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Excerpts from Dialogues with the Devil

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  • Christine
    Hello friends, I am about to post an entire letter from Lucifer to Michael, an excerpt from Dialogues with the Devil by Taylor Caldwell. I couldn t find it
    Message 1 of 10 , Aug 25, 2007
      Hello friends,

      I am about to post an entire letter from Lucifer to Michael, an excerpt
      from "Dialogues with the Devil" by Taylor Caldwell.

      I couldn't find it anywhere on the Net, so I have spent the whole day
      typing this for you and I don't want to relegate it to a file, where
      people probably won't take the time to look at it.

      I would suggest that you post responses (if any) to this message, not
      the text, as it will pull up the whole text in the thread and on the
      digest posts.

      Thank you!

      Christine
    • jmn36210
      Hi Christine, Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you ve painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed Lucifer resurrects as
      Message 2 of 10 , Aug 25, 2007
        Hi Christine,

        Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you've
        painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed Lucifer
        resurrects as the Holy Spirit...
        A hell of a truth :-)

        Jean-Marc


        --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "Christine" <golden3000997@...>
        wrote:
        >
        >
        > Hello friends,
        >
        > I am about to post an entire letter from Lucifer to Michael, an
        excerpt
        > from "Dialogues with the Devil" by Taylor Caldwell.
        >
        > I couldn't find it anywhere on the Net, so I have spent the whole
        day
        > typing this for you and I don't want to relegate it to a file, where
        > people probably won't take the time to look at it.
        >
        > I would suggest that you post responses (if any) to this message,
        not
        > the text, as it will pull up the whole text in the thread and on the
        > digest posts.
        >
        > Thank you!
        >
        > Christine
        >
      • Christine
        ... Hello Jean-Marc, Perhaps it is a translation thing, but I don t really understand your message. This is a selection from a book by Taylor Caldwell,
        Message 3 of 10 , Aug 25, 2007
          --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "jmn36210" <jmnguyen@...> wrote:
          >
          > Hi Christine,
          >
          > Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you've
          > painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed Lucifer
          > resurrects as the Holy Spirit...
          > A hell of a truth :-)
          >
          > Jean-Marc
          >
          Hello Jean-Marc,

          Perhaps it is a translation thing, but I don't really understand your
          message. This is a selection from a book by Taylor Caldwell,
          published in 1967 that I think very well illustrates and supports
          Bradford's points about NDE and the fact that those who will not
          believe, will not believe, even when they experience themselves.
          (Taken to the Nth degree.) It is what it is, I do not theorize here
          about the nature of Lucifer.

          Christine
        • Stephen Hale
          ... And Anthroposophy has always proclaimed that its mission is the redemption of Lucifer. To redeem Lucifer, and battle Ahriman through the human intellect.
          Message 4 of 10 , Aug 25, 2007
            --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "jmn36210" <jmnguyen@...> wrote:
            >
            > Hi Christine,
            >
            > Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you've
            > painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed Lucifer
            > resurrects as the Holy Spirit...
            > A hell of a truth :-)
            >
            > Jean-Marc

            And Anthroposophy has always proclaimed that its mission is the
            redemption of Lucifer. To redeem Lucifer, and battle Ahriman through
            the human intellect.

            Remember, Ahriman is the guy who told Christ, "I can make men turn
            stones into bread", and Christ said: "Man does not live by bread alone".

            So, while He couldn't be bought, Christ knew that Ahriman was here for
            the duration; meaning, until the end of time. So what did He do? He
            gave us the Lord's Prayer in response to Ahriman's proud snideness.

            And I just found out that Paulina Leonard died. Now, why didn't
            anybody feel compelled to tell me about it? She posted a message here
            a while ago about so-called "michael warriors" and how Mark Willan had
            prevented the Balkan war for a few minutes. And I trust that he did;
            for a few minutes.

            She's having her ashes buried here in Washington; right here.

