The Kings of Revelation: The Gospel of the End of the Age
By Cyrus Mede
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I could write much more on this subject of our spiritual walk but I have only built upon another mans foundation, pertaining to these matters. Watchman Nee at the tum of the last century whilst in a Chinese prison and as a martyer wrote several works which have been complied into one volume the Spiritual
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The Kings of Revelation - Cyrus Mede
Copyright © 2020 by Cyrus Mede
Paperback: 978-1-951505-78-3
eBook: 978-1-951505-79-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020916544
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of nonfiction.
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Dedication
To all believers of Jesus Christ who love truth, who love knowledge and wisdom, and who are meek and humble of heart.
To the memory of my Great-Grandfather
Richard Harley Williamson, an apostle of the Welsh Revival.
And to all those brave and Christian souls who wish to see God
The author may be contacted by the following address and e-mail:
Email harley.r.williamson@gmail.com
Sole Marketing Rights of this Publication belong to:
Catalpa Freedom Press
CONTENTS
Modern Gnosticism
Covenant
The Seven Sealed Book
The Days of Noah
The Seven Trumpets
The Sun Clothed Woman
The Beast of Mystery Babylon
The Manifest Sons of God
The Stone Kingdom
Ezekiel’s Temple
The Power of an Endless Life
The Keys to the Kingdom
Foreword
This book is not written in the format of a novel. Its contents may seem to be disjointed and somewhat unrelated at times. Notwithstanding each chapter contains biblical truths that Endeavour to present to the astute reader, facts that relate to a particular aspect of Eschatology.
It is written in the form of a suit at law or the method that any solicitor/ attorney would use in the presentment of his case before a court of law. A prima facie case is such that he would need to present to the court in order for him to be successful in winning the case.
A prima facie case is such that the weight of evidence contained therein would convince any jury that beyond 95 per cent of reasonable doubt. This percentage beyond doubt is required in law to prove one’s case.
Most of the chapters in the book are written in this format. Each reader is part of my jury. The judge can only deal with points of law. The jury, on the other hand, can only deal with the facts that are presented to them, before the court.
My judge is the Word of God, you, and time! You the reader are the judge of the facts contained herein. Some of the chapters contain historical data that has been passed down through the ages, as well as other sources as the book of Enoch.
Other chapters will contain aspects of my personal relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ over some fifty-five-year time span. While others contain data sourced from modern-day information that is freely obtainable from the internet. The sources obtained from the internet have been crossed referenced from at least three independent sites, which must concur on all of the core elements.
The book is written on three basic core elements: The law, of the First Instance; Comparing, Scripture with Scripture; and History.
The three themes that flow through the book are as follows: 1. the debunking and disproving of heresies that have evolved into the Modern Church. 2. Refocusing the reader on what the book of Revelation really says to our day and age. 3. Preparation of the Saint of God and their walk in Christ to be a true overcomer in Him!
The writings and truths contained in this book would change your thinking, spiritual attitude, and walk in the Lord Jesus Christ. If you read with your preconceived thinking and doctrinal concepts about the Last Days, this book will not make a great deal of sense to you, as you may be reading as a Natural Man. Allow the Holy Spirit to enlighten the truth contained herein. May the Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of light, fill you through and through and illuminate your spiritual man as you read.
Preface and Testimony
This is my story, my testimony, and it is true and real. There are two or more witnesses who can validate all aspects of my testimony.
I was born on 18 September 1946, in Perth, Western Australia. I grew up with my parents Edith and Paul and my two older sisters Helen and Kerry.
When I was twelve years old, my mother took me to the Claremont Show Grounds to listen to the great American Evangelist Billy Graham. It was on 22 May 1959. I could still vividly remember him preaching, though I couldn’t remember the contents of the sermon. He gave an altar call, and an irresistible force (which I now know to be the Holy Spirit) caused me to walk down the front. I said the sinner’s prayer. I felt like I never felt before: the world was a beautiful shiny place.
Having been conscripted into the Australian Army on 13 May 1969, I was posted to 85 Transport Platoon Nui Dat Vietnam. I was a truck driver, which sounds like a cushy job to see out my tour of duty. In fact, it was one of the most dangerous modes of operation one could be involved in. We drivers were outside of the wire seven days a week for the duration of our tour.
