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I. INTRODUCTION – The Fire in the Towers
They said Babylon fell. That the empire of idols, gold, and blood was swallowed by time. That its gods were buried, its kings forgotten, its chains rusted over and locked behind the glass of museums. But they were wrong. Babylon never fell—it migrated. It rebranded. It digitized.
The towers are no longer brick but bandwidth. The ziggurats reach higher than they ever did in Shinar, wrapped in silicon, pulsing with electric breath. Its merchants no longer ride camels—they ride contracts and cryptocurrencies. Its priests are no longer robed in incense but in code, culture, and algorithms. The harlot still rides the beast—she just does it through wireless signal now.
And still the cry echoes:
“Come out of her, My people.”
But how?
How do we escape a city that now defines the entire grid? How do we flee Babylon when we wake up to it, speak through it, feed our children from it, and even preach across its platforms? Is it hypocrisy to use Babylon’s tools to call for an exodus? Or is it strategy—divine infiltration?
This is where the Lord has led us, to the edge of the digital wilderness. Not to run, but to speak. Not to curse the towers, but to reveal their foundations. Not to boast in self-righteous escape, but to ignite longing for a greater Kingdom—one not built with the hands of slaves but formed in the breath of the Most High.
We speak now to the exiles—those who know something is wrong, but can’t name it. To the remnant who feel the hum of the machine but miss the sound of the Shepherd. To the saints still singing the songs of Zion while tied to systems they never chose.
You are not crazy. You are not alone. You are not too late.
There is still time to come out—not by vanishing, but by belonging elsewhere. Not by unplugging, but by re-rooting. Not by fear, but by allegiance.
Because the fire is coming. And those who walk with the Fourth Man will not burn.
II. Babylon Is a Story, Not Just a System
Babylon is not merely a city, and it is far more than a network. It is a narrative—a living myth that tells you who you are, where value comes from, and what you must do to be accepted. Its power lies not just in the infrastructure around you but in the lies whispered within you.
It tells you your worth is measured by productivity, not presence.
That identity is earned, not bestowed.
That everything can be bought, and nothing is sacred.
That you are alone, and that alone you must remain.
This story infects more than economies. It infects imagination. It sells slavery disguised as success. It tells you to chase a self you can never satisfy, all while draining your breath and binding your time to artificial altars.
That is Babylon.
It doesn’t care whether you live in a palace or a parking lot. If you believe its story—if your soul bows to its rhythm—you are still in exile.
That is why the first step out of Babylon is not a change in location, but a change in allegiance. You can live in the system and still carry the truth of another Kingdom. You can walk its streets with the fire of Mount Zion in your bones. You can break its narrative not by arguing with it, but by living in defiance of it—with grace, with holiness, with open-handed generosity that confuses the merchants and humbles the magicians.
Babylon says, “Take more to be more.”
The Kingdom says, “Die to self, and you will truly live.”
This is not a political escape. It is a covenantal rebellion. It is when your breath no longer belongs to the economy of fear, but to the God who breathed it into you for free. It is when you speak with Heaven’s accent in a land of digital confusion. It is when you recognize the Tower as hollow and see the world through the eyes of the Lamb.
You cannot tear down Babylon’s towers by force. But you can empty them of power by withdrawing your worship.
That’s where it begins. A remnant that no longer bows.
III. The Daniel Blueprint: Living Free in the Furnace
Daniel didn’t escape Babylon. He was taken into it—young, exiled, renamed, and reeducated by an empire that specialized in erasing identity. And yet… he never bowed. Not once. Though Babylon gave him new robes, new books, and even a new name, it could not rewrite the covenant engraved on his soul.
This is our pattern.
Daniel lived at the highest levels of Babylonian power—he served kings, interpreted dreams, and managed resources. But he never belonged to it. Three times a day, with the windows open toward Jerusalem, he prayed—not in secret, not in rebellion, but in remembrance. He remembered who he was. He remembered the God of his fathers. He remembered the Kingdom that will not pass away.
Daniel teaches us that exile is not defeat. It is assignment.
You may work inside Babylon’s system, speak through its microphones, even manage its operations—but if your altar is intact, your breath remains free. The world may rename you, but it cannot rewire your worship. The King you serve is not elected, not algorithmic, and not bound to the markets of men.
