CHAPTER 3
THE THIRD SEAL – THE BLACK HORSE RIDE: HEAVEN'S SCALES
Revelation 6:5-6 (NASB):
“When He opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, ‘Come.’ And behold, a black horse, and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand. And I heard… ‘A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius; and do not harm the oil and the wine.’”
The third seal splits—and a black horse storms out, mane like ink across a dying sky. Its rider grips a pair of scales, cold and sure.
Wheat and barley are priced beyond reach—a day’s wage for a single meal—yet oil and wine remain untouched. Famine, they say. That is a blind call. True famine devours everything. It does not spare olives or preserve grapes. Hunger consumes indiscriminately.
These are not scales of scarcity.
They are scales of measure.
They do not weigh bread. They weigh deeds.
Through the lens of divine economy—where love is the true currency—the scales reveal what God weighs most: charity, not dogmatic affiliation. Actions shaped by justice flow naturally from the abundance of the heart—love, or a lack of it.
Religion distorted this message. It majors on the minor and minor on the major (Matthew 23:23). Distortion breeds irrationalism and error. It rationed light, sold heaven, priced salvation as a reward for the “approved.” Creeds, confessions, polished pews—none of it registers here.
The scales do not measure belief. They measure truth. They measure love expressed in action—what flows from a life, not what is claimed by a mouth.
This is the third seal: the myth of exclusivity shatters. Heaven is not a fortress. It is opened—or shut—by how one lives.
On August 7, 2013, this seal tore through me. The balance shifted. The lie collapsed.
THE GATES MEN BUILT
Heaven was never locked.
Paul states it plainly:
“Through one act of righteousness there resulted justification of life to all men” (Romans 5:18).
All—not merely the baptized, not merely believers. Jesus confirms it in Matthew 25:31–46. The separation is not doctrinal but practical:
“I was hungry, and you fed me.”
No creed examined. No prayer required.
Jesus said it without condition: “Come to me, all who are weary.” All means all.
But men closed what God left open.
In 313 CE, Constantine fused faith to empire. Salvation became a political instrument. In 325, Nicaea drew borders of belief. In 380, Theodosius enforced them by law. Indulgences sold mercy. Crusades spilled blood for access. Trent bound grace to ritual. Luther broke some chains and forged others.
This pattern is not unique to Christianity. Zoroastrians guarded paradise. Brahmins priced moksha. Religion’s oldest instinct is to claim ownership over what was never theirs.
I once preached that narrow gate. I thought it was God’s narrow way. But the narrow way has nothing to do with the religion I embrace—it is how I live my life.
August 7, 2013, I awakened.
ABRAHAM'S FREE FAITH
Heaven was never a lockbox. Before religion, before rules, there was Abraham.
“He believed—he’emin—and it was credited—elogisthē—as righteousness” (Genesis 15:6).
No Law. No creed. No institution. Only trust.
He did not tithe by mandate. He gave once, freely, to Melchizedek—no system behind it, no ritual enforced, no man taught him to do it (Genesis 14:18–20). Paul drives the point home: Abraham was justified by faith, not works (Romans 4:3). Hebrews records it simply: he went out, not knowing where he was going (Hebrews 11:8).
Salvation did not begin with religion. Abraham proves it.
No priests. No scrolls. No Christ yet revealed.
Still, the scales tipped in his favour.
He fathered nations—many, not one. Faith came first. Religion came later—and retroactively claimed ownership over what it never birthed.
I thought faith required my framework. Seal 3 destroyed that illusion.
Abraham was weighed before dogma existed—and he passed with flying colours.
THE OPEN ROAD
Jesus made it unmistakable:
“I am the way” (John 14:6).
The word is hodos—a road, not a checkpoint.
He lived it openly. He fed the hungry, touched the untouchable, and ate with those religion rejected. No tests. No prerequisites. The first to find Him were Magi—outsiders. He befriended outcasts and prostitutes and lingered among “sinners.” Do not mistake this for a rehabilitation narrative. These were not polished success stories—no ex-whoremongers or ex-extortioners paraded for testimony value. They were still messy, still compromised, still human.
