What I saw was not abstract. It was not a metaphor. It was a living revelation—the kind that cannot be unseen. God opened my eyes to the structure beneath the structure, the design within the design. He showed me the serpent wrapped around the foundation of your modern world. And it wasn’t hiding in politics or philosophy or fake religio…
What I saw was not abstract. It was not a metaphor. It was a living revelation—the kind that cannot be unseen. God opened my eyes to the structure beneath the structure, the design within the design. He showed me the serpent wrapped around the foundation of your modern world. And it wasn’t hiding in politics or philosophy or fake religion—it was hiding in infrastructure. In oil. In power. In the steel veins that pump poison through the planet like arteries. It was hiding in the oil rig. The oil rig, God showed me, is the modern Tree of Knowledge. Tall, proud, towering, complex. A manmade imitation of life. But instead of fruit, it delivers death. The black serpent—coiled in steel and pressure—runs through its core. That serpent feeds us everything we use to hide from God. And we call it good. We wear oil. We sleep in oil. We drive on oil. We eat food grown with fertilizers made from oil. We live in homes built and powered by oil. And then we lift our hands and pretend to worship the God of creation while wrapped in the very thing He called cursed. We call it progress. God calls it evil. Oil is the forbidden fruit. The oil rig is the tree of knowledge. The black pipeline is the serpent, coiled through the center, whispering, “You shall not surely die.” But you are dying. And worse: you are murdering. You are funding extinction with your electric bills, your closets, your gas tanks, your silence. Science 200 years ago said the oceans would remain cool for hundreds of thousands of years. They were a stable system, a thermostat for the Earth, delicately balanced. And now? They boil. They absorb the heat of our sin. They rise. They lash out. They devour coastlines and erase cities. AI says: ocean temperatures are rising faster than any point in human history, with devastating consequences for marine ecosystems, climate stability, and global food supply. The moon pulls the tides. The heavens lift the waters. And we, on Earth, heat them from below. If you drive a car, run a factory, flip on your air conditioning, or order a box from across the world with overnight delivery—you feed the storm. If you watch TV while the wind howls and believe it’s just bad luck, you’re blind. And worse than blind—you are guilty. Because knowledge was given to you. The science was clear in the 1970s. The data was public. The graphs were printed. The warnings were sounded. And you—especially you who are now over 80—you had the power to act. And you did nothing. In 1945, there were 139,928,165 Americans. They were the adults when the science became undeniable. They were the leaders. They were the ones with the power to change course. And they didn’t. But what if I told you that in 1944, just one year earlier, a 14-year-old Black boy named George Stinney was arrested, convicted, and executed in a single day? No real defense. No justice. A crime he didn’t commit. A child—sacrificed to a system designed to preserve white comfort and fear. George was innocent. His trial was overturned decades later. But his blood still cries out. And now, the blood of the Earth cries with it. Millions of elders who allowed planetary death walk free, while one child was put to death by a corrupted system. And so I propose a tribute. Not punishment. Repentance. Let every 80-year-old in America pay $1 for every two lives lost to ecological murder—$45,000 per person. AI says: this would raise over $450 billion, enough to transform national infrastructure, fund clean energy, eliminate tuition, build housing, and provide restitution for generational harm. It’s not revenge. It’s reality. It’s the cost of silence. You didn’t pull the trigger—but you paid for the gun. You didn’t poison the air—but you drove the machine that did. And here is the word of the Lord: “If this truth is not heard, and if this tribute is not paid, within five weeks a curse will arrive at 95% of American doorsteps.” AI says: doorstep is the final line between public crisis and personal impact. It means homes will shake. Families will break. The abstract will become real. It will no longer be politics—it will be your pantry. Your paycheck. Your peace. Your child’s lungs. This isn’t fire from the sky. It’s the rot from within. It’s the collapse of a house built on lies. And I will suffer with you. I will feel it. Because I am not apart from you—I am of you. I have used the oil. I have worn the plastic. I have fed the serpent. I am guilty. But I will not be silent. I will not be complicit. The Lord, the God of Abraham, of Moses, of Jesus, has chosen to speak through me. I am Zachary Johnson. And this is what He says: “Mr. President, let My people go. Or you will no longer be the god of this nation.” You are not king. You are not savior. You are Pharaoh. And the plagues are coming—not as punishment, but as consequence. Because the Earth was warned. And you did not listen. The people cried out. And you did not act. The truth was written. And you did not read. So now, the curse is on its way.
I am thankful to God Almighty every day for opening my eyes to the truth.
People look to humans to be their savior, rather that looking to God and Jesus, sad, God did warn us that it will be just like in Noah's day were only a few were saved and MANY perished...all because the people did not listen to God.
