The Book of Wisdom on the KING's Scribe, 7

Go God Man

thekingsscribe7@gmail.com (se7en Adeniyi) — 22, Jun 2026 05:28:31 +0100

Many are they who stop at beingmerely man; will you become GODMan?

More than just man

GOD speaks forth, “calling into being, what He has imagined. "
His Spirit, accomplishes (incubation) it.
It is finished. Done. Made MANIFEST.

GodMAN fellowships with GOD’s word (seed)
The Word bears fruit in the man.
By this, GOD.FAITH, 👇🏽

GodMAN speaks forth, “calling into being, what his zedek heart has imagined. "
the words, being of zedek heart = “in Jesus name”
His resting-Spirit {QAVAH} incubates it.
It is finished. Done. Made MANIFEST.

GodMAN operates, and is fruitful,
by GOD’s Word and Spirit.

Jesus is GOD’s Word, given physical expression.
What GOD’s spoken thoughts look like.

If a MAN would become full-stature GodMAN, it must be by:

abiding in God’s Spirit and TRUTH
being immersed (steeped) in GOD’s Word and
being immersed in; and filled evermore, with GOD’s Spirit.

GOD’s Spirit is TRUTH.
GOD’s Word is TRUTH.
To abide/ have the Word dwell richly in me = To be filled with the Holy Spirit

Wayside

thekingsscribe7@gmail.com (se7en Adeniyi) — 20, Feb 2026 21:39:40 +0100

Preparation of my heart; to encounter YHVH.

M13 Listen! A sower went out to sow.
And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them.

🌞

Assume a box for the cultivated plot.
Any sowing done in its padding (near the perimeter), will have some of the seed flung, falling on the wayside.

The wayside was “field” from the beginning.
However, after many footfalls cut through the fields, that portion of arable land, was reduced to a wayside. Fallow ground + Compaction. Doubly hard.

Whatever would sink in here has got to be hard, sharp, and driven. A pickaxe! ⛏️
The seed had no chance. So, it lies on the path - easy prey for hungry birds.

In my heart, it’s farmland.
If only there were just a wayside, or two.
But, man has an industrious enemy.
Having border control, the heart could’ve been kept from this eventuality: but, alas!

You see, I left the gates of my mind open to strange things; strange voices; strange culture. In film, books, media, & conversation.

These fill up the mind; percolating.
Next thing you don’t know, they’ve made their way down to the heart, called subconscious, trampling all o’er the place - making waysides!

Call for Wisdom!

What is the way?
“This, " says Wisdom, “first, Shut the Gates! "
There’s a channel currently open, from the senses to the mind; from the mind to the heart! Shut, first, the gates at the senses.

🔸See No Evil
🔸Hear No Evil
🔸Speak No Evil
🔸Sense Evil? Put up your shields!

“Then, " says Wisdom, “Unstop the Fountains! Re-dig the Wells! And moreover, call for Rain! "

For there is but one way to sweep out these strangers and make clean the land: a flood. Flood to eject. Flood to cleanse.
Not just any water, but that from above!
We need living water!!!

Come, sweet Holy Spirit.
Come as a flood!
Lift up a standard and sweep these away.
Out of existence. No place to hide.
Come, Holy Spirit and make me clean.

Tis a song from mine heart
Unto Thee, o God, to Thee.

So, the Spirit says to me.

My Child, you know what to do.
Prepare My advent; make plain My path.

“Yes Sir, I know! " I reply.
I must fill my mind with Your laws & secrets.
For by them alone, will You come.
Abba always sends forth His Word before His Spirit. This is the way!

So, I say!
Shut the Gates!
Bring the Thunder:
Call forth the Rain 🌧
and on the morrow,
ye fields, be ready again.

“Lastly, " says Wisdom, “Plough! Break up the Fallow Ground! "

Hos10 Sow for yourselves righteousness; Reap in mercy; Break up your fallow ground, For {now is} time to seek the LORD, Till He comes and rains righteousness on you.

We Got Robbed

thekingsscribe7@gmail.com (se7en Adeniyi) — 21, Jun 2026 21:36:17 +0100

The Good Life. Or is it?

A man somewhere had it all.
The good life.

A loving wife, whom he found easy to love and provide for.
Children, obedient, responsible, playful, beloved.
Cattle, Goats, Sheep: milk, venison, wool.
Chickens, Ducks, Horses, Dogs.
A garden to tend, and a farm to keep.
An entire human biosphere.

He had a father whose ways he’d learned:
just as he was a father, with time to spend,
loving and being loved by these little men,
dear children.

He had a faith.
A trust in God; daily met,
but never seen. GOD and Father of Yeshua the Christ;
a Father, as well, to him.

He drank from wells,
crystal clear living water.
And plucking an apple from the branch,
but wiped it on his fleece, afore taking a bite
— juice: wetting beard, staining shirt.

He had neighbors to help and work with.
Friends to kick back and share a laugh with.
Brothers to jovially harass; and with great relish,
Sisters to tease and prank.