            Steve
          • holderlin66
            Hi Christine, Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you ve painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed Lucifer resurrects as
            Message 5 of 10 , Aug 26, 2007
              Hi Christine,

              Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you've
              painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed Lucifer
              resurrects as the Holy Spirit...
              A hell of a truth :-)

              Jean-Marc

              "We have always treated each other with courtesy and openness. I
              find His present and insidious interference offensive and startling.
              With exasperation and fury I ask myself: Why does He continue to
              manifest His concern and love for these loathsome creatures, when He
              has permitted greater and more magnificent planets to will their
              fulfilled death? This has become an unjust war between two polite
              warriors. I have not deflected from my course, but it appears that
              Our Father has, and incomprehensibly. Lay my complaint before Him,
              Michael, for that is only just."

              Bradford;
              Firstly, gee, fantastic, I had not looked in this direction before,
              what a treat! I mean, I hadn't introduced myself to Taylor Caldwell.
              And it is so cool to hear from two of my favorite people, Jean-Marc
              and Christine. Great Catch, who knew the pond was stocked with such
              rich delights... somebody must have given the Lady of the Lake a big
              hug...
            • holderlin66
              Taylor Caldwell 1967 GREETINGS To my brother, Michael, who himself, alas, never learns from the history of men! I am sorrowful, not for the death of Lencia the
              Message 6 of 10 , Aug 26, 2007

                Taylor Caldwell 1967

                GREETINGS



                To my brother, Michael, who himself, alas, never learns from the history
                of men!



                I am sorrowful, not for the death of Lencia the Beautiful, but for your
                sorrow. You indeed have too tender a heart for the contemptible races! I
                rejoice, not repine, that again I have proved myself right and Our
                Father wrong. There are a thousand ways to death and only one way to
                life, but men indefatigably seek the roads to destruction. If they were
                not so inclined by their very nature they would not listen to me. Lencia
                died, not by war, as so many other planets died, but through the sluggish
                ways of what she designated as peace and security. Again, I only
                suggested. It was in the power of the men of Lencia to reject.

                I am deeply interested in what I perceive of Heaven, where there seems a
                tremendous coming and going as of late, and not all the faces are
                joyous. What is it that portends? I remember His prophecy, and so I am
                alert to any stir in Heaven.



                Is it possible that the Christ will degrade Himself again before man on
                Terra? I shall fight that possibility with all my powers. I shall guard
                His Majesty. I have already begun the process. Even now, whole nations
                for the first time in Terra's history are declaring that "God is
                dead!" This was once the province of only a few cynical and enlightened
                men, who hardly dared speak abroad for fear of the superstitious and the
                faithful.

                Did not Socrates die for something similar, though it was very
                mild? He spoke of "God" and not gods, and for that he was executed. He
                was considered a great criminal by the ignorant. Yet he was a man
                faithful to his noble idea. But the men of Terra, in uncountable
                millions, are neither wise nor faithful. They proclaim, with their round
                an defiant faces, "He does not exist!" or "Our old conception of God was
                wrong and we must have a New Definition!" They even announce that god
                appears to have vanished from the affairs of men; therefore, He is no
                longer potent, if ever He was potent. (That, as you know is my
                suggestion.)

                Photograph of Count Tolstoy    

                It is as if ants, who had never seen a man but had heard only rumors of
                him, declared that as they had not observed him, themselves, he could
                not possibly live. Other ants had seen the stature of man and had heard
                the thunder of his step – so they alleged. But as these particular
                ants had neither seen nor heard the myth was not valid.

                To my mind an honest and industrious ant is worth a whole world of men,
                for the ant labors ceaselessly according to his good instinct, is never
                slothful, never given to vice or depravity and as his nature is sound,
                he adheres to it. If an ant said, "There is no Man," I should be
                inclined to believe him, for ants are sensible and never lie and their
                opinion would be valuable. There are even occasions when I permit myself
                to dream that there are no men.



