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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.
"Hattie--"
She pressed him back against the cooking compartments, her face close to his. Had she not been clearly terrified, he might have enjoyed this and returned her embrace.
Her knees buckled as she tried to speak, and her voice came in a whiny squeal. "People are missing," she managed to whisper, burying her head in his chest.
He took her shoulders and tried to push her back, but she fought to stay close. "What do you mean?"
She was sobbing now, her body out of control. "A whole bunch of people, just gone!"
"Hattie, this is a big plane. They've wandered off to the lavs or--"
She pulled his head down so she could speak directly into his ear. Despite her weeping, she was plainly fighting to make herself understood. "I've been everywhere. I'm telling you, dozens of people are missing."
"Hattie, it's still dark. We'll find--"
"I'm not crazy! See for yourself! All over the plane, people have disappeared."
"It's a joke. They're hiding, trying to--"
"Ray! Their shoes, their socks, their clothes--everything was left behind. These people are gone!"
Hattie slipped from his grasp and knelt whimpering in the corner. Rayford wanted to comfort her, to enlist her
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help, or to get Chris to go with him through the plane. More than anything he wanted to believe the woman was crazy. She knew better than to put him on. It was obvious she really believed people had disappeared.
Irene had heard of Campus Crusade for Christ, but as a fairly new believer, she knew nothing of its history or its founder. Thus she was amazed as Bill Bright's story was revealed and his works were burnished to a huge pile of gold and silver and precious gems.
Dr. Bright had founded and spent more than fifty years leading an organization that became the world's largest Christian ministry. He was so motivated by Christ's command to spread the gospel throughout the world that in 1956 he wrote a booklet titled The Four Spiritual Laws, which was eventually printed in two hundred languages and became the most widely disseminated religious booklet in history. Bright also commissioned the JESUS film, a documentary on the life of Christ, which was translated into more than nine hundred languages and seen by more than 5.4 billion people in 228 countries and became the most widely viewed film in history.
Bill Bright began his ministry in college by sharing Christ with fellow students at UCLA, which developed into a full-time calling and spawned the eventual worldwide ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ. What began as a campus effort grew to deal with almost every segment of society, including inner cities, governments,
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prisons, families, the military, executives, musicians, athletes, and others.
Irene and Raymie rose with the rest as Jesus pronounced Bill Bright's well-done and embraced him, crafting for him from the residue of the flame the Crown of Rejoicing, the soul-winner's crown.
The loudest cheers came from the hundreds of millions who were in heaven due to the ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ.
Rayford Steele stepped into first class, where an elderly woman sat stunned in the predawn haze, her husband's sweater and trousers in her hands. "What in the world?" she said. "Harold?"
Rayford wanted to be strong, to have answers, to be an example to his crew, to Hattie. But when he reached the lower level he knew the rest of the flight would be chaotic. He was as scared as anyone on board. As he scanned the seats, he nearly panicked. He backed into a secluded spot behind the bulkhead and slapped himself hard on the cheek.
This was no joke, no trick, no dream. Something was terribly wrong, and there was no place to run. There would be enough confusion and terror without his losing control. Nothing had prepared him for this, and he would be the one everybody would look to. But for what? What was he supposed to do?
First one, then another cried out when they realized
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their seatmates were missing but their clothes were still there. They cried, they screamed, they leaped from their seats.
Hattie grabbed Rayford from behind and wrapped her hands so tight around his chest that he could hardly breathe. "Rayford, what is this?"
He pulled her hands apart and turned to face her. "Hattie, listen. I don't know any more than you do. But we've got to calm these people and get on the ground. I'll make some kind of announcement, and you and your people keep everybody in their seats. Okay?"
She nodded, but she didn't look okay at all. As he edged past her to hurry back to the cockpit, he heard her scream. So much for calming the passengers. He whirled to see her on her knees in the aisle.
Hattie lifted a blazer, shirt, and tie still intact. Trousers lay at her feet. She frantically turned the blazer to the low light and read the name tag. "Tony!" she wailed. "Tony's gone!"
Rayford snatched the clothes from her and tossed them behind the bulkhead. He lifted Hattie by her elbows and pulled her out of sight. "Hattie, we're hours from touchdown. We can't have a planeload of hysterical people. I'm going to make an announcement, but you have to do your job. Can you?"
She nodded, her eyes vacant.
He forced her to look at him. "Will you?" he said.
She nodded again. "Rayford, are we going to die?"
"No," he said. "That I'm sure of."
But he wasn't sure of anything. How could he know?
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He'd rather have faced an engine fire or even an uncontrolled dive. A crash into the ocean had to be better than this. How would he keep people calm in such a nightmare?
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Irene was well aware that what seemed to be problems in heaven were not problems at all. Only as she tried to consider things from a human, earthly perspective was she able to wonder at the difference in her new view. For instance, the idea of sitting--while not being aware of one's weight on a chair--in God's house (and only the first-floor assembly hall) with some 20 billion others was so ludicrous to the other-than-glorified human mind that all she could do was shake her head.
Imagine someone inviting me to a function like this. Had she had the opportunity to attend a concert of her all-time favorite performer, the idea of a crowd of even tens of thousands would have made her rather just listen to a CD or watch a DVD. Of course she would have gone anywhere to see Jesus, even from a distance. But to
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be in a crowd so massive that you couldn't see either end of it for days simply would have held no appeal.
