by Mark Mason
Chapter 12
ive days after leaving Oregon,
Jeff’s car rolled into Richmond, Virginia. All had gone smoothly with the drive
across America, his travel pass opening the way at every border crossing. He
had phoned his father, earlier in the day, saying he expected to be home this
evening. Now, in the warm glow of sunset, he turned into his street—the street
he grew up on. There, where he rode his bike as a boy and played with the
neighbor’s kids, a lump came to his throat. He felt like he was coming home to
stay, after a long odyssey, and would never leave again. Then there was his
house, which to his surprise, had a banner on it, printed on yards and yards of
old computer paper, saying ‘Welcome home Jeff.’ In his tiredness, and with all
this emotion bubbling over, he just pulled into the drive, sat in his car and
stared at the banner, with tears flowing down his cheeks. After a few minutes,
he heard his father say, “Look who’s just pulled up! That’s Jeff’s car. Come on Mom, Julia, Pat.”
And in a few seconds they were out the door and waving to him. Jeff wound down
the window just as they swarmed around the car door. “Something bad happened to you, son, that you’re crying like that?” “Oh no,” he smiled. “Just the emotion of it all—coming home after being
away so long. And so much has happened.” “Of course, sweetheart,” his mother said. “I can understand that. Come
on outta there, and let your Mom give you a big hug.” Jeff climbed out into his mother’s arms, and after a few moments kissed
her on the cheek and smiled, and turned to his dad, who had, as usual, his hand
stuck out for him to shake. He had never been big on hugging. So, he shook his
father’s hand, and with his other hand reached around and patted him on the
back. His dad seemed only a little uncomfortable with that. After hugging his
younger brother and sister, who obviously had missed him a lot, they headed up
to the house. Inside it was totally dark. He was about to ask if the power was
out, when the lights suddenly came on and a million people seemed to be calling
out, “Welcome home Jeff!” A welcome home party! After five long days on the road, traveling right
across America, he was so tired and weak. He almost collapsed at the thought of
it, but pulled himself together. “What a wonderful surprise.” He turned around to all these people he knew
from growing up in the church, but who seemed more like distant acquaintances
to him these days. “Thank you for coming to meet me. I feel honored. Forgive me
if I’m a little out of it—I’ve just driven over three thousand miles. It’ll be
nice to just unwind with you for a while before I collapse from exhaustion.” They all clapped his little speech, and he just stood there, gazing
blankly at them. All the men came over and shook his hand, while the women
uncovered the dishes of food they’d brought. “So I hear you’ve had an adventure out west in the rebel states that are
fighting us?” Bob was the father of one of his school friends. “Yes.” “Did you run into any of the militias out there we’ve been hearing of?” “I got accused of being a part of one by the police in Oregon. If Dad
hadn’t intervened, I’d be in prison there still.” “So I heard. You’re a lucky kid to have such an influential father.” “I am.” “So, why were you over there, anyway?” “Well, I was actually just vacationing. And I met and got engaged to a
girl over there. But it didn’t work out.” “Well, you sure are lucky you didn’t get caught on the wrong side of the
civil war.” “Is there a war going on with the Western States then? It didn’t seem
like there was a war there when I left a few days ago.” “Is there a war!” Jeff’s father interjected. “Twenty-three army, navy and
air force bases in the West have defected to what they call the ‘American
Liberation Army.’ Sound like a bunch of commies, don’t they?” The two older men
laughed like gurgling drains, and Jeff, too, raised a smile at the thought that
so many additional military bases had come over to their side. “And over the last three days they fought off a ground attack by the US
Army Loyalists, as we call our side,” Bob added. “But they can’t win in the long run—not with God on our side,”
interjected a third man. “Praise the Lord!” a woman offering sandwiches chimed in. “It is unfortunate, though.” Jeff’s father was speaking again. “Just when
we have so many problems dealing with the unrepentant, godless homosexuals and
witches and all the rest, and with our need to conquer the communist dragon and
spread God’s kingdom, finally, to all the corners of the earth, we get this.