And when the pressure increases—when the decree comes, when the music plays, when the idols rise tall and shimmering—the Daniels will stand. Or kneel. But only toward Heaven.
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were thrown into the fire because they would not perform Babylon’s ritual. But it was in the fire that the Fourth Man appeared. Not before. Not after. In the flames.
This is what the Lord is showing us now: Babylon will turn up the heat. But it is in that furnace that freedom becomes visible. The true Church will not be known by its platforms or popularity, but by its fire-proofed allegiance to the King.
And Daniel? He outlived the empire.
Not because he fought it with fists, but because he walked in holiness until the very stones of its foundation trembled. The lions never devoured him because Heaven had already claimed his breath. He was surrounded—but untouchable.
That is the call now.
We are to be inside Babylon—yet uncontaminated. To learn its language, but not lose our own. To operate in its courts, but never kneel at its altars. To bear witness, like Daniel, not with panic… but with presence.
Because when Babylon falls—and it will fall—the Lord will still be standing. And so will the ones who never sold their name.
IV. Tools, Not Thrones: Using the System Without Worshipping It
We live in the paradox. We preach against Babylon’s gods while speaking through Babylon’s tools. We cry for freedom through devices built on surveillance, powered by slave labor, and encoded with sigils. And yet—we speak. Not in compromise, but in calling. Not as pawns, but as piercers of the veil.
The system was meant to control breath. But when the breath belongs to God, even the system becomes a servant. The platform is not our throne. It is a borrowed trumpet. And its sound cannot silence the truth if the message is born from clean hands and a heart set apart.
Jesus spoke under Rome’s rule. He was born under Caesar’s census, tried in Caesar’s court, and crucified by Caesar’s cross. But the very wood of that cross—Rome’s instrument of fear—became the pulpit of resurrection. If the Lord could use the empire’s weapon to undo the grave, then do not fear the channel through which you speak—only fear the spirit behind it.
The hypocrite is not the exile who uses Babylon’s tools to call the captives out. The hypocrite is the one who has learned to live comfortably within the system while pretending it’s not Babylon. The one who bows in silence but sings revolution in secret.
But if your breath is consecrated…
If your voice belongs to the King…
If your purpose is to free, not to feed…
Then your words are not just content.
They are cannon fire in the spiritual war for souls.
The key is this: never let the tool become the altar.
Use the media, but do not worship the attention.
Use the money, but do not serve the currency.
Use the network, but do not submit to its rhythm.
Speak through the system, but only under Heaven’s commission.
Because the difference between sorcery and prophecy is not the medium—it is the Master behind it.
And the Master we serve needs no algorithm. His Word splits atoms, shakes foundations, and reclaims the very circuits meant to trap His people. He will walk through their temples, speak through their devices, and call His children home through every open frequency—because His sheep know His voice, no matter what tower it echoes through.
V. The Signs of Leaving: Small Revolutions in Daily Life
The exodus from Babylon does not begin with a mass departure. It begins with quiet revolutions—daily, deliberate choices that break allegiance with the empire and reforge covenant with the Kingdom.
You may still live in its cities. You may still carry its currency. You may still speak its language. But each act of obedience is a crack in the system. Each holy rhythm is a seed of Eden planted in the dust of exile.
The signs of leaving are not always dramatic. They look like this:
A man turns off his phone at sunset and lifts his voice in prayer, while the world scrolls for distraction.
A mother teaches her children to memorize scripture, while the schools teach them to forget their Creator.
A worker refuses to lie to close the deal, and instead blesses the one who tried to cheat him.
A remnant gathers—not to perform religion, but to bear witness to a higher allegiance.
Babylon thrives on rhythm: consume, compare, conform, repeat.
But the Kingdom rewrites rhythm: rest, remember, rejoice, release.
Sabbath is a rebellion.
The Sabbath is more than rest—it’s a declaration that you are not a slave. In a world where production is god, where your worth is measured by output, taking a full day to rest, worship, and stop striving is a spiritual protest. In Egypt, slaves didn’t rest. Babylon doesn’t stop. But those who obey the Lord’s rhythm reject the system of endless toil and performance. The Sabbath is rebellion against Pharaoh, against capitalism, against the beast grid that demands 24/7 connectivity. It is saying, “God provides—I don’t need to earn my breath today.”