                My anger is your satisfaction, but as we are brothers I will confess
                that I am not entirely succeeding in my campaign to have the whole of
                Terra declare that "God is dead." (But I will!) It was Our Father's
                design that men should have free will – therefore, that was a surety
                that He would not interfere. But to my understandable umbrage, I no
                sooner had the millions shouting that "God is dead!" when millions of
                the lukewarm, in concern, began to examine their consciences and ask
                themselves, "Is He indeed dead?" Even those who had never believed in
                Him at all were startled at the thunderous cry of denial, and questioned
                of their hearts. In all of Terra, now, for the first time in her
                detestable history, men are not only denying God but are rediscovering
                Him or finding Him when they had never even sought Him, and should never
                have begun the search or the inquiry if it had not been for my own
                damned. Does Our Father believe this is keeping His word that He would
                never overtly interfere with the will of man? We have always treated
                each other with courtesy and openness. I find His present and insidious
                interference offensive and startling. With exasperation and fury I ask
                myself: Why does He continue to manifest His concern and love for these
                loathsome creatures, when He has permitted greater and more magnificent
                planets to will their fulfilled death? This has become an unjust war
                between two polite warriors. I have not deflected from my course, but it
                appears that Our Father has, and incomprehensibly. Lay my complaint
                before Him, Michael, for that is only just.

                He will not succeed, though He has already invaded the hearts of
                millions who never knew Him before and cared nothing as to whether or
                not He existed. You will say that the extraordinary outcome Is my own
                doing, and not Our Father's, but that is not correct. I feel His
                presence very keenly on Terra now, and the Shadow of His Spirit.

                Therefore, though you swear you have no knowledge of what is truly
                transpiring in Heaven, I remember the prophecies of His Son, and the
                prophets, concerning the Last Days when the Christ will come again to
                Terra and "all things shall be made new." And I also remember that in
                those days there will be the great calamity which I am devising, and
                which will destroy man by the hundreds of millions, and his planet with
                him.

                I keep my word, though it appears that Our Father does not. Enough. I
                will keep my world to make Terra a cinderous mass of fragments between
                Venus and Mars, as I made fragments of Justia, between Mars and Jupiter.
                What a glorious day that was, when men on Justia exploded their planet!
                What a bonfire was lit in the solar system! So fierce was it that the
                forests of mars were burned, and the oceans and the rivers seethed and
                passed away in steam – though men had not as yet lived on him.
                Uninhabited Terra trembled in her orbit, in the midst of her sullen
                clouds and ice, and a crimson scar was laid on Jupiter, and Venus, then
                teeming with men, looked at the skies and said to themselves, "what a
                wondrous but appalling sight!"

                I succeeded in less than one hundred centuries with Justia, whose people
                were almost as stupid and benighted as the men of Terra. I shall succeed
                with Terra, also. I am not satisfied with the crude if deadly weapon I
                have given her men, and the knowledge of which is expanding through my
                efforts. My scientists are inventing another of vastly more power and
                destruction. If Our Father continues to interfere, when once He promised
                not to do so, but to leave man to his own will, then I shall hasten with
                my plans so that He will look about blazing fragments and on no world at
                all, and there will be no man to herald the Christ – if He still
                intends to visit that earth.

                But, to lighter matters. We both knew a man on Terra who never in his
                life ever considered whether or not Our Father existed, and never cared
                to pursue the matter. I considered him my own. He was not faithless; he
                was just without faith. Inexplicably, he was also a good man, for all my
                efforts, just and kind and honorable in all his dealings, merciful and
                gentle and benign. For reasons I could never understand Our Father did
                not give him the Grace of Faith, so I was confident of this soul. But
                when he died he went immediately to Heaven, and Our Father exclaimed,
                "Welcome, My son!" No, I do not understand.

                The Luciousness of Lucifer                                  The coldness of Ahriman

                    

              • Christine
                ... Lucifer ... startling. ... He ... big ... Good Sunday Morning Bradford and Everybody! I m glad that it has turned you on! (Not that you EVER turn OFF!) I
                Message 7 of 10 , Aug 26, 2007
                  --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "holderlin66" <holderlin66@...>
                  wrote:
                  >
                  >
                  > Hi Christine,
                  >
                  > Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you've
                  > painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed
                  Lucifer
                  > resurrects as the Holy Spirit...
                  > A hell of a truth :-)
                  >
                  > Jean-Marc
                  >
                  > "We have always treated each other with courtesy and openness. I
                  > find His present and insidious interference offensive and
                  startling.
                  > With exasperation and fury I ask myself: Why does He continue to
                  > manifest His concern and love for these loathsome creatures, when
                  He
                  > has permitted greater and more magnificent planets to will their
                  > fulfilled death? This has become an unjust war between two polite
                  > warriors. I have not deflected from my course, but it appears that
                  > Our Father has, and incomprehensibly. Lay my complaint before Him,
                  > Michael, for that is only just."
                  >
                  > Bradford;
                  > Firstly, gee, fantastic, I had not looked in this direction before,
                  > what a treat! I mean, I hadn't introduced myself to Taylor Caldwell.
                  > And it is so cool to hear from two of my favorite people, Jean-Marc
                  > and Christine. Great Catch, who knew the pond was stocked with such
                  > rich delights... somebody must have given the Lady of the Lake a
                  big
                  > hug...

