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.’”

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The third seal busts open—a black horse rips out, mane black as a dead sky, rider clutching scales that shine cold and sharp. Wheat and barley jacked—a day’s sweat for a crust—oil and wine sit untouched. Famine, they howl? Screw that—hunger don’t spare grapes and olives, it guts everything. This ain’t scarcity’s scales—they weigh love’s deeds, not bread’s crumbs. Religion’s choked the light—hawked a locked heaven, salvation a coin for the “saved,” dogma’s shiny trash. Creeds, confessions, pews polished bright—jack shit. The scales cut truth—how you live, not what you preach. SEAL 3 blasts it: exclusivity’s a lie, heaven’s no walled club—it’s a gate torn wide by your hands, not your mouth. August 7, 2013—SEAL 3 hit me like a storm of nails—scales tipped, church lies bled out.

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Reflection: Felt heaven’s a lock you can’t pick? That’s the black horse—truth gagged by religion’s stink.

Takeaway: SEAL 3 roars: Scales don’t buy church crap—love cracks heaven, not labels.

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The Gatekeepers Built

Heaven wasn’t bolted shut at first. Romans 5:18 cuts deep: “One righteous act—dikaiosis (δικαίωσις)—justifies all.” All. Not the dunked, not the pew-warmers—just all. Matthew 25:31-46 doubles down: sheep split from goats by guts—“I was starving, you fed me.” No creeds, no prayers, just hands that move. Jesus growled it: “All you weary, come” (Matt 11:28). No VIP list.

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Then men forged chains. Constantine (313 CE) welded faith to empire—salvation became a king’s leash. Nicaea (325 CE) scratched a line: toe it or fry. Theodosius I (380 CE) slammed the Edict of Thessalonica—Nicene creed or nothing, dissenters crushed. Indulgences (1517) hawked grace for coin—paywalls to paradise. Crusades (1095–1291) drowned the key in blood. Trent (1545–63) shackled it to rites—dunk or drown. Luther (1517) smashed some locks but forged his own—faith alone, his brand only. Not just Christians—Zoroastrians hoarded their fire, Brahmins priced their bliss. Religion’s hustle: cage what’s free.

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I preached that tight gate—thought it was divine. August 7, 2013, torched that lie. Heaven’s no vault—it’s a ripped-open sky.

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Reflection: Who’d you bar with your “holy” rules? Scales don’t give a damn about your walls.

Takeaway: SEAL 3 smashes it—salvation ain’t a club. It’s wider than your dogma’s chokehold.

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Abraham’s Free Faith

Before rules, before altars, Abraham stood raw. Genesis 15:6: “He trusted—he’emin (הֶאֱמִין)—and it was reckoned—elogisthe (ἐλογίσθη)—righteous.” No law, no system—just balls-out faith. He tossed a tenth to Melchizedek once (Gen 14:18-20)—no tithe racket, no church dues, just a nod to Salem’s king-priest. Romans 4:3: Faith, not sweat, sealed it. Hebrews 11:8: He walked blind—no map, just God’s whisper in the dark.

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Here’s the breaker: salvation didn’t need religion’s cage. Abraham proves it—no priests, no scrolls, just a soul cracked open. He spawned nations—Ishmael, Isaac, six more with Keturah (Gen 25:1-2)—not one creed, just bloodlines still scrapping over God. No Moses, no Jesus—yet his trust held. Dead Sea Scrolls (1QS) back it: righteousness lived free before Law’s chains. Enoch (1 Enoch 18:15) stretches it—worlds cycling, souls forged over eons. Religion boxed it; Abraham kicked the lid off.

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I thought faith needed my Christian stencil. 2013 gutted that. Abraham’s scales weighed trust, not your sacred bullshit.

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Reflection: Faith in a box? Abraham’s raw trust shames our walls.

Takeaway: SEAL 3 claws back—righteousness outruns religion. Faith’s feral, not fenced.

