Spiritual Realities

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  • Winning God’s Way

    Only have 30 seconds? Read this…
    Spiritual warfare is not frantic confrontation or passive withdrawal, but faithful trust in God as the true ground of victory. Scripture consistently defines “winning” as standing firm in Ephesians 6, clinging like Jacob, waiting like Daniel, and trusting like Jesus — who surrendered fully to the Father rather than acting from fear or control. The enemy’s aim is to break that trust through fear and scattering, but the biblical response is steady covenant faith that remains anchored in God’s victory. Christ has already won through the cross and resurrection, so believers live from that victory rather than striving to achieve it.

    Now you’ve read that, read the full version — it’s much better! (8 mins)

    There’s something most of us have genuinely experienced in the spiritual life — a real sense of authority, of something shifting when we pray, of ground being taken. That’s not nothing. And yet something underneath keeps quietly asking whether there’s more to the shape of this, whether the winning we’ve tasted is pointing toward something wilder and deeper than we’ve yet understood.

    I have many thoughts on the battle we face on earth and in the heavens. I have had many experiences. There’s a lot of exegesis of scriptural passages that could be done. But I think we have to start somewhere… somewhere foundational… somewhere cosmic. The ‘what this is all about’ place.

    What we’ve been given is real. The powers are real, the stakes are real, and the instinct to show up and not be passive — to engage, to press in, to refuse to cede ground — that instinct is written into us for a reason. But there’s an older pattern in the record, one that doesn’t abandon that instinct but reveals what winning actually looks like when it’s operating at full frequency. And before we can go anywhere near the details of how spiritual warfare works, we need to get the heart of it right. The cosmic architecture first. Because if we build on the wrong foundation, we’ll be sincere and exhausted in equal measure.

    Peter tells us that the enemy prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. That image is worth sitting with — not to generate fear, but to understand what the enemy is actually looking for. A lion doesn’t roar to announce its presence to the strong. It roars to stampede, to scatter, to induce the kind of panic that makes prey do something predictable. The roar is a strategy. And the thing being hunted for, the vulnerability being sought, is not weakness exactly — it’s the loss of trust. The moment we stop believing that YHWH has this, that the Father’s grip is secure, that the blueprint runs deeper than the wound — that’s the opening. Not our failure to fight hard enough, but our failure to remain settled in who is actually winning and how.

    Which means that when we feel the overwhelming urge to do something — to take control, to make noise, to seize the initiative — it’s worth pausing long enough to ask whether that urgency is faith or whether it’s panic wearing the clothes of zeal. The two can feel almost identical in the nervous system. But one is rooted in trust and one is rooted in fear, and the enemy understands the difference even when we don’t. Panic declares, in its bones, that God might not have this. Remaining — steady, faithful, immoveable — declares the opposite. It is a cosmological statement made in the body before a word is spoken. When we fail to panic, we are announcing something about the nature of reality itself.

    And passivity is not the alternative. That’s the false choice that leaves us either frantic or inert. Passivity is not rest — it’s a heart that has quietly given up on trust, that has decided, somewhere underneath the surface, that YHWH isn’t moving and so neither will we. That is its own form of unbelief, its own way of conceding ground. What the record is pointing us toward is something that looks like neither panic nor withdrawal — it’s the fierce, costly, wide-awake choice to trust his way of winning, even when everything in us is screaming that his way makes no sense.

    Look at what Paul actually writes in Ephesians 6 — not as a correction to anything, but as a revelation of the design. The verbs he reaches for are stand, put on, take up, pray. Not attack but stand, not conquest but endurance clothed in covenant virtue. He’s not pulling back from the fight. He’s showing us what winning looks like from inside the blueprint, what it looks like to be someone the roaring lion cannot scatter.

