“For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. Wherever the corpse is, there the vultures will gather.” — Matthew 24:27–28
I have read this scripture for years. It sat on the page like a riddle I couldn't solve. But now, in this moment—with the American empire in decline, the oligarchs circling, the war hawks wrapped in crosses, and the flood of lies drowning every flash of truth—the riddle has become a description of what we are living through.
The lightning is real. The vultures are real. And what they circle is not alive.
The Lightning: Glimmers of Truth in a Flood of Lies
Jesus said the coming of the Son of Man would be like lightning that lights the whole sky from east to west. Sudden. Unmistakable. But lightning is momentary. It flashes, and then the darkness rushes back in.
We live in a flood of lies. The propaganda never stops. The outrage machine runs 24/7. The tribe's information loop is a sealed room with no windows. Truth, when it appears, is brief—a crack of light before the lies surge again.
· The Epstein files drop. For a moment, the names are visible. The networks are exposed. Then the flood resumes: "It's a conspiracy. Look over there instead." The lightning is gone.
· A leaked war plan surfaces. For a moment, you see the machinery of destruction. Then the spin begins: "Patriotism requires silence. The enemy is listening." The lightning fades.
· A billionaire's tax cut passes while children go hungry. For a moment, the contradiction is clear. Then the image-makers go to work: "Family values. Economic growth." The lightning is swallowed.
This is why we must watch. Not casually. Not passively. Watch like those who know the lightning will only last a second. If you blink, you miss it. If you wait for confirmation from the tribe, you will never see it at all.
The Vultures: Who Gathers Around the Corpse?
Jesus gave a simple test: Where the corpse is, there the vultures will gather. You don't need to argue about whether the body is alive. Just watch who shows up to feed.
Who is gathering around the current administration?
· Billionaires who profit from war, from privatized prisons, from deregulation that poisons communities. They don't come to heal. They come to consume.
· Warmongers who wrap aggression in the language of defense, who speak of "peace through strength" while starving diplomacy. They don't come to protect. They come to feed on fear.
· Men named in the Epstein files—still walking free, still holding power, still protected by the networks that enabled them. They don't come to repent. They come because the corpse is safe ground for predators.
· Preachers who bless the bombs and the borders but never the poor. They don't come to save souls. They come to claim credit for the corpse's "righteous" death.
These are the vultures. Their presence is not a sign that America is being saved. It is a sign that something has already died. The corpse they are circling is the very thing we thought was alive: the soul of a nation that once aspired to justice, the moral authority we pretended still breathed, the democracy we were told was the envy of the world.
That is hard to accept. We were raised to believe America was different. That our arc bent toward justice. That our institutions would eventually protect the vulnerable. But the lightning keeps flashing, and the vultures keep gathering, and the evidence is overwhelming:
The ideal is dead. What comes next is not resurrection. It is either more rot or something entirely new.
What Do We Do?
If the corpse is dead, we can keep pretending. We can keep arguing about the image. We can keep hoping that the vultures will become doves, that the corpse will sit up and walk.
Or we can accept the fruit test. The scripture. The wisdom of our ancestors who knew that you don't argue with a rotting tree—you step back and build something new in the clearing.
We watch. Not with fear. With clarity. We note where the lightning strikes. We remember what the vultures look like. We refuse to be swept away by the flood of lies.
We witness. We write. We speak. We tell the truth about what we see, even if the truth is momentary. The lightning doesn't last, but the memory of it can.
We build. Not inside the corpse. But somewhere else. On ground the vultures haven't found. With materials the flood can't wash away.
The Promise of Lightning
Here is the hope that changes everything: the lightning is not random. It comes from Christ. He promised that his coming would be like lightning—sudden, unmistakable, and visible to all who are watching. He did not say the lightning would stop the vultures. He did not say the corpse would rise. He said: Watch. I will send the light.
We can expect the lightning. Not because the empire deserves it. Not because the vultures will repent. But because He is faithful. Every flash of truth—every exposed lie, every leaked document, every moment the mask slips—is a gift from the One who said, "I am the light of the world."
Do not despair that the lightning is brief. Be glad it comes at all. And watch for the next flash. It will come. He promised.
A Final Word for Those Who Have Eyes to See
To those who feel the vertigo of watching a nation gaslight itself: you are not crazy. The lightning is real, even if it only lasts a second. The vultures are real, even if they wear suits and crosses. And the One who sends the lightning is real, even when the flood tries to drown His name.
The scripture is not a prediction. It is a lens. Put it to your eye and look around. The corpse is there. The vultures are circling. The lightning is flashing—briefly, brightly, unmistakably.
Do not blink. He is still sending the light.
“By their fruit you shall know them.” — Matthew 7:16
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