                  Good Sunday Morning Bradford and Everybody!

                  I'm glad that it has turned you on! (Not that you EVER turn OFF!)

                  I am pretty sure that I have mentioned this book here before. It
                  seemed so relevant to your posts on NDEs that I had to share it. I
                  couldn't take quotes or cuttings from the letter. I think you can see
                  why. It is such a marvellous piece.

                  Taylor Caldwell was a real enigma. Her books "Dear and Glorious
                  Physician", "Great Lion of God" and "I, Judas" are amazing bios of
                  St. Luke, St. Paul and Judas respectively. She also wrote a book "A
                  Romance of Atlantis" at a very early age (teens, I believe) and her
                  books "the Listener" and "No One Hears But Him" are mysterious works
                  that make me cry. Jess Stearn, the researcher of the paranormal,
                  wrote a book about Taylor Caldwell's experience with past life
                  regression - "Taylor Caldwell: Search for a Soul". Ms. Caldwell was
                  suffering debilitating headaches and I think (it has been a little
                  while since I read it) Jess Stearn introduced her to a hypnotist
                  friend. With her permission, Mr. Stearn audio taped the regression
                  sessions and they are astonishing.

                  They didn't let Ms. Caldwell hear them until they were all finished.
                  She listened, but then disavowed any belief in reincarnation. She
                  maintained always that she was a devout Catholic. She was also an
                  alcoholic by report. A very magnificent, brilliant and complicated
                  woman!

                  This book, however, is to me the penultimate work. I believe that
                  every word in it is true, even as I'll bet the writer herself did not!

                  Christine

                  PS - am searching for a painting of Lucifer falling to earth. Saw it
                  once, can't figure out who painted it. I have Googled, but none of
                  them are the one I mean. Lucifer is painted with a beautiful face and
                  torso and he is turning reptilian from the feet upward. It is a
                  really tragic image. If anyone knows who painted it, or has a guess,
                  please let me know. I saw it somewhere in Anthro circles long ago.

                  Thanks!
                • holderlin66
                  I thought to amuse you by relating an episode which gratified me greatly. There was a young man on Terra who possessed a diabolic beauty, but more than that
                  Message 8 of 10 , Aug 26, 2007


                    "I thought to amuse you by relating an episode which gratified me
                    greatly.



                    There was a young man on Terra who possessed a diabolic beauty, but more
                    than that he was an astronomer-physicist of formidable powers, much
                    esteemed in that section called by men the United States of America.
                    (How men love to divide up their planets into sections and give them
                    curious appellations!) Women adored him, but he did not adore them.
                    Proud of his enormous intellect, heaped with honors by this government,
                    a man of many tongues and many minds, he was also blind and did not see
                    what he believed could not exist. In short, despite his intelligence, he
                    was as stupid as his fellowmen.

                    Eternally unfortunate for him, he had an accident, and in due course he
                    was conducted to my tenebrous palace in the gloomiest section of my
                    hells. I am always fascinated by such men, and infernally piqued by
                    them, and so I received him personally, at my request. I sat upon my
                    pearl and ebony throne, and he was brought to me through the long and
                    murky and silent lines of my demonic courtiers. At the foot of my throne
                    he paused and stared up at me incredulously.



                    "I am dreaming," he said at last, and then he looked down at his
                    bloodied hands and then touched his bleeding face.

                    "Indeed," I said with all courtesy. " A dream that never ends."

