THE NAME ABOVE iL
Autobiography Dieter R. Fischer Book 9
|5. ESP Sep Sunday
On the morning of writing this chapter my keyboard took an excursion to the USA. I had woken about 4.15 am. I felt alert when I should have been sleepy. I question my Spirit for a reason.
For a few brief moments I tuned into Good Morning America, the US TV show aired in Australia in those early hours of the morning. A young boy was interviewed, accompanied by his mother Kristy. Young Tyler Wilson told his story of having been bullied after joining a team of cheerleaders, which was an unusual thing to do for a boy. But that's what he wanted.
Obscured in the background of the studio I noticed two words LION KING. It didn't take long to see the word lion in Tyler's surname Wilson. Playing my letters game, eliminating the same letters in TYLER / KRISTY left the letters that make LIKES, plus many other combinations. (If you know the code and German you can see - il K it.)
This short segment made me fire up the computer to sent a brief message in the shout-out-window of GMA's website. While browsing my eyes fell onto a story I had heard about. A well-known preacher, one who had been speaking out against homosexuality, was himself accused of engaging boys in sexual activities.
One phrase, as I read the report, hit me light a light bulb. One alleged victim, the only one so far to speak out publicly against the preacher, a man named Jamal Parris (23), was quoted on GMA's website saying these words:
In my Book 5, Chapter 13 you will find two parallels. Firstly, the exact same word the accuser of Peter Liddy used - monster. Secondly, Parris said the same thing about his alleged abuser, as did that of Peter Liddy: 'You can not look me in the eye..."
In the second paragraph above, another parallel. The alleged victim travelled with the alleged perpetrator. He requested sexual favours ...? Well, what happened after that? Did anything happen? Did the sexual massages and the oral sodomy take place or were they merely requested? Where is the big punch?
Parris said at the time he was 17 years old. Isn't that old enough to be saying no, and mature enough to be speaking to a third person right then, not wait another seven years, after somebody else had thrown mud?
My knowledge of this case is far less than that of my friend in Adelaide. Therefore, I will not and can not speak up and defend allegations, only comment on what I read as reported. Generally however, in my opinion, even if the preacher lived a life of luxury and had power over people, as the media reports he does, this does not mean he was a sexual pervert.
After reading an article on GMA's website about Eddie Long, the accused preacher, I posted this comment as feedback:
Has society found a new scapegoat to vent their life's frustrations. Do we bully young boys who want to join a cheerleader's team, or sent church leaders to prison, on flimsy allegations by confused boys, who hold a grudge against he church, against society or authority in general?
No doubt, sexual abuse happens, and has happened. All have sinned. But what we have witnessed via the media in recent years, I suspect, has been blown totally out of proportion. From personal experience, I know only too well, much has been misreported or invented from nothing, whilst vital arguments, even evidence in black and white is being kept quiet.
Shame on you, liars and deceivers! Return to the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth!
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On page 9 of the Adelaide Advertiser on 30/9/10, the day of writing, I noticed the facial expressions of the Members of Parliament in a photo. It looked as if some catastrophe must have just taken place, and they didn't know what hit them.
The photo showed five politician on the first sitting day of the newly elected parliament in Canberra.
What had taken place was not really a catastrophe, but it was making history. For the first time since the Second World War a Government vote had been defeated on the floor of the House of Representatives. It was only a minor administrative matter, but still not a nice birthday present for our first female Prime Minister. (I bet those invited to her party were watching very closely that she didn't use the knife for anything, but to cut her birthday cake!)
Looking at the men below makes me think: Perhaps I wouldn't make a good politician? All are wearing a white shirt and tie. I couldn't stand it; a white shirt and tie every day; every 130 years perhaps?
Adelaide Advertiser 30/9/10 - Page 9.
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The following sequence of events could not be more up-to-date. It happened less than 1/2 hour before writing on 1/10/10. Above photos and writing, my call for truth by politicians, came yesterday. This morning, totally unplanned, I sent an email to Channel Seven, which ended in a call for truth in the media.
To make sense of what I wrote, readers must know what happened the day before. Sarah Murdoch (I wrote P in error) made an embarrassing error, announcing live on television the wrong name of the winner of Australia's Supermodel contest. She quickly corrected herself, apologizing: "Sorry, I made a mistake, it's Amanda."
I only ever watch parts of Channel Seven's breakfast show? Who has 3 hours to sit and watch it all? Plus, there are so many channels now to choose from.
That same morning, on the same program, I happened to read the name of a winner of their Cash Cow Competition. It flashed across the screen for only about three seconds. The South Australian winner's name, the first on the short list, for some reason lodged itself among the brain cells in my head. I looked it up in our phonebook. Playing games with letters made me email the program:
Here is what I wrote, exchanging a letter to protect this* person's privacy:
September 12 started with my regular viewing of the Hour of Power from the Crystal Cathedral in Los Angeles. A footballer from New Orleans was interviewed. His name was Brees. The singer that morning was Beth Groombridge, accompanied by her husband Sean. I had met them briefly during my 2007 trip to LA.
My wife and I went to church early. I love to sit and listen to the majestic sound of the brass band. There's nothing like an Army band announcing - it's time for war.. .sorry wor.ship.
We were home in time to watch another religious program, the BBC's Song of Praise. It's a mystery, how my brain registered it. Let me tell it, as it was. What reason would I have to do otherwise?
