The Return

THE RETURN

Frederick Ricky Medeiros

Copyright © 2014 by Frederick Ricky Medeiros

Spiritual Light Books

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

CONTENTS

A Short Story Before the Book

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author

Other Books by the Author

A SHORT STORY BEFORE THE BOOK

Recognize that your imagination and your thinking and your sense perception are reed canes that children cut and pretend are horsies. Deny your desires and willfulness, and a real mount may appear under you.

Jalaluddin Rumi, Islamic mystic

A man acts according to the desires to which he clings. After death he goes into the next world bearing in his mind the subtle impressions of his deeds; and after reaping there the harvest of his deeds, he returns again to this world of action. Thus, he who has desires continues subject to rebirth.

Sukla Yajur Veda, Brihadaranyaka Upansihad 4.4.6

And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children or lands, for my name’s sake shall receive a hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life.

Jesus Christ, Matthew 10:37-39

For those of you who read CROSSINGS TO THE OTHER SIDE you know I write with the help of my brother Joe Medeiros. He passed over to the spirit world when he was twelve years old. His death happened over thirty years ago. In that book, I related a true story, which took place a few months after he died. He wrote a message on the wall of my parent’s home in Syracuse, New York. The words, written in black crayon said: I LOVE MY FATHER, I LOVE MY MOTHER, and DON’T MISS AND DON’T CRY. The message ended with a big heart and his named spelled out in the middle of the heart.

I’m going to tell you another story, also true, which happened a few weeks later.

It was about seven at night. I can’t remember the day of the week, but I’m sure it was a weeknight. My mother, from her bedroom, called me to adjust a flipping picture on her television set. She was laying on the bed when I walked into the room and on her lap were three pages of a letter.

We spoke as I fiddled with the set’s vertical hold. She said the letter was to a friend who lived in Brazil. She was writing to her about my brother’s funeral. Finally, with the picture under control, I left the room.

A few minutes went by and she called me again. What does she want now? I remember asking myself.

When I got to the room, she asked me about the letter. I answered impatiently that I hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about. My mother complained the letter was on her bed when I walked into the room to fiddle with the television; now it was gone. I told her I saw the letter on her lap when I fixed her set.

My mother was and still is a bit of a space cadet. She sometimes forgets where she puts checks, cash, birth certificates and other important little items like that. (Once, she lost five thousand dollars in cash. We don’t talk too much about that, it’s still a sore subject)

She was very upset, repeating the letter was about my brother’s funeral and she did not want to have to write it all over again. I went over to the bed and told her to get out. I pulled back the bedspread, certain I’d find the letter there.

Nothing.

I pulled back the blanket. Nothing.

I pulled over the sheets. Nothing.

I looked under the pillows. Nothing.

She looked at me, with the airy look she gets when she doesn’t know if she’s to blame or not. The letter was there, she said pointing at the bed, a few minutes ago. You saw it yourself. Don’t go playing games with me. My mother was certain that her kids played games with her notorious air-headedness. (I have to admit, we sometimes did; but not this time.)

I got on my knees and stuck my hand under the bed. I was sure I’d find the letter there. Feeling around with my hand, I felt something warm. I grabbed it and pulled it out from under: it was the letter.

But, the letter wasn’t a letter anymore; the pages were twisted together in a knot. My mother was scared. She wanted to know how this could happen. I saw her face and I knew it wasn’t her air-headedness at work. This was something else.

We decided to call Margaret Tice, medium and pastor of the First Spiritualist Church in Syracuse. On the phone, my mother with the now untangled but crumpled letter in hand, explained what had happened.

I have to ask you a question, the medium said. What was in the letter?

My mother answered saying the letter, written in Portuguese to a friend of hers in Brazil, described Joe’s funeral. It wasn’t an easy letter to write, she added.

Mrs. Tice told her it was Joe who knotted the letter. He took it from this dimension into his; that was why it was warm when I found it under the bed.

Why would he do that? I heard my mother ask.

He’s sending you a message. He’s asking you not to think of him in sadness and grief. Remember what he wrote on the wall? the medium asked, reminding her of the event which happened a few weeks before. Don’t miss me and don’t cry. Mrs. Tice explained that when my mother wrote the letter, she thought of Joe in a negative way; a way which held him back. He’s telling you to let go; when you think of him in sadness and grief, you call and hold him back. He has many things to do. He has his own road to travel. Let him go, she told my mother, so he can evolve and fulfill the mission his spirit was created for.

This book , THE RETURN, hopes to bring you the same message Joe brought to our family: let go. But, the letting go this book talks about is more difficult than letting go of a loved one who has passed on. The letting go of THE RETURN is about letting go of ourselves; our ego, our vanities and beliefs. Read carefully the three different quotes on top. All three, from different religions, speak of letting go. So will THE RETURN. So did my brother Joe.

The earth is being prepared for a New Age; and we must prepare ourselves. Begin reading this book by letting go of your dogmas, beliefs and attachments. I hope by the time you have finished we have begun slowly letting go of ourselves.