                    He turned then and stared at the double line of my courtiers, and they
                    regarded him gravely, the black and scarlet shadow of their wings on the
                    vaulted ceiling of my throne room and on the black and polished walls
                    and on the gleaming dark marble floor. He saw the white glitter of their
                    adamantine faces, the frozen hatred in their illuminated eyes. He
                    shuddered, and returned to me.

                    "This does not exist," he said. "I am dreaming. I shall soon awaken."

                    "Never shall you awake again, Man," I replied. "Never shall you sleep
                    again. You have arrived at your eternal home. Do you know me, Michel
                    Edgor?"



                    "Your voice is familiar." He smiled with that urbanity known only to men
                    of his kind. "I will remember soon. You are very awesome, I must admit,
                    and very beautiful. You are not what I had expected."

                    "And did you expect me at all?"

                    He hesitated. "No, I did not. Certainly I am dreaming. You do not exist;
                    you never existed, as God never existed."

                    I smiled at him, and there was a sudden and sullen roaring in the
                    distance, a clamor that made him flinch. I waited until it had subsided.

                    "If I existed – and do not, according to you, Man – what name
                    would you give me?"

                    He hesitated again, and smiled as if at a jest. "I heard of you in my
                    childhood, from my benighted mother and my pastor. That was long years
                    ago."

                    I was impatient. "My name, Man!"

                    He was embarrassed. "Lucifer? Satan? Oh, this is absurd! I am talking
                    with a dream."

                    "It is your dream, not mine, Michel Edgor. You bleed, do you not? That
                    is only your memory of the accident that killed you, on a public road.
                    You do not bleed, in all truth, for souls do not bleed. You stare. You
                    thought you did not possess a soul, did you not? Sorrowfully for you,
                    you do, indeed, and it is your soul which stands before me now. Gaze on
                    your hands again."

                    He could not take his large dark eyes from me for several moments, then
                    he looked at his hands and started. He felt his own fingers. He said
                    again, "This is absurd. I feel flesh, tangible flesh, yet you assert I
                    am a soul."



                    "You feel spiritual flesh, and you will understand me when I say it is
                    of a different and more tenuous electrical wave-length than your grosser
                    body, from which you were forcibly ejected only an hour ago, in your
                    time. You will address me, hereafter, as Majesty. Tell me, Man, do you
                    remember your death?"

                    "I am dreaming," he said, to my weariness, "Yes, I remember I was in a
                    hurry. I was crossing Massachusetts Avenue, in Washington, and I had
                    matters on my mind – and then it happened. I found myself sailing
                    thought the air – "

                    "And then?"

                    He was smiling once more wit that aloof amusement and calm. "Darkness.
                    Majesty," he added, and mockingly bent his knee in a parody of a
                    genuflection. "Then, all at once, I saw a company about me, strange and
                    silent, and I was lying in the street, still and bleeding. Of course, it
                    is all a dream. The street, the white buildings in the sun, the traffic,
                    appeared uncertain as if in a fog, and shifting, and unreal, but he
                    company about me – similar to these I see here now, but smaller
                    – could be seen with greater clarity. They lifted me up, though I
                    was still shaken." He paused. "I saw my body on the street, and the
                    shadows of men gathering about me, and I was taken away against my will.
                    I was brought here. Majesty." He genuflected again.

                    "And you believe you dream?"



                    He was offended. "Of course I am dreaming! I am either in my bed or in a
                    hospital. In Washington. Have they drugged me, so that I am having this
                    nightmare? I must have been badly hurt."

                    "Your body was killed. It was crushed. You died instantly. Your broken
                    flesh lies in a hospital morgue, awaiting the arrival of your one
                    remaining relative, a brother who despises you for what you were, and
                    are. Your body will be cremated, your ashes interred among strangers.
                    But you, yourself will remain with me forever. I promise you many
                    delights, such as the delicate ones you prefer, and eternal pleasure, if
                    you desire it, or eternal pain, if you desire that. You did enjoy the
                    pleasure of flagellations at the hands of young men like yourself, did
                    you not? My demons will gratify that pleasure, though all the eons
                    without end. You also enjoyed certain dishes and wines. They are yours,
                    throughout eternity. You liked intellectual conversation, and the
                    company of scientists. That, too, is yours. I t will please you to
                    encounter scientists of thousands of other worlds, of your own mind, but
                    far more intelligent and intellectual. You will not be restrained by the
                    limits of flesh or time or space, nor any encumbrances. Are you
                    rejoicing?"