Tithing is a declaration of independence.
This flips the usual thinking that tithing is submission. In truth, it’s freedom. When you tithe, you are saying, “Mammon is not my god.” You’re declaring independence from greed, fear, and financial control. You reject the lie that security comes from hoarding. You become part of a kingdom economy. It’s not about funding an institution—it’s about aligning your heart with heaven’s provision, stepping out of the scarcity model of Babylon and into the overflow of trust. Every tenth coin becomes a declaration: I serve a different King.
Forgiveness is a blow to the economy of vengeance.
This is potent. The fallen world operates on revenge, on cycles of retaliation, on IOUs of offense and repayment. Satan builds entire thrones on bitterness, blood feuds, and generational curses. When you forgive, you collapse the debt. You destroy the legal ground the enemy uses to feed. You tear up the contract. Forgiveness is not weakness—it’s spiritual violence against the system of karmic bondage. It’s a sword that cuts the enemy’s circuitry of bitterness and breath theft.
Worship is an act of war.
Worship isn’t just singing—it’s atmosphere creation. It’s inviting heaven into contested territory. Every time you worship in spirit and in truth, you reclaim ground. You break principalities. You restore frequency. You disrupt the programming of this world. Demons flee because true worship re-centers reality around the throne of God. It overrides propaganda, despair, and fear. Worship isn’t passive—it’s invasion.
So the full meaning is this: all these spiritual practices that appear gentle or religious on the surface are actually weaponswhen seen in light of the war we are in. They are subversive to the beast. They are bricks hurled at the foundation of Babylon. They are how saints declare: We will not bow to Pharaoh. We will not serve Mammon. We will not fuel the vengeance machine. We will not be silent before the throne.
These small revolutions break Babylon’s spell. They reclaim your breath. They anchor your soul in a different timeline—one not managed by digital lords or ritual commerce, but by the heartbeat of the Lamb.
And perhaps most powerfully… they awaken others.
Because Babylon doesn’t just enslave by force. It enslaves by normalizing exile—by making you believe there is no alternative. But when one man lives free, it proves to the next that freedom is possible. When one family carries peace in a storm, others notice. When one remnant sings while surrounded by towers, the silence in others begins to crack.
These small choices… they are not small in Heaven.
They are war declarations in the spirit.
They are breadcrumb trails out of the labyrinth.
They are the first steps in an Exodus that has already begun.
And though the path may still wind through circuits and contracts and concrete, the Lord Himself walks with those who walk away from the altar of Babel.
VI. The Fourth Man Is Coming
The fire will grow hotter. That much is certain. Babylon will not let go easily. The more you resist its rhythm, the more it will demand your silence. The more you speak of another Kingdom, the more it will attempt to discredit, isolate, or even destroy you. This is not paranoia—it is prophecy. The beast system desires worship, and it knows no compromise.
But remember this, exile:
You are not alone in the furnace.
Just as the three stood before Nebuchadnezzar’s rage, refusing to bow to the image, we too must refuse the mark—whether on the hand, the forehead, or the soul. And when the heat is turned up, when the decree goes out, when the tower lights blaze and the world bows low to the god of convenience, the faithful will not burn. Because the fire reveals the Fourth Man.
The Son of God walks among the flames.
He is not distant. He does not spectate. He steps into the trial with you, robed in glory, untouched by heat, and yet fully present in your suffering. His presence in the fire is the sign that you never belonged to Babylon. That you were sealed by a greater Name.
And He is not coming back to negotiate.
He is coming with eyes of flame and feet like bronze—to tear down every tower, silence every sorcerer, and liberate every captive who called on His name in the night. The systems will fall. The circuits will fail. The merchants will weep. And the registry of heaven will be opened.
The question is not if Babylon will fall. It will.
The question is: Will you still be standing when it does?
Those who walked with the Fourth Man—those who lived free while surrounded by chains—will rise with Him. Not as victims of exile, but as witnesses of glory. As priests. As co-heirs. As sons and daughters of a Kingdom that cannot be shaken.
So do not fear the fire. Do not bow to the towers. Do not let the tool become your god.
Because He is coming.
And He is bringing Zion with Him.