Rarely, we might have two Land Rovers with M60 machine guns as escorts and a second digger in the vehicle-riding shotgun. Usually, we were out by ourselves with no radio, no overhead cover, no doors on the truck, and no one riding shotgun. You might be twenty miles from base and be the only vehicle on the road. On two occasions, when I was doing solo runs, I nearly lost my life. I had divine protection; I did not know it, as my heart was far from the Lord God.
By comparison, in our contemporary war zones, in Iraq or Afghanistan, they operate in convoys with overhead gunships, high- tech communications, armoured vehicles, and vehicles with armed personnel carriers.
After a year, I was living in a four-man canvas tent with three other guys in a rubber plantation, with a floor made of pallets overlaid with a thin Masonite board covering and blast walls to waist height. In the centre, there was a fold-out four-man table and two bench seats to sit on. We had to make our own lockers out of wooden ammo boxes. We slept on an army cot and kapok mattress, covered with a mosquito net. There was only a fan to keep us cool at night from the stifling tropical heat and humidity.
We had to be tough; the food was so bad that my dog Bindi now eats better than I did. We were fed rations that were left over from the Second World War. Eggs were etherised and over two years old, dehydrated potatoes, and meat sourced locally, most probably old buffalo. Vietnam was not for the faint-hearted. No wonder there is so much human flotsam and jetsam from this, the ugliest of wars. Only worse was to come!
I was married to a girl called Carol before I was to enter the Army. I was only to see her once in my twelve-month tour, which was in Sydney, Australia, for a week. On completion of my tour, I returned home only to find that she had a new relationship, with a seventeen-year-old man. We both returned to Perth, and we moved into an old home unit. We lived together for five months.
One day, I came home early from work to find her with her boyfriend. Things became very ugly very quickly. I was living on a knife-edge. Life was worse back home than it was in Vietnam. My wife and he fled for their lives, and that was the last time I ever saw them again.
I had nowhere to live. I moved back home with my parents, with little or no possessions, no money, no hope, no future, no job, and no will to live. As far as I was concerned, my life was over. Alcohol was my best friend. It was the only thing that numbed the pain in my heart that grew bigger and stronger day by day. I did not care whether I lived or died. I lived my life accordingly. I should have died several times due to my uncaring actions, but it was not to be.
The height of the moratorium marches, to stop the war, was at their apex and intensity, at this point in my life. If I applied for a job and they found out I was a veteran, their usual response was ‘We don’t hire people like you!’ If you tried to hide your service by trying to dilute the two-year gap in your work resume, it ended up with the same result, ‘We don’t hire mother rapists and child murderers!’
My father served in the Royal Australian Navy during the Second World War. Whose war service consisted of being based at the Port of Fremantle and never saw any active service. He was caught up in all of the hysteria of the war moratorium. By this time, I was a total cot-case. I had ceased to function as a human being. I was in an orbit way out past the planet Pluto. I had become a true blue Vietnam Space Cadet. My father said to me, and his words still ring in my ears even today, ‘Grow up and be a man, Son!’ He then threw me out onto the street and sold all my possessions, and I was left with one bag of clothes, no money or job.
I was going out with a girl who was a Christian. We had a close relationship, and she could see all of my distress. Every time she started to sing a Christian song, I could not stand it, and I always asked her to stop singing. By this time, I had joined the Naval Reserve as a Ship’s Diver. The Leading Seaman Diver was a born-again Christian, and he always targeted me about the Lord. The movie The Cross and the Switchblade was showing at the picture theatres. At Tuesday night parade, at the Leeuwin Barracks, he presented me with two free tickets to see the movie; my girlfriend and I went. I was a changed man. After the movie, I asked her if I could go to church with her on Sunday Night.
I was born-again to the bone. I cannot tell you one thing about the Sermon. All I can remember was the pastor giving people the opportunity to be saved. I was seated in the last pew at the back of the church. He opened the altar. He requested to those who would like to be saved to raise their hand as a sign of their commitment. I opened my eyes, and my right hand was fully extended. I had no idea how it got there. It was the longest walk of my life, as I was the only one in a packed church who responded.
