Chosen Martyr

The first time I studied the Gifts of Spirit, as laid out in the biblical terms, I saw one that I did not want. That gift was the Gift of the Martyr. As time went by Spirit started having me teach classes on this very subject of the Gifts of Spirit. Each time I taught it I would stop at that particular Gift of the Martyr again.

About the third time I ran the class I could feel a Spiritual Presence. I knew this Presence was that of Source, our Creator, who at that time always introduced Herself as to me Mother, the feminine essence of Source and She was now waiting for me to make a decision. Having Mother personally waiting meant something more was expected of me rather than my refusal to accept this particular gift. In the past, in this lifetime, I had said I would accept all gifts that would be given me, but not this one. Now I was being faced with a decision.

“All My gifts are worthy. Why do not you accept this one as well?” my Source asked.

Having it put to me that way, I choose to accept this gift with the commitment of my heart and my soul. Instantly, upon doing so I could feel the energy of Mother flowing down on me as if I were standing beneath a gentle waterfall. The receiving of the gift lasted for several seconds and then Mother’s loving touch ended.

I went on about my work with Spirit for some time after that. Receiving messages from my own past lives on occasion, some who had died as martyrs and many more who did not die this manner, but were willing to take the gift of martyrdom, if necessary, as I understood it.

Recently, I had a vision given to me by Spirit. I only spoke about part of it on my radio show and withheld the other half of which I will speak of here.

I was walking beneath a great arched gate made of massive stones that were rough and yet perfectly fit together without the need of a mortar to hold them. The stones glistened with dampness as moss and mold clung to it.  Small flowering plants of several types I had not seen before grew from within the cracks between the stone. Many bore thorns. Beautiful and yet they could be deadly if handled without respect.

Just as I passed under the gate into a stone courtyard I felt drops of moisture hitting me. I wiped away a few drops that hit me on the arm and noticed it was red and sticky. I smelled it and it smelled of blood. I backed into the courtyard so I would no longer be hit with the drops and looked up. Foolish me, as I looked up my mouth was open and I was hit in the mouth with a drop of blood. I spit it out and cringed. On my belt was a set of binoculars and I pulled them from my waist with one hand to look skyward and determine what it was that was losing blood from such heights. There affixed to a hook near the top of a massive stonewall under which the gateway ran were the disembodied bearded, long haired heads of men who had the unfortunate end to their life by beheading.

I lower the binoculars dropped them to the ground and felt in my arms a small baby stirring. I looked at this child and noticed there were drops of blood upon its face as well.

I knew that this was a significant vision and called out to Source for it’s meaning.

“My child,” She answered, “ you have been a martyr in many lifetimes and so you shall be in this life. There is more meaning to this Gift than what people think. Not only is the Gift sometimes meant that one is to die for a reason of belief, but the most important meaning of being a martyr is to spend one’s life in service of Me. It does not always mean one is put to physical death, but brought into a rich Spiritual life while still living and bring others into that life as well.  The child represents the future generations who also will take up this life.”

With that said, the child disappeared and I turned to walk across the courtyard to a group of men and women sitting on benches around an old wooden rough hewn table. They were dressed in the robes of the ancient ones, from a time long ago. The men had long beards and the both the men and women appeared to be common people. No fancy decorations or jewelry were evident.

One man spoke to me as I approached them.

“It is good to see you again,” he said.

I did not specifically recognize either him or anyone else although there was the feeling of familiarity was about them.

I could feel Yeshua’s presence within me. “Yeshua,” I asked, “ are these people from your time and do you know them?”

Yeshua whispered, “They are from our time and yes, we know them”

There the vision ended.