusing, judging, condemning. Rejected. The Rejected Fool, suffering the same shame which Jesus scorned as he suffered outside the City of David, on the hill, far away, without the city wall. Where my dear Lord was crucified and died to save us all.

I should have thought of a better pen name. Foolish Pilgrim.