A Abba's Apocalypse (34 page)

              Mark finally seems to be waking up as we notice his shifting shadow stretch over the wall. Our attention is now on Mark slowly swings his feet around from his horizontal

position. I remark, “I guess tea for two has turned into coffee for three.” He returns my offer by responding, “Who has coffee?” I mildly chuckle, and discern Mark’s very long nap has restored his cognitive ability to a higher level of function

then he previously had. “How’d you sleep Mark, and how’s

your stomach?” I stare for his response while watching him using the palms of his hands to twist his eye awake. He asks, “Where am I?” I figure he’s disoriented by that comment. “It’s me, Joey. We’re in a storm cellar.” The realization of his situation begins to return, as depression and hopelessness appears on his darken face. “We’re making you some fresh brewed coffee,” I remark. He sits in there just rocking and simmering with the knowledge there’s no current way to release his pent-up anxiety or frustration. Mark barks, “I heard you guys remark the quake is still shaking out there.” I’m careful to respond knowing Mark is hanging by a real thin thread-mentally. I know his hope hinges on still finding his family alive. The shaking world is beyond just devastating to us.

              I try and change the subject by remarking, “Do you take cream and sugar?” I have neither, but I figure the offer is worth a thousand words. I am glad to hear him say, “I haven’t had fresh coffee in months, or has it been years?” I try subtly to work the epic question into the conversation. It’s the last question on everyman’s heart. “So Mark, do you think there is anything after life?” Mark says nothing in his attempt to control his battling emotions. He kind of shrugs his shoulders as his answer to my question. I know now he may be receptive enough to listen to the might of the Holy Spirit inviting his heart to really reason.

              “The way I look at it Mark, there are only two logical possibilities for our existence.” I go on to explain both possibilities while confidently suggesting he looks like a man

of reason. He shrugs his shoulders again and replies, “Well, I guess so. I’ve always tried to be rational in my decisions.” I pose the two epic possibilities given to man. “Mark, one is we

came from nothing and are going back to it. Everything and

everyone you love will die when you die. Why go through the pain of caring about anyone if you’re just going to lose them

anyways? If the only reason you live is for whatever you decide your life should be then your purpose is really

worthless. This means living itself is a selfish act and there is absolutely no reason for us to even live. If you buy this argument you might just as well live like hell and fill your gut with every personal satisfaction you can swallow.” I stop for a brief moment so Mark can digest this no calorie thought. “Every law of science says everything has a beginning. This requires something eternal to create the very first thing. Some secular scientists try to evade this realization by burying the absolute beginning to the universe in String Theory, alternate universes, or supposedly locked dimensions. But these too must have a beginning. You see Mark; always look for the cracks in the foundation that every proof is built upon, because eventually that house is doomed to fall. Yep, the house is only as strong as its foundation.” Mark agrees with this logical conclusion by giving a silent nod of his head. I try to steer clear of psycho babble regarding absolute truth and post modernism by keeping the idea simple. “I once heard that Albert Einstein stated: ‘If you want to see inside the mind of God you need to think and believe like a child’.”

              I go on to strengthen my debate by saying, “Do you know Sir Isaac Newton is probably the smartest guy who ever lived? He devoted more of his life to writings about the proof of God’s existence; which most people are never told. Why look for something if it’s not there? This genius mind knew in his heart there has to be God. That is the only real logical answer.” I bend over and place my finger tip in the tin can to check the temperature. “Ohhh, a couple more minutes.” I continue by stating God put this desire to fellowship with

Him in every heart at the moment He created each of us. This yearning to be complete with God is why every society in history contains one particular part experts have a hard time

explaining. It’s called religion. God has given us His word to

prove which religion leads truly to Him. He also has given us one hundred percent verifiable accurate prophesy to prove Christ is God. He doesn’t expect us to blindly believe, but rather test Him, and His word.” I want to introduce

evidence proving Atheists are nothing more than self proclaimed idiots by saying they know nothing exist, but I appeal to a different reasoning instead. It’s the one answer that always comes down to the heart of the matter.

