A Abba's Apocalypse (35 page)

              I stare up the golden path rolling slightly upward and try to speculate how many pillars there might be. I look behind me to find there are just as many. Rolling green hills decorate the spaces between what must be millions of columns. “Insistence” seems to be invisibly steering me to move up this path, although I don’t know where it is hiding. I obey and stroll along. I walk about a hundred yards to the next obelisk. Along my journey I hear the music of tiny dancing silhouettes, laughing, playing, and chasing

themselves in carefree circles. I look up and see gigantic winged birds bigger than any dinosaur I can recollect. Some are multicolor, and others are a single bright pastel of pink, orange, yellow, or purple. Some have a destination and fly off in a straight line, and others just circle these mega columns singing, “Holy, holy, and holy.”  Curious, I take a closer look to find the dedicatee of this next column. This one belongs to my sweet sister, that I somehow suspected. It too is elegantly embedded with her prayers. Many are dedicated to me. I kiss the pillar and whisper, “Thanks sis for not giving up on me.”

              I see someone floating towards me along the path ahead. I am startled at the power and knowledge it must possess to achieve such a feat; without using its feet. It must know I feel so insignificant, because it shouts, “Do not be afraid of me dear Joey! I’ve come to take you to a very special place.” He shimmers with subtle rays of rainbow colors flowing from his flapping white robe. Starbursts of sparkles appear as he passes through the light. He quickly arrives, and then stops at my feet. I strain my neck to see his smiling face looking down. He bends closer erasing the personal distance between our faces, and then asks, “How about a trip to the temple of God?” He rapidly nods his magnificent smiling head up and down several times; seemingly as excited as me at this offer. He knows my answer before I reply, because he touches me and I too begin hovering. I lift up to the level of his extend arm, as we begin floating back up the golden path. The pillars begin to look like slats in a picket fence as we pass them faster, and faster. I look over towards his large head as he smiles again, while pointing with his other arm straight ahead. I see a tall wall made of layers of gems that extends in both directions forever. I can almost see through it; if it wasn’t for the intense sparkling coming from its vibrant colors. In its center is a shimmering ivory white gate. On each of its sides are huge muscular winged soldiers with giant spears, shields, and swords standing at the position of unflinching attention. I am terrified as we approach the gate.

              We slow as these giant hundred feet guards slam their spears against their bodies. They abruptly turn “left and right face,” respectively, and return their legs to attention. Each slowly draws their right hands upwards above their stern faces forming a salute. The towering gates methodically swing steadily and effortlessly open. I shake in fear as we pass between these awesome warriors. But, I’ve never felt so honored or so proud.

              Just inside are four more matching monstrous soldiers; also presenting their respectful arms. As soon as we pass them, I hear their thunder as they return to their former positions. The only thing I can think of is, “Whew!!!” I see many translucent golden paths along the way, pointing all in the same direction. They verge, like spokes facing the center of a wheel, and travel in the direction we are. The castle ahead of us cascades with rivers of flowing clouds. I think to myself, “This thing is super humungous,” as the Angel swishing me along nods a serious, “Yes,” to my noisy thought. I hear him reply, without moving his mouth, “This is the temple of God!” I nod my reverent affirmation as we slow and land. “We must walk from this point on,” he orally tells me.

              I see a person off to my side waiting to tell me something. I stop in front of him, confused. All though I’ve never seen him before I know who he is. He’s Amanda’s martyred brother Jimmy. He smiles a wonderful smile, which seems is his message to me that I am to take back to his worried sister. I reward him with my own smile that promises I will. I see next to him a beautiful young lady leaning against him. In an instant, I also know who she is. This is the old lady fleeing the LD with Jimmy and Amanda. I joyfully smile at her as well.

              We continue up the path as I notice all the other golden paths merge. They all end at this splendorous brilliant white marble temple gate. A legion of behemoths all draws their spears inwards as we approach; one regiment is posted on each side of the gate. The towering gates swing inwards, as

their tops plow the puffy clouds away. As we walk in I hear the rush of flying creatures’ way, way above. They are singing entrancing songs of worship and saying “Holy, holy, and holy.” The floor is a sea of very fine crystal that also seems to be singing. I can see the flying creatures in this floor just as easily as looking up. I almost become dizzy and disorientated, due to the lack of reference points these reflections cause, and the impossible distance this large structure presents. If there are walls, they are too far away to see. I take a moment more to absorb all this amazement, but the wonderful echoes of praise remind me I am in the princely presence of majesty. Humbly we continue on.

