Beloved,
rest now. Our time here is short. They will come soon.
They will bring weapons, and other means to hurt us. Implements of
torture; tools of war. They will imprison us in the lowest dungeons, and
the highest towers. They will pour us out for the world to see, but we mustn't give in. We will not fail. We will persevere.
Iscariots will show themselves. We will be greeted with a kiss, and then bound in irons. Brought before the authorities, and our charges will lay bare before us. Denied by our friends and families! Do not doubt. Do not waver, not even for a second, or they will pounce like lions, beloved.
"Crucify them! Crucify them!", will fill the air. Flayed, scourged, and bled out.
We must follow the bloody footsteps over our Lord, carrying whatever gruesome cross they force us to bear. Embrace it! Now is our time!
We follow forever. Nails driven through our hands. A thorny crown upon our torn brow. But we follow each step, even those they do not see.
What comes next has happened before, and will happen again. Brought low; made strong. Our defeat, true victory. After death; life. The bride follows each step. Each condemned footprint. Each fall. This must happen. Embrace it.
Have no fear, and rest. It is almost time.
-Gabriel