              “Let’s put God to the scientific test.” I lay the ground rules for this experiment and remark to Mark this will only work if he is prepared for the results. “This is why God won’t give certain unbelievers the miracle they require to help them believe. God knows their hard hearts will explain away any proof, even the miracle they asked for as evidence.” Mark suggests that I am crazy, and he wants nothing more to do with this. I reply, “Okay then, but if I’m right I know one day in eternity I’ll be with my loving God, and those whom I loved here in life.” I return to my silence and let this thought stew a while longer. I know the heart is a funny kettle. Some are made of thicker metal than others. I return my finger thermometer to the tins below while formulating my next move. “Feels like coffee time,” I remark. I see Pastor Paul smile and lean back, as if he might be learning something.

              I juggle one steaming hot can over to the available section of bench closes to Paul, and then toss him a brown foil packet of the instant coffee. I tell him he’ll have to improvise a spoon to stir it with. I watch him think as he comes up with his solution. He empties the coffee into the tin and bends the foil packet into a “V” shape. He smiles as he stirs and remarks, “Don’t let me interrupt your conversation.” I stare at his agitating face as he presses the hot tin to his cold lips. He seals

his contention with a subtle smirk and a smile. I quietly and

slowly simmer, watching this godly man return to stirring his

brew. I think how I missed the opportunity to have a hot

accident on his lap. I nod and smirk my laughing smirk right

back at him.

              I repeat the process Paul went through, and then hand

my coffee tin over to Mark. It seems he has given the issue more thought. Or, maybe it is sheer desperation to grab at any solution which may save his lost family. He asks, “So, you’re

saying you have proof God exists?” I nod a sincere and simple, “Yes.” He thinks a second and tells me, “You’re trying to tell me for thousands of years man has looked for absolute truth that God exists, and you finally found it?” I respond with another simple, “Yes.” Mark finally seems relaxed enough to find the missing key that will open this true treasure. It is the key to his heart he had all along. He finally gives me the answer I am looking for with his, “How?”

              I return to the one simple rule he must subjugate himself to for this scientific experiment to work. “This test requires that for one minute in your measly existence you ask God, your father and creator, with your broken heart, to prove to you He exists.” I proclaim the one certain condition of the experiment, “You have to be willing to accept the miraculous result when it happens. Sometimes He’ll answer in a very small way, but in a very significant way. Other times he may send giants. God promises to always answer a sincere open heart.” He looks at me through the wall of his defense he’s built to protect his hurting heart. I watch as he opens his deepest desires to me. He cries out, “I want to believe. Oh God, I do want to believe!” I sit by Mark and wrap my comforting arm over his shoulder and around him. I tell my new buddy, “You are not alone.” I ask him to promise me one more thing. “When God does prove exclusively to you He exists, will you then ask Him to come into your heart and be the Lord of your life?” I feel him nod his skeptical affirmation from his head currently buried in my chest. I pat him on the back as Pastor Paul moves towards Mark’s other side. Paul

leads us in prayer.

              “Dear Lord; our dear brother needs your love. He is in a terrible situation Father. He is so very desperate to know

where his family is. Can you please use this as your sign

proving to him you are the only God, and the most mighty God in search of our heart?” I feel Mark shake out the thick callus coating of doubt that’s been holding his hard heart together. He melts down in his brokenness, as he is heated by the warm power of the Holy Spirit. I am urged by the holy sensation to let Mark know that his urgent request has been accepted, and God will respond shortly. In my heart, I know this to be true. We all comfort each other in this perilous and dark time. For, we are not alone.

Chapter 14: The Final Chapter

              I hold Mark with my arm draped over his shoulder as he starts to snore in his bent over fetal position. I slowly lift my arm off Mark and spin his sleeping body around on the bench. A warm secure comforting feeling permeates the entire chamber. It actually feels kind a cozy. Paul very quietly tippy toe’s over the flames, which cast a fiendish lurking shadow over all the walls. He creeps almost silently down to his resting place, and I to mine. I cross my arms and lean back into this comforting darkness my Lord has given us to rest in. I tell my Abba, “Thanks for all your help.” He rewards me with a quick departure off into “La La Land.”

