The Seals Opened — The Questions Answered

 

From the beginning, this book dragged buried questions into the light and demanded confrontation.

 

Who made God—and how could anything stand before Her?

How do we know the Bible is true, and which version—if any—holds authority?

If all religions claim goodness, why have they fractured the world with fear and blood?

What truly happens after death?

Did Satan rebel—or was he sent?

If God knows all, why permit deception, suffering, and the abyss at all?

 

The seven seals did not admire these riddles from a safe distance.

They cracked them open, raw and roaring.

 

Here is where they land.

 

No one made God.

 

She stands beyond origin, beyond gender, beyond the gods we carved in Her image. She births gods—yet we mistook reflections for the Source. The uncontained fire burns unbound, beyond ink, idols, and every cage men built in Her name.

 

The Bible is true—not as inerrant dictation, but as living art. Altered by human hands across centuries, fractured into versions, yet permitted by the Artist so that truth could hide in plain sight until the appointed time. No single translation holds final authority; the real Word is carved in hearts, refined past meddling, breathing love instead of law. 

 

Excavate it honestly, and the layers shift—doctrine gives way to revelation, revelation to deeper revelation, nesting into infinity.

 

Religions fractured the world because power cloaked itself in piety. Goodness was never the problem; control was. When faith traded witness for empire, it sowed fear, justified violence, and hijacked the narrow road. 

 

Yet every tradition brushes the same light. Truth narrows beyond creeds, yet stretches as wide as heaven allows. From sun’s rise to fall, another Job awakens; with each moon’s renewal, another Enoch walks with Her.

 

After death, the wheel turns. 

 

Hell is no eternal fire forged by a sadistic god. Death is a refining cycle—souls return, chapters revisited, choices rewritten in fuller light—until love forges us whole. Rise now through love, and the grip weakens. Falter, and another spin awaits.

 

Satan did not merely rebel.

He was cast down and sent—Leviathan, the ancient serpent, tool turned weapon in the Artist’s hand. 

 

The mess persists because freedom permits chaos—because love that refuses risk would not be love at all.

 

The abyss is prison for spirits who missed their rise—twisted by pride, trapped by lies like the Trinity’s golden calf.

 

It endures until the cycle resets and the deceiver is gutted once more. 

 

Nothing new under the sun.

 

I no longer claim the label “Christian”—not out of rebellion, but because the word has been stretched beyond recognition. 

 

Most who wear it proudly would not recognize the real Jesus if He stood before them. Their fabricated Christ, stitched from twisted scripture, would leave them behind while welcoming those who never professed the name yet lived its heart.

 

Because God is Artist, Poet, Author—dwelling within every story.

 

We are not spectators of a divine plan. We are characters awakened inside it—thinking, loving, resisting, becoming. The Word stepped off the page and into us. 

 

Every moment is authored and freely written. Our choices give the story voice. Our lives today become tomorrow’s scripture.

 

The Bible remains the central masterpiece—breathing, layered, alive. Its characters reach across time, interacting with every new participant in the unfolding drama. 

 

Look closer, and the final paradox appears: God transcends every category—He, She, It—existing beyond existence itself. Even in death or ascension, we never stand outside the story.

 

We dwell within the Author, as the Author dwells within us.

 

The Artist did not sign the work from afar.

He signed it from within—with one word: 

 

Love.

 

And yet, within this boundless masterpiece, we retain the terrifying, exquisite freedom to choose how our story ends.

Every single time.

Every single life.

 

The seals are opened.

The questions stand answered—not with coercion, but invitation.

Not with fate, but with Love that risks everything on our yes.

 

The story continues.

The page is yours. 

 

Write.

​

No hierarchy endures unchanged.
No cosmos revealed as layered reflectors leaves us without anchor.The ultimate Source—the uncontained Consciousness—does not vanish into void.
It lives as Presence in every conscience, every awakening heart.This Presence speaks in one word:
Love.Love is no vague sentiment.
It is the fire of the Source itself—refining, guiding, judging, restoring.When thrones fall and mediators are seen as overcomers who climbed,
what remains is not license to do whatever we want.
What remains is responsibility.Conscience lit by Consciousness.
Choice lit by Love.The false gods are exposed.
The true God never left—dwelling within, waiting for our yes.Write with that fire.
Live by that word.Love.