Pastor Thom led me through the sinner’s prayer; the floodgates were opened, and the Holy Spirit poured through me like a mighty torrent. I was washed clean in an instant. The darkness in my soul was gone. All of my distress was blown away by the wind of the Spirit. The presence of the Lord Jesus Christ flooded my spirit.
I was being changed in an instant. His love flowed over me. I was paralyzed, rendered speechless, and totally fixated by the whole life- changing, explosive thing that was happening to me. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My T-shirt was soaked. I was asked if I was able to give a spoken testimony. I could not speak. I tried to mouth words but nothing came out. God was so real that I could not sleep that night. He was there, and I just loved Him for the grace and love that He had for me. My days of abandonment were almost over.
I went to work the next day. Those around me could not get over the change in me. I never said anything to them. I was a new creation in Christ, and it was written all over me. The light that the Lord had given me just beamed out of me. When I gave them my testimony, I was immediately dubbed THE REVEREND. When I run across some of my old workmates, they still call me, ‘The Reverend’.
Two weeks later, I was at the Sunday night service, and Pastor Thom preached on the Baptism of the Holy Spirit. I was so hungry for God. Wild horses could not hold me back. I wanted everything and anything that God had to offer. The door was opened, and I went through.
I was prayed for to receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I can only describe the experience of speaking in heavenly tongues. As a fire hose was turned on, from out of my mouth came torrents of Living Water just as the Bible says. I could not stop. I was overflowing. It felt like heaven had just come down to earth and that I was meeting it in the middle of it.
It was like the roof of the building was taken off and God, The Lord Jesus, and all of the angels of heaven were surrounding me. I was overwhelmed by this experience. To this day, I have never stopped speaking in my God-given heavenly language. Every time I use the gift, I witness the miracles. I am still in awe of the gift some forty-four years later. Water baptism by full immersion followed, with similar experiences.
The 1971 was the year of amazing change in my life. Every Saturday night, I was out in Perth preaching the gospel of salvation. Never did a night pass without at least one soul being saved. The Jesus People opened a coffee shop in Perth, and I ran a team of young evangelists who would hit the streets on Friday and Saturday nights. Some years later, when I attended the church, a young man came up to me after the service and told me that I had led him to Christ and that encounter changed his life forever. I was blessed.
In 1973, I was challenged by the Lord to go out into the entire world to preach the Gospel just like the disciples were sent. My two Christian brothers Ron and Peter came with me. We were to wear the clothes that we stood up in, and no change of apparel, no money, no food; we were to go in what we stood up in. The only concession that we made was that we took a small shoulder bag with our three Bibles, toothbrushes, and a tube of toothpaste. You can’t talk to someone with smelly breath.
God was with us. He provided us with people who gave lifts in their cars along the way. We headed south along Albany Highway, and we finished up at a town called Narrogin. I was with two other friends Ron and Peter. As we walked up a street in the town, Ron felt to go to a house and knock on the door. It was the home of the local Baptist pastor. He invited us in and fed us. When he found out what we were doing, he arranged for us to sleep in the Salvation Army’s Citadel. That night, the three of us prayed fervently that God would give the town of Narrogin His visitation.
God was with us all the way. We finished up in the Town of Albany some 600 kilometres south of Perth. God supplied our every need: He gave us a roof over our head every night, beds to sleep in, and three square meals a day. Taxi drivers came to our aid and gave us free lifts to wherever we wanted to go in Albany.
Before we left, the people in our church laughed at us and told that we would be back the next day with our tail between our legs. How wrong they were! We were gone for six days, with every need supplied with abundance by our awesome, loving Father God. We testified to the congregation on the Sunday morning service. They were gobsmacked as to what we had achieved, and His saints glorified God for His miraculous acts towards us.
God moved me to another fellowship, which was pastored by Sister Bernice Hall, a small but dynamic fireball for God. She was as sharp as a tack when it came to spiritual discernment, and it wasn’t long before I was given the job of leading the worship service of a Sunday morning. I wasn’t the greatest of singers, but under the anointing of the Holy Spirit, and I moved freely.
In 1974, a youth camp was organised for the Easter breakdown at the Town of Busselton. We settled in and had our evening meal. After this, we had an evening service in the chapel located on the campsite. After the service, we all headed back to the kitchen for supper. There was only one entry to the kitchen, and this had a small landing with a lean-to veranda over it. Ted Holt, Claude Maninno, and I were the last to come over to the kitchen. As we stood on the landing, Ted said that he really felt like praying.
