The Rapture: In the Twinkling of an Eye / Countdown to the Earth's Last Days

by Tim LaHaye

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  And now she was enjoying her new role, especially on a 747 streaking toward London. Hattie didn't want any mistakes, no complaints. There would be issues, sure, but that's why she and her crew were here. They would deal with everything and everyone quickly and efficiently. Tony Salazar, who had been with the airline since Hattie was in grade school, was already proving most helpful. He was one who could easily have had her promotion, had he merely wanted it. Clearly there was no animosity there. He apparently wanted her to look good and seemed to be doing everything in his power to effect that.

  They were several hours into the flight already. Two meals had been served, the movie had ended, and except for just a few wanderers and the rare night owls still hunched over their laptops under their individual reading lamps, the plane had become dark and quiet.

  "You want to make points with this staff," Tony whispered, "urge them to finish breakfast prep now and let them take a load off until sunup."

  "Great idea," Hattie said.

  When they were finished, she swept through the cabins a few times herself, then finally sat, feeling the nervous energy drain from her and wishing she could close her eyes. The last thing she would do, however, was actually sleep on the job. Here and there other attendants were sitting, chatting, and watching and listening for any call buttons.

  Hattie glanced idly up the aisle, where a woman was either getting some exercise or on her way to the lavatory.

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  Funny. In the dim light she seemed to be there one second and gone the next.

  Something else was on Hattie's mind. Rayford Steele. She had never seen herself as a home wrecker, though Captain Steele was hardly the first married man who seemed eager to throw away his family for her. She had merely teased previous conquests, knowing full well they were not responsible people and were merely lusting rather than loving her.

  But Rayford. He was something different. It had not been lost on her that he had been more than careful. He had a beautiful family. He never bad-mouthed his wife. It was clear he was not happy at home; otherwise, what was he doing with his looks, his body language, his conversation? Yet it was his very discipline that attracted her... not to mention his striking appearance.

  Okay, he was forty-two. Had forty-two ever looked so good on a man? He kept himself in shape and looked great in and out of uniform. They were headed for something, and Hattie didn't want to scare him off and mess it up. She knew enough to let Rayford make the next move, and from what she could tell, he was well on his way. She had made clear her own intentions--or at least willingness--but this was a different relationship--for certain a different potential--than she had ever had.

  Hattie's goal was nothing short of claiming Rayford as her own. An affair was not enough; for one thing, given their situation, it would ruin her career. No, she wanted him. He would have to be willing to divorce his wife and pursue her to the altar.

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  If her instincts were right, London would be a city where memories were made.

  Irene Steele took great pleasure in her new ability to-- what else could she call it?--multitask. She was able to watch and listen to the exhilarating judgments--which were, in reality, another way to bring honor and glory to Jesus--exult at the rejoicing of the angels every time someone received Christ, "view" as it were the stories of each supplicant in her mind's eye, and simultaneously feel overwhelmed with joy at being able to take this all in in the presence of her son, now a full-grown man. Irene felt as if she would never be able to lose her eternal smile, nor did she wish to.

  She quickly understood why Papias and Polycarp, those of the strange names, seemed to be dealt with together. They had been contemporaries, friends, and their most stark bond was that they had both been acquaintances of the disciple whom Jesus loved: John.

  Papias proved to be a Greek Christian leader who had written a five-volume commentary on the sayings of Jesus. Jesus praised him for his efforts in offering one of the earliest records about the writing of the Gospels. While his work was lost to history after several centuries, it had been used in the early church to help give credence to the veracity of Scripture.

  "Though some questioned your intellect and scholarship," Jesus said, presenting him the crowns of Glory,

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  Righteousness, and Rejoicing, "you proved authentic and devoted. You fed your flock, you anticipated My return with gladness, and you became My glory and joy by winning souls."

  Papias's friend Polycarp had been a disciple of the apostle John and eventually became the bishop of the early church in Smyrna. Irene soon learned that he was one of the most celebrated characters in ancient Christendom, reminding her again how embryonic and provincial her faith was. The idea of having eternity to learn all this warmed her.

  As a pupil of John, Polycarp had talked with many who had been with Jesus Himself. He became a bold pastor, preacher, and witness for Christ in spite of dangerous opposition from Rome, and indeed he was eventually martyred for his faith while serving as the bishop at Smyrna.

  Jesus used the precious residue from the flame judgment of his works to make for him all the crowns he had given Papias, adding the Crown of Life, reserved for martyrs or those who had suffered undue trials.

  Hattie Durham had enjoyed only a brief respite before feeling that she should get back on her feet and continue to monitor the needs and comfort of her passengers. She was aware that other attendants glanced curiously at her, probably wondering if they too were expected to get back to work. But really, there was little to do.