Just what we need, when ‘the laborers are few,’ to have to turn around and
fight part of our own army. But we have to remember that even Jesus had his
Judas, and the beast, the dragon and the false prophet are formidable
opponents. It’s not going to be a pushover. It will, on the contrary, be a glorious
victory for God and his army, just as it predicts in Revelation.” “The communist dragon, Dad?” Jeff asked. “Do you mean China? Are we going
to war with China?” “Well, we will have to fight China—that will be the battle of Armageddon.
Of course we’re not at war with them yet.” “I guess we’ve got to deal with the Western States first?” “Yes and no. Maybe we’ll deal with them both together. God has a plan,
which I have been privileged to be a party to, but am not at liberty to reveal.
I’m sure you understand.” Significant glances passed between Bob, Jeff’s
father, and another man. “Let me just say it will be devastating and quick,
with little risk to ourselves, and involve the cleverest military strategy the
world has ever seen.” “Praise the Lord!” That same woman was back again with her sandwiches. “So we’re just going to annihilate the Western States?” “That, my son, I am not at liberty to reveal. All I can say is that
everyone will be astonished at God’s brilliant strategy, as it unfolds. It will
be the heralding glory of the Millennium.” After Jeff had shaken every man’s hand, and all the women and girls had
come over and welcomed him home, it was almost midnight. Just seconds after
climbing into bed he experienced himself sinking quickly into a deep, glorious
sleep. Next morning Jeff awoke to the sun shining through his window, the birds
singing—it was like he was a child again. But this happy reverie was soon
interrupted by the less happy thought of how he could find out what the
theocracy’s master strategy was for defeating China and the Western States in
one hit—for that seemed to be what his father had been hinting at last night.
He realized his best plan would be not to ask too many questions, but just to
win his father’s confidence first, in the hope that he’d be able to piece
together the details from little things his father and others said. After showering and dressing, he went out to the kitchen to eat. “Hi Jeff,” his father called out. “Hi Dad.” “I’ve been waiting to have breakfast with you. Care to join me?” “Sure. I’ve lots of questions to ask you about everything that’s been
happening.” “Me too. Let’s get some cereal and go out onto the deck. I want to hear
about your travels.” “And I want to know how you came to be on the Presidential Governing
Council.” “Huh. Well, contacts, contacts—you know the way it is in the church. I
was kind of surprised myself, but sure glad to have the opportunity to serve
God in such a vital capacity.” They took seats across a glass-topped table near
the pool. “Well it sure saved me from ten years in prison. And Amanda—she was
grateful, too, as you might imagine. I know she would have liked to have been
able to thank you in person.” “Well that’s OK son. What are families for? But tell me about Amanda. You
mentioned you’d broken off your engagement to her, but didn’t say why. What
went wrong?” Jeff paused for a moment. “I found out she was a witch.” “You mean she wasn’t as nice as you first thought?” “No Dad. I mean she was actually into witchcraft.” “Enough said! The country’s full of it. America—and the world—are full of
all types of filth, corruption, wickedness and ungodliness. But God always knew
that would be the case, even though he pleaded with people down through the
ages to come to him, and even sent his own son to reach out to people to repent
and be saved. That is why the tribulation had to come—to rid society of that
evil. Man, I’m glad Jesus showed you, in time, what you were headed for. It’s a
sign Jesus favors you, son, that he plucked you out of that danger—so many
lukewarm Christians have been sucked in by that sort of insidious evil. I also
think it’s a sign that you should be working with me, in the mission God has
given us.” “Oh? And what is your work, Dad? I’ve been wondering about that.” “My official title is ‘Secretary of Non-Christian Resources.’ You know,
as in ‘Secretary of State’—I’m a member of President Jones’ cabinet. It’s a new
portfolio, made necessary by the tribulation, to manage the way it’s carried
out. I don’t know whether you know, yet, that true Bible-believing Christians
have been ‘raised’ into authority over all the earth to actually carry out the
tribulation?” “I did hear something like that, from a Christian woman who ran a bed and
breakfast I stayed at. She was saying that is the new view of what the
‘rapture’ is—the raising of Christians into positions of authority to carry
out the tribulation, rather than being raised into the air to meet Jesus.” “That’s pretty close to it. However, we still will meet Jesus. When the
work of the tribulation is done, he will descend from heaven, greet us in joy,
and live with us in glory during the thousand years of the Millennium.” “This woman also said there was a
plan to re-enslave African-Americans at some stage before we enter the Millennium.
