Follow by Email

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Fake News and True Facts

It was bound to happen. It was only a matter of time and everyone knew it. Some were holding their breaths waiting for the inevitable, while others steeled themselves, hoping they wouldn’t be the ones on the receiving end. It’s not selfish. It’s just pragmatic. I would rather something happen somewhere else, far from my family and loved ones, than to my family and loved ones, and I think that’s a shared sentiment the world over no matter how selfless one might consider themselves to be.

Those who thought the last time was the last time were proven wrong, and those who hoped against hope that it wouldn’t happen again, had their hopes shattered by the sharp edges of reality. As I said, we all knew it. We all knew that a white Christian male was, at some point, going to walk into another public place where there were sure to be innocent women and children, and yelling “Merry Christmas” at the top of his lungs mercilessly open fire on unsuspecting shoppers.

Oh wait! That has happened a total of never! Never once has a Christian, white male or otherwise, walked into a crowded market and opened fire on people who wanted to do nothing more than buy some overpriced trinkets, and perhaps take a picture with a giant turkey leg. The absurdity of it all is that the only unknown factors were the where and the when, never whether or not another of these tragedies would once more play out on the world stage, or what the general profile of the individual who would carry it out would likely end up being. Spoiler alert: It was not a white Christian male!

In case you haven’t heard, the latest place to witness firsthand the viciousness of the acolytes of the world’s most peaceful religion was Strasbourg France. It was at a Christmas market, and a couple dozen thunderclaps later, three people will never see another sunrise, and a dozen or so will never forget that particular day for as long as they live.

We are told by propagandists masquerading as journalists that the most dangerous demographic currently inhabiting planet earth is white Christian men, but for the life of me I can’t find the data to back up this assertion no matter how hard I try.

Don’t get me wrong. Data exists as to the demographic responsible for the overwhelming percentage of terrorist attacks in our modern era, but it’s not white Christian men. Numbers don’t lie, and facts are stubborn things no matter how many talking heads want to pretend otherwise.

This particular ambassador of the religion of peace was radicalized in prison, something he was accustomed to even at the relatively young age of 29. He walked into a Christmas market intent on taking lives in the name of Allah, yelling ‘Allahu Akbar’ before opening fire. This is the reality of this tragedy, no matter how much some might try to whitewash, obfuscate, or otherwise ignore certain key facts.

Personally, I’m waiting for the first shark jumper in the media to insinuate that these men who are shooting up Christmas markets and running over people with their cars are actually Christians pretending to be Muslims in order to give Islam a bad name. Think that’s a little far fetched? Just you wait! Nobody believed people would get ostracized for insisting that gender is binary either, but here we are, and fully grown adults with what appears to be fully formed and functioning brains, are trying to convince other fully grown adults with fully formed and functioning brains that rather than two genders there are now 63.

This is what godlessness has wrought. Young men radicalized into taking the lives of people they’ve never even met for no other reason than to glorify a dead god, men stripped of reason regurgitating absurdity until they start to believe it as truth, disillusionment with everything, and an inability to relish and appreciate the simple things in life. Throw in an ever increasing suicide rate among every age demographic, and this supposed utopia we’re all racing toward seems like nothing less than hell itself.

With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr. 

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

Broken Backs and Stale Baguettes

If ever there was a nation of people more docile and all-embracing of the idea of globalism than the French, I have yet to come across it. It mattered not what the latest lunacy that came frothing from the mouths of self-titled experts was, the French lapped it up and begged for seconds.

Outlaw plastic, carbon, cars, planes, and toilet paper? Sure, of course, makes sense. Sign us up. We’ll even throw in cow flatulence and outdoor grills for good measure. And so the globalist agenda proceeded unchecked, unopposed, and largely praised by a populace that has been propagandized and culled to the point of perfectly mimicking a lobotomized individual who can do little more than drool on themselves and wait for their next government check to come in the mail.

Then something happened. It was unexpected, and caught the entire global elite by surprise. It was not something they foresaw, it is not something they planned for, and it is not something they ever imagined would occur in France of all places.