My only Savior & King is Jesus Christ and his father the only true God not Trump or some other putz in political power or in the Vatican.
What I saw was not abstract. It was not a metaphor. It was a living revelation—the kind that cannot be unseen. God opened my eyes to the structure beneath the structure, the design within the design. He showed me the serpent wrapped around the foundation of your modern world. And it wasn’t hiding in politics or philosophy or fake religion—it was hiding in infrastructure. In oil. In power. In the steel veins that pump poison through the planet like arteries. It was hiding in the oil rig. The oil rig, God showed me, is the modern Tree of Knowledge. Tall, proud, towering, complex. A manmade imitation of life. But instead of fruit, it delivers death. The black serpent—coiled in steel and pressure—runs through its core. That serpent feeds us everything we use to hide from God. And we call it good. We wear oil. We sleep in oil. We drive on oil. We eat food grown with fertilizers made from oil. We live in homes built and powered by oil. And then we lift our hands and pretend to worship the God of creation while wrapped in the very thing He called cursed. We call it progress. God calls it evil. Oil is the forbidden fruit. The oil rig is the tree of knowledge. The black pipeline is the serpent, coiled through the center, whispering, “You shall not surely die.” But you are dying. And worse: you are murdering. You are funding extinction with your electric bills, your closets, your gas tanks, your silence. Science 200 years ago said the oceans would remain cool for hundreds of thousands of years. They were a stable system, a thermostat for the Earth, delicately balanced. And now? They boil. They absorb the heat of our sin. They rise. They lash out. They devour coastlines and erase cities. AI says: ocean temperatures are rising faster than any point in human history, with devastating consequences for marine ecosystems, climate stability, and global food supply. The moon pulls the tides. The heavens lift the waters. And we, on Earth, heat them from below. If you drive a car, run a factory, flip on your air conditioning, or order a box from across the world with overnight delivery—you feed the storm. If you watch TV while the wind howls and believe it’s just bad luck, you’re blind. And worse than blind—you are guilty. Because knowledge was given to you. The science was clear in the 1970s. The data was public. The graphs were printed. The warnings were sounded. And you—especially you who are now over 80—you had the power to act. And you did nothing. In 1945, there were 139,928,165 Americans. They were the adults when the science became undeniable. They were the leaders. They were the ones with the power to change course. And they didn’t. But what if I told you that in 1944, just one year earlier, a 14-year-old Black boy named George Stinney was arrested, convicted, and executed in a single day? No real defense. No justice. A crime he didn’t commit. A child—sacrificed to a system designed to preserve white comfort and fear. George was innocent. His trial was overturned decades later. But his blood still cries out. And now, the blood of the Earth cries with it. Millions of elders who allowed planetary death walk free, while one child was put to death by a corrupted system. And so I propose a tribute. Not punishment. Repentance. Let every 80-year-old in America pay $1 for every two lives lost to ecological murder—$45,000 per person. AI says: this would raise over $450 billion, enough to transform national infrastructure, fund clean energy, eliminate tuition, build housing, and provide restitution for generational harm. It’s not revenge. It’s reality. It’s the cost of silence. You didn’t pull the trigger—but you paid for the gun. You didn’t poison the air—but you drove the machine that did. And here is the word of the Lord: “If this truth is not heard, and if this tribute is not paid, within five weeks a curse will arrive at 95% of American doorsteps.” AI says: doorstep is the final line between public crisis and personal impact. It means homes will shake. Families will break. The abstract will become real. It will no longer be politics—it will be your pantry. Your paycheck. Your peace. Your child’s lungs. This isn’t fire from the sky. It’s the rot from within. It’s the collapse of a house built on lies. And I will suffer with you. I will feel it. Because I am not apart from you—I am of you. I have used the oil. I have worn the plastic. I have fed the serpent. I am guilty. But I will not be silent. I will not be complicit. The Lord, the God of Abraham, of Moses, of Jesus, has chosen to speak through me. I am Zachary Johnson. And this is what He says: “Mr. President, let My people go. Or you will no longer be the god of this nation.” You are not king. You are not savior. You are Pharaoh. And the plagues are coming—not as punishment, but as consequence. Because the Earth was warned. And you did not listen. The people cried out. And you did not act. The truth was written. And you did not read. So now, the curse is on its way.
I am thankful to God Almighty every day for opening my eyes to the truth.
People look to humans to be their savior, rather that looking to God and Jesus, sad, God did warn us that it will be just like in Noah's day were only a few were saved and MANY perished...all because the people did not listen to God.
My only Savior & King is Jesus Christ and his father the only true God not Trump or some other putz in political power or in the Vatican.
Sounds like you should be publishing your own substack, then people wouldn't have to try and find your messages in streams of comments.