And Jesus said plainly that they were ahead of the religiously pious and the know-it-alls.
The religious had their scriptures. They did their duties. They appeared upright, respectable, and whole before men. Yet Jesus called them hypocrites. Their goodness was performative. Motivated. Strategic. It did not reflect their real selves. Inwardly, they were full of malice, self-righteousness, and judgment of other sinners—yet blind to their own sins.
Rahab proves the point—a foreigner, a prostitute.
She acted in faith and was hailed in Scripture’s hall of fame of faith. She did not attend synagogue. She did not adopt religious dress or ritual. She did not even embrace Judaism. She remained what society despised. Yet she was judged righteous—because God does not weigh labels, appearances, or superficial holiness. He weighs the heart.
A Samaritan showed mercy. The religious elite passed by. The outsider acted. And Jesus made him the hero. Why?
Because love carries weight.
Love is the way—not religiosity.
PERFORMATIVE RIGHTEOUSNESS VS INHERENT GOODNESS
Religious people do good to please and impress others. Popularity outweighs authenticity. Social pressure becomes the governing force. Behaviour is managed. Image is curated. Whatever “good” exists is reduced to nothing truly theirs.
They are only “good” because the environment demands it or they benefit from it. They need someone—or some book—to tell them what is good. Remove the script, and they become morally paralysed. That is not maturity; that is childhood.
If someone must be instructed how to love, their spiritual faculty has not yet matured. Their capacity for love has not evolved enough to carry eternal weight. Heaven does not receive behaviour that is rehearsed—it receives character that flows.
Inherently good people are different. They live by conviction, not compliance. They move against the grain when conscience demands it—not because it is safe, but because it is right.
They opposed slavery when slavery was normal. They fought for women’s rights when resistance was respectable. They stood alone when doing the right thing was unpopular.
Religion prefers safety. It avoids disruption. It protects itself. Conscience risks everything.
The religious measure others by their own standards and judge those who fall short—unaware that the entire structure still revolves around them. Their righteousness is not rooted in love, but in self-justification and the preservation of their religious identity.
The scales see through all of this—and they demand a reckoning. Not someday. Now.
Religion paved tolls over this road. Seal 3 tears them up.
THE ILLUSION OF 'GOOD WORKS'
Paul saw this truth everywhere he went. Grace comes through faith, not works (Ephesians 2:8–9). This became the greatest stumbling block for orthodox Christians—because religion was quick to equate “works” with good deeds and mistook "faith" for mere Christianity. But Scripture never made that move. Christianity—today's version—did not even exist at the point of writing.
James clarifies it bluntly:
“You say you have faith; I show you my faith by my works” (James 2:18).
Without works, faith is dead (James 2:26)—not because deeds earn anything, but because authentic faith expresses itself vividly and spontaneously.
Paul was not dismissing goodness. He was dismantling premeditated goodness—acts performed for approval, acceptance, status, or spiritual scorekeeping. Once an action is motivated by reward, it no longer reflects the condition of the heart. It becomes currency.
“Works,” as Paul used the term, referred to religiously motivated behaviour—acts meant to impress God and people alike. Everything carries a selfish tag beneath it. Nothing flows freely. Nothing is genuine (Luke 11:39-44).
In other words, heaven does not reject good deeds—it rejects manufactured goodness. What is rehearsed carries no weight. What is real does.
That is why Paul says Gentiles fulfil the law by nature—physis—with conscience as witness (Romans 2:14–15). God is not far from any of us (Acts 17:27). Jesus warned against religious righteousness:
“Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 7:21).
The Father’s Will
The Father’s will is not passive belief in the Son. It is a belief that transforms—adopting the lifestyle, the mental posture, the inner framework, until one becomes as He is in the world (1 John 4:17). In other words, it is the reproduction of the Son—lives bearing the same weight, the same substance, the same love as Himself. Like Father—like Son (Ephesians 4:13; Romans 8:19).
