The God Order: Divine Signs & Spiritual Awakening

June 20, 2024 I woke up before sunrise, the quiet hour of 5 a.m. Lately, I've felt more rested, my body lighter, my mind sharper. With energy stirring in me, I decided to walk at the park. As I pulled out of my driveway, a peculiar encounter caught my attention—two doves kept landing directly in the path of my car. Each time I approached, they fluttered ahead, landing again just a few steps farther. This strange game repeated itself three times before they finally flew off into the dawn. Something about them lingered in my mind. These weren’t the common city pigeons I was used to seeing. Their soft, sandy tones and distinct collars around their necks stood out. I couldn’t let the thought go, so I looked them up—collared doves. The day carried on with its own strange magic. The moon hung unusually bright in the sky, as though it had been polished to a luminous sheen. A full moon was expected tomorrow, but tonight, it felt alive. While gazing up, I noticed the tree before me seemed t...

June 18, 2024 - Today, the number five seemed to weave itself into every facet of my day, a silent thread stitching together moments that I couldn’t ignore. Patterns emerged effortlessly, like a melody played on repeat, subtly shifting its tone with each refrain. The number wasn’t just present—it was alive, connecting ideas, objects, and actions in ways I couldn't explain but felt deeply. It lingered in my thoughts, a whisper urging me to pay attention. June 19, 2024 - I closed my eyes today, and what God showed me was unlike anything I had ever seen. A massive crystal, perfectly diamond-shaped, floated in a vast, infinite space. Around it orbited smaller diamond-shaped crystals, each moving with precision, their rotations like a celestial dance. It was breathtaking—otherworldly. I immediately looked for meaning, seeking to understand this vision. As I sit there thinking a thought popped into my head the Star of David and the Atom resemble the same structure. Both reveal fundamenta...

June 8, 2024 I’ve felt a shift within myself—subtle yet undeniable. My thoughts, my attitude, even my approach to life feel transformed, as if an unshakable peace has taken root in my soul. Where once emotions like hurt, betrayal, or sadness would have surged, there is now only calm understanding. It’s as if every past struggle has resolved into a single, universal truth: everything is going to be okay. It always was. Stress feels like a foreign concept now, a futile effort against the perfection of God’s timing. The path is clear—find God, and follow where He leads. June 10, 2024 The birds—they are always there, always present. Geese and crows, their calls weaving a melody in the stillness of night, between 12 and 3 a.m. It’s as if their song is a reminder, a whisper of something greater. A vision I had nearly a year ago—one of birds—suddenly comes to mind. It connected to the faint memory of the Nextel chirp and the digital hum of Twitter. It feels like a breadcrumb in a cosmic trail...

June 3, 2024 It was a quiet evening, yet it bore the weight of a profound decision. An intuitive voice echoed clearly in my heart delete your social media. At the time, my Instagram project Savage Expressions, was my pride and labor of love—a place where I shared my work, offered advice, and engaged with a growing audience. The thought of letting it go filled me with sadness. I had poured nearly a year into this project, crafting it with care. Yet, with a reluctant heart and trembling hands, I listened. That chapter closed as I clicked the final button. That same night, a new chapter began. God spoke "Put on something white and go to the park." The simplicity of the request carried an undertone of mystery. I dressed in white and walked under the cool night sky toward the park, unsure of what awaited me but trusting the call. The moment I stepped into the open space, I looked up and froze. Three vibrant red stars glowed in the dark expanse, each situated in a distinct compass ...

May 21, 2024 The night stretched on endlessly, yet sleep was fleeting. My apartment echoed with the sound of doors opening and closing, their creaks and slams reverberating through the walls. It wasn’t just once—it was relentless, as if some unseen force was pacing, restless and searching. Each time I stirred from sleep, the noise would halt, as if caught in the act. But the silence was short-lived. When I closed my eyes, the cycle began again. By morning, my mind buzzed with questions, the kind that linger long after the noise fades. --- May 2024 The warmth of the day wrapped around me as I retreated to my car, seeking the solitude it offered. I often meditated here, a practice that helped untangle the chaos in my mind. This time, as I sank into that familiar space between wakefulness and transcendence, I felt something entirely unfamiliar. A distinct pressure pressed against my third eye, not an internal sensation but an external force attempting to shut it. Instinctively, I resisted...

