News on the March:Higgs Boson

Higgs bosons are made in high-energy collisions between pairs of particles that have been accelerated to nearly the speed of light. These bosons don’t live for very long — only about 10^minus 22 seconds. A particle with that lifetime, traveling at the speed of light, will decay long before it travels a distance the size of an atom. Thus, it is impossible to directly observe Higgs bosons. It is only possible to observe their decay products and use them to infer the properties of the parent boson.
Physicists have made the first unambiguous observation of Higgs bosons decaying into a matter-antimatter pair of bottom quarks. Surprisingly, the Higgs bosons decay most often in this way.
The new announcement shows a strong agreement between the theoretical predictions and the experimental data, which could in turn set strict constraints on ideas of more fundamental physics that strive to explain why the Higgs boson even exists.
In the 1960s, researchers were investigating linkages between the force of electromagnetism and the weak nuclear force, which is responsible for some types of radioactive decays. Although the two forces seemed distinct, it turned out that they both arose from a common and more fundamental force, now called the electroweak force.
However, there was a problem. The simplest manifestation of the theory predicted that all particles had zero mass. Even in the 1960s, physicists knew that subatomic particles had mass, so that was potentially a fatal flaw.
Several groups of scientists proposed a solution to this problem: A field permeates the universe, and it’s called the Higgs field. Fundamental subatomic particles interacted with this field, and this interaction gave them their mass. [6 Implications of Finding the Higgs Boson]
The existence of the field also implied the existence of a subatomic particle, called the Higgs boson, which was finally discovered in 2012 by researchers working at the European Organization for Nuclear Research(CERN) laboratory in Switzerland. ( For their predictions of the Higgs field, British physicist Peter Higgs and Belgian physicist François Englert shared the 2013 Nobel Prize in physics.
(Ack :Live Science/First-Ever Observation of Higgs Boson Decay Opens New Doors for Particle Physics-Don Lincoln/ August 28, 2018)

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The Book of Revelation

The Word of God set into Scripture is like a seres of narrative accounts of nations, Jews and Gentiles, kings prophets and relevance of each draws from the testimony of God. ‘Forever the word is settled in heaven (Ps.119:89)’. It is like the constitution eternally enshrined in the divine Will and fulfilled by Jesus Christ. The first book is about the beginnings and the Book of Revelation is forward looking to the eternity in which every one who has accepted Jesus Christ as the Lord shall find a place. So the first and the last book serve as book ends and in between the reader shall find the narrative arc moving toward from heaven and earth to new heaven and new earth.
So the Book of Revelation is a book where unraveling the mystery of God in a series of visions is given to Apostle John. He was exiled to the isle of Patmos while Caesar Domitian set off wave of persecution against the Christians. Many visions echo prophetic writings Isaiah, Ezekiel and of course Daniel is very represented. It goes to show testimony of God is not adding anything new other than what was in the divine Will which was revealed through the Holy Spirit on a need-to-know basis. So Apostle John may had Emperor Nero in mind when he mentioned the number 666 and since then we have had few other candidates. This man of perdition shall ultimately make his mark in the appointed time. The key to mysteries of God shall come to pass in fulness of time. We see the signs already so a close study of this book helps us to watch diligently and not fall back disappointed since dates set by false prophets are proved wrong.
This book is unique as the only book written as a first hand report.
This is a transcript of heavenly realities as received by Apostle John. He heard as well as saw and he adds blessedness to those who read and also keep what is written therein.
In the days to come if God willing I intend to annotate the Book in my Bible blog to which each visitor is invited. May it prove to be a blessing for each one of you,
Benny

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Sign of the Times: the great tribulation

“For then shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be (Matt.24:21)”.
Jesus knowing his time on the earth was drawing nearer explained what must occur on the earth before he comes second time.In the Bible often we are given future events telescoping into one other. This discourse began with the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem. It was fulfilled in 70 AD. Also significant is the fact many events have since taken place. “For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places. All these are the beginning of sorrows(Matt.24:7-8)”.
But are such events as Vesuvius eruption destroying Pompeii or a giant tsunami hitting Santorini island unique? These events causing rise and fall of world empires, and natural calamities leading to drought floods volcanic eruptions are part and parcel of the history of mankind. The prophecy of Jesus as to end times is also echoed,- we have several passages from the scriptures, notably from the Books of Daniel and of Apocalypse.
In the Book of Revelation we read of Satan personified by a red dragon and two beasts one rising out of the sea and the other from the earth. With them erupt the times of sorrows. Firstly the dragon is against God and his saints. He shall check the salvation plan of God with whatever means at his disposal. So he shall deceive in the same manner he deceived man through Eve. Do we not see even now nations employing spin doctors and PR men to deceive the people? Lately I hear ‘Truth is not truth’ so one may imagine how deep we are in the sea of mendacity riding ever high.

