A Sword appears - Sabino Canyon.

Supernatural Book 6.
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Supernatural
Christian Books.

From...
Supernatural Book 6.

Returning to Tucson, Bill [Branham] took a much-needed rest. He still felt the pressure of uncertainty in his chest, squeezing him like a steer might squeeze a cowboy against the side of a corral. He could push it away, but it always came back. One morning shortly after he returned from Phoenix, he awoke early and lay in bed thinking about his future, wondering why the Lord had sent him out West. In his mind he reviewed his recent vision about some angels coming to him in the form of a pyramid. The vision had started with an explosion.

How could anyone survive such a mighty blast? And yet, he had heard Joseph calling to him. What did it mean? If the Lord planned to take him home to heaven soon, he would have to arrange for his church to care for his family. Perhaps they could grant his family a pension. Billy Paul was almost 28 years old and could look after himself, but Bill worried about the rest of his family because they were completely dependent on him for survival.

Quietly he heard a voice in his head say,
“Go to Sabino Canyon.”

Skipping his breakfast, he left the apartment and drove to the northern edge of Tucson where the Catalina Mountains rose abruptly, stopping the city from spreading in that direction. He followed the road east, parallel to the mountains that shone like brass in the morning sunshine. Numerous canyons serrated this mountain range. One of these canyons was now a national park. Bill entered Sabino Canyon and drove his car north up the narrow road that followed Sabino Creek.

There was a lot of water in the creek during the winter months, fed by snow melting off the slopes of Mount Lemmon. The water flowed from one pool to another, sometimes cascading over boulders, and sometimes going around them, watering a variety of trees— sycamores, cottonwoods, willows, ash, and walnut trees. At first the creek was on the east side of him (to his right), but in just over a mile he crossed the creek nine times on narrow bridges made of stone and concrete, ending up with the creek on his left. Soon the road split away from the creek and climbed several hundred feet, ending in a parking lot for the hiking trails.

Bill took the trail that followed the eastern canyon wall. He was above the trees now, listening to the squabbles of territorial birds below him. From somewhere on the cliffs above, a dove cooed to its mate. The western slope of Sabino Canyon was catching sunlight, but along the eastern slope Bill walked in the shadow of the huge cliffs towering above him.

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After hiking for about 20 minutes, Bill came to some craggy buttes— a grouping of intermediate mountains that stood far below the uppermost cliffs, yet still a long ways above the canyon’s bottom. He climbed the nearest butte, stopping to rest at a relatively flat place near the top.

A couple of rocky columns still jutted far above him, but for his purpose, this spot was all the higher he wanted to climb. He noticed a deer walking along a game trail on the slope below him. Bill stood motionless and watched as the deer paused, raised its head and listened for the sound of danger. The only sound Bill could hear was the faint gurgle of the stream blending with the low-pitched breath from a slight breeze. Suddenly a gust of wind blew off his hat, which rolled a few feet before lodging in the grip of an ocotillo plant. Startled by this movement, the deer bolted.

Retrieving his hat, Bill knelt beside the ocotillo to pray. The ocotillo is a bush, but it doesn’t have a central trunk; rather the branches all stem upward from a central point on the ground. Its branches are covered with leaves, and each leaf hides a one-inch long thorn. The ocotillo is a relative of the thorny plant in Israel that long ago some Roman soldier wove into a crown of thorns to put on the head of Jesus Christ the day He was crucified.

Setting his Bible on the ground, Bill turned his head toward the eastern cliffs, lifted his hands above his head, and prayed out loud, “Oh, Lord, what does that explosion mean in the last vision You gave me? Does it mean my death? I’m not afraid of dying, but I need to know so I can prepare my family. If You are going to take me ‘home’ soon, let it happen up here where no one will find my body. Maybe someday You could let Joseph find my Bible lying here.”

Suddenly he felt something solid touch his right hand. Instinctively his fingers gripped the object, and he looked to see what it was. He was astonished to see a two-edged sword nestled in his hand, the blade pointing skyward. He brought down his hand to examine it closely. The hand-guard looked like gold and the handle looked like pearl. The sun had just risen enough to shine through a saddle in the canyon’s eastern horizon and the flood of bright rays caused the blade of the sword to glisten like polished silver. The cutting edges looked razor-sharp. Bill felt a mixture of attraction and repulsion for that short, double-edged blade. He had always been afraid of a sword and he was glad he did not live in the days when swords were sometimes used to settle disputes.

“This is strange,” He said, swishing the blade through the air. “It feels just as real as anything I’ve ever held in my hand. Somewhere near me is the same God who created a ram for Abraham, the same one who created those squirrels for me in Indiana and Kentucky. Now He has created this sword. But what am I supposed to do with it? I know kings used their swords to knight heroes. Perhaps this means I’m supposed to lay my hands on someone and ordain him as a minister.”

He was stunned to hear a voice rumble down from the canyon heights, “It’s the sword of the King!” “But why show me a king’s sword?” Bill asked, still uncertain.

“Not ‘a’ king’s sword—” the voice replied, emphasizing the article; “It is ‘THE’ King’s sword!” In a flash of sunlight, the sword vanished. Although Bill’s hand was now empty, his heart was full. Now he understood. God is the King, and the King’s sword is His Word— the Bible, the compass Bill used to guide his life; his absolute upon which he had staked his eternal destiny. While his racing heart slowed to a normal pace, he felt the Lord speaking to him quietly, like a voice in his head, saying “Don’t fear death. This is the third pull of your ministry.”

Picking up his Bible, he ran back to his car, shouting with a joy that echoed between the golden walls of the canyon. Now he was satisfied that the vision of angels did not mean he was going to die— at least not yet. God had something more for him to accomplish first.

From...
Supernatural Book 6.

For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

Hebrews 4:12