So great was the strain on the backs of the lobotomized masses, that something snapped. It was the proverbial straw added to the back of the proverbial camel, and all the pent up rage, anxiety, anger, disappointment and fear poured forth like a rush of water breaking a dam.

The straw could have been anything, but it just so happened to be a gas tax. This was it! The last insult, the last governmental leech to bleed the host just a little, because there is a fine balance between taxing the masses just enough to keep them clocking in to work and being good little automatons, and taking one cent more than they are willing to fork over because they’ve realized there’s more of their hard earned money going to government than to their own families.

And so the lowly masses raged, and their wrath would not be satiated by the scrapping of the new tax, nor by the call for holiday bonuses by employers who could afford it.

Unfortunately, because they had for so long allowed incompetent, mentally deficient individuals to pass laws and dictate policies, when it came time to take to the streets, rage, stale baguettes, and body odor is all the French had to stand against a tyrannical government.

We must come to terms with the undeniable reality that any time there is a push for new legislation, or for a new limitation on the individual’s rights in this country, the reason put forth isn’t really The Reason. There is always a secondary objective, a secondary motivation as to why certain things are pushed and encouraged, that is far more sinister than the one being presented.

Rage as they might, the most the French people can do at this juncture is throw a few brick and burn down their own neighborhoods. They’ve abdicated both self-governance and the ability to defend themselves and their loved ones, and now they must suffer at the whims of tyrants and miscreants, because though they are told they have a voice and are being heard, the truth of the matter is that once control is had, those in control will still do what they want when they want it.

This is why America vexes them so. They cannot accomplish their agenda as long as the average citizen still has the ability to defend himself. This is why they rage so, this is why they are frothing at the mouth, this is why an actual member of the United States House of Representatives warned gun owners that if they plan to resist, the government has nukes, so it would be a short lived fight.

The French can’t undo what they have done. Their fate is sealed, as is the fate of every nation that has surrendered their rights to the globalist cabal. While this nation still has its sovereignty, while this nation still has its rights, we can either acknowledge that the fight is real, or brew a nice cup of sleepy time tea and go back to sleep until we, like the French, get our backs broken and start manifesting our impotent rage in the streets to no avail.

With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.

Monday, December 10, 2018

Dusting Off The Ole' Blog!

I don’t believe in multi-tasking. Allow me to rephrase: I don’t believe that multi-tasking works. I’ve met people, my wife included, who insist that they can do two things simultaneously and equally well, but no matter how insistent such individuals are, my skepticism is not abated.

I have tried to multi task and I have utterly failed at it. What ends up happening is rather than two tasks being done equally well, two tasks get done shoddily, almost embarrassingly so, to the point that it takes me twice as long to go back and fix the jobs I attempted to multi-task, as it would have taken me to focus on a single task until it was completed.

I have been busy. That is the good news. The bad news, as is readily discernible, is that certain things I used to do regularly have been placed on the back burner. This blog is one of those things, and it has been a long time since I’ve sat down to write something exclusively for the blog.

While I was away I’ve nearly completed the next book that I will be releasing entitled The Battle Tested Believer, but with this project nearing its end I thought it a good time to dust off the ole’ blog, and get back into the regular rhythm of posting on here.

Much is happening in this world of ours, and not much of it is good or positive. Prophetic events are flying by faster than we can catalog them, and it seems the church has once more taken its default position of comfortable numbness, and blissful sleep.

To be perfectly frank, I also need a place to vent since I can tell by her facial expressions that bending my wife’s ear on a regular basis has become less than fun for her. She suffers me, as all wives likely do, but I can tell that the well of her patience is by no means bottomless, and I’m nearing the bottom. Yes, I say these things in jest, so no marriage advice needed.

My youngest daughter turned 1 last week. She is shuffling around, determined to keep her balance, discovering a world that was heretofore closed off to her. I watch her explore her surroundings, the awe of it all intoxicating, and I can’t help but feel that I can do more, perhaps even should do more to make sure that if the Lord tarries, the world she and her sister grow up in is not dark, and godless, and absent hope.

