By Theodore Shoebat
Tens of thousands of Christians in Lebanon took to the streets to fight against Christian persecution and to express their righteous rage against Turkey’s denial of the Armenian Genocide.
In Armenian, tens of thousands of Christians gathered together as well to commemorate the Armenian Genocide. And guess who was there to show his solidarity with the Armenian Christians? It wasn’t Obama. It was Putin, the one who so many are condemning as evil, and even as the Antichrist himself. While Obama and Erdogan (the president of the Antichrist nation of Turkey, who denies the holocaust of over three million Christians) are opening a $100 million mega mosque in Maryland, Putin is in Armenian expressing his love for his fellow Christians who have been so horrifically persecuted. I did a whole video on this:
The numbers are innumerable, and one look at the pictures can’t help but bring a sentiment of refreshment:
Holy Russia will be in the forefront of the Final Crusade, helping lead the confederacy of Christendom into the sacred battlefield of the Holy Cross. Destined for eternity, consecrated for combat, made holy through the blood of martyrs, the nations of the Cross are divinely destined by thundering Heaven to dip their feet into the gore of God’s enemies. The soldiers of Christ — the Militia Christi — they “fight the Lord’s battles” (1 Samuel 18:17), and the adversaries of Paradise are so overtaken by their strength, that the holy militia can say with St. David:
You have armed me with strength for the battle;
You have subdued under me those who rose against me.
You have also given me the necks of my enemies,
So that I destroyed those who hated me. (2 Samuel 22:33-43)
Upon His divine head was placed the Crown of Thorns,
Blood and sweat dripped from His divine body;
Agony and beauty became one
When the fires of men’s hearts were extinguished,
When the flames of love was struck gone,
Like the flickering flame of the candlestick,
In that moment when eternity and humanity came together,
And the glimmer of aspiration burned with one single Light,
A Light that blinded all the world,
When ubiquitous cruelty reigned over the earth
And the fountains of peace were made dry,
The Prince of Peace was birthed,
And now He hung high
Upon the blood stained wood,
Before scoffers and pompous men,
And for Himself He took no time to defend,
Although the armies of angels stood behind Him,
On no one did He depend,
And now tears tinged the rosy cheeks of the chaste Virgin,
Weeping for the One Who is the Beginning and the End.
Sorrow and bliss united,
On that day when Heaven bridged with Earth.
And who cannot see the majesty of anguish,
And how bittersweet the sight must have been
Of our Redemption?
Like the strong tasting water that Moses drank,
Which was only made sweet by holy wood.
Who cannot behold with the eyes of the soul
The Lacrimosa of the Mother,
As she stood on the battlefield upon the Mountain of the Skull
And not see despair and hope conjoin?
Who cannot see humanity,
And not see the coin,
Upon whom is the image of Love Himself?
For in love did Love die,
And For love did Love endure
Through the forlorn storms of Compassion,
Wherein lies those thorns
Whose roots plunge themselves into the Inferno,
And whose sharp blades sunk into the flesh of Love.
Who cannot see, when witnessing this anguish,
And the life of the Crucified One,
How from agony springs hope,
From death ascends resurrection?
Naked was the Son of Man
When He came into this world,
And naked was He when death made its presence.
But, when He arose from the callous soils of the tomb,
As a Warrior did he return, with death crushed under His feet.
Now He shall return as a King,
and His people — persecuted and oppressed as they are,
Shall return as a Kingdom,
And soon shall there arise mighty Christendom!
No longer will they come with hands empty and stained with blood,
But with fingers gripped upon the hilts of swords,
And these swords will be shaped as crosses,
that image upon which hung Our Lord.
The cries of “Deus Vult!” shall resound
On that day when the heads of tyrants shall abound,
upon the earth where — since Abel — the blood of martyrs cried,
Now it will be on that day that the principalities shall hide.
And no help shall they find,
When the armies of saints,
attired with the clothes of Heaven,
Shall slay the wicked and cut off the leaven.
“Christus vincit!” shall they exclaim,
When they cut off the heads of God’s enemies,
And set the idols to the flames.
And in their pious memories shall be that sight,
of the Holy One and His head inflicted with thorns,
As they bear fruits beautiful and worthy,
With heads adorned with crowns of glory.