Is there any truth in that?” “Well, it’s not on the agenda at
this point. There are too many other more urgent priorities. But God’s order
has to be reestablished for the Millennium. So its time will come, and it will
be a great vindication for the South after a hundred-and-fifty years of
deprivation. We will be rewarded for our patience.” “Where in the Bible does it say
that slavery is a part of God’s order?” “Where in the Bible does it say
that it isn’t? Slavery was common in Biblical times. Greek and Roman
civilization was built on it. Jesus would have spoken out against it if it was
wrong in God’s eyes. He spoke out against lots of other things, like the money
changers in the temple, the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, and stoning the adulteress.
Yet he didn’t say anything about slavery. And the only thing Paul said about it
was that masters should treat their slaves well. And how would Robert E. Lee
have been able to fight so inspiringly and bravely against overwhelming odds if
it wasn’t for a righteous cause?” “Well, I’ll have to give that some thought.” Jeff didn’t want to get into
an argument with his father about this. “But getting back to your work. Are you
in charge of organizing the ‘cleansing’ of all the evil people in the country?” “That’s certainly a part of my job. But I don’t see it as the most
important part. The tribulation is also a time of purification through trials—a
refining in the fire, if you like—when many sinners will come to God. It’s
important to me to help save every person I possibly can. It’s the final
opportunity for salvation, and that’s what I like to focus on.” “So, are you giving all these people a chance to repent and become
Christians before you take their children from them and send them to a labor
camp?” “Yes, we sure are. And huge numbers are repenting and converting. These
are such blessed times we live in. All these people I was afraid would be lost
are being gathered into the harvest by Jesus at the eleventh hour. It really is
a miracle. Of course, I should add that not quite everyone is given that
chance. Some of the most evil just have to be quickly removed from society to
take away their destructive influence on others. They are the unrepentant
architects of godlessness—people like abortion providers, militant homosexuals
and lesbians, leaders of dangerous religious sects such as yoga meditation
groups, open advocates of Darwinism, publishers of pornographic material,
prominent and well-known atheists and witches, and so called ‘Bible scholars’
who have made a career out of distorting our beloved Bible.” “What are you doing with them?” “They are being tried for the criminal offenses they’re guilty of:
murder, child pornography, fomenting social disorder, teaching blasphemous
untruths to children, offensive behavior, social pollution, unnatural sexual
behavior, and distortion of the Word. The appropriate penalty is then applied,
from public hangings for the worst and most provocative of the ring-leaders,
through to banishment to agricultural work camps.” “Public hangings? Isn’t that a little barbaric?” “It has the desired effect, son. The effect Jesus wants. After each
public hanging, hundreds convert to the faith.” “Where do these hangings take place?” “At scaffolds we’ve built in Monroe Park. There’s one taking place this
afternoon, actually. You should come along and see the effect it has on
people.” “You’ve built the scaffolds in Monroe Park, right next to VCU?” “Yes, we thought it would be a salutary warning to the students there,
with their tendency to radicalism, not to forget God’s laws.” “I’m sure it will. But what about those you banish to the work camps. Do
you send their families with them?” “Of course not. Don’t their kids deserve a chance to become good
Christians?” “Yes. But what about their wives?” “Well, mostly they are found to be guilty, too, except in the few cases
where they’ve turned their husbands in.” “So at least you send the husbands and wives away together?” “Oh no. They are sent to separate camps.” “Why? Isn’t the aim just to get them out of society’s way? Couldn’t you
do that as kindly as possible?” “Quite apart from needing to break their spirits so they don’t incite
trouble at the labor camps, we think this is
the kindest thing to do. We want to prepare them gradually for the horrors of
hell that inevitably await them, so it won’t be too great a shock for them when
they arrive there.” “Dad! Do you burn them with hot irons each day to get them ready for the
flames of hell?” Jeff was becoming more and more horrified at what his father
was involved in, yet he instantly regretted saying this, out of fear of blowing
his cover. “No, of course not. That would be a cruel and unusual punishment. And we
all know nowadays hell isn’t like that—that was a thoroughly medieval concept,
and God would never torture people by burning their flesh, any more than we
would. Hell is nothing more than eternal and complete separation from God. And