    You can feel this same shape running all the way through the record. Jacob doesn’t defeat the angel — he clings, he endures, he refuses to let go through the night, and he receives a wound before he receives a name. He doesn’t panic and he doesn’t quit. Daniel never confronts the Prince of Persia directly; he fasts and mourns and waits, and the battle moves while his role remains faithful intercession — trusting that YHWH is working in the room he cannot see. Moses on the mountain, Hannah in anguish, the psalmists crying out from inside their distress — not passive, not defeated, not panicking, but holding onto the God who holds them, which is the most violent act of faith available to a human being.

    And nowhere does that shape burn brighter than the night Jesus drew Judas close. He knew. He knew what was being set in motion, knew the kiss was coming, knew the silver had already changed hands, knew exactly where this road led. The roar was loud that night. Every pressure toward panic, toward seizing control, toward doing something to stop what was unravelling, was present in full. Old patterns within us would move to neutralise the threat, expose the betrayer, take back the initiative. He washed his feet instead. He broke bread with him. He drew him close — not because he was naive, but because he was operating from a different kind of winning entirely, one where what Judas carried in his heart became the very thing that revealed what was in His — hessed running so deep it gives everything, holds nothing back, and surrenders not to the enemy but to the Father, trusting that whatever is walked through, Father has it.

    That brings a different light on the statement…

    “Do you think that I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?”

    But he doesn’t.

    That is the victory. Not the cross resisted but the cross entered — freely, fully, with eyes open — because the blueprint runs deeper than the wound, and the resurrection was already written into the surrender. Not panic. Not passivity. The fierce, unshakeable trust of a Son who knew his Father had him, and who let that knowing be the ground from which he moved toward the thing that would look, to everyone watching, like total defeat. This is emet and hessed doing what no force of arms ever could, written into the marrow of the whole record, carried in the Prototype from before the foundation, already active in the design long before we arrived at the question of how to fight.

    This is also what the armor in Ephesians is actually made of — truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, the word of God. Covenant virtues, worn by a Warrior who has already won, and offered to us not as the means of achieving victory but as participation in the one already secured. We live from the win, not toward it. And that repositioning changes everything about how we show up — because the person wearing this armor is not trying to win, they are standing inside a victory already declared, and the enemy knows it, and the roar that is designed to produce panic finds nowhere to land.

    None of this is meant to make us mere passive observers. The scriptures are full of moments where something is directly addressed — where Jesus speaks to the fever, where Paul turns to the spirit and commands it to leave, where the disciples find that even the demons submit. That is real, it is in the design, and it belongs to us. But notice what it never is in the hands of those who carry it well — it is never reactive, never rattled, never the move of someone who has just been startled by the roar. Jesus’ approach was forthright to demons, he knew his authority and they had zero authority, yet his response to Satan when being tempted is somewhat more nuanced. He listens and engages… because there is a wider conflict going on… a cosmic question is being answered. How will the Son of Man respond to these questions? With flesh or in submission to Father. That’s the wisdom that we are called to move in. To face situations from rest, only doing what the Father is doing, rather than from panic. Ones who know the difference between moving with the Spirit and simply needing to do something. We absolutely do need to be proactive, but proactive not reactive.

    The action we take flows from the security we stand in. It brings a different kind of winning — the kind that washes the feet of betrayers, that surrenders to Father rather than seizing control, that enters the wound rather than avoiding it, that refuses to panic because it knows who holds the outcome — is not merely powerful. It is irresistible. “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He didn’t win by dominating. He won by being lifted up in surrender, and that is what draws — not the hero standing over the conquered, but the one who loved all the way through, who proved that the Father’s grip on him was stronger than anything the enemy or the betrayer or death itself could bring to bear.

    You, in Christ, the Prototype, are being unstoppably drawn into that same shape — the shape of Jacob who emerged renamed, of Daniel whose mourning moved heaven, of the One who sweat blood in a garden, said not my will, and shook the cosmos. That frequency is already active, already written into the blueprint, already yours.

    Jesus entered the deepest darkness of Psalm 22 when He cried, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” — yet that same psalm ends with a shout of triumph: “He has done it!” Jesus’ victorious declaration, “It is finished,” announcing that sin, death, and every power of darkness had been decisively defeated. And you were in Him!

