Friday, January 24, 2014

A Taste of Friday with Eliza Earsman and Days of Elijah

Days of Elijah: A True Story

Eliza Earsman

Publisher: Eliza Earsman

Date of Publication: 2011 updated 2013

Scottish author Eliza Earsman is a committed Christian who enjoys family, clean air, and fresh people. Her autobiographical—sometimes brutally honest—depictions have helped to raise international awareness about Freemasonry.


One Day at a Time

The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds

blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.

(Matthew 7:25)

Looking, as some might say, as if I’ve just hopped in from a turnip field, it’s always best not to confuse decency with stupidity.
I used to live with my husband and two daughters in a pleasant and reasonably sized sandstone Victorian semi-detached house at 42 New Abbey Road, Dumfries, Scotland. Four bedrooms, lounge, dining room, fully fitted kitchen, and bathroom—it was clean, bright, cheerful, and comfortably lived in. The dwelling was furnished with bunks, books, cats, plants, and children. The door to our cosy home was seldom closed for long for it was a welcoming place.
At the back was the garden—an expanse of earth, grass, and flagstones, sixty feet by forty feet, and mature. Vegetables thrived there, and honeysuckle and roses bloomed in profusion, sharing their fragrance in decency, daintiness, and delicacy with anyone who passed by. Our daughters tended their own small patch. The garden swing took up one small corner, and the rope from the tree swung low. In earlier days we’d used the sandpit often, and the children scattered toys about the lush green grass.

All in all, it was a safe place for children to play.

We parked our car at the end of the garden next to the large shed that bordered the greenhouse. The parking facility was good; it allowed for easy access. The forests were nearby, and beyond them sandy beaches hosted seashell-festooned shores, alive with picnics, driftwood, and campfires.

It was home.

What more can I say?

It was a peaceful home and a garden of solitude, sunshine, shade, and quiet. Sheltered from the main road at the front of the house, we spent tranquil evenings working in the garden or sitting in a companionable quietude, accepting the warmth and silence outside the home walls. Many a winter’s night I stood beneath the stars as I brought in frostbitten clothes from the drying line. November air was crisp! Life was serene but not dull—two growing children made sure of that.
That was before.
Now, in this unadulterated story, I show how I necessarily went from being a peaceful wife and mother to an older, and wiser, (but still peaceful) writer and pro-activist.