as we all know, God is love. Whenever we experience love, from a parent or a
friend or a spouse, or even from a pet, we are, by God’s grace, experiencing a
little of Him. It’s God’s way of introducing Himself to us, and giving us a
foretaste of the joy of heaven. So, hell is just eternal separation from all
love and companionship—utter soul destroying loneliness, forever. Which is
what these people have actually asked for in rejecting God. So, out of
compassion, to prepare them for the terrible fate they’ve insisted on bringing
upon themselves, we keep them isolated when not working, and as much as
possible even when they are working. But at least they have the solace of being
able to work, and of having some human company on the job, while gradually
learning to adjust to perpetual loneliness.” “That sounds even worse than the hot irons.” Again the comment slipped
past Jeff’s guard. He was appalled at the way fundamentalists like his father
could be aware of such advanced spiritual concepts as the love we experience
being a reflection of God’s love, yet distort it in such a hideous way. He was
sickened by it. His father seemed to notice his discomfort, and said, a little
more softly, “Well, it has been their choice.” “And what do you do to all the others who don’t repent when you give them
the opportunity to?” “Usually we assign them as servants to Christian households, or as
laborers on farms owned by Christians. The hope there is that, through the
tribulation of being separated from their families and their freedom, and
through the good example of the families they are serving, they might, before
the period of tribulation is over, repent and come to Christ.” “Ah ha.” “Don’t you think this is a wonderful thing we are doing for all these
precious souls who would otherwise miss out on a chance for salvation?” “Well, that’s one way of looking at it. It’s an interesting perspective.” “What I want to ask you, Jeff, is:
would you like to work with me on this—be a part of it?” “Well…this is all so new to me, Dad. I’m not sure what I think about it.
It’ll take me a day or two, at least, to take it all in.” “Sure. I can tell you are a little lukewarm about it right now, but
that’s understandable. It seems like you’re almost persuaded, but it’s
reasonable that you should have some time to digest all these radical changes.
I have to remember that I’ve been gradually formulating these ideas over the
years, along with many of our leaders. If we were hit with them all at once,
I’m sure we would need time to think them over, too.” “Thanks, Dad.” “So, give it some thought—whether you’d like to work with me. I need to
pay more attention to what’s happening in other states, so I need someone to
take charge of matters here in Virginia. The harvest is plenteous, but the
laborers are few. I could find you an office job in
some other area, probably in D.C., but it wouldn’t be nearly such an influential
position. If you work with me here you’ll really have a future, and will be
able to say you played a glorious part in bringing God’s kingdom to earth.” “Yes, I will think about that Dad. And thanks for the offer.” “Well, I won’t overload you with anything more now. You can tell me later
whether you want to go to the hanging this afternoon. If you don’t that’s
fine—there will be plenty more of them later. I’ve got to go out to meet
someone now, but I’ll be back for lunch.” “Bye Dad.” “Bye Son.” Jeff decided, in the end, to attend the hanging. The very thought of it
made him feel sick, but he was back here to learn about things, and find out as
much information as he could. There was a crowd of about five hundred people,
on this sunny Saturday afternoon, seated in the shade on the grass, and on
benches, back from the row of three scaffolds under a large tree near the
center of the park. Each scaffold had a banner above it proclaiming the name of
the criminal and his or her offense. The three offenses on this day were:
‘Abortion Provider,’ ‘Practitioner of Yoga and Witchcraft,’ and ‘Homosexual
Activist.’ Over to the right, past the fountain and a few trees, was a large
open tent with the sign: ‘Salvation Tent—Get right with Jesus here.’ Jeff was a
part of the official party, seated at the back. He was glad not to be too close
to the cold-blooded slaughter of what were, in the world of a few weeks ago,
perfectly normal, law-abiding citizens of the United States of America. Shortly the abortion provider was brought up, hands tied behind his back,
by two guards. The noose was placed around his neck, and his feet bound
together. Then likewise the witch and
the gay activist. As one-by-one the trap doors fell, and the bodies jerked on
the ropes, there came a few cheers from some, wails from others, possibly
friends or relatives. After a few minutes people got up and drifted away, some,
maybe fifty, toward the Salvation Tent. “Do they become Christians right here, straight after the executions?”