If you are unsure of the heart of the Father, look at the Son. He is the splitting image of Himself (Hebrews 1:3). The Son carries the DNA of the Father; this DNA is given freely to those who choose it. Those whose lives bear the same weight and mark of the Son. Scripture says it with great clarity through metaphorical language.
Jesus is the seed that dies, and that seed will grow into a harvest at His return (John 12:24). Like it or not, know it or not, the Spirit has already come and filled all flesh (Acts 2:17). Everyone is being born again—and again—and again (John 3:3, 5)—until the final day of harvest (Mark 4:29, Revelation 14:15-16). When He returns, what was sown—the quality that was sown, Jesus Himself—will be the same quality that God is expecting to harvest. Fruit that is identical to the seed.
Anything that fails to reach its intended quality is not destroyed—it is refined. Scripture calls it chaff: present, attached, but not yet the crop. It enters fire not for punishment, but for transformation. The wheel turns until substance is formed.
OIL AND WINE AREW SPARED—WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
True Christianity does not lie in religious performance. One can fall away, yet gifts and anointing continue to operate.
The oil and the wine remain untouched—not as commodities spared, but as symbols beyond measure: anointing and revelation are not weighed; they are given. The scales measure lives, but they do not govern the Spirit, nor suppress what God chooses to reveal.
At the end of it, it is how you live your life that counts. That is part and beauty of God’s infinite wisdom.
The continuation of the anointing reflects God’s faithfulness and sovereignty, not human merit. Jesus says:
“Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?’ And I will declare, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness’” (Matthew 7:22–23).
ETERNITY'S MEASURE
Scripture never presents judgment as a single, careless strike. It unfolds in stages. Firstfruits rise early (Revelation 20:5). The rest cycle back and are weighed again and again before they are eventually raised (Revelation 20:13–15). Fire tests every work—not to annihilate, but to refine (1 Corinthians 3:13–15).
Matthew 25 seals it: the measure is love shown to the least—elachiston. Not belief. Not identity. Not affiliation.
Ancient traditions echo this truth symbolically, but Scripture itself is sufficient: God refines until what resists love is burned away. Judgment is not abandonment. It is correction aimed at restoration.
Heaven’s scales do not stop at death. Miss it now, and the work continues. The scales remain.
AUTHOR'S REFLECTION ON THE UNIVERSAL CALL OF CHRIST
Jesus is not returning exclusively for “Christians,” just as his first coming was not only for the Jews—who misunderstood the Scriptures and expected an exclusive Messiah. God is the God of all humanity, not the property of any one group.
When Christ returns—in what Christians call “the rapture”—He comes for those who truly follow His example: living with compassion, kindness, and goodness. That is what “following Him” means—not pledging allegiance to a religion or label, but becoming like Him in heart and action.
Countless people around the world embody this without realizing it. They may call themselves atheists, agnostics, or followers of other faiths, but their lives reflect Jesus’ teachings. To God, these human labels mean nothing. God is not petty, doling out favor only to those who “believe correctly” while punishing the rest. That would be the trait of a small, vindictive deity—not the infinite, loving God.
Such a narrow view is not just illogical; it diminishes the Divine. These revelations are logical, universal, and rooted in personal encounter—yet they challenge doctrines invented by men long after Jesus: interpretations shaped after Paul, after the early church, after centuries of power struggles. We stand at the end of this long historical chain, limited to what has been handed down over millennia. Most of us live less than a century—how can we claim absolute certainty without direct, transformative experience? To do so is audacious.
Therefore I implore you to join me on this fascinating exploration and continue reading with an open mind.
CONCLUSION – SCALES UNBOUND
The black horse rides.
The scales gleam.
And every gate falls.
Heaven is not a reward religion can sell.
Abraham trusted before rules existed.
Jesus walked a road without walls.
Paul preached grace without borders.
Men built systems. Heaven ignored them.
Love alone carries weight. Everything else burns light.
The Third Seal exposes the lie of religious scarcity.
The black horse does not announce famine—it announces measure.
Heaven does not weigh belief, affiliation, or confession. It weighs what flows from the heart.
The scales are already in motion.
And what comes next will leave nothing hidden. Prepare to be stunned beyond words.