Listening to a choir (may have been a soloist) sing a song I read the subtitles. At one point I heard a crackling sound, an unusual noise, which made me take notice. It had come right at the same second as the word 'sound' was sung.
Only a few moments later, another song was sung, but the same crackling sound came. The word on the screen this time was 'hark'.
It took over lunch, as every Sunday with mother-in-law as guest, to ponder the earlier incident. Gradually it came; how the two words have a meaning - hark the sound! That's exactly what I had done! Paid attention to the words hark and sound. (On editing I'm reminded that my second book includes the word sound).
I considered emailing Songs of Praise after lunch, but something held me back. I'm glad I waited. The two words were to appear again before the day had ended. (Fasten your seatbelts. If you're standing, sit down and hold tightly onto your songbook).
While my wife and her mother took time after lunch to enjoy each other, I was leaning toward a bonding session with my GIANT. So I did. Normally I would cycle toward Salisbury or the Adelaide Plains, but my path, guided by my unseen friend, took me south toward the cycle track beside the Torrens River.
Taking a short-cut through the K-Mart car park I recognized a face, one I had not seen in at least 15 years. Even back then I did not know the person very well, but his name came in an instant - Milton. He did not see me; nor would he have recognized me. I would enjoyed a brief chat, since some of his family members were one of my early students as driving instructor in Adelaide.
My ride continued up Beovich Road, across the bridge of Dry Creek and up the gentle slope of Pauls Drive. It was already three weeks after the election and an election poster was still attached to a pole. It was right outside No. 24!
At the end of Pauls Drive I turned left onto Grand Junction Road. I should have turned right, because Blacks Road would have been the best way to go. It didn't matter. Lurline Av runs parallel to Blacks Road, so it would get me to the intersection I was aiming for to cross Northeast Road.
In Lurline Av I passed this interesting registration plate:
Registration plate: PARAM 9
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I found my way without any trouble to the intersection of Sudholz Road and North-East Road. It's a major Adelaide intersection; the Holden Hill police Station on one corner, the Gilles Plains Shopping Centre on the other.
As I was waiting at the traffic lights my mind was still pondering the combination of 9 and the name PARAN. Friends, I cannot prove it to anyone, and I don't intend to do so, but what I was thinking next, as I waited for the traffic lights to change is just as I write it here. I believe it was the *Holy Spirit controlling my thoughts.
The time was approx. 3.25 PM. Thinking of the similarity between this and the suburb where we live, Para Hills, I thought to myself: "All I would need with the 9 is 506 to arrive at the postcode for Para Hills (5096)".
Just then, before the lights turned to green, a bus turned the corner right in front of me from Sudholz into Northeast Road. The bus showed it was Route No. 506. I was astounded. But should I be. The amazing way God showed up, simply in numbers and other data, has been happening for years.
To prove to myself that I was not dreaming, later back home, I checked the Adelaide Metro bus time tables. Here is a cut/paste of Route 506 operating on Sundays. In green I marked the bus service, which must have turned the corner right in front of me that afternoon:
|Route Number »||506||506||506||
There was a lot to ponder as I continued my ride, crossing the Torrens River, passing the Paradise Community Church, the former Assemblies of God mega-church. I have many memories from my early years in Adelaide, between 1983 until 1997, when at that church I was a musician, Royal Ranger leader and home group leader; some of the above all at the same time.
As I was riding by I knew that a traditional worship service for older folk was just starting at 3.30 PM. But I was not well dressed for church. And I had already been to church, plus another traditional service was on the agenda for that night at Ingle Farm.
Riding along the Torrens River it was clear that there had been a flood. Some bridges were damaged, trees and debris washed up high onto the embankments. Around the time of the launch of Book 9 Australia experienced a very wet few days, with floods in many places. Benalla in Victoria was one of the places affected badly.
There wasn't much time between my ride and the evening event at the Salvation Army. My wife was not into traditional hymns and a little tired. (Bonding with her mother exhausted her reserves of energy).
Just as well, if going by the theme of the event, it wasn't meant to be a time to relax: "Stand Up for Jesus". But then, she shouldn't have worried. No real guns or swords came out - only a weapon of a different kind - two words and two numbers. (Read on).
I had given little thought to the two words, which earlier in the day had floated in my head. (As you known much floatilla [nice word, floatilla] fights for attention inside the cavities of my brain).
A few minutes into the service we sang a hymn, which started with the word ... HARK. As all hymns in the Salvation Army songbook, this word was printed in capital letters.
Strange but true, I did not take much notice at first. Only when a second hymn started with the word SOUND, yes also printed in capital letters, did my brain click into gear. How can this be?
Being a numbers man, of course I checked up on the numbers. They were hymns 802 and 698. This makes 1500 which in Roman numerals equals MD. (Insert an A if you must - it won't change facts).
From the diary 12/9/10
A little googling, playing with the words hark and sound, that evening September 12th took me to the US. An exhibition organized by the Japan society, New York is taking place as I write this chapter. The theme is: 'The sound of one hand'.
Suddenly I became aware, the time I googled and had sent some feedback, (11.35 PM) in the US it was exactly the 9th anniversary, the date and time, when the planes hit the towers on 9/11/01.
Friends, God called many back then to return to HIM. HE is still calling today. Stand up for Jesus! HARK the SOUND of the trumpet! It's time for battle; not with guns and bombs, but with the Spirit of Love, with Power from above and the Word of Truth.
God's message to mankind: Repent of your wrong doing. Stop telling lies! Turn back to ME, all is forgiven!
I love You.