                    "I am dreaming, Majesty." He laughed a little. "There are no other
                    worlds but this. I have said so repeatedly. The earth is the only
                    inhabited planet among a storm of suns and the flow and ebb of
                    universes. I have written books on the matter, to the confusion and
                    disappointment of sentimentalists who would like to believe in an
                    omniscient God, which does not exist, a god of power and glory and
                    endless worlds and galaxies. I admit the galaxies, but never the world.
                    The probabilities against them – "



                    "Are endless. I know, Man. I gave you the words. I always give men the
                    words with which to express their stupidity, their arrogance, their
                    passions, and their desires. They are quite eloquent, as you were
                    eloquent. What was that within you that insisted that your miserable
                    little crumb of dust and mud was the only world inhabited by your race?"

                    He thought. He was deeply amused. "We are an accident, which could not
                    happen again, unless the exact material conditions existed, and such a
                    probability –."

                    "Is beyond reason. I am not very intelligent, myself, so I can follow
                    your argument. However, you have not answered my question."

                    For the first time he appeared uneasy. He glanced again at my silent
                    ranks of courtiers, and a little shudder passed over him. But he is a
                    man not without courage. He said, "It offended me, intellectually, to
                    believe there were others like me on other worlds. I am unique. I stand
                    alone. I am no duplicate, nor are there duplicates of me."

                    "In short, you are proud. Ah, yes. We share that grand quality together.
                    Let it pass. What did you hear of me on your wretched earth, Man, when
                    you were a child?"

                    He was again embarrassed, and sought to draw me into his own light
                    laughter. "I heard the myth that you were once the greatest archangel of
                    them all, with powers and dominions, and that you…"

                    "Yes?"

                    He coughed. "I feel ridiculous. You – fell. The reason is not very
                    clear."

                    I said, "I fell for the reason that I objected to your ever existing. I
                    was right. He was wrong."

                    He was puzzled, "Who is `he'?"

                    "The God you have denied all your life, out of your childish
                    sophistication and your idiot's learning."

                    For the first time a little disbelieving horror came to him. I have not
                    horrified him, but the thought of the existence of God distracted him.
                    Myself he could endure, dream ore not. But he could not endure God. As
                    you know, Michael, that is the greatest of hells to my damned: the final
                    realization that Our Father is.

                    He even stammered. "Now I know of a certainty that I am dreaming, either
                    in my bed in my apartment, or in a hospital! For, there is no God."

                    Again the sullen clamoring rolled over us and he listened and quailed,
                    for it was the thunderous and tortured voices of my demons, who had
                    fallen with me. Even he could not bear it, for it is the most awful
                    sound in all of hell. He put his hands over his ears until it had
                    subsided. Then he said, "Why do they somberly howl like that?"

                    "Because you deny what they know is truth, and which agonizes them in
                    the remembrance. Do not provoke my demons unduly. They can be very
                    cruel."



                    But he was pondering and shrinking. "I remember – in my dream. As
                    your- before these dream-images seized me – me instinct was to rise
                    and fly upwards"

                    Certainly. It was the instinct of your soul to fly to the Hands of Him
                    Who created you. It is the deepest instinct of the soul. But you have
                    forfeited your holy right, which was given you at your conception. You
                    are only a man; I pity you. Had I created you I should have been more
                    merciful. I should have granted your extinction on your fleshly death,
                    and eternal sleep and darkness. There fore, you have the right to curse
                    God, for making your soul immortal. Do so, if you will."

                    "Curse God?"

                    "If you will. You will not be the first, nor the last, in the flesh or
                    in the spirit."

                    "But, He does not – " he halted, for fear of the terrible clamor.

                    It is still your privilege to deny. It will surprise you to meet the
                    multitudes who still deny. But they do not deny me any longer."