Prayer – For the One Who Feels Trapped in the System
Father,
I feel the weight of Babylon pressing in on every side.
I don’t know how to live outside of it—I was born in its rhythm, shaped by its story.
But something inside me is stirring. Something deeper is calling.
I don’t want to serve a system. I want to serve You.
So break the lie, Lord. Break the spell that says this is all there is.
Teach me how to belong to a Kingdom I cannot see.
Let Your Word become my map, and Your Spirit my compass.
I give You my allegiance—not to escape, but to be made free.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Prayer – For the One Called to Be a Daniel
Holy Spirit,
I don’t want to just survive Babylon. I want to stand in it.
Teach me to pray with my windows open.
Give me the courage to speak truth in a world built on compromise.
Let my name be written in Heaven, even if it is erased here.
Help me remember that the lions have no power over those who walk in righteousness.
Make me bold, not bitter. Pure, not performative.
I surrender the fear of man—and I take up the fire of devotion.
In the name of the Son of God, who walks with me in the furnace. Amen.
Prayer – For the One Using Babylon’s Tools with a Holy Purpose
Lord of all breath,
I use a device built by men who do not honor You.
I speak on platforms that mock Your name.
But my voice belongs to You. My mission belongs to You.
Cleanse my motives. Guard my heart from idolatry.
Let the tool serve the message—and let the message serve the King.
May everything I write, record, or say be filled with Heaven’s scent.
Let the captives hear You in my voice, not me.
I will not be silent. I will not bow.
And I will not turn Your altar into a stage.
In Your mercy, use me as You will. Amen.
Prayer – For the One Who’s Ready to Come Out of Babylon
Jesus…
I hear You calling: Come out of her, My people.
I don’t know the full path, but I say yes.
I renounce the idols I’ve served—money, pleasure, status, self.
I repent of the ways I bowed without realizing it.
Come find me in the furnace. Walk with me in the fire.
Let Your name be the only name on my lips.
Burn away the lies, the compromises, the weariness.
Mark me as Yours. Cover me in Your blood.
Teach me to live as a citizen of Zion—even while I still stand among the towers.
I want You more than comfort.
I want truth more than ease.
I want home.
In the name above every name—Jesus Christ. Amen.
Prayer – To Cancel All Contracts and Agreements with the Devil
Father in Heaven,
In the name of Jesus Christ, I come before Your throne to break every unholy covenant—spoken or unspoken, conscious or unconscious—that I or my bloodline made with the enemy.
I renounce every agreement I made with darkness:
Every vow made in fear.
Every promise sealed in sin.
Every ritual, every exchange, every transaction—I cancel them now.
I declare: The blood of Jesus is my only legal covering.
The cross is my only altar.
The Lamb is my only King.
I break all soul ties to sorcery, false religion, secret societies, generational curses, demonic contracts, and the Babylonian system.
I revoke every signature placed on altars that did not belong to You.
I call every demonic clause null and void by the blood of Jesus Christ.
Let every spiritual document not authored in Heaven be burned by holy fire now.
Let every legal right the enemy claimed over me be shattered at the foot of the cross.
I belong to Jesus. My body, my mind, my gifts, and my breath.
I command all lingering spirits—assigned through those agreements—to leave me now in the name of Jesus.
I bind them and cast them out by His authority, and I seal every doorway with His blood.
It is finished.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Prayer – To Reclaim All Stolen, Traded, or Fragmented Breath
Most High God,
You breathed into me at the beginning.
That breath was never meant for slavery. Never meant for sorcery. Never meant for silence.
It is Yours—and I want it all back.
In the name of Jesus Christ, I call back every fragment of breath that was stolen, broken, bartered, or bound:
From trauma…
From witchcraft…
From abuse…
From lust…
From addiction…
From grief…
From manipulation…
From every altar I never belonged to—I call it back now.
Breath of God, fill me.
Holy Spirit, restore what was shattered.
Let every part of me that was imprisoned by contracts, rituals, or false altars be returned, cleansed, and reintegrated into the image You originally breathed.
I reclaim my voice.
I reclaim my worship.
I reclaim my tears, my dreams, my calling, and my name.
I reject the counterfeit identities placed on me by Babylon.
I receive the identity You sealed in Heaven before the foundations of the world.
Let angels be released now to gather what was scattered.