    The Foundation Before the Fight — An Invitation for the Coming Weeks

    Before strategy, this. Before method, this. To stand when everything says run, to remain when panic says move, to draw close when old patterns say protect yourself, to surrender to Father — not to the pressure, not to the enemy, not to the fear — and discover that this surrender, this refusal to be scattered, this fierce and costly trust, is the most devastating force in any room. The lion roars to find someone it can devour. It is looking for the loss of trust. Give it nothing. This is what the record has always called it. Covenant faithfulness. The shape of the one who draws all people to himself. The kind of winning the universe was built around.

    “Then one of the elders said to me, ‘Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.’ Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing at the center of the throne…”

    Revelation 5:5–6

  • The Wrong Fuel

    Part of the Spiritual Transformation pillar — what it feels like when the wrong energy is running the system.

    The Wrong Fuel

    There’s a kind of tired that doesn’t respond to sleep. We’ve probably all been in it — doing the right things, showing up, giving — and finding ourselves more hollow at the end than the beginning. Like drawing water from a well that was never meant to hold water.

    Old patterns within us keep reaching back to the same source. We run low, so we push harder. Or we go passive — letting someone else’s energy carry us through a screen, a feed, a voice that isn’t His. The flesh refuelling itself. The same frequency, slightly topped up.

    But we were never meant to refuel this way.

    Repentance and rest is your strength.

    Not as encouragement toward stillness — as architecture. Ceasing is the design. Something woven into the original pattern. Something that can’t be bypassed. Something that only becomes visible when the striving stops.

    And it’s in the ceasing of flesh energies — the actual, unwound, rested-out ceasing — that His grace rises and becomes complete in us, and the living water He promised begins to move again. Not because we generated it or earned access to it, but because we were always designed for reliance on that source, and the only thing that had been blocking the flow was our own insistence on producing what only He can give.

    It reaches the body before it reaches the mind. The nervous system settles. The marrow quiets. Something shifts in the bones that no amount of trying could have moved.

    The paradox Paul names — when I am weak, then I am strong — isn’t a theological position to hold. It’s a frequency you find on the other side of actual rest. You, in Christ, the Prototype, are not being asked to manufacture grace energy. You are being invited to stop generating the substitute long enough to feel what is already flowing.

    An invitation into rest for the coming days

    Not a discipline. Not another practice to add. Just: stop. Let Him unwind what the flesh wound up. The grace was never absent. The flesh was just louder.

    If this resonates, the Three Hearts piece explores the architecture underneath this experience — why the flesh reaches for the wrong source, and what the ancient texts say about how the loop gets broken.

    Continue reading

    Three hearts

    The ancient architecture of transformation — Kardia, Nous, Dianoia — and why the flesh keeps reaching for the wrong source.

    Read →

    We died to the old tree

    Why the flesh structurally cannot generate the life it reaches for — and what the cross resolved at the level of mechanism.

    Read →

    Something is happening to us

    The Spiritual Transformation pillar — metamorphosis rather than self-improvement, and what it looks like in the body.

    Read →

  • heart locked

    Part of the Spiritual Experience pillar — what it looks like to walk this out with others.

    Heart-locked — what community actually requires

    There are two ways to be part of a community. One draws from it as a resource. The other walks with it, heart to heart. They can look identical from the outside. They feel entirely different from the inside.

    I want to share something I processed recently — not because it’s resolved, but because the unfinished parts might be exactly what’s useful.

    In a community gathering, someone mentioned they were also learning from another teacher elsewhere — and that teacher had a different framework for something we’d been exploring together. It was a small moment. Offhand, even. But I noticed something complex moving in me beneath the surface, and I knew I was going to have to sit with it.

    Dealing with what came up first

    The first thing I had to acknowledge — before I could get to anything useful — was the pride and jealousy that had surfaced. There was a flicker of competition. A sense that something I’d been building was being compared, or diluted, or measured against something else.

