October 19, 2013
This blog article is allegory. This is my husband’s birthday, and we have experienced a resurrection beginning today. Curtis Edward Coffey, he is that Husband Adam who does not eat with his wife of the knowledge of good and evil. Happy Birthday Curtis. And to be clear: I am basically saying that how I was taught to be a Christian woman across 40 years is slavery that I will no longer have anything to do with. There are a good many of us with this testimony whether we see that or not, and it is according to Revelation 12. I know one thing: it is most inconvenient to acknowledge how this is so; what we’ve been taught needs repenting. I have written seven years of tribulation testimony in four years and seven weeks but the difficulties in my life as a prophetess increased so much over the last eighteen years of living in Austin, Texas, that I unpublished most of my blog.
Tara notes on Thursday, August 9, 2018, at 4:55 AM Central that since Curtis chose not to continue to eat with me, he must now suffer the consequence of denying my testimony later from this article. There are witnesses in this case. You may not question them because they are my children and if there is one thing Jesus Christ is all about it is protection of my children. I am only talking about 11 children here. Justus Davis is my additional child. I have submitted the Jackson children of Streams Ministries International to proper authority in the New Jerusalem. I am speaking of the Aaron and Micah Jackson families.
Cast of Characters
Hagar: This is me in the second heaven for the past 40 years of my Christian life witnessing what I have to be where I am today writing what I have written across this blog and two books. I have a ball gown on of glittering yet subtle rainbow colors. You almost cannot see the colors are there.
Ishmael is two allegorical children. They are unexplained on this website at this time. But in this allegory, “Ishmael” will be called Ryan and Evelyn Rose.
Abram & Sarai: are that part of Christianity that has misunderstood/ignored me across five years.
Abraham & Sarah are my Christian counterpart whom I’ve been praying for. It is they for whom I carry deep prayer unction in faith, hope, and love these three according to First Corinthians 13.
You will see Hagar switch between the pairs of the Abraham/Sarah couple, and when I do that it is because they have been in bondage right along with me. This is allegory; it is not fiction to me. I have the gifting of faith which means I can look at, say, “Sarah”, and see what she did that wasn’t godly in the Old Testament so that I don’t do the same thing as a Christian.
Many of my counterpart do not walk in the freedom of this kind of faith as they read the Bible; therefore, many doctrines are spun off the Bible that are perhaps biblical in the black and white, but it is without the grace of First Corinthians 13 and First, Second, and Third John. This is true in this day and age for a number of reasons.
If you read in the more “religious left” they have more grace, but it is not balanced according to the book of Jude among other places in the New Testament. The phrases associated with “freedom from sin” are taken entirely too far in a lack of the fear of God in these doctrinal cases.
I have encountered flat out deception here and there among some writings/teachings within the ministries/churches of American Christianity though those entities as a whole are not false. This is confusing, but not to me. I am used to looking at it all and tiptoeing through the tulips, so to speak. I have done this for so long it’s second nature now. But that is why I got marginalized by Christian men particularly across the last five years. Oh goodness, yes. And that is an issue of “Hagar” of Christianity who is actually one of the elect women of Second John as much as Sarah is. Let us remember, there is neither slave or free in Christ just like there is neither male or female. What a beautiful mystery.
I was ten, and there was so much hustle and bustle within the House of Abraham and Sarah around me. They had just taken my aunt out of my room because my parents and I had nursed her while she died. I was sad, but I realize this is when my pondering journey began that built up over my life to this point. I remember standing on the porch back then as I cried for my auntie; I remember thinking I had better not feel sorry for myself because it would do me no good. It is kind of like when I asked Why? when my brother died four years later.
At that point, God said abruptly, “It is not yours to ask.”
So I stumbled on, comforted yet not, as I grew up. My friends served Abram and Sarai too, we all were so tired in it sometimes yet we had our fun. We trusted them completely. It was confusing. But later, my friends kept spinning out uncontrollably as I stayed in the house with Sarai, trusting her and doing as I was bid. But Abram, he just looked at all the sad happenings yet kept living and leading us the same way.
So we went on like that. Sarai and I kept working in our own ways. I trusted her; trusted Abram. They knew better, always, to me. I cringe inside to realize it was never mine to question; indeed, that wasn’t a meek and quiet spirit. I am just a servant, nothing but an unnoticed soul among all the saints of such importance around me. But it is okay, for if I can just polish door knobs in the house of the King then I am satisfied. This is what I kept saying for most my Christian life.
Trust is well defined in this place. I was a submitted daughter and then wife; I stayed home, bore children, and yet the whole time there was this huge backpack on me. It was full of dirty old clothes; as it were, perhaps they really were dead man’s bones and old wine. Yes, and Sarai always required me to carry that backpack, even in my sleep. I am a twisted slave; it is so easy to see.
One day, I went to a wedding. I went up to one of the minor masters Abram and Sarai; I shook their hands, but then Sarai slapped me across the face right there after the wedding. And they screamed at me: “Stop calling us Abram & Sarai! We are Abraham & Sarah you witch!”
I was startled awake from my burdened slumber. Painfully, I kept writing confusedly because it was not Abraham and Sarah I was serving, was it? But I trusted them all and called them what they wanted me to call them.