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  She missed Rayford, but she had decided the next move was his. And he certainly wasn't going to do anything during a flight. Hattie moseyed to the back of the plane, idly checking to see how many lavs were occupied. Only one, and that soon became free too. Then she quietly began her stroll up the long aisle. Nearly everyone was asleep, so Hattie was careful to keep her steps light. When she was a passenger she could always tell when someone was coming, and nothing was more irritating than a lumbering staff member, interrupting someone's rest.

  Some passengers had their seats reclined, and they lay back, snoring softly or with their mouths open. Most had heeded the advice to fasten their seat belts outside blankets and sweaters so Hattie and her team would not have to rouse them to be sure they were buckled in. Others had slid down in their seats and slept in various curled-up positions of repose.

  Strange though. Maybe it was the darkness. It seemed at least one seat in each row was empty. Several seemed to have two or more. Yet Hattie had seen only one woman in the aisle several minutes before. And she had not seen that woman return.

  With every lav now vacant, Hattie's eyes had to be playing tricks on her. Surely she was simply missing these people in the shadows, under blankets and pillows. But as her eyes widened--partly in alarm, she knew--it was as if her night vision improved. About a third of the seats she studied looked empty.

  This was a full flight. Hattie scowled in concentration.

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  Focus. There had to be an explanation. It had to be her. She was missing something. Or was she still sitting, taking a break, dozing, dreaming this? That had happened before. Once, thoroughly sleep deprived, she had drowsed in a jump seat, only to dream that the craft had landed, but everyone was asleep and she couldn't wake them to disembark.

  Hattie took a deep breath. She was awake. She knew it. And this would all make sense in a moment when it would somehow come together in her mind. But she couldn't help leaning past a sleeping man in an aisle seat and feeling the two seats beyond him. Both were empty. All she felt were blankets and what seemed like clothes. On the second seat she felt earrings. What was going on?

  Six straight aisle seats on both sides had heads silhouetted in the dim light, but the next three, on both sides, were empty. The first one she checked revealed a man who had slid down beyond her view. But the others were vacant, blankets and clothes and jewelry lying there.

  Hattie
couldn't breathe. Where were these people? She hurried up the aisle, no longer caring about the weight of her footfall.

  A woman turned to see her coming and whispered, "Is anything wrong?"

  Hattie mustered her cheerful voice. "No, ma'am. Everything's fine." But she couldn't slow herself. Several more seats were empty before she reached the bank of lavs, and all of them still showed "Vacant" on the doors. She knocked and opened each, hoping they were full of people answering nature's call who had somehow

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  suffered from mass forgetfulness, leaving the doors unlocked. But no. All were empty.

  Hattie rushed forward, only to trip on a pile of... what? She bent to examine it and picked it up to clear the aisle. It was a woman's complete outfit, including hosiery, undergarments, and accessories. Hattie felt a sob rising in her throat. She must not cry out. This was where the woman she had seen had seemed to disappear.

  Right out of her clothes?

  And then it hit Hattie. At least a couple dozen children had boarded this flight. She now saw none. She pushed toward the galley to dump the pile of clothes.

  There she met another flight attendant, who said, "Miss Durham, what's up?"

  "I don't know."

  Call buttons began to ding. Reading lamps came on. People called out, "Hey! What? Ma'am? Sir?"

  Hattie toyed with illuminating the cabin lights, but if that revealed her worst fears that a hundred or more passengers had disappeared out of their clothes, she could incite a riot.

  "Have you seen Tony?" an attendant said. "He was back there, and now I don't see him. Something's going on and we need him. We need everybody. Hattie, where are all these people?"

  Hattie held a finger to her mouth and trotted toward the stairs at the front of the plane. She was going to see if this craziness extended to first class, and then she was heading for the cockpit.

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  Irene had heard of an organization called Wycliffe Bible Translators, but she knew little about it and nothing about whomever it had been named for. That was soon remedied as John Wycliffe, a fourteenth-century saint, reached the fire judgment and his story was impressed upon the minds of everyone in the house of God.

  Wycliffe had been a scholar who apparently had almost as much to do with the reformation of the church as had the more famous Martin Luther of the following century. Like Luther, Wycliffe came to believe that the essence of the gospel was that Christ's own righteousness is imputed to those who believe, and on that ground alone they are accepted by God.

  Wycliffe faced persecution and opposition from religious leaders of his day, but he persevered and eventually led the way in translating the Scriptures into the language of the people, a revolutionary concept at that time. He also expounded upon his theological ideas and sent out preachers to do the same.

  Irene had always taken for granted that she was able to read the Bible in English, but until Wycliffe's translation, Jerome's Latin Vulgate had been the only Scripture available. Also, anyone other than clergy had been prohibited from reading the Bible. Wycliffe's work was so controversial that years later the church actually prohibited the translation of the Bible.

  But Wycliffe believed it was crucial that Christians be able to read God's Word in their own language. He

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  believed the Scriptures were inspired of God and should be accepted without reserve.

  Because the printing press had not yet been invented, every word had to be handwritten. More than six hundred years later, over one hundred and fifty handwritten copies still existed.