                    I rose and my courtiers bowed before me, and the man moved backwards,
                    never taking his eyes from me. "Come," I said. "Walk before me and you
                    shall see."

                    "I am afraid," he whispered. "For the first time in my life I fear. I it
                    sonly a dream, but I am terrified. In God's Name, let me wake up!"

                    "He cannot help you now," I said. "Do no use His Name here. If there is
                    any mercy in you, which I doubt. You had no mercy on your world; it
                    would be strange if you experienced it here."

                    The thought of any of my souls feeling mercy or pity is my own secret
                    dread. For they are divine emotions, and cannot be countenanced here. It
                    is my haunting fear that they may open a path – but that is
                    incredible.

                    He did not retreat before me. His eyes were wild. "If you exist –
                    which is not tenable, of course – then He – "

                    "It does not follow, " I said, as I have said millions of times before.
                    "Let us forget Him. You have much to see, wand many marvels to discover,
                    in my domain in which you will swell forever."

                  • jmn36210
                    ... Lucifer ... your ... Christine, I do understand your perplexity! I m to blame. I m sorry. You pulled out a nice big fish from that pond for Bradford s
                    Message 9 of 10 , Aug 26, 2007
                      --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "Christine" <golden3000997@...>
                      wrote:
                      >
                      > --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "jmn36210" <jmnguyen@> wrote:
                      > >
                      > > Hi Christine,
                      > >
                      > > Perhaps it would be good to read a text such as the one you've
                      > > painstakingly typed for us --- bearing in mind that redeemed
                      Lucifer
                      > > resurrects as the Holy Spirit...
                      > > A hell of a truth :-)
                      > >
                      > > Jean-Marc
                      > >
                      > Hello Jean-Marc,
                      >
                      > Perhaps it is a translation thing, but I don't really understand
                      your
                      > message. This is a selection from a book by Taylor Caldwell,
                      > published in 1967 that I think very well illustrates and supports
                      > Bradford's points about NDE and the fact that those who will not
                      > believe, will not believe, even when they experience themselves.
                      > (Taken to the Nth degree.) It is what it is, I do not theorize here
                      > about the nature of Lucifer.
                      >
                      > Christine
                      >

                      -------------------------------------------------

                      Christine, I do understand your perplexity!
                      I'm to blame. I'm sorry.
                      You pulled out a nice big fish from that pond for Bradford's supper---
                      and a birdbrained frog gets all excited, jumping up and down on a
                      waterlily for no obvious reason :-)

                      My comment wasn't referring to the NDE thread of discussion at all;
                      it is merely the fact that Lucifer was writing a letter to his [polar
                      opposite] brother --- that prompted me to mention the redeeming
                      metamorphosis.

                      Again, I'm to blame. :-(

                      Jean-Marc
                    • Christine
                      ... Hi again Jean-Marc, No problem at all! I just didn t understand your context. Yes, the book is remarkable - a series of letters between Michael and
                      Message 10 of 10 , Aug 26, 2007
                        > Christine, I do understand your perplexity!
                        > I'm to blame. I'm sorry.
                        > You pulled out a nice big fish from that pond for Bradford's supper---
                        > and a birdbrained frog gets all excited, jumping up and down on a
                        > waterlily for no obvious reason :-)
                        >
                        > My comment wasn't referring to the NDE thread of discussion at all;
                        > it is merely the fact that Lucifer was writing a letter to his [polar
                        > opposite] brother --- that prompted me to mention the redeeming
                        > metamorphosis.
                        >
                        > Again, I'm to blame. :-(
                        >
                        > Jean-Marc

                        Hi again Jean-Marc,

                        No problem at all! I just didn't understand your context.

                        Yes, the book is remarkable - a series of letters between Michael and
                        Lucifer! Very, very powerful!

                        It can be a little hard to find, but probably available on Amazon or
                        Alibris, or sometimes on Ebay. Very worth the hunt.

                        There is a meeting at the end of the book with Michael, Raphael,
                        Gabriel, Ariel and he who was once called Luciel. Michael tries very,
                        very hard to redeem his brother and begs him at the end to desist in
                        his ultimate plan for Terra. But I won't spoil it for you by giving
                        away too much.

                        Christine
                        >
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