    If I’d tried to skip past that and gone straight to the more sophisticated question underneath, the whole thing would have stayed contaminated. So I stayed with it. I let Paul’s flow do its work — I do the things I don’t want to do, I don’t do the things I do want to do… thanks be to God through Christ Jesus. I breathed it out. I blessed the other teacher, genuinely. And I felt the frequency shift. The competition dissolved. Shalom.

    That took a few minutes. It always takes a few minutes. And it’s always worth it — because what it revealed underneath was far more interesting than the jealousy itself.

    The deeper question

    Once the pride was out of the way, I could look at what was actually there. A genuine question about community — about what it means to walk together when people are drawing from different streams, different teachers, different frameworks.

    This isn’t a simple question. And it’s not an accusation against anyone. It’s a realisation about two fundamentally different postures — two ways of being in relation to a community — that can be almost invisible until you name them.

    One is a position of “I’ve learned something important elsewhere, and that’s what I’m bringing.” There’s a sense of separation — drawing from this community as one resource among several, each assessed on its merits.

    The other is hearts locked together — walking a shared journey, where different flavours and influences are welcomed, but the bond is the primary thing. The content serves the relationship, not the other way around.

    Neither of these is about agreement on every point. You can walk heart-locked with someone and disagree with them. You can draw from a resource and find it genuinely life-giving. The difference isn’t intellectual — it’s relational. It’s a question of where your heart is anchored.

    Why this matters more than the teaching

    Here is what I kept coming back to: the heart-locked posture is not just a nice relational extra on top of good teaching. It might be the deepest thing we’re actually after.

    We spend a lot of time in this community working with mystical frameworks — the seven spirits, the nature of the heart, the body’s role in transformation. All of that is real and important. But underneath all of it, what we are actually practising is union. Oneness. The dissolution of the defended self into genuine, risky, open-hearted togetherness.

    If that’s the destination, then the posture we bring to community isn’t incidental to the journey. It is the journey. A community of hearts genuinely locked together — trusting, processing, walking — is not just the context for the teaching. It is the teaching made visible.

    Content without union is still just information. Union is the thing that transforms.

    An unfinished thought, left unfinished deliberately

    I’m not going to wrap this up cleanly — because I don’t think it is clean yet, and pretending otherwise would be exactly the wrong move for a piece about authentic community.

    What I can say is this: the hunger for hearts-locked community is real in me. The question of how you build it, how you protect it without becoming possessive, how you remain open without losing the thread of shared journey — that’s alive and unresolved.

    There’s a measure of vulnerability in putting that in front of you. But I think vulnerability might be part of the answer. Not vulnerability as performance — but the genuine, undefended kind. The kind that says: I don’t have this figured out, and I’d rather process it with you than present you with conclusions.

    A few questions worth sitting with

    Do you recognise the difference between these two postures in your own experience of community?

    Have you ever noticed the pride or competition that can arise when someone else’s framework enters the room — and what happened when you processed it honestly?

    What would it look like, practically, to move from drawing-from-a-resource into something more genuinely heart-locked?

    This is what community looks like here.

    Not a content delivery service. Not a resource to draw from at a distance. A walk — together, hearts open, processing in real time. If that’s what you’re looking for, the Academy is where it happens.

    Join the Academy

    Continue reading

    Three hearts

    The ancient architecture of transformation — Kardia, Nous, Dianoia — and why the pride that surfaced here is exactly what those chambers are designed to process.

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    Something is happening to us

    What the Spiritual Realities community is actually about — and why it isn’t a content platform or a self-help group.

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    Spiritual Experience pillar

    More on what the journey looks like when walked together — the fringe, the curious, the ones finding their way in.

    Explore →

  • three-hearts

    Part of the Spiritual Transformation pillar — the interior architecture of how real change happens.

    Three hearts — the ancient architecture of transformation

    There is a single Hebrew word — lev — translated as “heart” hundreds of times across the ancient writings. When the Greek translators came to render it, they discovered it was too vast for one word. So they reached for three.

