Ever since I began this initiatory journey toward God back in 2005, I felt an overpowering need to preach. Back then, the internet didn't have social networks—only forums—so I would post whatever Heaven dictated to me on a dozen of them; it was pure celestial code injected into the cloud. It is a beautiful pleasure to do that—to receive the light and pass it on—but extremes are never good... Very slowly, I began to sense that my online activism was bothering "the Matrix." The first time it happened, I was about to blast my message all over Facebook when someone—using my sister's voice—started calling my name repeatedly. I felt that every time I hit "send," it was like a beam of light striking the ribs of the Matrix—that mental network of black magicians ruling the world. Things kept getting heavier. Once, while I was preaching against the ETs (who are actually fallen angels), a very tall woman appeared—taller than me, maybe 1.90 meters—a very thin French woman who wouldn't stop staring at me. Europeans usually don't stare at people, but she kept her eyes locked on me. The very next day—goodbye, Twitter! And that lasted a long time; I couldn't have a Twitter account for nearly a year. It was also strange that, the next day, I asked the librarian about that very tall woman, and she didn't remember her—even though her height was memorable! Another thing that used to happen was that, at the internet café, someone would always come over to touch my desk under some pretext—like asking for a pen—and they’d touch it, check it, and leave. Minutes later—goodbye, Facebook! "Your activity is not permitted" for shouting "JESUS ​​IS THE CHRIST"!!!! Often, those individuals would run off—my angels, wielding swords of light, would chase them away. At least, that’s how I imagine it—but their flight was real!! I truly grasped the power my internet activism was channeling to Jesus after a short trip to nearby cities; while I was pondering whether to keep going or turn back, He told me, "It is better that you go back, because of this power..." A-HA! About two years ago, when the intensity of our messaging was at its peak—attacking targets like gender ideology, the ET invasion, "MABURRO IN PRISON—GLORY TO GOD!!!", the "plandemic," the woke agenda, the vindication of Michael Jackson, the spread of Islam, the Illuminati and their porn stars, AI as a hostile dictatorship, abortion, neo-paganism/New Age, and—first and foremost—opposing the Satanism and witchcraft that ought to be banned immediately!—well, right when one of their plans was being set in motion, the Matrix dug in its heels. It tried to take away all my computers across the three libraries I visit—all three at once!—using stupid excuses. But Jesus stood even firmer and brought me through unscathed. There were fights, arguments, and letters, yet I emerged unharmed; now I’m doing great at all three locations—GLORY TO GOD. I’m an undocumented foreigner, and their excuses were like those of an ET who doesn't quite understand human protocols—we’ve discussed this—but Jesus, ever calm, upheld me with a talent worthy of a heavenly hat-tip! You know what the key is? Faith! Nothing new there, right? But when you feel that, simply because you believed, He pulled you unscathed from the very clutches of evil by a hair's breadth... it feels like discovering the power of faith for the very first time! BELIEVE IN GOD AND IN ME TOO: THE KEY IS TO WITHSTAND THE ONSLAUGHT, AND YOU WILL SEE MIRACLES—SOMETIMES BROUGHT ABOUT BY YOUR OWN VOICE... YOU SIMPLY CAN'T BEAT AN OMNIPOTENT PLAYER—THAT'S THE SAYING. I SAY THIS FOR THE GLORY OF GOD. Shortly after, things heated up on the street at all the spots where I’d put up the 20 Christian posters I posted daily—usually featuring *Christ the Redeemer*, the Arm of God (which holds incredible power), angels, or divine cannons; they are true dimensional portals. That’s where I discovered that the protective power of the Ark of the Covenant lies in the cherubim sculpted on top—they are portals! Anyway, everywhere I went, there were either thugs or a lady who’d chase me in her car, yelling, "What are you putting up there?" Everyone was chasing me or giving me trouble. Jesus told me, "No conflict"—to ride the wave with a positive attitude—and before long, it all vanished; in fact, one of those guys even gives me money now! I remember two things: long before I was conscious of the power of drawing, I used to go to a secluded boulevard in Buenaventura—right in the middle of the bushes—to draw in my notebook. The drawings were as naive as could be—like a red heart with the word YAHWEH inside—but I knew that imagery was being injected into my DNA. Once, the police showed up and asked to see what I was drawing; the officer looked just like my ex-brother-in-law (the one my sister married and later separated from—they’re "Simulator clones"). The guy just stared at the drawings, mesmerized, without saying a word. Much later, it was revealed to me: *He wanted to forbid you from making those drawings, but he didn't have the guts.* With that same "Matrix-cop" type—but this time in Santa Marta—I was putting up a poster when a guy got out of a pickup truck: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?!" I was about to answer him, but almost immediately he got back in, just said, "Oh, very good, goodbye!" and sped off at full throttle! That is how painful the electricity was that my Lord deposited into her buttocks, back, hands, and face; she would be covered with power from on high—the look of terror.