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Michael Jackson Justice: It’s August 25, 2010 and We Still Hurt

God: Reconnect to Him

The Conspiracy against God is about "The Word", and the profaning of His Holy Name within us. Adam fell in the garden, breaking the direct connection to God. Jesus, the "last Adam" was a quickening Spirit, the Word made Flesh, and the only one with whom we can re-establish our relationship with God. Michael's story is still unfolding. He is the one who is, is not. But Jesus is the only name given under heaven by which we must be saved. Many are trying to rewrite HIStory. We were given a help to instruct us. Learn more "here".

Friday, August 27, 2010

It’s August 25, 2010 and We Still Hurt

Dear Michael, It’s August 25, 2010 and We Still Hurt

Dear Michael,

If you would have said to me two years ago, that I would be writing a letter to a man I never met who had passed away, I probably would have laughed and rolled my eyes.

Many of us envy you, to be able to step out of this world and drop your pain off at its doorstep. But we also consider it an honor to open that door, look down, see it there in its bundles of tattered cloth, pick it up and put it on to carry with us until God directs us to drop it off at yet another door.

Because of you, I know more about God. I know more about love. I know more about my capacity to feel it and give it. I know more about you and I also see what God was showing us through every trial you endured . . . that you were the person we were meant to be. Not perfect, but genuinely trying. Without apologies or excuses, you announced to the world that you were trying to be “Christ-like” in your heart. Like a child with no reason to be inhibited about that very possibility. Wonderful example and I want you to know I am proud of you.

I am writing this on the 26th, because Dr. Conrad Murray took the time I set aside for you yesterday. It was worth it, I think.

None of this is easy Michael. What are we to learn from all this that we haven’t already learned? Patience? Is it any easier on the witnesses of the destruction of the innocent, than it is on those suffering the destruction? We see what is happening, feel the pain and shoulder the guilt that we can do nothing about it. The guilt exists after they are gone.

The burden foisted upon us by those who delight in that destruction gets ever heavier. We too want to dump the rags of our burdens but just can’t seem to bring ourselves to burden the doorstep of yet another being. Somewhere, somehow it has got to stop.

You may have been a “Stranger in Moscow” but thanks to that song you are no stranger to me. “How does it feel?” It leaves me “Speechless . . . That’s How You Make me Feel”. That you ever thought you were “Missing A Friend”, or that you thought “I Can’t Do It By Myself.”

You asked people to “look within their heart” before they judged you, to try hard to love you. Maybe they should have looked within your heart first, so they would know what one was supposed to look like. Those of us that have also had a “Painful Youth” seem to be the only ones who feel the “Lost Children” while “Counting Their Blessings and Biding Their Time.”

“Helpless and hopeless, that's how I feel inside
Nothing's real, but all is possible if God is on my side
When I'm with you I am in the light where I cannot be found
It's as though I am standing in the place called Hallowed Ground”

The words to the song above should be a hymn. I run into the signs in my daily reading of the Bible, cradled in the verses, sometimes in songs, sometimes in more physical ways like the four white feathers I now have attached to my computer monitor frame to remind me that angels exist and work for God, with us.

Psalms 91: 3 – 12:

Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler[a]
And from the perilous pestilence.
4 He shall cover you with His feathers,
And under His wings you shall take refuge;
His truth shall be your shield and buckler.
5 You shall not be afraid of the terror by night,
Nor of the arrow that flies by day,
6 Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness,
Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.

7 A thousand may fall at your side,
And ten thousand at your right hand;
But it shall not come near you.
8 Only with your eyes shall you look,
And see the reward of the wicked.

9 Because you have made the LORD, who is my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place,
10 No evil shall befall you,
Nor shall any plague come near your dwelling;
11 For He shall give His angels charge over you,
To keep you in all your ways.
12 In their hands they shall bear you up,
Lest you dash your foot against a stone.

I trust you are under his wings. Maybe the burden left on my door step wasn’t a burden after all. Maybe it was the very feathers on my computer monitor, reminding me of the road in front of me and the purpose in which God put me on it.

Every once in a while, a weak moment gets me. I can’t be strong indefinitely and when those weak moments come, I let them take me because there is no denying them. You get it done, shake it off, put those rags back on continue on.

I wrote a poem about a dream I had back when I was a teenager. The full length dream remains on my hard drive under “weird dreams” folder. But the poem format is new as I did not being writing poetry until after my prayer about you in October of last year.

Eyes of Faith

Running through the house of halls
Closed doors line unending walls
Evil follows from behind
For my everlasting soul to bind

Swiftly I run door to door
Through empty rooms on helpless floors
Never dare to look behind
Lest my fleeing soul they find

Another room another door
More long halls, more cold floors
Running, opening, through and close
Down halls, through rooms my soul goes

Through one door and this I see?
One door finally, open before me
In that room I see him stand
In white robes, the Son of Man

Stop before the open door
I feel his love, but I want more
Evil just beyond my sight
For my soul they fight

Turn to see them I do not dare
My eyes fixed to Him in there
Move to touch him as I fall
Righteous need I start to crawl

Growing burdens hold me down
Weighted as I move
Son of Man is watching me
His eyes are all I see

Progress slow and aching pain
I cross into the room
Looking up into his eyes
The church-bride sees her groom

Inches only now I have
I stretch to touch his foot
Light of love and rapture gave
This withered soul new root

Lifted up into his arms
The Rapture now complete
I smile into his loving eyes
As the evil ones retreat

“I love you” spoken without words
I said, “do you know that?”
Jesus Smiled right back and me
Replied “My child, I do”

I asked of him while he was there
To show me an escape
He replied through serene stare
My child where was your faith?

There was more to this dream Michael but it is on my hard drive in story form. I don’t know if this is how you experienced your rescue, but I think about this whenever things get me down.

How many more 25th’s will we have to endure without knowing what happened to you and if the murderers will pay? You know. God knows. We don’t. And we are getting tired. This is my written prayer and I know God sees what is going on. The fighting, the profiteering, the betrayals and the hatred, all in the name of Michael. This is not a legacy, this is a curse. We have learned nothing and I am disgusted and discouraged. I thank you for the signs and the promise.

What a testimony it would be to see that God’s special witness prevail.

Child, where is your faith?

Goodnight, Michael


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. I feel you Bonnie.... and I am sure so does Michael, and pleaee accept a big heartfelt hug from me... thank you for your strength.

  3. Bonnie,
    This cry comes from the collective broken heart beating for Michael and goes straight up where it's supposed to be heard.
    Expect an answer soon..because it's a very good question to the one who created us all.

    Gratitude to you for walking on this path.
    Hugs and love,

  4. Beautiful and so very needed right now.

    Thank you.

  5. L.O.V.E.
    Thank you.
    Merci pour Michael et nous ses fans.

  6. Sunday is the day. I have a special something for you. When you read it, I want you to try an tell me what you think it means.

    Thank you for the hugs. Sunday, we are all going to need them.


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