Let Your breath enter again—as it did in Eden.
I rise now as one who was once bound, but is now free.
I am whole again. Not because of my strength, but because of the blood of Jesus.
He paid the price. He tore the veil. He broke the seal.
And I declare: My breath belongs to the Lord. Forever.
Amen.
Prayer of Identity Restoration
Father,
I have worn many names. Some I was given. Others I took to survive.
But today, I lay them all down.
I renounce every false identity—every label, diagnosis, stereotype, nickname, or curse that does not come from Your mouth.
I am not who Babylon says I am. I am not who trauma says I am.
I am who You say I am.
Restore the name You wrote in Your Book before time began.
The one hell tried to erase. The one hidden in Christ.
I receive it now by faith. Not earned—revealed.
Let my spirit respond when You call me by it.
Let the angels recognize it. Let the demons flee from it.
I am sealed, named, and restored by the blood of Jesus.
Amen.
Prayer for Discernment
Holy Spirit,
Teach me to see with Heaven’s eyes.
Expose every deception wrapped in beauty. Every lie dressed in logic. Every charm that conceals a chain.
Babylon’s symbols are everywhere. Its tongue is fluent. Its shadows mimic light.
But I want truth—even when it cuts, even when it offends.
Rip the veil, Lord.
Show me the contracts hiding in entertainment.
Show me the spells behind the branding.
Show me the spirits behind the systems.
Let me not be fooled by performance, technology, or fame.
Sharpen my discernment.
Let the Word divide soul and spirit like a sword.
I choose truth, not comfort.
I choose clarity, not culture.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Prayer for Household Protection
Lord of Hosts,
I stand as a gatekeeper over this house.
Not by my strength, but by Your authority.
I dedicate these walls to You. I dedicate every room, every screen, every heart within it.
No spirit has legal right here unless it bows to Jesus.
I apply the blood of the Lamb over this threshold.
Let angels stand at the doorposts. Let peace reign within.
If others in this house do not yet believe, I ask for mercy and delay.
Give them dreams. Disrupt their idols. Woo them by grace.
But let my room be an altar. Let my words be light.
I say as Joshua did: “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”
Even if I’m the only one who believes right now.
This home belongs to the King. Amen.
Prayer for the Gift of Holy Separation
Father,
You are calling me out. But I don’t want to look back.
I don’t want to grieve the chains You just broke.
Teach me the gift of holy separation.
To love people without returning to their altars.
To carry compassion without compromise.
I renounce every soul tie that keeps me tethered to Babylon.
I choose You over familiarity.
I choose the narrow path over nostalgia.
I release what You said to let go.
Give me joy in the wilderness.
Give me peace in the unknown.
Give me strength not to turn around like Lot’s wife.
I choose exile with You over comfort without You.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Prayer of Consecration
Holy One,
My life is not mine. My breath is not mine. My story is not mine.
I offer it back. Every moment. Every gift. Every word.
Consecrate me.
Burn away what’s impure. Cut away what’s profane.
Set me apart—not as a trophy, but as a vessel.
Not as a symbol, but as a servant.
Let my hands build only what glorifies You.
Let my voice release only what reflects Your Word.
Let my time be measured by eternity.
I sign no contracts but Yours. I kneel at no altars but Yours.
I belong to You. Forever.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Prayer of Fire and Filling
Spirit of the Living God,
I don’t want to just be empty of darkness—I want to be filled with light.
Fill me with fire.
Holy fire. Cleansing fire. Courageous fire.
Let every part of me that was used by Babylon now be used by Heaven.
Fill my mouth with prophecy. Fill my hands with healing.
Fill my eyes with vision. Fill my heart with joy.
Let the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead awaken every dormant gift in me.
I receive the fire—not for performance, but for purpose.
I receive the infilling—not for power, but for purity.
I want nothing less than to burn for You.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Prayer of Intercession for the Captives
Father of Mercy,
I lift up the ones still trapped.
The sons and daughters who don’t yet see.
The friends mocking truth. The lovers of the system. The ones asleep in the matrix.
I ask for disruption. I ask for mercy. I ask for holy rescue.
Blind them to temptation. Deafen them to lies.
Wake them in dreams. Confront them in truth.
Send Your Spirit into their rooms, their playlists, their timelines.