Whether we like to admit it to ourselves or not, it seems the darkness is getting a bit darker, and the light is getting a bit dimmer. I don’t want to be counted among those who by doing nothing allowed evil to triumph. I don’t think I could look my girls in the eyes if that’s what I concluded about myself.

And so, here we are again, staring down the darkness and the minions thereof, wielding the truth like the flaming sword that it is, and hopefully reassuring some of you that you are not alone, and that yes, God still has His remnant, unsullied and pure.

I don’t know what taking the blog off the back burner will mean as far as frequency, but it will be a priority once more, and if I have anything to share, it will be done posthaste.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr. 

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

A Timely Teaching

While at the Hear the Watchmen conference, someone reminded me of this teaching from another conference last year. I looked for it online, and lo and behold, found it. The talk starts around the 26 minute mark.

With Love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

A House Divided!

Sanctimony has an unpleasant odor about it. Self-righteous, self-aggrandizing sanctimony rooted in bitterness downright stinks. Once you run across it, it is as difficult to wash the stench from your nostrils as that of skunk, or putrid eggs, or some other hideous odor that causes one’s gag reflex to kick in.
Tragically, I know this odor all too well having run across it from time to time, and it is so off-putting that I felt compelled to write the following. As a matter of full disclosure, as I know there will be whispers to the contrary, I was not asked to write the following by anyone, at any time, and if I would have been, I likely wouldn’t have.
This weekend I attended the Hear the Watchmen conference in Dallas Texas. I was asked to speak, and even though I have a four month old and an almost four-year-old at home, I made the effort to attend because the needs of God’s people are more important than one’s own comfort. I knew it would be difficult for my wife to be left alone with both children as I traveled, but she understood the importance of this event, so she gave her consent with the caveat that I be gone no more than two days.
As I write this I am sitting in Terminal C at Dallas Fort Worth airport, waiting to catch a flight to Milwaukee, which will put me home sometime after midnight. Contrary to popular belief, I am not flying on a private jet as some like to picture all preachers, I’m flying coach, and my seat is close enough to the lavatories to wish I were a little closer to the front of the plane.
I will be missing roughly half of the speakers at the conference, and for this I am sad. What I did hear while I was there, however, was the testimony of a Messianic Jew who lost both possession and position for the sake of Christ, and who was shunned by his family and ended up living in a tent on the beach in Tel Aviv with his new wife because he refused to deny Jesus. His name is Zev Porat. He is my brother in Christ.
I also got to hear a talk by Dr. Michael Lake, caught the tail end of an enthusiastically delivered message by Carl Gallups, and was present for every minute of Coach Dave Daubenmire’s infectious call to action for the church. Somewhere in between getting fed I also delivered a message on the importance of unity within the body, and how all the tribes of Israel came together with one goal in mind: that of making David King. Without unity, we are prey. Without unity, we have no hope of combatting the darkness effectively.
I did not know why God had led me to preach this particular message, and I delivered it a day before what I am about to discuss occurred.
To top off my short jaunt to Dallas, thirty minutes after touching down, I was sitting at a table with a man who is 88 years young, and still as on fire for God as he was in his youth. His name is Henry Gruver, and although he remembers having been in our apartment in California and meeting my grandfather, I was too young to have remembered the visit.
For the thirty years I’ve been doing ministry he is one of a handful of men I’ve wanted to meet, but somehow never got a chance to. His passion for Jesus is evident to one and all, and his desire to see souls saved is what compelled him to drive from Phoenix Arizona to Dallas Texas on his own; a trying feat for a man half his age.