    There is something stubborn in our resistance to being known. Not just known by others — but known by ourselves. The defences we’ve built, the stories we’ve rehearsed, the quiet distortions of how we see ourselves and the world around us… they feel like reality. We don’t even notice we’re living from them.

    But what if the ancient design of the human heart is more complex, more layered, and more beautiful than we’ve understood?

    The first chamber: Kardia

    This is the deep interior — the vault beneath the vault. The deep you. It is the place where wounds are stored, where memories are held, where the definitions we have formed about who we are sit like sediment at the bottom of a riverbed. From here come our deepest desires. Our most ancient loyalties. The choices we make even when — especially when — we act against what we consciously want.

    This is not the shallow heart of greeting cards. This is the marrow of personhood.

    The second chamber: Nous

    This is where things become quietly breathtaking. Nous is our perception of reality — the emotional and mental framework through which we see ourselves and the world. It is not just what we think; it includes the feelings wrapped around what we think. The assumptions that feel so obvious we’ve stopped calling them assumptions.

    Here is what makes Nous so extraordinary: we don’t usually choose what we perceive. We simply perceive it — and move on, as if it were simply what is. The Nous operates mostly beneath the waterline. A hidden current that shapes the entire direction of the ship.

    The third chamber: Dianoia

    This is the active, conscious mind. The imagination. The place where we visualise, deliberate, construct. If Kardia is the foundation and Nous is the lens, Dianoia is the building work we do with the light that comes through.

    The loop

    Here is where we begin to see something ancient and important — a loop in the design.

    Kardia — the deep heart, foundation of all

    ↓

    Nous — how we perceive reality, shaped by what is held in the Kardia

    ↓

    Dianoia — our active thinking and imagining, built from what the Nous perceives

    ↓

    flows back and begins to reform the Kardia itself…

    This is why, in Romans 12, Paul is so specific. He doesn’t say simply “change your behaviour.” He says: be transformed by the renewing of your mind — and the word he chooses is Nous. He is pointing to the perception layer. The subconscious emotional architecture of how we understand reality, who we are within it, and whether we are safe, seen, or valued.

    This renewal of the Nous is not a self-improvement programme. It is an access issue — an uncovering of what is already true about us in the Blueprint. As the Nous begins to align with the ancient reality of who we are — beloved, known, held — the Dianoia shifts, and even the deep Kardia begins to soften and reform.

    This is transformation. Not performance.

    It begins with noticing

    Most of the time, we live from these chambers entirely unaware. The Kardia fires a signal, the Nous filters it through an old story, the Dianoia reacts — and we call it just how we are. But what if we learnt to step back for a moment? Not to run from the anger, or the fear, or the sting of feeling unseen — but to become quietly aware of it. To observe it with a little distance. To let it speak rather than simply drive.

    I became offended when that person said that. Why? What did I feel? What must I have believed about myself in that moment for this to hurt so deeply?

    This is not weakness. This is the beginning of a deep and ancient process — something that in our tradition we’ve often called repentance, though that English word has picked up layers of shame it was never meant to carry. At its root, it is simply a turning. A noticing. A willingness to see.

    Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

    Psalm 139:23–24

    We don’t pray this to inform the Divine of something hidden. The One who wove us together in the secret place already knows. We pray it because the asking itself opens us. It is an act of consent — an invitation for the ancient Light to illuminate the ancient chambers.

    Above all else

    Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

    Proverbs 4:23

    Above all else. Not as one priority among many. Not as a spiritual practice for certain seasons. As the first thing. The thing from which everything else issues.

    To guard the heart is not to build walls around it. It is to tend it. To stay present to it. To notice what is being formed in the deep places, what old overlays are still running, what frequencies we have been living from without ever choosing them.

    This is the ancient work. It has always been the ancient work. And it is the work we are here to do — together.

    This is the thread woven through everything.

    The soft, open, accessible heart — capable of change because of what the Spirit does within us — is the very essence of growth. The Spiritual Realities Academy is where this practice lives, in community, in real time.

