There Is Going To Be A Civil War In France, Between The French And The Muslims.

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Major Political Leader In France Makes This Declaration To The United States: ‘There Is Going To Be A Civil War In France, Between The French And The Muslims. America, Do Not Make The Same Mistake We Made.’
by Ted on September 23, 2016 in Featured, General
By Theodore Shoebat
A major political leader in France, Francois-Xavier Peron, has declared that France is about to enter into a civil war, between French and Muslim. We spoke with Francois-Xavier about this, and also about the subject of a Christian France and how it is the Faith that is the only thing that can save France from evil. He also made a warning to the United States, to not make the mistake France made, in its acceptance of religious freedom for Islam and Freemasonry. Here is the video:
VIDEO 5.36 mins
That a civil war will break out in France is in accordance to a Catholic prophecy by the Ecstatic of Tours, a nun from Tours, whose prophecies were published in 1882 in a book titled On the Eve of the Victory of Christ:
Before the war breaks out again, food will be scarce and expensive. There will be little work for the workers, and fathers will hear their children crying for food. There will be earthquakes and signs in the sun. Towards the end, darkness will cover the earth.
When everyone believes that peace is assured, when everyone least expects it, the great happenings will begin. Revolution will break out in Italy almost at the same time as in France. For some time, the Church will be without a Pope. England, too, will have much to suffer.
The revolution will spread to every French town. Wholesale slaughter will take place. This revolution will last only a few months but it will be frightful, blood will flow everywhere because the malice of the wicked will reach its highest pitch. Victims will be innumerable. Paris will look like a slaughter-house. Persecutions against the Church will be even greater but it will not last long…
France is a nation consecrated by the blood of martyrs, and for a long time I have wanted to present you with a writing on these holy saints of France who endured the most horrific of persecutions in the early times of Christianity’s presence in that country. So, here it is, for you to remember what men and women died in the battle for the Faith to be perpetuated in France. It the first part of a three part series that I have been writing on the history of Christendom in France. Here is the first part, entitled The Martyrs’ Blood….
PREAMBLE
The soul wanders in the deserts of confusion, like a vagabond it goes here and there, searching with desperate eyes for the house that stands without guile nor deceit, snare nor wile, upon the lofty hill on which can be beheld many a witness, adorned with crowns, armed with swords, embellished by that enwrapping light of forgone virtues, singing the song that resounds the cosmos, of martyrs of days bygone, and who arms the weary heart to uphold “patience to the fight proposed to us: looking on Jesus, the author and finisher of faith, who having joy set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and now sitteth on the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1-2) Behold the wheat fields, rooted in the rich nourishment of sacrifice— for things die and decompose, they feed the soil and life springs upwards toward heaven—; see how they are free of tares and warmed by the sun, ineffable light that enlivens our bodies and stirs within us the flame of hope that endures death and lives on to eternity. Such a profound sight, yet they desire nothing, and like content souls have they no urgency to travel, but simply put, they just are, and we behold them in the stillness of their being. Behold the fields of wheat, flowing with the winds of consonance upon the ascending mountain of humanity’s redemption.
Through their golden ears the rays of the sun flow as empyrean beams whelmed under a lake, with particles of light appearing as though they are about to fragment and disintegrate, and get lost to the cumulous of filth that runs like a sand storm throughout the dreary space underneath the static and greenish water. As the particles of the sun move and yet remain together, they illuminate the cloud of muck, and reveal what darkness abounds. Such is a people taken by the light of charity and justice, moving and fulfilling their own purposes, yet remaining whole while scattering the unpleasant dust storms that destroy, that confound and tyrannize, all the while they spark within the soul a volition to rise above the gloomy waters and to behold the living sun, and breath the breath of life. Submersed into the dark waters, we drown ourselves in concupiscence, only for the soul to suffocate and cry out for liberation, to behold that sun of truth where there lies only the absolute. By the waters was man corrected, and by the floods that confound humanity, is there but a remnant whose only desire is to respire. As the holy Solomon once wrote, “when water destroyed the earth, wisdom healed it again, directing the course of the just by contemptible wood.” (Wisdom 10:4)
With every ream of thick and cloudy dust, and with every moment wherein the waters become murkier, there the beams of light grow brighter. So is the life of the soul; for when our awareness of the darkness and taint of our souls grows, it only means that the light of Christ is brightened, and is illuminating the greater need to cling onto Truth Himself, and to be one with Love. We emerge from the waters, and like Peter, cry out, “Lord, save me!” From this act of humility, do we rise above the tyranny of ego, and walk upon the waters of the chaotic masses, for the meek shall inherit the earth, as the Hope of Humanity once declared to us.
Look to the pristine hill that lies overlooking the murky waters, where the wheat fields stand basking under the warm sun whose light illumines and warms the rich dark soils that feed the roots of the crop, the crop whose fruit Hope Himself took and offered as a sacrifice before His own triumph, saying, “Take ye. This is my body.” (Mark 14:22) Thus are the words of the warring King, before going into battle against the abysmal one who conspires to destroy the sacrifice and grain offerings (Daniel 9:27), that is, the ineffable Mysteries of which Christendom partakes, proclaiming the Lord’s death till He comes. (1 Corinthians 11:26) Look at the beautiful crowns of the wheat, as they stand ebbing with the movements of the Mediterranean breeze, each one wonderfully attired with florets of golden yellow, flowing back and forth with the mild winds, and though they are not unified with everything of nature, their modest presence majestically coalesces with the colors of the sky; the hues and shades of orange and red that glow in the midst of the sun’s descent.
The very sight brings peace to the soul, and stirs one to say with the Serbian mystic, “Jesus Christ, speak to me until my heart burns.” Saints and holy men live in the world, and while not being attached to the world, they bring to us a sense of beauty, an inspiration that conduces within the heart a glimmer of zeal, one that does not combust into flames and destroys, but rather a zeal that stems from stillness, like the dimming shades that appear as a flickering candlelight, and that permeate the whole sky as the sun fades in the sight of those fields of wheat. With stillness, there is hope, a hope that remains irregardless of what chaotic storms transpire; and where there is hope, there will always be unity. In the individual, if there is hope, there is a unity of self, where his internal disposition is whole, and not broken into pieces. The same is with a nation: where there are saints, there the universal truth of God, of His justice and charity, lives in the hearts of the people, there is beauty, there is inspiration, there is hope, there is zeal, and thus, there is unity, and this unity, no matter how few the people are, will illuminate the earth with the light that enlightens, and vanquish the armies of the abysmal spirits.
Ah, but what is this? The wheat fields are fed by the flowing river, pure and pristine, that journeys from the high mountain that cries to mighty heaven, for justice, for vengeance, for innocent blood spilt in the midst of deception, of sophism and guile. The water flows, in coalescence with blood, sacred and innocent, shed by cruel hands; it runs down the very same mountain, and we behold its merging with the river from the bottom of the peak. What lies on the top of this mountain?
READ MORE
http://shoebat.com/2016/09/23/major-political-leader-in-france-makes-this-declaration-to-the-united-states-there-is-going-to-be-a-civil-war-in-france-between-the-french-and-the-muslims-america-do-not-make-the-same-mistake-we/
Major Political Leader In France Makes This Declaration To The United States: ‘There Is Going To Be A Civil War In France, Between The French And The Muslims. America, Do Not Make The Same Mistake We Made.’

PART 1