Colin Dye (for I think it was he) was going on this morning about treasure in earthern vessels and glory going to God and not to us.

Right.  First the way He talked about glory going to God.  It was down – “the glory goes to God and not to us”, and it leaves the hearers feeling awed or maybe even guilty “oh, we are such awful people, we must give more glory to God”.  The Bible says God beautifies and glorifies His church.  It should have been a joyful statement, not a dour one making everyone afraid of taking God’s glory.  God is glorified in our joy.  The Bible says that Jesus was anointed with joy above His fellows, because He loved righteousness and hated wickedness.  How does God get glory if we go around dark and full of foreboding and fear of not getting it right?

Second, I fail to see how God is glorified in the way they harass me anyway.  They follow everything I do on the internet and criticise it.  They criticise my isolation, they criticise me waiting for someone else to make a decisive move.

Stalking is wrong.  Hacking communications is wrong and completely counter freedom.  End of.  They even know the comments I leave on other blogs.  I only have to refer you to their body language and their shifty eyes.  They keep up a torrent of language, to what end and to what purpose, and with what motive?  To make you forget that what you believe is right?  And that what they have done is wrong?  I think so.

They talk about mercy, but they want it for themselves.  I want it for their victims first.  Which are many.

The Children of God, a group considered to be a cult, operated a principle called “heavenly deception”.  At the Christian Centre in my teens (over 30 years ago) I was told this was wrong and that they could be considered a cult partly because of that, let alone the sexual activity.  Yet these churches are now doing the same thing (except it is hardly deception, in a sense, anymore, at least, not to me because I know) and it is supposed to be OK.

Roberts Liardon is on tonight.  Poor man, what an unfortunate name.  Liar-don (some people won’t get it!)

David Wellington said this morning, “can we have the words please?”, which felt like he was asking for an apology to be given in words.  Who was he asking (except he obviously wasn’t, he was talking about the words for the songs)?  It felt as if he was asking me.  I feel as if I should apologise every time I write.  So here we are, in words, “I’m sorry”.  Now what?

“I’m sorry”.  For what?  For being so unkind and rebellious in my response to the beautiful way you portray the fact that you are sorry you have ruined my life and that you want to make amends?  Is that it?

Around the time I went to the police in 2009 David Cameron’s speech at the party conference portrayed my situation perfectly, and the song the conference used was, “Then I Saw Her Face, Now I’m A Believer”.   Ive wondered since then if he . . . this is where traditionally they can say you are deluded and psychotic.  Except I feel really treacherous, because I felt almost as if he saved my life, at that point.  But he didn’t.  It was a nice illusion, maybe for both of us.  They are not saving my life now in maintaining my benefits even though they know I have been out of the country for over a year.  They are just prolonging the agony when they should be dealing with the situation openly and head on.  I’m expected to be grateful, but you shouldn’t be grateful for what is wrong.  The continuance of my benefits while they reflect my own stuff back to me to say quite what, I am not sure, is evasion of something awful, and nothing else.

My writing is awful.  The way people come on at me with a torrent of words, using everything they know about me, almost searching for me as if in a seance, leaves me emotionally raped.  Either something spiritual really is happening in what they are doing, or they are acting it.  Both options are equally evil and cynical and hateful.  I’m not just talking about the church.  Read my other rants and you’ll get an idea of the people and organisations I’m on about.

Maybe all that has happened is my crazy speeding mind has slowed down because I’ve listened to people like Michael Mish, and I now find the torrent that others think is normal crazy and disturbing.  Whether it is or not I’m not sure.

In fact, not only crazy and disturbing, but used like a deliberate hammer or pick axe, to extract whatever ore they can find.  It’s a bit like a tongue loosener.

And the backsnaps (some people will understand).  I read about someone being tortured once by being forced to stand bolt uprught without moving, for hours.  The effect of the onslaught is like that.  Somehow you have to make a conscious effort to disconnect, except when you have screamed out all your hysterical rubbish and they are still going on and progressing it further, it is so hard.  And all the time they are doing it it is as if I’m not even there, even though all their remarks seemed to be aimed at me.

OK, another name call.  That happened to Katie Melua on Saturday Kitchen yesterday.  That’s all I’m saying, that it happened.  I’m not expressing a feeling about it.  I wouldn’t dare.

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