    Join the Academy

    Continue reading

    Something is happening to us

    The Spiritual Transformation pillar — metamorphosis rather than self-improvement, and what it actually looks like in the body.

    Read →

    We died to the old tree

    Why the flesh structurally cannot generate the life it reaches for — and what the cross actually resolved at the level of mechanism.

    Read →

    Sonship is the upgrade

    Why titles and gift functions are a cage — and what the ancient texts actually point toward instead.

    Read →

  • Sonship Is the Upgrade

    Pillar 4 — Biblical Spirituality

    Sonship is the upgrade.

    Not prophet. Not apostle. Not a title, a gift, or a ministry function. The ancient texts point somewhere far richer — and we’re standing at that door right now.

    If you’re asking…

    Why does the Church organise itself around titles and gift functions — and does that actually come from scripture?

    Is there a bigger identity available than the one my tradition has handed me?

    What did Paul actually mean by being “filled with all the fullness of God” — and was that really for everyone?

    Can I honour my church, my tradition, and still step into something that goes beyond its framework?

    The label prophet has been offered to me more than once. It sounds like an upgrade — a position, a seat at a special table. I understand the pull. It comes with reverence, with a defined place, with a framework that says: this is who you are, this is where you fit.

    But here’s what I’ve come to see. That framework is also a cage. The moment we accept the label, we accept the limits. We operate inside a system that was designed for a different season.

    And our season — the one we are standing in right now — is something else entirely.

    And no longer shall each one teach his neighbour and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the LORD,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the LORD.

    Jeremiah 31:34

    This isn’t new theology. This is ancient architecture, finally coming into focus.

    When someone introduces a person to me as “a prophet” or “an apostle,” I translate it internally to a higher reality: this is a Son of the Living God. A fellow heir. The five-fold framework was designed to equip the early ekklesia. It was never meant to define us. The moment a gift becomes an identity, we’ve stopped at the signpost and refused to walk the road.

    The road leads somewhere far richer.

    …that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

    Ephesians 3:17–19

    All. Filled. With the fullness.

    Not just those called prophets. Not just those called apostles. All of us. That was always the trajectory. We are entering an age where Sons and Daughters will know their identity more clearly — individually in Him, and together in Him.

    What this is not saying

    “Leave your local church.”

    No. The relational gathering of those discovering who they are in Him is a rich place. The question isn’t where you meet — it’s from what reality you meet.

    “Don’t listen to others.”

    No — the opposite, actually. We’re hungry for one another. For those discovering their identity in Him, where no single person is elevated and honour flows to everyone.

    “We don’t need structure.”

    No. Structure is necessary — but it will change. Structure that grows from Sonship will be relational, honouring, and free. Structure from control produces control.

    The overlap

    There’s always a transition season. Jesus knew it — the old and the new ran alongside each other, and something rich was preserved in the crossing. In the letter we call Hebrews, some believers were turning back to the sacrificial system. The author says: No. A new age has come in. Christ has changed everything.

    It’s tempting to stay with the previous. To return to known frameworks, never confront subconscious structures. But something new — kainos, genuinely new in quality — is here. And it was always the ancient design. We’re uncovering it.

    In Christ are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.

    Colossians 2:3

    Go deeper

    Seven Spirits

    The biblical framework for understanding the fullness of God — and how it becomes available to all.

    Explore →

    Kingdom of God

    What it means to live from heavenly identity — who you are in Him, right now.

    Explore →

    Spiritual Transformation

    How this identity actually reorganises the body, the nervous system, and the life you carry into a room.

    Explore →

    The invitation isn’t to know about this.

    It’s to experience it. To discover together what it looks like when we all do. That’s the ancient design — always was. We’re just uncovering it, in this current age of revelation as it pushes its way in.

    Join the Academy
  • Why Are You Here?

    Why Are You Here?