The sea in parlance of the Spirit signifies people, nations. Prophet Isaiah compares them to waters ever throwing up mire and dirt. Always there are things to do and cause division as we see these days on racial lines, migrants and locals. The beast with composite animal parts is a man of the people. He could be a populist catering to stir up passions using choicest epithets. He resembled a leopard but had the feet of a bear. What made him come to prominence but the bear and a mouth like that of a lion? Bear and lion are often emblems designating nations. Bear for Russia and lion for Great Britain is too familiar for further explanation. So what shall we makes of the beast having feet of a bear? What facilitates his rise to prominence could be his base or money that the bear made available for his rise. His words are for tearing up his perceived enemies so lion is in the sense of braggadocio. Where did his power come from but from the red dragon.’The whole world was filled with wonder and followed the beast’ could mean the ideology he espouses shall find many nations taking up.
Compare this beast with the beast in the vision of Daniel “The first was like a lion, and it had the wings of an eagle. I watched until its wings were torn off and it was lifted from the ground so that it stood on two feet like a human being, and the mind of a human was given to it(Dan.7:4-NIV). The eagle with wings plucked of signifies obviously its grandeur on the wane. The bear the eagle are symbols currently representing nations.What we need consider the events facing us is part of the thrust to which human history must pay heed.
In an unspecified date such a beast a populist and a braggart who demands overwhelming adulation and loyalty shall appear. What we see now are merely dry runs of populism and when this man of perdition does appear the reality shall bite all the more with vengeance.
Benny

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Attention Crisis- an opinion

Was the creation of the internet not supposed to be the dawn of a technological and informational utopia? Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the world wide web, is convinced that it is failing us. In Anna Karenina there is a telling line in which her lover Vronsky looks at the clock without registering what he read. There is a twilight zone in our thought process which can manifest itself in the most varied manner. When we dream it surfaces, like a man in a state of semi-starvation dreams of gorging on food or forbidden desires are let out and clothed in forms that may require a psychiatric couch (and a few sessions with the doctor) to get a glimpse of what goes on in the head. When we associate attention crisis we are speaking a kind of a hole in your head through which social media may exploit your vulnerability if you let.
In an age where medicine caters to individual needs social media can similarly shape message to suit the mind. Rational design is the inventive process of finding new medications based on the knowledge of a biological target. Social media similarly targets man as a consumer so his vulnerabilities only need be located. In the earlier days a great man say Caesar who strode like a colossus before the Roman citizens was to Cassius nothing of that sort. As a soldier having been together in many military campaigns he knew his falling sickness and other failings. Such knowledge is power and Iago’s power over Othello was his knowledge. A similar and dangerous tool social media wield over human societies. They are not to educate us or plug the holes in our head but to exploit for their own benefits. In designer drugs the drug is most commonly an organic small molecule that activates or inhibits the function of a biomolecule such as a protein, which in turn results in a therapeutic benefit to the patient. Think of smartphones that slowly become addictive in your life so much so you cannot take eyes off it is the result of interplay of several actions you initiate with regularity and it is a habit. Your brain is literally rewired so information keeps flowing in and you are hooked. The same technique that we associate with Goebbels,- so a lie when directed at you a hundred times takes on the likelihood of truth, is very much in our reach. First thing you look at after sleep is your smartphone and it adds nothing to your life but you are convinced it does. This is attention crisis that defines moral and political struggle of our time. The culprits? Google, Facebook, and Twitter are all out there. They are not serving your interests but rewiring your mind for commercial purposes.
Think of the role Facebook and the rest played before the 2016 US elections? Russian meddling even when shown as a real threat cannot go away since it is still aired without let up. Is not fake news still flooding the cyberspace? If social media gives you access to truth and informational empowerment how come we see just the opposite? Perhaps the hole in the mind does not get pacified by gizmos and gadgets that pour money in some one’s coffers. You must learn to take charge of your mind yourself. It is what life means.
When my interest in girls peaked in my teens I often misread girl for Giri (name of a former President of India), and now it all seems so silly. How we give shape to our desires and how we really want to interpret the world without is not reality but the hole, the crack in the mind which is for us to fill. Character it is called. If social media seeks a hold what would character suggest? Deletion is within our power.
Benny

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Am I to eat my words if I woke?