We stood together, placed our arms on each other’s shoulders, and started to pray. No sooner had we opened our mouths than the Lord Jesus was literally standing in the middle of us. It was a similar experience that the Apostle Paul had on the road to Damascus. We fell to our hands and knees. We were totally overwhelmed by His presence. The Lord Jesus’s hand was placed on my back. I was literally pinned down.
Never in all of my born days had I ever felt so loathsome and unclean as I did at this point of time. I felt lower than some primordial slime that oozes out from under a rock. I felt like I was going to die. I cried out for forgiveness and mercy. I repented of every possible sin that came to mind. The physical pain in my body was excruciating and the pain in my soul even worse. This was mixed with the most overwhelming love that I had ever experienced. My Damascus-Road-type experience lasted for two hours. We stood up never to be the same again. We had met the Master on the 12 April 1974. It certainly was the best Good Friday we’ve ever experienced.
The power of the Holy Spirit was so strong outside the kitchen door that the twenty or so young people were unable to leave the kitchen. The Lord Jesus stood at the doorway, and He was well and truly knocking on it. After we arose empowered by the presence of the Lord Jesus, I walked into the kitchen and touched one person on the shoulder.
They were all sitting on the kitchen bench. As I did so, the power of God came upon them. They all fell off the bench one after another. God was passing on the power He had given us to every other person who was there. For the next week, we had little or no sleep. The power of the Holy Spirit kept us so energised that all we wanted to do was be in His presence and praise and worship Him.
The following Sunday, I led the praise and worship at our church. As I raised my hands, the power of the Holy Spirit rolled out like a wave. The Lord was passing on His blessing to the whole congregation. Some three hundred souls slumped in the pews or fell in the aisles, and they all spontaneously started to worship the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. There was no sermon preached on that day and no offering collected. There was no need of anything as the Lord Jesus was there in Person.
Harking back to my days as a Street-witnessing Christian: one night, at the entrance of a coffee shop, two young men confronted me at the front door. They were angry, abusive, and threatening real physical violence to me and all who were in the close vicinity. There was no doubt in my mind that they were going to do me over.
I felt the power of the Holy Spirit come over me. I took authority of the satanic power that was manifesting in them and rebuked them in Jesus’s name telling them to leave. They immediately turned and walked away, swearing and blaspheming the name of the Lord.
In November 1975, I joined the Western Australian Police Force. After six months of intensive training, I was a fully qualified traffic patrolman on motorcycles. I was assigned to Two Patrol in Perth Central Traffic Office. Rookies were let loose on the public slowly. To date, I hadn’t arrested anyone. My first night out with one of my colleagues who went through the same police school as myself were given the duties of patrolling in the northern suburbs on afternoon shift, in a plain patrol car. We parked up behind the tavern in Princess Road, Tavern that happened to be adjacent to my old church run by Sister Hall.
We had a clear view of a small shopping centre that was about 100 metres away and directly in front of us. We had only been there about two minutes when a fight broke out at the shopping centre. Ron, who was the driver that night, drove over to this incident. As we arrived at the scene, the larger of the two men, who was the antagonist, knocked his smaller opponent to the ground. The antagonist then jumped into the air and landed on his chest with both of his knees. By this time, we were out of the car. He saw the colour of our uniforms and ran.
I chased after him while Ron tended to the victim. I could not gain any ground on this guy, so I yelled out, ‘Stop, or I will shoot.’ The only trouble is I didn’t have a gun. He propped immediately and put his hands in the air. I told him not to move, and I handcuffed him. I then turned him around and recognised him straight away. Yep, you guessed it right! It was the same guy who had been abusive at the coffee shop.
I took him back to the police car. Ron was nursing the victim in his arms. He kept on telling us that he was cold. He then died in Ron’s arms. Four hours later, when we had attended the victim’s post-mortem, it was revealed that the force of his antagonist jumping on his chest had caused the bottom quarter of his heart to be cut and it was only hanging together by a tread. He bled to death internally. The Devil is the antagonist. He knows who you are, and he remembers whom you serve.
Remember Narrogin where Ron, Peter, and I finished up on our missionary trip to Albany and our prayers