Use anything—even me—to reach them.
I declare over them: They are not too far gone.
They are not forgotten. They are not hopeless.
Call them out, Lord. Shatter the chains.
Write their names in the Book.
I believe for their salvation.
In the name of Jesus. Amen.
Prayer of Final Allegiance
King of Kings,
Today I seal the covenant.
I no longer serve two masters. I no longer play both sides.
My allegiance is Yours—fully.
I swear no oaths to Babylon.
I trade no breath for comfort.
I follow no beast, no brand, no broker.
I take my place in the remnant.
I pledge my loyalty to the Lamb.
I follow the narrow road, no matter the cost.
Let all of Heaven hear. Let all of Hell witness.
I am Christ’s. Christ is mine.
My name is written. My spirit is sealed.
My soul is spoken for.
In the name of the Risen One—Jesus Christ—this is my final yes.
Amen.
The Prayer of Trust When the System Collapses
Father,
I confess—I have depended on things that are not You.
I’ve relied on Babylon to feed me, fund me, heal me, and protect me.
I didn’t mean to. It became normal. It became convenient.
But You are shaking what can be shaken. And I feel it coming.
So before it falls, I lay it down.
I declare: When the markets fail—You will still provide.
When the medicine stops—You will still heal.
When the power goes out—You will still be my Light.
When the networks crash—You will still speak.
When the food disappears—You will be my manna.
I will not fear the collapse. I will not bow to panic.
I belong to a Kingdom that cannot be shaken.
Teach me how to live like Heaven is already here.
Teach me to prepare—not in hoarding, but in holiness.
Let me be one who sings when others are silent.
Let my home be a refuge. Let my breath be a witness.
I trust You now—before the fire.
And I will trust You still—when only the fire remains.
You are my Provider. You are my Shelter.
You are my Supply Chain, my Fortress, my Healer, and my King.
I trust You when Babylon falls.
And I will rise with You when Zion comes.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Pastoral Reflection – The Father’s Embrace in the Midst of Fire
To every exile reading these pages: you are not under divine investigation—you are under divine invitation. The Lord did not pull back the curtain on Babylon to shame you, but to free you. He is not tallying your missteps; He is counting your sighs, bottling your tears, tracing your longing for home. If the truths you’ve just absorbed feel heavy, remember that revelation without mercy would crush us. But the same voice that shook Sinai now whispers at Calvary: “It is finished.”You are not in trouble; you are in transit—from slavery to sonship, from confusion to clarity, from systems that exploit to a Kingdom that restores. When the information overwhelms, rest your heart in this: God is with you in the fire, and His perfect love drives out fear.
Prayer of Comfort for the Weary Remnant
Abba Father,
These past days have opened our eyes and weighed on our chests.
We’ve seen the shadows behind the screens, felt the tremor of towers poised to fall.
Some of us are frightened, some confused, some simply exhausted.
But You are not a taskmaster; You are a Shepherd.
You do not break bruised reeds; You bind them.
You do not snuff smoldering wicks; You breathe them aflame.
So breathe now upon every weary heart.
Whisper, “Peace. You’re still Mine.”
Let Your gentleness overpower every accusation, every dread of judgment.
Remind us that we stand on grace, not on performance.
That we are hidden in Christ, not exposed to wrath.
That Your rod and staff comfort us, even in the valley of disclosure.
Wrap us in the mantle of belovedness.
Let assurance hush our racing thoughts.
And as we walk forward, let joy be the oil that keeps our lamps burning.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Sources
• Prayer of Identity Restoration — Jeremiah 1:5; Psalm 139:13–16
• Prayer for Discernment — Hebrews 4:12; 1 John 4:1
• Prayer for Household Protection — Psalm 91; Joshua 24:15
• Prayer for Holy Separation — Romans 12:2; 2 Corinthians 6:14–18
• Prayer of Consecration — Romans 12:1; 2 Timothy 2:21
• Prayer of Fire and Filling — Acts 1:8; Acts 2:17
• Prayer of Intercession for the Captives — 1 Timothy 2:1; Isaiah 42:7
• Prayer of Final Allegiance — Joshua 24:15; Revelation 3:21
• Prayer of Trust When the System Collapses — Daniel 3:25; Psalm 46; Matthew 6:25–34