              A brighter light, than even the brilliance here, is projecting from the distant area ahead. It is a shower of pure white pouring upwards, instead of down. The prestigious power of the pure light begins to burn my eyes. I raise my arm in defense to shield it, and then look just below my arm to see the glitter of many golden thrones. I see four mega giants, twice the size of the previous soldiers. They stand at the four corners of this gathering. Each has many wings, and each of their wings has thousands, and thousands of rapidly shifting eyes in them. I immediately become alarmed, as they begin to all stare at us. I tremble and stop. But, this Angel tugs me along anyway. He reminds me, “Don’t be afraid, you are the child of God.” I take advantage of the crystal floor and use it for my eyes. We move forwards between these beasts, as I stare reverently downward.

              In a second, I fall down in my weakness. The weight of His holiness causes me to bow, and accidently kiss the crystal floor below. I shake while seeing the reflection of the guiding Angel stoop and bow also. I know I am only feet away from His holy presence. His warm gentle hand caresses my shoulder, as He commands me, “Rise!” His touch has cured the pain of my sight, which allures me to stare at His soothing smile. “I have brought you here Joey for a reason. Time is growing very short for man to accept my grace. I have opened

Seals, and poured out bowls of judgment to prove I am God. Soon, I will finish with my wrath, and withdraw my present offer of eternal salvation.” My face becomes sad, and Jesus’ face too. “Do not be afraid, Joey. I hear your prayers. You still have work to do, and many souls to steer. Every dream and vision I’ve given you has a reason. Share these experiences and my message of salvation. Know this; my Holy Spirit is with you, and my divine power.” I nod my affirmation as He tells me, “I know you will.” He hugs me with the strength of a lion and the tenderness of a lamb, and says, “You are mine, and I will never let go of you.” I watch as He turns from me, and then grabs a scroll. I notice seven seals affixed to the scroll, but several are broken. He looks over his shoulder as He slides a finger under one seal still unbroken. I disappear in that moment. But, I know what is about to happen.

              I find myself waking up, trying to determine if this is a vision and that was reality, or vice versa. I know where I was, is much more real. I reach into my rucksack, fumbling in the dark to find another “Canned Heat,” but I don’t find any. I kick around on the floor to see if I can find the last can burnt, and hear the tingling echo of multiple cans colliding against each other. I reach down and count three. My mental itinerary tells me, “That’s all she wrote.” I reach back into my sack and find my emergency flashlight. I turn it on, and then balance it, facing straight up in the center of the floor. I stand and check my Army watch, to see that it reads 1:05. I feel so completely rested I cannot sit any longer. The other guys begin to wake up as I head up the stairs. I slide the exit door’s securing bolt over, and make that terrible violin music again. This time I hear both Mark and Paul comment, “You need to take some more lessons,” and “You sound like I sing.” I chuckle and remark, “What’s up Chuck?  Get it, up Chuck?”  They boo at my rude attempt to be a comedian.

              I lift open the door and pop my head out. Amazingly,

everything is finally over. I see ponds, and lakes, and dunes of

fine soot replacing the town I once knew. I know nothing,

absolutely nothing, could have survived this. I say a silent prayer towards heaven thanking God Jesus for his providence and divine protection. I turn around for a panoramic view and feel one of the guys from below forcing me over to one side. In a second, I find out it’s Mark. I know he is thinking about the chances his family could have survived this devastation. Immediately, his face forms a deep depressing frown. He asks me, “Do you think anyone could have survived?” I give him the only logical answer I can think of. “With God, all things are possible.” A second after, I feel Paul shoving my rear upwards. I step out onto the fine dust and create pillars of dust clouds. Paul pops his head out and immediately proclaims God to be his god. I remind Paul, “He’s everyone’s God.” I feel there’s no room for sarcastic humor at this moment, while we all view this vast desert of destruction.