CHAPTER TWO

INTRODUCTION

Be ye therefore ready also; for the Son of Man cometh at an hour when ye think not. Luke 12:40

For the salvation of the righteous and the destruction of such as evil do, and the firm establishing of the Law, I come to birth, age after age.

The Bhadavad Gina, Book IV, Sutra 7.8

The millennium’s getting a bad rap. People are driving themselves nuts looking for signs signaling the end of the world. They’re waiting for mountains to crumble, oceans to boil over and fireballs to fall from the sky. Then to top it all off , some lunatic called the Anti-Christ arrives ( supposedly from some obscure Middle Eastern country where even CNN doesn’t have a bureau) to command the legions of darkness. He will destroy everything and everyone who gets in his way. Then when all the chaos, destruction and mayhem has burnt itself out Jesus appears, commanding the armies of light. He will sweep the survivors of Armageddon off with him into the Promised Land.

Then there are the social scientists, novelists and movie script-writers who predict a terrifying and sterile future; where we human beings are little more than small cogs in some huge, unseen, impersonal universal machine.

Give me a break. There are and will be changes on the earth sphere. But, those changes are nothing more and nothing less than the result of the evolution taking place here. The coming changes, the so-called New Age, will be both physical and spiritual. So what if the mountains crumble, the oceans rise, and fireballs do fall from the sky? Whatever happens will not be by accident; whatever happens will not be by chance, whatever happens will happen to all of us.

This book is about a messenger who comes from the same illuminated sphere as Jesus. This messenger enters the earth dimension to help us prepare for whatever changes are on the horizon.

What if such a messenger were to appear among us today; now, at this very moment? What if he arrived without all the fanfare, broo-ha-ha and fireworks the doom and gloom guys predict? What if he was to appear as he did the last time; as an ordinary looking guy preaching and teaching a very simple but often misunderstood message of love, compassion and salvation?

A messenger of light incarnated two thousand years ago. His name was Jesus. But the earth was different then; Jesus lived and preached in a tiny region of the world and the people he taught were a small, tightly-knit group.

There were no television, radio, newspapers or Internet to transmit his face and words around the world in seconds. He spoke to hundreds of people at a time in small villages and towns; not to millions simultaneously around the globe. He preached in long parables, not in thirty second sound bites tailored for twenty first century evening newscasts. Two thousand years ago he faced superstition, ignorance and established political and religious interests. medeiros\newagejesus\page8

Today he would face new superstitions and intolerances along with many different established political and religious interests. He also would be competing with MTV, 150 cable channels and HBO for our attention.

When Jesus walked the earth he spoke in one language; to one culture and one society . Today, there are countless different cultures, sub-cultures and even societies within societies. Today’s global village is a more complex and puzzling one then the small village of the Galilee.

What would this Jesus messenger say to our twenty-first century world? What would he say to this competitive, divided and materialistic world ? Would he use the same and sometimes hard to understand parables of two thousand years ago? But, more importantly, how would we accept him? Would his simple message of love, personal redemption and salvation be understood? Would we embrace him as the light to happiness; or stone him as a kook , fanatic, or revolutionary? To put it in another words, would we do to him today what was done to him two thousand years ago?

This book, NEW AGE JESUS, is an inspired book. I have written it with the help of enlightened spirits who are using me to bring a message of hope, love, and comfort to the earth vibration. They are using me to shine a light on our sometimes dark and confusing world . These spirits of light want to share some of their light with us so we can all find our own path home. They are using me to help us all prepare for the earth changes ahead. I , the so-called author, am nothing but a human vessel through which their wisdom and truth flows.

In NEW AGE JESUS, He has returned. He has incarnated into this global village we call earth. He lives, walks and teaches. The message he brings is the same one he brought two thousand years ago; yet it will be heard without the filters of time, prejudice and vested interest.

The situations described in this novel are, of course, fictional. The plot is merely dramatic invention, used to entertain and explain . But that is the only fiction; the rest is as true as the life you are living.

Please read this book with an open mind so that the light my spirit friends offer can fill you with hope, truth and happiness. That is their wish as it is mine as we begin this journey home...together. Because, when Jesus really does re-appear, he will bring all men and women of this earth together and it won’t matter one bit what their nationality, religion or race are. He will not come in favor of any religion, cult, sect or nation; the messenger of light and love will come to restore our Faith in God and in ourselves.

CHAPTER 3

MONDAY, SOMEDATE, YEAR 2015

... I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit. And I will show wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire and pillars of smoke... Joel 2:28-31

He is the never-created creator of all: He knows all. He is pure consciousness, the creator of time, all powerful, all-knowing. He is the Lord of the soul and of nature and of the three conditions of nature. From him comes the transmigration of life and liberation, bondage in time and freedom in eternity.

Krishna Yajur Veda, Svetasvatara Upanishads 6.16

In the poorest neighborhood in the richest city of the world, a priest kneels at the foot of his bed. Rosary in hand, he prays to a simple wooden cross hung above that bed.