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The Open Road

John 14:6: “I’m the way, truth, life.” Hodos (ὁδός)—a dirt path, not a checkpoint. Jesus lived it gritty—fed thousands (John 6:11), touched lepers (Matt 8:3), drank with scum (Luke 7:34). No tolls, no quizzes. Magi—pagan stargazers—tracked him (Matt 2). Rahab—whore—earned grace (Josh 2). Samaritan—heretic—bled mercy (Luke 10:33). Cornelius—unclean—got the nod (Acts 10). “Do it,” he said—no membership required.

 

Paul saw the same: Ephesians 2:8-9—“Grace—charis (χάρις)—through faith—pistis (πίστις)—not your damn works.” Romans 2:13-15: Gentiles lived God’s law raw—physis (φύσις)—hearts carved it, conscience judged. Romans 2:26-29: Uncut outshone the snipped—righteousness is gut, not skin. Acts 17:27: “He’s close to all”—pagans too. Matthew 7:21-23: “Lord, Lord” flops—doing God’s will wins. Grace don’t care about your badge.

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Church paved it over—councils, wars, tithes—a tollbooth for snobs. Jesus’ road stays rough, open. SEAL 3 rips the asphalt off.​​

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Reflection: “Outsider” outwalk you? That’s hodos—path don’t need your pass.

Takeaway: SEAL 3 clears it—Jesus’ road’s gateless, Paul’s grace free. Walk or choke. 

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Eternity’s Measure

Heaven ain’t a one-and-done—it’s a scale stretched raw over eons. John 3:7 snarls it: “Born again—anōthen (ἄνωθεν)—from above, anew, a grind that loops.” Scripture don’t play curtain call; it rolls three brutal waves:

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Firstfruits (Rev 20:5): A few wake now—love’s torchbearers, yanked up first, deeds blazing like flares in the black.

Judgment (Rev 20:13-15): Most get it later—death rips the mask, scales weigh your guts, no bullshit.

Cycles (1 Enoch 18-21): The hardasses—10,000 spins, lifetimes crushing souls too thick to crack, abyss gaping for fallen stars. Jesus mutters “eternal fire” (Matt 25:41, 46)—torment’s growl—but it’s a forge, not a forever roast.​

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Matthew 25:34-40 stabs it: “The least—elachiston (ἐλαχίστων)”—love’s the heft, not your creeds. Enoch’s lost cycles (1 Enoch 18:15-16) rip time wide—eternity’s no snapshot, it’s a bloody stretch. Screw up now, you don’t fry; you spin back, soul carved over ages. Stars chained in the pit hint it—time warps, refining cuts deep.

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Reflection: One life your limit? Scales laugh, reaching past this flicker.

Takeaway: SEAL 3 flips it—heaven crashes in waves, love’s the weight, time’s the blade.

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Conclusion – Scales Unbound

The black horse storms—scales flash like steel, gates shatter to ash. Heaven’s no bunker for the “saved,” no trophy for church hacks. Abraham trusted before rules choked the air. Jesus strode free—path wide, no walls. Paul flung grace at every damn soul. Men forged traps—Constantine’s throne, Nicaea’s lies, Crusades’ gore—but scales don’t bow. August 7, 2013, cracked it for me: truth’s a gut-punch feast, not a starved scrap.

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​Three waves hit: firstfruits blaze now, judgment weighs the rest later, cycles grind the stiff-necked—10,000 turns to break you. Love—elachiston—tips it, not your pious tags. Miss it, you loop—eons school your ass. Gates are fairy tales; scales are cold truth. Live it—burn bright—or choke on the weight later. SEAL 3 snaps the leash—salvation’s no cage, just heaven’s scales cutting raw. Love reigns, time carves.

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Reflection: What’s your haul—dogma or guts? Scales don’t blink, and they’re tipping.

Takeaway: SEAL 3 rips eternity bare—gates fry, love rules, time’s your damn judge.