              Paul and Mark steps out, as I pass them back down to retrieve my old rucksack. Reaching down, I grab both my flashlight and rucksack amidst the stream of sunlight rushing down the steps. I take a final moment to reflect as I spin slowly around. I don my sack and whisper to the inanimate cellar, “I will never forget you as long as I live.” Respectfully, I climb these steps for the last time while feeling a slight hollow echo of the memory formed inside me, saying, “Nor, will I.” I just nod twice a reverent goodbye. 

              “Are we ready?” I ask the fellows, as I step out alongside them. Mark asks, “Where are we going?” I turn and point towards the only object on the horizon and say, “Over there.” Paul again suggests God is his God. I say nothing to the reverend this time.

              We all march off without fear of LD for the first time in a long, long time. Each of us carries a different perspective, as we step out onto this nearly formed planet. Paul’s gaze seems to be one of amazement; like a baby seeing for the very first time. “Everything is new,” he proclaims! I think everything is dead, but I don’t want to destroy his optimism. I determine hope may be one of the only things left worth living for. I

know the heavy weight Mark is carrying. I reach over and tell him, “Marky, keep your chin up. God works miracles. You just wait and see. It’s alright to call you Marky, isn’t it?” The personalized touch to his name seems to have helped him lift his spirits-slightly. I tell him, “Have faith and believe.” I know inside, this is one of the hardest things in the world to do, but, it is something that scratches at every man’s soul. “Believe Marky!”

              I walk and I pray for the revelation God will provide Mark’s teetering soul. But, I know in my heart, in my spirit, in every fiber of my being, God will never ever let you down. I silently remind Jesus how dear Mark has become to us all. His answer one way or the other will affect us all. These are the times we are stretched beyond what we think we can stand. But, these are the times a man becomes a real man. Some call this the growing stage in our relationship with Christ. It is sometimes referred to like the body building term “no pain, no gain.” I prefer to think of it as the only way God sometimes can get our full attention. The only thing left is: Him, me, and a broken heart.

              Every choking dusty step towards “Project Hope” feels more like one giant leap for all mankind. We trudge along pulling our undershirts over our faces as far as they’ll stretch. I fight the stench that three days of perspiration has left in my shirt, and continue to cough anyway. But, at least I can breathe now. We approach an almost perfect pristine pond; except for thin film of dust dimming its sheen. I stop and bend down to the peaceful water that is without as much as a single ripple. I scoop a handful and smell it. It smells fresh, and is cold enough to eat. I slurp the dripping remnant from my hand and taste how sweet it really is. I know this comes from a deep protected cistern that must have sprung up as the continental plate cracked. I invite the fellows to join in the festivities, knowing they haven’t had a real drink in days. I remark as they slurp, “This is surely a gift from God.” Paul

tries to nod, but stops his affirmation, causing him to choke.

I laugh at him and call him a silly idiot, while he continues to chug down his fill.

              I stare at the old store and can just about see life sprawling on the roof top. I pray and hope it is the watchman. I retrieve my knife and tilt its blade, hoping I can communicate our existence. I stare towards the roof and keep tilting it quickly up and down. I hear the guys finishing up, and ask them, “Would you care for some dessert with that meal?” I turn back towards them and see them using their shirt sleeves as napkins. I quirkily smile down towards Paul, which confuses him temporarily. He knows my comment was more than just the snide humor he has grown accustom to coming from me. “Okay, what do you mean?” I flip my blade closed and tell them, “It seems there is hope coming from “Project Hope.” Paul asks, “Do you mean they’re alright?” I just smile and nod, “Yes,” to them both.  Paul jumps for joy while Mark runs his hand through his hair. I whisper to Paul, “That’s miracle number one.” He “catches my drift” without saying anything more.

              “It’s time to move out,” I tell the bunch.  Paul hurries to grab my canteen and fill it as quickly as he can. He comments, “This is some good stuff. I want to bring a full can back to share with the others.” We wait till the last life giving gulp of air burps out of the drowning canteen. Paul pats the can and smiles, “Yeah, this is good stuff.” In my humorous mind there forms a picture of smiling Pirate Paul saving the last keg of rum while standing on the deck of his sinking ship. “Yep Paul, that is some good stuff!”