Throughout these two days I also saw people getting convicted, delivered, fed spiritually, challenged, and encouraged. I saw people laugh, and cry, and revel in that sense of comradery that only being around other like-minded believers can produce. I saw what the work of ministry ought to be, wherein the family of God lay aside all pretense and simply fellowshipped with each other.
On the morning of the day I was supposed to fly back home I was surprised to discover that every speaker at this conference had been branded a heretic. If I had been singled out personally, this post would not exist because I have thick skin and I’ve been called worse. However, I was there when Russ Dizdar spoke of the deliverance ministry and how much of a toll it takes on him physically. I saw the pain in his eyes, and I remember having seen the same kind of pain in my grandfather’s eyes when we traveled. I was there as brother Zev detailed being spat upon by those of his own family, and how he would have inherited a fortune had he simply signed a document stating that Jesus is not Messiah. I was there when Coach Dave spoke of standing in front of abortion clinics and having strangers hurl insults and worse. I was there when Michael Lake spoke of the hardship of leaving one’s spouse at home in an ill state so you can go minister to the people of God. I was there when Mike talked about being at the lowest point of his life, barefoot and penniless, and someone giving him a pair of sandals and a ten-dollar bill. I was there! If these men be heretics, then all I can say is that heretics will be walking the streets of heaven one day.
But see, it’s easy to be a Pharisee nowadays, and playing at being judge, jury and executioner is seductive. Rather than loving the people of God, the people of God love drama and intrigue. They treat the family of God like some cheesy soap opera more interested in unfounded gossip than in whether or not what was spoken was Biblically sound or spiritually impacting to those in attendance.
Rarely will anyone lift a finger to further the work of the Kingdom, but they’ll type themselves down to nubs ­­­tearing down people who have been preaching the message of the cross throughout the world for longer than they’ve been alive. If you have to tear others down in order to build yourself up, then all I have for you is pity. If, however, you begin to use words like heretic, which you obviously do not know the definition of since you used it about men who are wholly sold out for Christ, then I would encourage you to give serious consideration to the scripture passages dealing with how one is to approach a brother whom they consider to be in error, as well as how God deals with those who make His little ones to stumble.
The thing of it is we all know the problems. We can itemize them, we can catalogue them, we can talk about them endlessly, but when it comes to solutions, the handful of individuals who have enough heart and boldness to present them are branded heretics.
If all we were meant to do as the Body of Christ was moan and holler about how bad it’s gotten in the world without acknowledging that it is incumbent upon us to do something about it, to stand in the gap, to stand on the battlements, and to make war against the darkness, there would be no point the Scripture regarding being light, fighting principalities, or having done all to stand.
Most Christians are content with being thermometers. A blessed few realize they have no choice but to be thermostats.
It’s not enough to wail about it being hot or being cold. As a child of God you must do your utmost to change the atmosphere around you, to be a thermostat, and draw those who are in the darkness toward the light.
Just as an aside, as I doubt it’s a juicy enough tidbit to make the gossip mill, do you know what all these heretics did when they heard they had been branded as such? They didn’t pray for the Lord to smite anyone, they didn’t pray for the Lord to rebuke anyone, they didn’t pray against anyone, they prayed for them.
For whatever it’s worth, from everything I was able to witness, these men are either really bad at being the heretics they’ve been accused of being, or really good at being servants of the Most High God who desire to see souls saved, and the world changed for the glory of the Father. But then again, Jesus was accused of being master to the demons He cast out of those who were possessed, by the same sort of Pharisee whose line and seed seems to have survived the millennia.