He lived on land, allodial.
Land passed from fathers to sons
generations come and gone.
His heart, at rest.
Much to eat, lots to spare.
Rich. O, rich indeed.

Alas, every man is tested.
So, then came the devil.
Nay, a fellow with horns, is he not.
A wily-tongued bastard, was he.
His covetous eyes on the prize.

Your freedom.
Sovereign.
Peace.
Life.

He knew Mr. Adam was devout.
Cared little for naught without.
Big Christ-love hearted, was he.
So, he looked to ma, “Dame. "

With him, he’d brought a picture:
A picture with words, indeed,
is infinitely greater, it is,
than a picture on paper.
For the picture on paper, is set.
There’s another in it.

Another woman, not you.
Another.

But, of words,
the canvas is your mind
Freely flowing ink,
Not another in it, but you.
In your imagination, you can be queen
on the land, ruling;
in the sea; diving;
in the skies, soaring.

He told her she’d potential
“O what a sorry state you’re in.”
You could build a good life
in the beautiful new city.

Imagine, just imagine:
shopping in the stores,
walking down the aisles…
Dressed lovely,
In your fragrance, a hint of roses.
Picking fruit and veggies,
with daintily gloved hands.

Not scouring in a dank pantry
Not crawling the cabbage patch
Not chasing after chickens
Not milking cows that kick.

“Uh, I see great potential.
Such a sorry state you’re in. "

There’s so much more to the story,
I’ll let you fill it in,
Imagine, Imagine, Imagine.

So now, we have here Noel,
Adam’s son.
Son in the city.
A box-shaped house
in no way, unique.
One of many - rows of cells

A set time when he must leave
Out, goes his car, at 7:25
As does Joe’s
As does Mickey’s
As does James'
Every house, loses its Father, on schedule.
Like army or prison;
Of duty or woe?

Away Noel goes, to the manufacturing plant.
He hates his job, but does it anyway.
He didn’t read the fine print
The tiny details in the devil’s witchcraft,
that stole momma’s heart away —
to dream of prancing up and down the aisles: shopping…
Not chasing chickens; forking hay.

Easy-to-read text:	Fine-print
my very own piece of the city	Same as everyone else’s. Mass produced. Built disharmonious, unto decay.
picking groceries with dainty gloved hands	Nevermind what’s been put in the water to grow them, or if they’re from a lab. If you end up wasting away, slave to my pals at big-Pharma, it wasn’t me.
Milk delivered in glasses	From diseased, sickly cows? Milk and pus look the same. Not our fault.
My son in a big office	All that time spent away; making orphans of his sons. Their hearts, ours to break. Your pa, the world was his office. But here, a shiny sign on the desk. A shiny noose for your neck. Now, you’re a man. And your sons, just buy them a TV - we’ve got to program them somehow. Nevermind teaching them Pa’s values, you’re tired from work now.
No more working the land, grimy with dirt	This is currency. We made it up. It’s the new thing. What you really need. You’re nothing without big bucks. We’re generous. Give us your lands, everything you need is in the city. Here’s some shiny paper - its payment for your life.

Yet, some now reawaken
Longing for the land.
DIY a sprinter van,
make it a home.
A life powered; a life fed
by groceries from the aisle
picked with dainty fingers,
apple watch on her wrist.

Are they awake?
A multi-layered dream.
They showed you in “Inception. "
Whilst laughing to your face.

The way out is Salvation:
to die and be birthed again
He, named Neo, yet old and decaying
had to die, and be born again.
Born a citizen of Zion,
eyes open.

By Grace, are we saved.
Grace through Christ Jesus.
Jesus, means Salvation.

Amen.

Tied to a Chair

thekingsscribe7@gmail.com (se7en Adeniyi) — 21, Feb 2026 08:10:12 +0100

When limits are set, what will you do?

Ever wondered how men keep elephants penned behind a wall of slim trunks, set in the earth?
Ever wondered why horsepower means so much to speedsters, but a horse will remained tied to a plastic chair? I’ve seen one. I’ll have the picture for you in a jiffy (I hope).

Photo credit: unknown. Please contact

When the elephants were yet calves:
the horses, yet foals,
the trees, yet saplings,
they were penned, tied, constrained.

They pushed, and they rammed, and they strained,
till they submitted to their experience.

Thus, now, in the mind of matriarch mama-dumbo;
and regal steed, sits enthroned, a lie:
Set in stone.

We tried. We failed. It can’t be moved.

Today, as the horse tied to a plastic chair,
do the unclean lead a thoroughbred champion of Zion
–dance, do dance, to the beat of lustful thoughts
played from without.

“Remember, " they say, “you never could hold out against the onslaught of temptation weighing upon your soul. Why don’t you give in? You’ll have ample opportunity to grow strong (enough to overcome) later.

“And besides, God will forgive you. "

But you’re STRONG NOW!
Not only can you refuse temptation 1C10.13,
but you can scourge the tempters.
So, scourge them: have them return to base, with wails and scars.
“NO MORE!”

#listen
You need not think of living a holy life.
Rather, commit to live holy in this moment.

Peace.