Jeff turned to his father. “No. Volunteers pray for each person, give them a Bible and some other
material about becoming a Christian, and organize for them to attend a church
the following Sunday, which is where they give their lives to Christ.” It was a gruesome experience for Jeff. Even his sickening expectation of
it didn’t really prepare him for it. He felt debased by being there. How could
humanity sink this low? He felt guilty of killing these innocent people
himself, by association, and just wanted to get away to somewhere where he
could pray to God in silence and beg for forgiveness. Once it was over, he
quickly made his excuses to his father and left. He drove down to the Pony
Pasture and sat on a rock on the bank of the James. There he whispered, in
prayer, words from a psalm which had often been a solace to him: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving-kindness. According to
the multitude of your tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash away my
iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin, for I know my transgressions, and my
errors are ever before me. Against you and you only have I sinned, and done
what is evil in your sight…Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me,
and I shall be whiter than snow…Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a
right spirit within me…The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and
contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” Jeff looked up to the sky, and after a while his heart lightened a
little. Then the feeling of peace and being right with God flooded back, and
with it an overwhelming gratitude. He broke down and cried and thanked God for
restoring the peace to his soul that he thought he might have lost forever, and
that he treasured more than anything else. That peace was his very closeness to
God, and he knew he wouldn’t want to even go on living without it. There was
still a wistful sadness around him, but he felt it gradually lifting, as he
watched a red-shouldered hawk soaring above the river, then diving to pluck a
fish from the water, and listened to the gurgle of the river, the insects
chattering, and the rustle of the breeze in the trees behind him. At times like
this, he knew, only the presence of God in nature could gradually center him
again, slowly lift the gloom from his soul, and restore his joy in living. That night it took Jeff a long time to settle into a fitful sleep. Some
hours later, he woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare. He had been inside
the mouth of a fuming volcano, clinging onto precarious hand and foot holds on
a cliff of hot rocks. Below him was bubbling lava, about to erupt. Each time he
tried to scramble up the near vertical cliff, he would slide down a little
lower before catching another precarious foothold. And all the while, with the
hiss and gurgle of the red hot lava below him in the background, angels above
him were singing the old evangelical song he had sung in church so many times
while growing up, and which had been the subject of so many long sermons: Almost persuaded, Now to believe Almost persuaded, Christ to receive Seems now some soul to say, Go Spirit, Go Thy way Some more convenient day, On Thee I’ll call Almost persuaded, Harvest is past Almost persuaded, Doom comes at last Almost can not avail, Almost is but to fail Sad, sad, the bitter wail, Almost but lost. (P. P. Bliss, referring to Acts 26:24-30) He knew he’d had many chances to be saved, but always asked too many
questions, had too many reservations, wanted too much time to explore the other
side of the story. And now through his willfulness, and lack of faith, he was
in this predicament: ‘Almost persuaded…Almost but lost.’ And any moment now he
knew he would be engulfed in the fiery pit of hell, as the Angels sadly looked
on and sung their ‘I-told-you-so’ song. It took Jeff a while to realize the dream wasn’t real. In the dark night
he touched the bed, and reached for his watch, then finally turned on the
bedside lamp. He sat up, still shaking with fear, and wondered what this dream
could mean. He didn’t buy any of that hellfire and brimstone stuff any more.
Then he remembered his father had used those words ‘almost persuaded’ the
previous morning. He’d said, ‘It seems like you’re almost persuaded…” Often,
while growing up, he had suffered from remorse after his bouts of questioning and
rebelliousness, and imagined himself sliding into the pit of hell, which he
had thought of as the old disused well
out back which he’d peered into one day, disobeying his father’s injunction
never to move the decaying wooden lid. He had seen himself sliding into that
pit of oblivion, just unable to claw his way back—just past redemption because
of his willfulness: ‘Almost persuaded…Almost, but lost.’ It was like his
dream. But what could it mean now? He felt it had to have something to do with
his father’s job offer, since there was the connection with his words. He was undecided about working with his
father. And maybe this meant he was almost at the point of losing his
opportunity to perform his mission on time. He had to overcome his
squeamishness and be decisive. It was no use getting soft now, after all he’d
been through. In the morning he went out and told his father he would take the job. Return to The Hot Springs of America Main Page
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