Review: The Babylon Code By Paul McGuire & Troy Anderson

JANUARY GRAY REVIEWS

PUBLISHERS DESCRIPTION:
What if God embedded a code in the Bible that could only be cracked in the end times–a prophetic cypher that reveals how the four blood moons and the biblical Shemitah are just signs of the beginning of end-time events?

Unlocking a great mystery that has puzzled scholars for nearly two thousand years, THE BABYLON CODE reveals how powerful forces are now at work to create a global government, cashless society, and universal religion as predicted by the prophets.

The result of a five-year journalistic investigation, THE BABYLON CODE takes readers on a spellbinding journey to explore the link between the world’s most secret organizations, the Bible’s greatest prophetic riddle, and what world-renowned evangelist Billy Graham describes as a convergence in end-time signs for the first time in history.
This prophetic mystery book pieces together the apocalyptic puzzle–uncovering what may be not only the biggest story and political…

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FEATURED POST: Depression Is Not Beautiful

  

Written by marjramos– I get sucked under the waves of varying ferocity with no sense of direction. I don’t want help and I refuse to get better. Every waking day, it occurs to me that I don’t want to leave. My damaged body fights a long battle against my mind, both telling me different things. 

My friends and family see the problem, but I don’t. I look at the endless empty boxes of takeout, or I clean up after purging, or bandage bleeding wounds, but I see this as normal – I’ve never known anything else. It eludes from the change I desire to have; I’m doing fine on my own, ain’t I?

I hit a solid wall when I try to get a clear understanding of anything, so I stop trying. I am reminded daily of my flaws, reciting them to myself under my breath, hiding the words with half-hearted laughs. I’m nothing but a piece of crap and my life is a big joke. My skin is sliced open. Razor blades are bloody. There are band aids in the trash by the sink of the cold, lonely bathroom.

I must take a step back and inspect the damage. I sift through what remains of my life, never seeing the broken shards of the sanity I once had and not knowing I need to put them back together to form what it had been once before. Deep down, I know, there will always be lines to remind me of the fractures where I shakily repaired myself, so why bother?

I am forced to get some help and I am grateful for this. No longer do I hide away, make excuses, and cover my scars with long sleeves. I feel connected to the outside world for the first time in a very long time and it is an extremely liberating feeling.

I laugh, I cry, I make memories, and I finally enjoy life. I am no longer alone, hopeless, scared, or misunderstood. Every encounter is a small touch of warmth that never leaves, only burns brighter and brighter until I shine with a light I’ve never known. I want to cry, but out of happiness instead of sadness.

In a moment of clarity, I realize how alike I am to a flower. I grow in beauty, wither in sickness, and am carried by the seeds I left behind. This is my life. 

This post was originally featured on Thought Catalog