May 17, 2024 For months now, I’ve lived with a peculiar sense of being watched. Entities, shadows, spirits—whatever they might be—have frequented my space as if it were a gathering ground. At first, their visits were fleeting, mere whispers in the edges of my awareness. But over time, they’ve grown bolder, their presence undeniable. I sit or lay on my bed, and I feel them. The mattress shifts beneath their invisible weight, sinking in precise spots as though someone—or something—is walking on it. The sensation has become almost routine, a strange kind of normalcy etched into my evenings. May 18, 2024 Today, God’s voice came clear and direct: “Go to the park.” I obeyed without hesitation, arriving at a serene expanse of green bordered by the soft hum of nature. As I crossed through the gate, my attention was drawn to a metal pole protruding from the water. It felt like a magnetic pull, as if the pole itself called out to me. God urged me forward, and I complied, weaving through the land...

May 13, 2024. The day began with an unusual sense of urgency, a persistent voice echoing in my mind: "Go to the park tonight at 11:11 PM." It wasn’t just once or twice—it came in waves, spoken at random moments throughout the day, firm yet gentle. At first, I brushed it off, thinking it was simply my imagination. But each time the message returned, it grew clearer and more insistent, leaving no room for doubt. By evening, I had surrendered. I had no idea why, but I knew I had to go. The hours crept forward, and as the time neared, I made my way to the park. The night was eerily still, and the air carried a weight that seemed to press against my chest. The sky, blanketed in heavy clouds, looked impenetrable—no stars, no moonlight, just an endless expanse of gray. I checked my watch. The seconds ticked closer to 11:11 PM. I stood there, enveloped in the quiet of the park, waiting. And then, as the clock struck 11:11, it happened. A slit began to tear through the dense veil of c...

May 2024 The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that only 1 or 2 a.m. can bring. I had asked God for guidance, feeling a deep yearning for clarity in my life. The streets were usually empty at this hour, but something compelled me to drive—an unseen force guiding my hands on the wheel, my heart seeking reassurance. As I turned down familiar roads, I noticed something unusual. Walking up and down the sidewalks were groups of Jewish people, their presence vibrant and unwavering. It wasn’t a holiday I recognized, and I had never seen such activity at this hour. The sight struck me deeply. The soft glow of streetlights reflected off their dark coats and wide-brimmed hats, their quiet conversations blending with the stillness of the night. It was surreal—like witnessing a scene orchestrated just for me. The beauty of it all was undeniable. At the exact moment I had asked God for answers, I was shown this vivid, almost sacred scene. I couldn’t help but feel this was more than coincidence...

April 12, 2024 The morning was quiet, the kind of silence that feels sacred, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was early, the sun stretching its golden arms across the horizon, when God’s voice came to me with unmistakable clarity: "Go to the park." There was no hesitation, no questioning—I simply obeyed, knowing there was a reason, even if it wasn’t yet clear. When I arrived, the familiar sights and smells of the park greeted me. I let my feet wander the well-worn path, feeling an inexplicable sense of anticipation. As I turned the corner of the trail, my steps faltered. There, in the open field, a flock of geese gathered on the grass. They were still, yet full of presence, their dark forms contrasted sharply against the bright green backdrop of the dew-soaked lawn. My heart stirred as I realized: This was why God had called me here. It wasn’t a random whim—it was a purposeful summons. The geese stood as a symbol, though the meaning was not immedi...