(This is the stage of my life that was longest. These type Christians above automatically assume I don’t submit to my husband and therefore I am ruling him. You can’t ever do things right for these people.)
Then the next week, Abraham met with us. He said he didn’t know me, but he is awfully sorry I suffered so. He had read my first book and he believed I’d been through it, but he insisted he was just Abraham and there was nothing wrong with any of it. “Carry on, Hagar….we love your children so please go home and have more!”
(These Christians are simpletons in the second heaven who don’t know what to do with anybody who has prophetic gifting in their congregational midst. They are calling the shots, and we aren’t needed.)
Then, my kin threw a birthday party for the Mary of the house, and Sarah made me go. But I was Cinderella that time; I had nothing to wear but rags. Oh, yes, rags and the backpack. The old wine had
spotted my dress, and I had been so busy cleaning up because of all the partying in the House of Sarah that I had no time to take care of myself. But I again obeyed her and went to the party though they laughed at me because I am so ugly. Sack cloth and ashes, they are not fit for Abraham and Sarah. They are dressed as kings and queens. But I do know that our King did come for me; for them. All the past doesn’t matter when you are privileged to see the King a little bit like I have.
(This is my relationship with the ultra-charismatics during the last five years of my life in the second heaven.)
I stumbled out, so confused, and they cannot see me. They cannot see me though I know in my old youth I had drunk from the wellspring of hidden manna in the desert though even that was confusing; for after all, every time I drank deeply, Satan was there laughing. Every single time, Satan was there laughing and my daughters even heard it; dreamed it; and lived it with me in horror.
But we kept going to church with Abraham and Sarah though they sneered at us under their bright and holy exteriors. They hit us without being seen, and they laughed because it was not held to their account while we stumbled about bruised and bleeding. <i>Why, oh God? Why do they treat my children and I so? Why is my husband bleeding to death in this wasteland of Christian living? Why are my friends bleeding to death? Why does Satan laugh at us betimes?</i>
Hagar, she did bear ten children this way; she did submit to her dear husband until the mental death; she did wash, clean, and cook until there was not any soul left of her. I must speak of her in third person lest I enter the pain of it. It was so confusing to experience. But they just kept saying they were very sorry I had gone through it, though every time they say that I don’t think they mean it. For if they are truly sorry, then why don’t Abraham and Sarah help me?
I became pregnant with faith, hope, and love these three because I had already seen the Lord betimes. Sarah became jealous and so she would strike me in my pregnancy. Abraham, I suppose he prayed for me but when I asked for help he gave me a stony silence for my bread; yeah, I am hungry because of all the loneliness of sorrow I have partaken. It is painfully empty calories at best. And this is no way to birth a child; yet Ryan was indeed born, and quickly, thank God.
Then my second natural son, Alva Richard, did bring me another child and she is precious to behold just as is Ryan. Evelyn Rose, oh Evelyn Rose, you have been brought to me. And I laugh with my wee children who were given to me in the desert where I drank from that wellspring for forty years occasionally; for indeed, I would go home and serve that one who is Sarai yet she is Sarah. Abraham would smile at me occasionally, and then he was always so busy so he never noticed my new children, my tears of pain, or my heavy backpack. It went this way for five long years; the horror of it indeed is fading quickly as I see the beauty of these dear children who are mine.
But one day, as I was taking care of the babies and assuming all was well, there was a demonic force that beckoned. For while I cared for these two wee infants, this force wanted to harm my fourth natural child and so I will arise and go forth with the Sword of the Word. This I will not have; I will not carry my natural children, or these two wee ones, into the next wilderness bearing the marks of Hagar the slave concubine whose children can be misused at will by second heaven demonic forces.
I looked up from the beautiful wellspring in the last of my desert walk of slavery, and I realized there is no Hagar any longer. I don’t have to go back to Sarai who calls herself Sarah, and I know she is bound too. I don’t have to carry a burden for the Word says Christian living ought to be done loving myself and my neighbor, it ought to be an easy yoke. I will not go back in the Name of Jesus. For I am not Hagar nor have I ever been though Abraham and Sarah insisted that I was though I realize they honestly didn’t know how they were saying that to me.
Come to me, Abraham and Sarah: come to the wellspring out in the new desert where there is an abundance, and we don’t have to strike any rocks for water to come forth as Moses of old did. There is water aplenty and hidden manna in this new wilderness. Come to our Jesus, for He is saying anew how His burden is light and His yoke is easy. We are those elder brothers and sisters, and we have labored in the Hot Son yet we can choose to move forward in rejoicing and not complaining as the new ones come in our evening to work alongside us. We can repent betimes and work some more in the sands of time because I have seen the Oasis of Everlasting Secret Places where there is new faith, hope, and love in abundance and in more balance for a new season in America, and the world.
Now American Christianity may see, from 2008 to 2018, how I slept to survive your interpretation of the Bible. You are also viewing how Satan, in my coloring above, actually loves me more than the rest. The rest of whom? I don’t know, I never knew, but here is the deal: he doesn’t necessarily like you. *shrug* Go ask him on Twitter, Babes. Retro Repentance, Dears, Part Two