Ghosting is a word you cannot do without. Have you ever had the feeling of a Christmas dinner with all the festivities going about you, all you can do is feel but absent? You are staring at your smartphone wondering why no one has bothered to reply your DM? ‘Am I deleted from memory of my buddies?’ The stark truth is that you have been ‘ghosted.’ Only when the Christmas Spirit has come and gone and your siblings think you are a stranger, you know what it is to be trapped in digital limbo. Ghosting happens to the best. In the world of apps a emoji takes precedence over you. It is a protocol for which Facebook, Twitter and so on reserve all that razzmatazz to hook you in. Ghosting comes after you have entered the world of Socialmedia.

Shadowbanking: Shadow banking consists of any financial transactions carried out by institutions that don’t have a formal banking license, in other words institutions that are not directly regulated or overseen by government bodies. Examples of these are credit card companies, insurance companies, PayPal, the institutions within banking that lend money back and forth between banks. Nobody knows how large this sector is, but current estimates put shadow banking at $160 trillion (£124 trillion) and OTC(Over the counter) transactions at $532 trillion (£412 trillion), or roughly twice and six-and-a-half times the GDP of the entire Earth, respectively. Both sectors were of course heavily involved in creating the 2008 crash, and both have remained almost unaltered since then. We need to understand the jargon-filled language of the economic elites, because otherwise they will write their own rules. If political parties drag their feet in cleaning up their act right you may draw your own conclusion.
Digital design ethics

Referring to the ‘attention crisis’ – the fact that no one can take their eyes off their smartphones – James Williams writes that “the liberation of human attention may be the defining moral and political struggle of our time”. He observes that widely-used platforms such as Google, Facebook, and Twitter are basically advertising companies, and they are developing a science of attentional capture whose main aim is to exploit vulnerabilities in our willpower and manipulate us into buying things. Our smartphones give these companies an easy conduit into our heads. Williams is currently a researcher in design ethics at the Oxford Internet Institute; he is part of a pushback against ‘Big Tech’ that is asking difficult questions about how our minds are being rewired for commercial purposes. His argument that the social contract, the idea of human rights, should be extended to cyberspace is gaining traction. Was the creation of the internet not supposed to be the dawn of a technological and informational utopia? Even its father, Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the world wide web, is convinced it is failing us.

Catfishing refers to people who construct false identities online and, whether out of boredom, loneliness or malice, lure other people into continued messaging correspondence, thereby building false relationships with them (the apparent source of the term ‘catfish’ is a 2010 documentary called Catfish.

Woke: African Americans in the US came to the realisation that racism never really went away, it just camouflaged its fundamental failure of empathy as tolerance – this is a contention of the US Black Lives Matter movement that gathered strength after the shooting in 2013 of the 17-year-old African-American boy Trayvon Martin. From there the term has been making the short jump to other second- (eg LGBT) and third- (eg feminism) phase civil rights movements equally lulled by the illusion of tolerance. The goal is to go beyond feeling tolerated to being fully accepted and welcomed.

Deletion: as social media users realize that the websites they are on are not merely neutral ‘platforms’ for ‘social interaction’ but more like a kind of flypaper to which people and all of their personal data stick. Moreover, these websites are specifically designed to be addictive – there is a vast literature on the infernal psychology being deployed by Silicon Valley companies against social media users. No less a luminary than Jaron Lanier, one of the pioneers of digital innovation in the world and a granddaddy of Silicon Valley (he was born in 1960), points out many serious problems with social media, but the most straightforward one is that there is plenty of research that suggests social media fundamentally makes people unhappy. His solution is simple: delete your accounts.
Autofiction Writing that merges autobiography and fiction, and freely the author creates an alternate history.
gaslighting: In George Cukor’s 1944 film Gaslight, a man attempts to convince his wife (Ingrid Bergman won the Academy Award for best actress) that she’s mad in order to get her committed to an insane asylum and swindle her. Inherent in this story is a struggle over the empirical nature of reality: are there solid truths, or is reality only a matter of perception? Gaslighting has become a byword for psychological manipulation, with experts offering tips on how to know if you’re a victim of the behavior. In the present era, where potent advertising and PR forces are doing everything in their power to make truth irrelevant and directly hack our minds, and where politicians no longer seem to acknowledge the existence of facts, the word has sinister new applications.