              As I begin to drift back off, I hear a passage from my heart. It whispers tenderly to me, “For my yoke is easy.” All my worries evaporate, as I am carried off to a place even more heavenly. 

              In my peaceful sleep, something comes and securely snatches me firmly under my arms. Amazingly, I have no sense of fear, but rather of joy and peace. I look up and try and see what it is that is whisking me away. A glowing face seems to anticipate my concern, as it smiles down at me in this sea of darkness. It points to the prickle of light ahead, which looks like a star in the distant night sky. The only other thing I can see is the golden aura emanating from this magnificent flying beast; that is lighting our way. I know in my heart something adventurous and wonderful lays just ahead. We must be traveling beyond the speed of conceivable, because the point of light doubles in size every second. In this moment of captivity, I realize, I’ve never felt so free.

              Just seconds later, we enter the pure white atmosphere, and then crash into the brightest and bluest “baby blue” sea of anyone’s imagination. It is soft and warm, and immense. Shimmering rainbows of color brush over the surface of this planet, just below us. Every hue is so vibrant that it almost hurts to look. I just want to fly through this sky forever and

ever, seeing this entire magical spectrum. But, I feel us descending and slowing, as the stunning green surface grows larger and larger.

              We pass over a small herd of laughing silhouettes chasing what looks like their leader. Suddenly, the children stop and look up, and then begin waving their arms to welcome us. Their invitation to join them feels like a warm summer breeze tickling the reeds on a brilliant tropical beach. I look up to ask this creature if it sees what I see, but this majestic giant is just wiggling his enormous fingers while whispering, “Hello,” to the tiny crowd below. I begin hearing the thrashing sound coming from above me as the atmosphere becomes thicker. His humungous wings are so strong they cause small cyclones to move over me, between each of his powerful swoops. They almost suck the breath from me, as they extend back up into the bright blue sea.

              We pass over a mega metropolis of extravagantly designed pearl white palaces. Some tower much, much higher than the tallest buildings I’ve ever seen on Earth and some are shaped like dainty little cottages. A golden shimmer coming from the street below captures my attention. The dazzling shine off this golden magical mirror reveals the strolling specks of pedestrians joined arm in arm. My ears begin filling with the sounds of their joyful laughter, as they lovingly welcome one another along their journey. My desperate heart somehow wants to join them, but we jet pass this place towards the green rolling pastures just past the horizon. As we pass over the countryside, the fragrance of fresh fruits and blossoming flowers wonderfully overwhelms me.

              I feel we’re about to land. I hear the whooshing slowing as we begin descending. We drop in several increments as the ground comes clearly into view. The winged thing that is securely carrying me sets me down without stopping. I am forced into a gently steady run after landing. As I slow, my intense senses are invigorated by these awestruck surroundings.

              This place is magnificent. I venture up this transparent road that is wider than any highway I’ve ever traveled. I turn my head towards all the wonders facing me in every direction. This beautiful golden path is lined with “Mother of Pearl” columns that shine my perfect reflection. I see each pillar stretching way up beyond the fluffiest and whitest clouds I’ve ever seen. The shine and intricate design on these super megaliths are spectacular. I immediately realize they’re in a style I’ve never seen before. I walk closer to enjoy their unique artistic majesty and notice they contain a multitude of inscribed words. I move even closer to investigate what maybe written on this particular one.

              I fall to my knees and immediately weep after reading the beginning words. Scrolled elegantly on it are, “Obelisk of Eternal Saint and Child of God: Betty Ann Perry; ‘A Cherished Monument to Her Life’.” Above these words are elaborately carved sentences stretching up to the sky. I start reading and find that the words are actually prayers my momma said over the years. This column must contain everyone she’s ever prayed, because the words spiral on and upward seemingly forever. I read the most important prayer I will ever hear. “Please dear Lord and savior; save my darling Joey...” I weep uncontrollably at these monumental words. I see similar numerous request for my salvation spiral around and around the “Mother of Pear” tower. I respectfully kiss the tower of prayer, as the sweet essence of this place invites me to move along.