April 6, 2024 The air was thick and still as I sat in my car, parked in the quiet sanctuary of my backyard. All day, I had wrestled with an unrelenting pain, a torment so visceral it felt like death was slowly wrapping its fingers around me. Throughout the day, I kept hearing a persistent, almost pleading message: "Do not lower your vibration, no matter what." Clinging to these words, I fought to keep my spirits high, even as the pain intensified. But as night fell, a dark weight descended upon me, dragging my vibration down. It started with violent coughing. Blood spewed from my throat on to the concrete. Sweat poured from my body as if my soul were trying to escape, and each breath became a battle. Then, out of nowhere, a searing, phantom pain struck—my right arm felt as though it had been hacked off with brutal force. Yet, when I looked down, my arm was there, intact. Panic surged through me. My body betrayed me again—this time, it felt like one leg, then the other, had be...

April 4, 2024 - The clock neared 11 PM. Shadows stretched long across the walls as I sat in quiet solitude, burdened by the weight of the strange occurrences I had been witnessing. My mind swirled with questions, doubts, and a flickering hope. I turned my thoughts to God, the only anchor amidst the chaos. With trembling resolve, I spoke softly, almost like a child seeking comfort, “If what I am seeing and believing is true, could you shake the earth? Just a little. Please, I don’t want anyone to be hurt—just enough to know.” My voice trailed off, and the silence of the night enveloped me once more. April 5, 2024 - The first light of dawn barely touched the horizon when a faint tremble stirred me awake. At first, it felt like the rumble of a passing truck, but this was different—more deliberate, more profound. The walls of my home seemed to sigh, carrying a resonance that wasn’t mechanical but alive. My heart raced as I reached for my phone, scanning the news with a mix of disbelief and...

April 3, 2024 The night was unusually quiet, yet filled with an air of urgency I couldn’t ignore. God’s voice was clear, instructing me not to go home right away but instead to visit a nearby park. Obedient yet curious, I walked under the soft glow of the moon, my phone in hand, always ready to document these moments. I took pictures as I usually do, each one a frozen testament to a journey guided by faith. The park was still, almost eerie in its calmness. God guided me to stand in various spots, each chosen with purpose though I didn’t fully understand why. One spot was behind a gated area where the grass was unnaturally flat. I stood there, feeling the energy of the place, and then moved to another, each step dictated by a divine whisper. Finally, I was led to the last spot, a small clearing where I lingered for two hours, immersed in conversation with God. The connection was profound, the kind that transcends words, reshaping the way I saw the world. Across the river, I noticed a pa...

April 1 & 2, 2024 – The first of April began with a curious twist. I received a text message from an anonymous number—nothing unusual, as trolls often seemed drawn to me. This one, however, was written in Chinese, an enigmatic puzzle I couldn’t resist. The message itself was gibberish, but it ignited a spark in me to delve deeper into something I had been pondering: the language Jesus spoke during His time. As the hours passed, I found myself immersed in research. The discoveries led me to craft a passage in Aramaic: "ܐܝܟܢܐ ܐܝܟܢܐ ܩܕܡܝܬܐ ܐܢܬܘܢ ܕܢܬܦܠܓܕܘܢ ܒܝܫܘܥܝ. ܢܚܣܪܐ ܠܐ ܬܠܡܕܢܝܢ ܠܚܕ ܒܐܝܬܝ. ܐܠܐ ܥܠ ܗܢܘܢ ܠܝܬܐ ܚܘܐ ܐܬܒܨܘܠܐܠܝܢ ܘܫܡܗ ܠܚܫܘܪܢܢ ܘܦܬܩܥܘܢ ܕܡܢ ܚܘܡܐ. ܡܐܟܣܡܝܢ ܐܡܝܢ ܫܡܐ ܡܥܠ ܡܢܬܘܬܐ ܢܣܝܘܢ ܐܠܐ ܡܣܬܡܠܝܢ. ܗܢܘܢ ܦܓܪ ܩܢܛܘܢ ܥܠ ܣܢܐ ܕܢܘܢ ܡܢܟܣܡܐ ܩܢܛܐ ܒܪܡܐ ܕܣܝܩܪܐ ܫܡܝܐܘܢ ܢܣܝܘܢ. ܠܫܢܐ ܐܡܪ ܐܬܡܫܠܡ ܘܐܬܦܪܝܢ." Months later, in October, I translated it: "Those who divide in Yeshua will be lost, not because they have learned from me in my house, but because they did not bear witness to the trut...

