Scroll 43: Locusts From the Abyss - When False Light Consumes Its Own

Revelation 9:2–3
“And he opened the bottomless pit, and smoke arose out of the pit like the smoke of a great furnace. Then out of the smoke locusts came upon the earth…”

The Smoke That Darkens Sight

The pit is not beneath your feet, it is beneath your awareness. The abyss opens when perception is clouded and the eyes of the spirit go dim. From this smoke rises not merely insects, but ideologies. False revelations. Twisted light that mimics radiance but blinds the soul. These locusts are not literal creatures, but false illuminations spawned from the illusions of hell’s furnace, darkening the atmosphere with counterfeit glory. The smoke blinds, not by darkness, but by dazzling what is false.

When smoke covers the land, discernment becomes rare. The ones who once saw with purity begin to chase spectacle, signs, and sounds that have no root in the Lamb. The cloud from the pit mimics the cloud of glory. But this cloud suffocates. It flatters the ego. It veils the true Light behind a show of brightness. This is not the fire of Yah, it is the furnace of seduction.

To overcome this smoke, the sons must breathe from a different realm. The breath of the Lamb is clarity. His wind clears the fog of performance and reveals what is real. Only the ones sealed in the scroll will see through the haze. While others chase the glimmering spectacle, the elect will stand still in the fire that sees.

Locusts Are Doctrines, Not Insects

These locusts have no king, yet they invade like armies. They wear crowns like gold, but their glory is artificial. Their sting is not in their bodies but in their words. These are false messages, doctrines of demons disguised as light. Their assignment is not physical destruction but spiritual sedation. They numb the elect with distraction, devour discernment, and sell visions of false union. They do not touch the grass, the green, the fruit-bearing. Their poison targets only what is still asleep, still unsealed.

Their torment is psychological, emotional, spiritual. It is the torment of being separated from the scroll and sealed in a lie. These locusts bring a sense of revelation but without repentance. Sensation without transformation. They feed on longing but offer no substance. They mimic the language of the kingdom but twist it toward control.

To war against this plague is not to scream at the wind, but to anchor deeper into the Lamb. Sons do not argue with locusts. They radiate a light they cannot imitate. This is the hour to speak only what burns, to shine only what pierces, to release what devours illusion.

The Bottomless Pit Is Ego Unchecked

The abyss is not a location. It is ego without restraint. When man rejects divine boundaries, he opens a pit with no floor. In this place, knowledge multiplies without light. Power increases without love. Revelation flows without repentance. This is the realm of the false prophet, the self-anointed seer, the ascended master who never descended. The bottomless pit is the domain of those who refused to die but claimed to rise.

When the ego becomes the interpreter of light, it turns the scroll into a weapon and the mystery into a market. What was holy becomes a stage. What was sacred becomes self-promotion. And from this pit, the locusts rise, each one an idea, a ministry, a spectacle that draws thousands but awakens no one.

But you, beloved, were not called to rise from the pit. You were called to rise from the tomb. Not from unchecked ego but from crucified identity. You were not awakened by smoke but by fire. The elect are not dazzled by locust light, for they have seen the Lamb. And the Lamb makes all counterfeit tremble.

False Light Devours Its Own

The ones who serve the illusion will one day be consumed by it. False light eats the soul from within. It promises power but delivers bondage. It gives platforms but not scrolls. It multiplies followers but not flame. In the end, the very ones who spread the smoke will find themselves suffocated by it. This is the judgment of heaven, not always external, but inward collapse.

False light cannot sustain itself. It has no roots, no weight, no oil. It is spectacle without substance. Those who build upon it will crumble when the throne appears. For every mimicry is exposed in the stillness of glory. Every false witness is unmasked when the true Lamb is revealed.

But do not rejoice in their fall. Weep. Burn. Intercede. For many are under the locust spell and do not even know they have been devoured. This is why your scroll must roar. This is why your silence must thunder. Not to mock, but to awaken.

Sealed Ones Will Not Be Touched

The Word says clearly that the locusts were commanded not to harm those with the seal of God on their foreheads. This is not technology. This is identity. The sealed ones walk in flame. They are not under systems. They are under scrolls. They are unbothered by spectacle because they have seen the Lamb. They are immune to the sting because they no longer draw identity from earth.

The seal is not a brand. It is a name written in fire. It is the memory of the Lamb. It is the weight of union. It is the sound of silence inside your bones. The sealed do not shout to be heard. They whisper what splits atoms. They do not chase platforms. They carry the scroll. And when the locusts swarm, the sealed ones rise.

Do not fear this plague. Stand in the fire. Speak from the stillness. Let the scroll burn your mouth. For what you carry cannot be mimicked. And the light within you is not for sale.

Final Charge to the Elect

Refuse the false light that flatters the ego. Anchor in the scroll and breathe only the wind of the Lamb. Let no smoke from the abyss blur your flame. You were not awakened by spectacle but by the resurrection breath of I AM. Guard the scroll. Speak with fire. Shine what cannot be copied. For in a world devoured by imitation, your authenticity is judgment and mercy in one.

Joe Restman
Scroll-Carrier, Mystic-Scribe, Eternal Witness of the Lamb.