In 2002, as that older, wiser, and reasonably good-looking fifty-four-year-old, I lived—easily, I may say—in a shoddy and shabby Salvation Army hostel for the homeless. Food was kept in the cupboard under the sink and—brightened by effort—the ten-by-six-foot bedroom-cum-washroom/cum-anything-else room was reasonable for anyone not wanting or needing a home or family life.
In common with many, I’m not one.
“Hope House”, or “Hopeless House”, as it is known by those of us who have stayed there, serves also as a busy annex for those in transit from the “Riddrie Hilton”, the Victorian and (by all accounts) barbaric, Barlinnie Jail in Glasgow. Decent folk live in Hope House, Clyde Street, Glasgow, and so do many others. None of them has caused me any problems … so far.
For several years I have followed a direct and Almighty calling to stand against and expose the delusionary and unsustainable criminal practices of Freemasonry, commonly known as the Masonic fraternity.
I have no option.
If I don’t, we—as a family—go under. If I do, we go on.
If ever anyone wants to know why Britain is in the mess it’s in—brimming with corrupt leaders and maxed out on grime and crime—look at the size of the nation, and then look at the concentration of the malpractices within that nation.
The church is at fault, yes, but don’t disturb them. Oh, no, their walk is in tandem with the word, and the work, of the world.
Swimming against the tide of deliberate Masonic maliciousness and oppression, I have been shackled and held, filled full of anti-psychotic drug cocktails, and forced to slum/sleep in central London’s mucky shop doorways. I’ve been illegally detained and imprisoned. I have traveled far and wide, faced British Law Societies toe-to-toe—where naivety was shoved out the window—and I continued to speak the truth.
The cost has been great, but the privilege is greater. Life savings, home, family life, pension rights, and a number of work and educational opportunities have been sucked dry, but despite the warring factions, I will press on. There is too much involved to stop now, as I firmly pronounce in Chapter 15—“No Surrender!” Subsistence living in this situation only means that God-given talents have been suppressed, but they are not extinguished.
My message will not be extinguished. History and records are proving why.
The more I have had to deal with, the more has been brought to light. In opposition to having the details dealt with privately, Freemasons—and church leaders who have shown strong Masonic affiliations—have hindered that approach.
With an ultimate aim of establishing a “new world order”/one-world government and—via World War Three—another attempt at “the final solution” (remember Hitler?), Freemasons have forced an urgent and heightened global awareness. Days of Elijah: A True Story is certainly going a long way to providing that awareness as I recount gritty details that spurred my pen to paper!
Why Elijah? The figure Elijah plays an essential role in several prominent religions. As revered by the monotheistic faiths, the work of the Old Testament prophet Elijah is identifiable by Christians worldwide and also by Jews and Muslims. Elijah is known as Ilyas in the Koran. In 1 Kings 18 of The Holy Bible, Elijah’s tussle with the priests of Baal is recorded, and it is in context that he can easily identify, clarify, and discredit man’s polytheistic strategies. By Christian witness, I can vouchsafe that he is right.
Eschatological and historical evidence shows that the “end age” days of Elijah are in context and on time! Freemasonry is the loosely disguised cult of the Canaanite god Baal and the female branch of Freemasonry, the Eastern Star, is identical to the cult of Jezebel, wife of the Old Testament’s King Ahab.
Freemasonry—as the institutions, rites, and practices of Scottish Ritual Freemasons is known—is an international fraternity of deists housed in Lodges. It maintains a smokescreen of misinformation and engages in extensive criminal and speculative interconnections. It contains ambiguities that feed on the need for social prestige, brotherhood, and self-importance. Freemasonry employs occultism and symbolic forms of idolatry, borrowed principally from the stone and cathedral mason’s trade.
The “Grand Lodge of Scotland of Ancient, Free and Accepted Freemasons” (criminals) has its headquarters at 96 George Street, Edinburgh In this book I emphasise the word “Ritual” as an expansion of the word “Rite”—and of the devious practices of “Rite” Freemasons. The word will be used throughout this book as a point of easy reference.It is noteworthy that this same Grand Lodge is the one at the seat of Scottish Ritual Freemasonry, which has spread its tentacles throughout the world. Satan’s desire is for world domination. It is no wonder that Scottish Ritual Freemasonry’s satanic intentions regarding “New World DISorder/scripted World War III” are now evident and becoming increasing public. It is no wonder also that there is and will continue to be accruing international dissidence.
For too long, the British Masonic empirical stock exchange has been aiming to oust the good old Scots’ customs of honesty and integrity. My grandfather knew that very well, along with his immediate line … such as myself. So do many others.
However, dim-witted as British Freemasons (of the cult of Baal) may be when brain cells are arrayed in all their glory, and satiated in the snake venom (poison) that tries to give corruption a different face, the “fiddlers rally” (gathering of thieves) is really not adept enough to keep their “knocking shop” (occult practices, séances, den of thieves) criminal activities hidden.

Scottish Ritual Freemasonry’s roots burrow deep near my hometown of Moffat, Scotland. Freemasonry has been very active in that small tourist town and the surrounding sheep farming areas of Dumfries and Lockerbie in southern Scotland. Hence the reasons for this book—to set the record and to further protect the innocent from their influence.
And hence the reason my great-great-grandfather, John Gibb Campbell, who was a master stonemason and sculptor in Glasgow, left in stewardship a financial legacy—and God-given teaching—quite specifically to the fourth generation of his female line.
That trust was to come to fruition in the fortieth year of that person.
I am that person. See Appendix D—there is no other in that generational line—and this is the true story of why.


Note: this information is expanded upon later in this book, but it is right that readers be aware, from the outset, of:

  • The concentrated 1987 (my fortieth year) Masonic movement/“reshuffling” of properties in the Moffat, Lockerbie, and Dumfries areas, of Scotland, and the reasons for that movement. Details/names/addresses can be checked via for example a consolidated local reference point—the Dumfries Solicitors Property Centre—and via local newspaper property pages/archives.
  • How easily the Masonic fraternity is pandered and catered to by those within the British police and legal systems, who are paid to withhold law and order.

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