March 29, 2024 The sun hung low in the sky as I parked my car, a sense of routine washing over me as I hit the park button. Settling into my seat, I started to focus on something trivial, perhaps a distraction from the day’s events. And then—boom. The sudden jolt rattled through the car, snapping me out of my thoughts. My vehicle had rolled forward, colliding with the pool in front of me. Confusion bloomed like a fog in my mind. I was certain I had parked it. I stepped out to assess the damage, the scrape and dent glaring back at me. In the past, this would have sent a wave of frustration crashing over me, the kind that lingered and ruined an entire day. But this time, I simply shrugged my shoulders. The feeling of calm was almost unnerving in its strength. That’s when I heard it: cheering, faint but unmistakable, as though a crowd had erupted into applause for an unseen victory. It wasn’t external but an inner resonance, like an invisible audience celebrating a private triumph. I stoo...

February 27, 2024 The night air was crisp, the kind that feels alive, carrying the weight of unseen whispers. I sat outside in my car, basking in the serenity of the star-speckled sky, my mind wandering into the vastness above. Then, from the corner of my eye, something shifted—so subtle it was almost imperceptible. A flicker, a movement, and then, startlingly, it darted to the other side of my vision. A low growl rumbled, faint yet guttural, vibrating through the stillness. It slithered past my ear, brushing close enough to send an icy shiver racing down my spine. But strangely, I wasn't afraid. The sensation wasn’t of terror—it was as though this presence embodied fear itself, externalized and raw. Before me, a malevolent figure began to manifest, dark and foreboding, its energy pulsing with an intent that was unmistakably hostile. I could feel its desire to harm me, to unnerve me, yet some unseen barrier restrained it, rendering its menace impotent. My eyes were drawn to the tre...

February 18, 2024 – The evening was heavy, cloaked in an air of despair that seemed to press against my chest. Amidst the stillness, I felt a presence—familiar yet indescribably profound. A message from God pierced through my inner turmoil with clarity and command: “Write.” Confused, I asked aloud, “Write what?” The answer came not as an instruction but as an invitation to trust: “Anything that comes to mind.” And so, that was the moment my writing journey began. Unfiltered thoughts flowed and the pain I carried started to unravel itself into words. Back then, my life was riddled with sadness I couldn’t escape. Writing became a lifeline, not only easing the pain but forcing me to confront what I had long buried. Each word became a bridge to understanding and healing—a way to reclaim parts of myself I thought were lost forever. February 19, 2024 – The next morning brought an unexpected sight. A flock of geese soared across the horizon, their wings beating in perfect rhythm. The sight st...

January 6, 2024, That night I had been working hard immersed in my projects. Guided by a flow of creativity so engrossing that the world around me seemed to dissolve into the background. My mind entirely focused on what I was working on had no room for distractions or external concerns. Then, like a whisper carried on a breeze I felt it—a subtle but undeniable message, a tugging in my consciousness that I could only describe as divine. "Check your phone," the voice urged, its clarity cutting through the haze of my concentration. It was odd, almost absurd, but I obeyed without hesitation. I scanned my phone, my fingers trembling as I sifted through messages, emails, settings, and notifications. Then I saw it—a breach in my digital walls. My information had been compromised. Panic should have set in, but instead, I felt a calm sense of clarity. This was no mere coincidence. I would have never known had God not intervened, breaking my tunnel vision to warn me. The revelation lef...