(Ack:BBC culture-Cameron Laux
8 August 2018/

Benny

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Short Stories: James Joyce

Araby
North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers’ School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.
The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant, and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes, under one of which I found the late tenant’s rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister.
When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses, where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street, light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner, we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan’s sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea, we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan’s steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed, and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body, and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.
Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs’ cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-all-you about O’Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears I could not tell why and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: ‘O love! O love!’ many times.
At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar; she said she would love to go.
‘And why can’t you?’ I asked.
While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps, and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.
‘It’s well for you,’ she said.
‘If I go,’ I said, ‘I will bring you something.’
What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised, and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master’s face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child’s play, ugly monotonous child’s play.
On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly:
‘Yes, boy, I know.’
As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I felt the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me.
When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high, cold, empty, gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress.
When I came downstairs again I found Mrs Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old, garrulous woman, a pawnbroker’s widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn’t wait any longer, but it was after eight o’clock and she did not like to be out late, as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said:
‘I’m afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord.’
At nine o’clock I heard my uncle’s latchkey in the hall door. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten.
‘The people are in bed and after their first sleep now,’ he said.
I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically:
‘Can’t you give him the money and let him go? You’ve kept him late enough as it is.’
My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’ He asked me where I was going and, when I told him a second time, he asked me did I know The Arab’s Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt.
I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous houses and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name.
I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man. I found myself in a big hall girded at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognized a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Café Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins.
Remembering with difficulty why I had come, I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets. At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation.
‘O, I never said such a thing!’
‘O, but you did!’
‘O, but I didn’t!’
‘Didn’t she say that?’
‘Yes. I heard her.’
‘O, there’s a. . . fib!’
Observing me, the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured:
‘No, thank you.’
The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder.
I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark.
Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.
The end

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Truth: greater light and lesser light

What is day and night?
Night is different from day because in the former light is absent. When the Spirit speaks of the creation of heaven and the earth each day is in a different sense that a day of 24 hours. Several events are grouped together in a day so that one day has a spiritual significance. Things of the Spirit we are to discern as having spiritual overtones and with this post we shall examine what ‘the greater light and the lesser light’ represents in the Spirit’s lexicon. Both are taken as a single entity. It signifies the Father-Son relationship.

The moon has nothing to do with Jesus Christ. Considering that there were many pagan cults existing in the Ancient world where moon worship was very much in vogue it is improbable that the moon would fit with the significance the Holy Spirit attaches to it. Consider this verse, “Every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light lest his deeds should be reproved (Jn.3:20)” But he that doeth truth cometh to the light. So truth is what the Holy Spirit lays stress on the term greater light and lesser light. Truth is of the same absolute in quality but there is a distinction between truth that God represents and of man. Recently we hear of truth spoken in context. Is it not purely man’s invention to make truth draw it value from context? The gospel says grace and truth came by Jesus. So the Spirit states the purpose of the Word becoming flesh. He made the invisible God manifest. So the gospel of God is the gospel of Christ on the basis of truth.

Truth is the basis for the Holy Spirit. He is the Spirit of truth. When God the Son had submitted himself to do the Will of the Father we can understand this greater light pertains to the Father of lights. The Father-Son relationship is laid down in the narrative to give emphases of Will and fulfillment required of man. When a man of truth comes to ‘the True light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world(Jn.1:9)’ he seeks to have his works established in the sight of God. When man who seeks the praise of man does his works of charity (it is) in order to be seen. Of whom Jesus said, “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full(Matt.6:5-NIV)”.Those who preach prosperity does so before the full glare of arc lights. These TV preachers have their reward. So much for the day. What about the night? Those who steal or burgle homes at night they choose the hour since the night is their cover. For hypocrites what day or night means is different from those who love truth. They stand by Truth and not by night or day. Why so? In eternity there shall be no more night. “And the city (of God) has no more need of the sun, neither of the night…. there shall be no night there(Re.21:23).” But Truth is absolute and shall remain so. They belong to the greater light and lesser light.

Principle of Association in terms of truth creates an order where the stars in heaven is a memorial and not in the popular sense. “Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear(Matt.13:43; Dan.12:3)”. “And to rule over the day and over the night(Ge.1:18)”. When we study the word of God we need watch out: literal sense also carries spiritual significance and knowing which is which is a gift freely given to those who seek truth. Unless we compare spiritual truth in a spiritual sense we miss a great deal. In that vision of woman clothed with the sun we read that the red dragon(Satan) drew with his tail one third of ‘the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth..(Re.12:4)’

Benny

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