The Scribe in the City

In the Book of Ezekiel, a strange scene unfolds. A man clothed in linen, identified as a scribe, is commanded to go through the city and put a mark on the foreheads of all who sigh and cry for the abominations committed within it (Ezekiel 9:4). This mark is not punishment—it is a distinction, a separation between those grieved by the current state and those indifferent to it.

But this grief is not meant to stay stagnant. In Neville Goddard’s teachings, sorrow is only useful if it leads to transformation of state. If imagination is God, then to remain in grief is to misuse the gift. Those who “sigh and cry” are being acknowledged—not for their sorrow alone—but for their potential to shift.

This act of marking the foreheads is symbolic of awareness. The forehead, the seat of imagination, is where thoughts are impressed. The mark signifies readiness to move beyond grief into assumption.

In biblical language, a scribe is not someone who writes with ink, but someone who records and fixes states of mind

Cain and Abraham: Two Marks of Consciousness

This symbolism of the mark finds a deep echo in Genesis 4, where Cain, after murdering Abel, is marked by God. Not killed—marked. The mark protects him, but it also identifies him as one who acted out of grief, envy, and misalignment.

Cain becomes the archetype of emotional reaction—grief untransformed. His face falls when his offering is rejected. God tells him:

“If you do well, will you not have honour? ” (Genesis 4:7)

Cain does not “do well.” He does not shift state. He stays in the visible reality of rejection. His mark becomes the imprint of missing the mark—the very definition of sin in its original form: to fail to imagine rightly.

"Happy are those who have forgiveness for their wrongdoing, and whose sins are covered.
Happy is the man against whom no sin is recorded by the Lord." — Romans 4:6-7

Now contrast this with Abraham, the symbol of faith in Neville’s teachings. In Genesis 22, Abraham is told to offer up his son Isaac—his beloved, long-awaited manifestation. Isaac represents the visible, the achieved, the deeply loved. Yet Abraham does not react emotionally. He rises early and walks in complete surrender, saying to Isaac, “God will provide.”

This is a test not of loss, but of whether he will cling to the seen or cleave to the promise. As Genesis 2:24 puts it:

“For this cause will a man go away from his father and his mother and be joined to his wife…”

Symbolically, Abraham leaves behind the old parental attachments—Isaac, the visible and precious offspring—and cleaves to the unseen reality, the promise itself. In doing so, he embodies the Law of Assumption.

So we see two marks:

• Cain: Marked by reaction, grief, and misalignment.

• Abraham: Marked by faith, surrender, and imagination.

Jesus: The Final Mark

Now consider the words of Jesus: “Before Abraham was, I AM” (John 8:58). This is not a chronological claim—it is a metaphysical revelation. “I AM” is the name of God revealed to Moses. It is consciousness itself. Abraham responds to God’s call with “Here I am” (Genesis 22:1), but Jesus is the call itself. He is not answering to imagination—He is imagination in full embodiment.

On the cross, Jesus absorbs the grief of the city—the sighing and crying—and transforms it. He imagines rightly: “Father, forgive them.” He is fixed—marked—through the hands and feet, symbols of doing and understanding. He is both the one marked and the one marking. He transforms Cain’s sorrow into Abraham’s faith, and Abraham’s faith into manifest love.

The Scribe in Ezekiel is not merely observing. He is identifying those whose grief is ready to become power. The mark is not for mourning—it is for remembering.

To be marked is to be made conscious of what you are imagining, and to shift—from Cain to Abraham, from Abraham to Christ.