  Wycliffe also trained and sent out "Bible-Men," students who had been ordained but without a bishop's license. He instructed them to not settle in any particular area, to avoid worldly pursuits, and to study and preach the Bible. They wore long reddish gowns and carried staffs, but they were barefoot. They carried at least a portion of Wycliffe's translation and preached wherever they could find an audience.

  Wycliffe had been widely thought the best preacher of his day. He centered his sermons around the meaning of the Bible passage and then the application of the text to the lives of the hearers.

  Jesus presented him the crowns of Glory and Rejoicing.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Not sure he'd follow through with anything overt, Captain Rayford Steele felt an irresistible urge to see Hattie Durham right then. He unstrapped himself and squeezed his first officer's shoulder on the way out of the cockpit. "We're still on auto, Christopher," he said as the younger man roused and straightened his headphones. "I'm gonna make the sunup stroll."Christopher squinted and licked his lips. "Doesn't look like sunup to me, Cap."

  "Probably another hour or two. I'll see if anybody's stirring anyway."

  "Roger. If they are, tell "Em Chris says, "Hey.""

  Raymie Steele found it interesting that God seemed to have a theme going that was giving him a crash course

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  in church history. The next supplicant was a contemporary of Wycliffe who was also instrumental in translating the Scriptures. As a young man, John Hus had worked in churches in Prague and become known as a humble servant and a devoted student. He was eventually ordained to the priesthood and assigned as the preacher in the new Bethlehem Chapel in Prague.

  Hus was impacted by the writings of Wycliffe and helped translate and circulate much of Wycliffe's work. At first Hus did not face opposition for his views but was actually a favorite of his archbishop. Eventually, however, the archbishop was ordered to speak out against what were considered the heresies of Wycliffe and to forbid any further criticism of the clergy.

  Later the church ordered that all Wycliffe writings be surrendered for correction. Hus obeyed and publicly declared that he condemned whatever errors existed, but he was eventually called to account by the archbishop for what were termed his "Wycliffite tendencies" and was reported to Rome.

  Wycliffe's writings were withdrawn from circulation and burned, and when Hus protested, he was excommunicated, along with his sympathizers. When he continued supporting the work of Wycliffe, he was summoned to appear before the pope. Hus further protested practices of the church and the pope, resulting in a papal edict that he be imprisoned and that the Bethlehem Chapel be destroyed. The order was not obeyed by the king of Prague, and at the end of 1412, Hus wrote a treatise about the errors of the

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  church and later posted it on the walls of the Bethlehem Chapel.

  From these works of protest the church extracted propositions it considered heretical, and the Council of Constance was assembled. Hus was urged by the king to appear there and defend his doctrine. At Constance he was condemned and burned at the stake.

  Jesus presented Hus the crowns of Glory and Life.

  Hattie Durham was in shape. She worked out nearly every day. Why, then, was her heart pounding and her lungs overtaxed from the short flight of stairs to first class? She knew.

  As she moved through the cabin she found a good-looking, blond man sleeping, his laptop open, his reading lamp on. She reached across a heavyset, snoring man who smelled of too many drinks and switched off the light. As she backed away she noticed that the dapper old man on the aisle just ahead of those two was gone. His clothes were on the seat. To Hattie's great relief, the man's wife still dozed.

  Relief? That was a laugh. Hattie was starring in the horror film of a lifetime.

  A young woman on the other side of the aisle frantically patted the empty seats beside her, calling out, "Bill! Where are the kids?" She spotted Hattie. "Ma'am?"

  Hattie held up a hand. "I'll be right with you." And she sprinted toward the cockpit.

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  Next on God's list of those honored for the ministry of His Word was a twentieth-century saint who had made the Scriptures even more understandable to the masses by crafting them to be understood by his children. His laborious private effort was eventually recognized by Christian leaders, and the explosion of his paraphrase, The Living Bible, resu
lted in worldwide publishing ministries.

  He too suffered for his work, virtually losing his voice for the second half of his life. Ken Taylor was presented with crowns rewarding his enduring trials, feeding the flock, and winning souls.

  His appearance before the flame and the throne began what seemed to Irene an endless parade of more contemporary Christian heroes, missionaries, pastors, evangelists, personal witnesses, and martyrs. Learning all their stories and--amazingly--now being able to remember every detail of thousands of the same was such a rich experience that Irene only occasionally reverted to her curiosity about how much time this might be taking in Earth minutes. It seemed she had been here a year already, but still she felt no hunger, no fatigue, no flagging of attention. And if what God had told her before remained operative, all this was happening in mere Earth moments.

  As Captain Rayford Steele opened the cockpit door, Hattie Durham nearly bowled him over.

  "No need to knock," he said. "I'm coming."

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  The senior flight attendant pulled him into the galley, but there was no passion in her touch. Her fingers felt like talons on his forearm, and her body shuddered in the darkness.