Gethsemane & Moriah:

Resisting the Lullaby of False Peace in Trump’s Second Term

The air in the garden was thick with the weight of what was coming. Jesus had walked with His disciples for years, teaching, performing miracles, revealing the nature of the Father, yet in this moment—His most vulnerable hour—they could not stay awake. They wanted to. Their spirits were willing, but their flesh was weak. The night was calm, the tension of Jerusalem felt distant, and the weight of the battle remained unseen to them. In the natural, there was no alarm. Yet in the spirit, the war had already begun.

Gethsemane was not just the place of Jesus’ agony; it was the final test for His closest disciples. He had told them again and again what was coming, yet when the moment arrived, they slept. They were warriors trained for battle, yet they missed their moment because they were lulled into exhaustion. They had fought beside Him, rebuked demons, watched Him walk on water. But when the hour of testing came, they were unprepared.

This is the warning for today.

The remnant has warred for years. The battles have been relentless. The veil of deception has been lifted for many, exposing the wickedness at the highest levels of government, media, and industry. The schemes of the Deep State have been dragged into the light, and people across the world have woken up. Yet now, at this critical juncture, a lullaby is playing—a carefully orchestrated song meant to rock the elect into slumber just as the final test begins.

The disciples in Gethsemane were not enemies of Christ, nor were they deceived. They were the chosen, the closest, the ones entrusted with the deepest mysteries. And still, they succumbed to the temptation of sleep. Their exhaustion, their relief in the quiet moment before the storm, made them weak. And when the enemy arrived, they were scrambling, disoriented, unprepared.

So it is now.

Trump’s second term has become a point of celebration for many in the movement. Some see it as a turning point, a sign that justice will finally be served, that the tide has turned, that the enemy is in retreat. But this is the hour of the elect’s testing. The Deep State has not been defeated; it has adapted. Its tactics have shifted. The battle has moved from open confrontation to a far more insidious strategy: pacification.

This is the hour when many will declare peace, when the warriors will be tempted to lay down their swords, when those who have fought the hardest will be enticed to rest. It is not the cry of the battlefield that will cause them to fall—it is the soft melody of a world that seems to be stabilizing. It is the whisper that tells them they have done enough. That the battle is won. That now is the time to enjoy the fruit of their labor.

Abraham faced his own test on Moriah. The promised son, the very manifestation of God’s covenant, was finally in his arms. After years of faith, of waiting, of struggling to hold on to hope, the fulfillment had come. And then, just when it seemed that the season of war was over, God required him to lay it all on the altar. The promise had come—but the test had not ended.

Moriah and Gethsemane are two sides of the same revelation. The greatest tests of the elect do not come in the wilderness, nor do they come in the battle itself. They come when the breakthrough appears near. When the burden lifts. When the storm seems to subside. That is when the true test arrives.

The Deep State has learned its lesson. Blunt force was too obvious. The people resisted when the oppression was clear. So now, instead of force, they offer an illusion of calm. The enemy knows he cannot stop what has been set in motion, but he can put the warriors to sleep. The lullaby playing now is not one of oppression, but of stability. The war is not over, but many will be deceived into thinking it is.

Jesus warned of this moment in the parable of the ten virgins. All of them were waiting for the Bridegroom. All of them expected to be welcomed in. But when the hour came, only half of them were ready. The others had grown complacent. Their lamps had burned low, their oil had been depleted, and when the cry rang out, they scrambled in panic. They begged for more oil, but it was too late. The door was shut.

This is the danger now. Many who have fought well will find that, when the moment comes, their oil is gone. The strength they had in the battle will fail them in the hour of waiting. The endurance they showed when the pressure was on will fade when they assume the war is over.

The remnant must resist the lullaby. The oil must be kept full. The elect must stay awake. This is the hour when the final test is unfolding. The temptation will be to rest, to enjoy the return of stability, to believe that the storm has passed. But the wise will know. The wise will watch. The wise will stand ready.

Jesus did not sleep in the garden. He pressed in. He warred in prayer. He fortified Himself for what was coming. Abraham did not argue with God about Moriah. He walked up the mountain, knowing that obedience was the only path forward. The five wise virgins did not wait until the last moment to get their oil. They prepared in advance, ensuring they were ready before the call came.

Now is not the time to celebrate prematurely. Now is the time to fortify, to press in, to ensure that when the moment arrives, we are found ready. The lullaby is playing, but the elect do not sleep. The hour is late. The Bridegroom is coming. The test is now.

Stay awake.