With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Scaring Monsters

It is impossible to scare monsters. Try as one might, one cannot debase themselves to the level a monster can, and although most individuals feel uncomfortable and even detest the notion of becoming monsters even temporarily, monsters feel comfortable in their own skin.
There is no self-loathing when it comes to a monster. There is no introspection, analysis, or desire to change, to become better, more noble, or more humane. A monster is happy being a monsters, and anyone who attempts at pretending to be one, or attempts to play chicken with one soon comes to see the folly of their ways.
As of late political opponents of Vladimir Putin have been dropping like flies. Just in the past week two such individuals have been found dead within the borders of England, and in an act of breathtaking ignorance as far as the nature of the man she was attempting to rattle, Theresa May set out to make demands and set ultimatums regarding untimely demise of the aforementioned Russian nationals. As is often the case words have turned to action, and some twenty-three Russian diplomats have been expelled from England.
I know not who the English Prime Minister consulted, but if she thought for a second that her actions would make the Russians back down, she really has no clue as to whom it is she was attempting to bring to heel.
At this juncture Putin won’t back down simply to save face. What the West fails to understand and has for decades is that showing weakness when it comes to nations such as Russia is not an option. If Putin blinks, he is done, and he knows it.
It is my hope that this entire drama ends here, that cooler heads prevail, and heated rhetoric will remain just that. The thing about hope, however, is that we often times hope something occurs which we know deep in our gut will not, and this is one of those moments.
I think this would be a perfect time for the Russians to flex their proverbial muscles, and reaffirm that they will not roll over for anyone, nor do they take being threatened by a head of state lightly. It will be interesting to watch this conflict play out to its rightful conclusion, because I believe depending on how it goes it will either confirm that in fact the Russians are ready to expand once more, or are still biding their time and oiling the war machine to lethal perfection.
Whatever the outcome, whatever path nations take, whether it be to peace or war, as children of God, what we must say as one voice in times such as these is “come quickly Lord Jesus.”

With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.

Thursday, March 8, 2018

Numerical Inferiority

It happens as surely as the sun rising every morning. Every time I pen a call to action, or insist that the children of God are meant to be more than the stepping stools of the godless, there are inevitably one, two, five, ten e-mails from individuals reminding me that they are just one person, and there really isn’t much one person could do.
The excuses are well detailed in every correspondence, from them not having a platform, to them not wanting the blowback from family and friends because they’ve been spending so much time trying to win them to Christ, to the more generic, ‘I’m just one person. What can one person really do?’
I have come to believe that this notion of numerical inferiority is one of the tools and snares the enemy uses most often to keep the children of God silent. It is a brilliant con, and as all brilliant cons, it is almost childlike in its simplicity: You simply provide the individual with justification for not doing what they know they ought to be doing.
You see, what the enemy is intent on doing is keeping you from finding your voice in the first place. He knows that once you open your mouth to speak, once you stand on the foundation of truth and defend the name of Christ, once you stand in the gap and step out fully aware of the slings and arrows that will come your way, you will realize that this fear of being numerically inferior, or not being able to affect any change because you’re just one person is a well-constructed but baseless lie.
There is a quote I believe to be attributed to Thomas Sowell that highlights just how irrelevant numbers are when it comes to rational arguments and making an impact in society. He is quoted as having said, ‘It’s amazing how much panic one honest man can spread among a multitude of hypocrites.’
This truth perfectly encapsulates why numbers rarely matter except for when it comes to war. If you are standing on a foundation of truth, then though you might stand alone, the fact that you are standing on truth will strike fear into the hearts of those who have surrendered themselves to deceit.
The only reason the godless are winning is because they godly are being silent. They make so much noise that one would think they were in the majority, when all indicators prove that they are not. No matter how much they try to tell you otherwise, transgender toddlers, pedophilia, the quashing of free speech, debasement, hedonism, and purposeless existences are not what the majority in this country ascribe or aspire to. It only seems that way because the moral, the virtuous, the upright and the godly are utterly silent in the face of screaming purple haired harpies with holes in their faces and a penchant for misspelled tattoos meant to have a deeper meaning hidden to everyone but the Tide pod eater who thought it would be a brilliant idea after a bottle of peach schnapps.
It is now past obvious that silence is not the answer. The silence of the godly emboldens the godless. The silence of the godly gives the godless a sense of security, wherein they come to believe that the echo chamber of idiocy in which they live is actually the real world everyone is accustomed to.  
If history has taught us anything, it is that a majority who is silent long enough will be forever silenced by the vociferous minority which continues to push its agenda. Eventually, inevitably, there comes that turning, that moment, that crossroads wherein the silent will want to speak, find their voice, and make their arguments heard, but alas, they’ve been silent for so long, and have acquiesced so much power to the godless, that out will come the muzzles at the first stirring, and at the first sign that those who have long been silent might want to speak in their own defense.

With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.