    You will have your reasons for being here. You will have your story of how you discovered this place, the teaching…even me. Perhaps you heard me in person somewhere. Perhaps you watched a YouTube video and it intrigued you, perhaps even drew you. Now you find yourself here. You might be wondering whether this space will help you, whether others here will help you, whether I will help you. I wonder if you sense the Spirit here? That something is beginning here, and you wonder if you have a place here… or that this space has a place in you?

    So why is this space here? Why is Spiritual Realities here? Is it because there is a life in the Spirit that is just so much more than many people experience? Is it that the words we use when we talk about life and God, can get in the way. That we need to shed words that we are labelling as religion so that we can reach out for a new way of thinking. A thinking that better grasps the life in the Spirit that we want? Is it that there is just, well, ‘more…’, and we don’t know what it is, but we can hear it like a distant voice in the wind that we sometimes wonder why others don’t hear. Well, I think it is probably all of those things. But.

    Let’s come towards this from a different direction. Perhaps you’ve never really read the last book in the official collection of books that has been labelled ‘the bible’. A bunch of bishops made a decision hundreds of years ago about what you can hold in your hand and call ‘the bible’. They decided what was in and what was out. Perhaps there should have been more books in? Perhaps, but one of the books that was a challenge to accept in was the ‘last’ book. To put it simply, because it was extraordinary, even weird. But boy, is it powerful. If you’ve read it several times, you may have formed an opinion about what its most important message is. Some of us have probably had our opinion of the book given to us by others strong opinions. Many of us might just want to avoid it, or strong opinions on it, because of the ‘fight’ around it. I want to suggest something.

    To me, it has a pinnacle. A high point. The most important point. It’s in the area where it talks about a new world coming. The old has gone and the new has come. I don’t want to go near all the different angles on that now. But in the middle of that, something is mentioned. And then, in a final extraordinary vision, an angel (yes, a divine being. If you know me I don’t like using the word ‘angel’ that much), comes and says ‘John, let me show you that again in detail…’. John sees a place that is full of life.

    It’s easy to look at church, and church meetings and the way we do church, and the way we talk about what church could be and… miss something. I believe what John was shown was what we are after. It’s what God’s after. It’s the connection between heaven and earth that converges on a group of people, in the heavens and on the earth. New people. In Christ people. Some in their earthly bodies, some in their heavenly bodies… but operating as one. Harmonising with all the ‘angels’. The river of life, which flows from the essence of Father’s being, flows through these people. You might think that they were the source, as it flows through them, but they will say and display that the source is Father. I think the ones in their heavenly bodies know this… and are waiting for what they have seen as a promise. The earthly ones joining them as if there was no separation.

    This is the reason for Spiritual Realities. Something, which is called by Hebrew thinkers, the new, heavenly City. The new Jerusalem. The actual joining of heaven and earth. I started this, to help others move into this realisation. And then more… to enter in through experience.

    That Electric City of ALL new humanity, who have lost focus on the difference between material and spiritual reality will constantly be at the heart of this journey. It’s why, currently, the zoom modules and connections are the heart of this ‘academy’. Because those community experiences move us towards that higher City. We are joined by others who are already higher. It is more than just learning skills. More than improving our own lives. This is not a resource. We ARE the resource. And that journey together will always be at the heart. New people will join. People will join us who are at different places. They don’t have to do two years catching up to be with us. They will be drawn into our journey together, to the extent they are able, as we give them grace and help others join with us. We can all engage, on the same journey, at the depth that we have reached.

    Community is not enough. Being spiritually mature is not enough. It is beyond those on their own. These three things will remain… Faith, hope and love. There will always be love, but there will always be a seeing of something that we need to form and reach for as a loving people… hope… and there will alway be the spirit mechanics of how to get there… faith. Just like God, full of love… loving community… dreamt of more… sons and daughters in harmony… and reached for it.

    We are a City. On earth and in heaven. That’s where the life flows that brings in a new Epoch for this creation. For those of us still in bodies, we are invited to engage with that City whilst still on earth. Then NEW fully comes.

    Who knows what is next after that…