2019-05-26. We Are of the Same Age
Illawarra District, Australia, May 26, 2019. – geo #190526
The Damascus Scribe (Sananda).
Subject: “We Are of the Same Age.” — a shortened private message.
Received by George Barnard.
The Scribe: “ . . . a marvellous example of the timelessness of eternity for me to impress upon you that we are, indeed, of the same age. As Thought Adjusters we both emerged from eternity to enter the realm of time. As a Personalised Adjuster I now make Myself useful in both time and eternity. As an Adjuster fused creature, which you will be, you will likewise concern yourself with matters of time-space as you will with matters of eternity. Aha! Of course, we are not equal, not by a long shot, not now, but we both found our origin in the timelessness of eternity.
“Time and again, the God-Particle that is Me returned to space-time from a stay in eternity to guide a human being through his or her planetary life to again be disappointed until the moment of a decisive and ethical choice by the one you call the Master, Michael or Joshua ben Joseph. That was the moment I left my ‘doings’ in eternity to indwell another human. This could well have been another failure that was foreseen but could teach me much. However, no, it was the son of man and the Son of God. It was I who taught him much. It was our Father who afterwards granted me personality.
“Now we come to the part where about we now communicate. There is nothing wrong for one high and one low to be great friends. I sorely felt your love for Me when you thought I might well be a long-ago departed Egyptian scribe who remembered all he wrote on his Papyrus scrolls. However, just you remember Michael’s words; ‘From a young age we taught you all those things you’re doing now.’ So don’t mind Me for suggesting that such work we may well be doing in the distant future and don’t mind My claiming that if we will be, we are doing so right now!
“I say it is such a common remark on this planet: ‘Don’t mind me.’ Well, don’t mind Me when I tell you that I follow your conversations and regularly check out your written words as well. That was an interesting pagan idea to have a tall glass bottle of clean sand inside a home’s entrance hall for intruders of the dark and spooky kind to stop and count all grains before troubling the occupants with their unacceptable behavior. Of course, there is never enough time before sun-up to count all grains, but an order is an order to ‘something’ that does not understand the limitations of time.
“Among your far-distant ancesters was one who figured this out or it was the lucky guess of one who had already tried everything else and chose something that happened to work — a stroke of luck, perhaps. However, with the right intentions of an accurate count to be offered to the devil, it was effective in keeping the mischievous ones at bay. Although . . . it might have been suggested to you by the man who could recite so much of the Christian bible on rhyme (this receiver’s maternal grandfather). No, there never was a house plant growing in that old clay pot by his door.
“Till we speak again. This is the Scribe.”