This priest is a stranger to America. For twenty years he’s been confessor, friend and confidant to thousands of New York City’s poor and forgotten ; people whose ancestors long ago were yanked from their African homeland and sold into slavery . The priest lives with them in their squalor and neglect. He is pastor at St. Paul’s Roman Catholic Church, Harlem, New York City, USA. And he, like his parishioners’ ancestors, came from Africa.

Kneeling in his modest and sparsely furnished room, the black African priest thanked God for the day which had ended, asked forgiveness for his faults and sought wisdom for tomorrow’s day. Above all though, he begged for guidance. The priest searched for a light to shine on his troubled soul.

He was being tormented by visions and voices which haunted his days and nights. At first , they were soft and subtle; merely formless whispers not quite heard and shadows seen out of a corner of an eye. But over the months, the whispers took form and the light emerged from the shadows.

Angels without wings spoke; telling him the time had come to prepare the way. He is on earth, the light entities insisted, and you can help him.

At first the priest thought he was losing his mind. However, there was an urgency and reality to the messages convincing him was not hallucinating. The messages were real. The visions and voices were true. He was sure.

But he was scared. The Church frowned upon on visions and voices. For some reason, it felt revelations and prophecies belonged in the Old Testament.

The priest remembered his seminary days in Africa and the special courses dealing with native tribal beliefs.

In Africa, tribal witch doctors are said to be possessed by spirits. The witch doctors worship and pay homage to spiritual entities. They sometimes, through spells and potions, called on those deities to interfere in earthly matters .

His teachers at the seminary told the young priest that the witch doctors were not in contact with any unworldly realm. They were victims of their own self-induced hallucinations. He was told tribal beliefs were nothing more than pagan rituals whose practitioners toyed with the dark forces of Satan himself.

The young priest sometimes questioned this obvious contradiction: was it delusion or demon? But, to him, it was irrelevant. The priest was devoted to Jesus and believed Jesus was the true savior of mankind.

Now in 2015 separated by twenty years and a great ocean from his homeland, the priest called out to his Savior.

In the name of your son, Jesus, the priest implored God , send me the grace to understand. Show me that what I see and hear come from you. Prove to me that the voices and visions belong to you and not Satan. Send me a sign telling me that what I hear in my dreams and what I see when I’m awake is true and holy. I must be sure.

For months the black priest had been dreaming about a man; a man who the priest knew as Jesus. This man told the priest he was alive and living on earth. In those dreams the voice said :

Everyone will understand what I say. But only those who are ready will accept what I say. Like the last time, I ‘ll throw seeds into the wind but they ‘ll grow only where the soil is ready. You can help prepare the soil; I want to explain what was misunderstood. It’s time: two thousand years have passed.

Every night for the past six months, the priest prayed for the sign. He wanted be sure. He needed to know he was not being tricked by his own ego or by the legions of darkness.

I will not announce an Anti-Christ and I won’t be a victim of my own pride., the priest meditated. If I’m to spread this message, God, I’ve got know it’s from you.

Father Jean rarely prayed for himself. When he was fifteen, he joined the seminary because he knew God called him to live his life like Jesus did.

As a twenty-two year old priest, he shared with his flock the joy, peace and harmony he found in Jesus. Through pop songs, dance and laughter the priest brought to his parishioners a Jesus that was not plaster on a cross; but a living spirit who was part of their daily lives. He traveled throughout the African continent telling millions that Jesus was alive in each and every one of them .

Jesus was the Son of God. So are we; we are one with him and through him, was how he’d end his packed Masses.

Here in Harlem, as a forty-five-year-old priest, he was loved by his parishioners. He helped them see past the dismal routine of their daily lives and beyond their anger at being poor in a nation of plenty. St. Paul’s Church, therefore was packed every Sunday with people seeking his joy, counseling and friendship.

Now, he was being asked by forces unknown to prepare the way for a Jesus who didn’t live within us; he now lived with us.

As Father Jean climbed into bed, he waited anxiously for tonight’s dream.

He cleared his mind and set aside his own fears, doubts and desires. He emptied and surrendered his soul to God. He didn’t know it but he was preparing himself to travel in the astral world; the world of spirit.

If you could see into his small bedroom and if your senses could tune on to the higher vibrations, you would see spirit synchronizing with those highest and purest frequencies. You would see his spirit slowly and imperceptibly leave its sleeping body, attached only by a thin, shining silver cord.

You would see the spirit of Father Jean softly and effortlessly float upward. And, around him, you would see angels and spirit guides of the purest light protecting him on his voyage.

This was a new experience for the priest and he was fully conscious as he traveled. Looking down , he saw the delicate, pulsating cord connecting his soaring spirit to the dreaming body. He was aware of the angels guiding him higher and higher to an ultimate destination.

He heard the calm, soothing unseen voice telling him to relax:

"Father Jean, trust us and