Yet somehow this worked. Irene was so happy she could not stop grinning. Emotionally she was full to overflowing. While the crowd was enormous, she didn't have the feeling of being lost among the masses or being hemmed in shoulder to shoulder as if on the midway of a county fair. Everyone was here for the same reason, and that kinship was pervasive. There were no sight-line issues, no audio problems, and the very idea that God could be limited in His ability to make everything plain and clear to everyone all at once had, needless to say, never crossed Irene's mind.
What crossed her mind now, though, was spectacular. Nothing in her previous life compared to having this personal, one-on-one, constant interaction with God while simultaneously being able to hear and see everything-- even these life histories at the same time as the judgments and rewards.
It all seemed to be happening at once, and despite the fact that she had witnessed thousands of people meeting Jesus and being tested and blessed, Irene had no trouble remembering every detail of every one. Her earthly mind might have been forced to categorize them, compare them, list them from favorite to so-so. But somehow she found each and every story endlessly fascinating. And endless was what she longed for. If this went on for all of eternity, that would be more than all right with her. This was akin to reading a book so engrossing that you
never wanted it to end.
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Irene and Raymie enjoyed watching a tall, handsome woman running, leaping, dancing, and spinning toward the altar, all the while praising God and singing. A diving accident as a teenager had left her a quadriplegic, and she had spent the rest of her life in a wheelchair.
As the life story of Joni Eareckson Tada streaked across the theater of Irene's new mind, she was intrigued by the initial devastation of a beautiful young athlete, artist, and horsewoman's being so cruelly incapacitated. Her vibrant, loving family was changed forever by the tragedy. Joni herself--though a believer in Christ--had to battle the seemingly endless winter of depression as she faced a lifetime of dependence upon others for every basic need.
Irene was gripped by the invasion of friends and counselors into Joni's young life, gradually drawing her out of her wish to die and away from her penchant for withdrawing from reality in her mind. There had been no miracle turnaround but a gradual turning to full dependence upon God. Joni's life never got easier, and never did she get to the place where she would have chosen her disabilities over wholeness. But she did come to the point where she gave herself wholly to her Savior and dedicated herself to others.
Despite life in a chair, Joni became a student of God's Word, her life story became a best-selling book and a movie, she sang and recorded--despite needing help with her breathing for the sustained high notes--learned to continue to draw and paint beautifully with a pen or brush held in her teeth, and became an exceptional
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speaker. She eventually founded Joni and Friends, an organization aimed at accelerating Christian ministry in the disabled community.
Joni's works were tested in the fire, and Jesus bestowed upon her the Crown of Life. And with her embrace and "well done" came a surprise. Jesus restored to her one of the joys of her youth, producing a white stallion for her to ride.
Cameron Williams had roused when the old woman directly in front of him called out to the pilot. The pilot had shushed her, causing her to peek back at Buck. He dragged his fingers through his longish hair and forced a groggy smile. "Trouble, ma'am?"
"It's my Harold," she said.
Buck had helped the old man put his herringbone wool jacket and felt hat in the overhead bin when they boarded. Harold was a short, dapper gentleman in penny loafers, brown slacks, and a tan sweater vest over a shirt and tie. He was balding, and Buck assumed he would want the hat again later when the air-conditioning kicked in.
"Does he need something?"
"He's gone!"
"I'm sorry?"
"He's disappeared!"
"Well, I'm sure he slipped off to the washroom while you were sleeping."
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"Would you mind checking for me? And take a blanket."
"Ma'am?"
"I'm afraid he's gone off naked. He's a religious person, and he'll be terribly embarrassed."
Buck suppressed a smile when he noticed the woman's pained expression. He climbed over the sleeping executive on the aisle, who had far exceeded his limit of free drinks, and leaned in to take a blanket from the old woman. Indeed, Harold's clothes were in a neat pile on his seat, his glasses and hearing aid on top. The pant legs still hung over the edge and led to his shoes and socks. Bizarre, Buck thought. Why so fastidious? He remembered a friend in high school who had a form of epilepsy that occasionally caused him to black out when he seemed perfectly conscious. He might remove his shoes and socks in public or come out of a washroom with his clothes open.
"Does your husband have a history of epilepsy?"
"No."
"Sleepwalking?"
"No."
"I'll be right back."
Raymie Steele had sat through sermons in which Pastor Billings had tried to prepare the congregation for the types of things they would experience in eternity. He had to confess, however, that to his twelve-year-old ears and brain, it
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had all sounded a little abstract and ethereal. But to be here, to live it, now it all made sense. Of course, he had a new mind, an adult mind, but it was the wonderful assault on his senses that made everything come together.
If Raymie had a regret it was that he had made heroes of athletes, TV and movie actors. Personalities. People famous for being famous. Raymie had had no idea how many heroes of the faith there were and that there had been a treasure trove of reading material he could have enjoyed, had he only known.
Admittedly, most of the people he was now being exposed to had not been famous or had anything written about them while on Earth. Many were homemakers who had invested their lives in their families and loved ones and had contributed time and effort and sometimes money to widows and orphans and others of society's castoffs. Clearly, not one of them had gone unnoticed by God. Each of the downtrodden they had served, Jesus said, actually represented Him. He made clear that every time someone fed or clothed or in any way helped even "the least of these," he or she was doing it as unto Jesus.
Pastor Billings had often said that the biggest mistake a Christian--especially those who loved the idea of the return of Christ--could make was to give up on the world as they knew it. "Just because you may be rescued someday before the Tribulation hits doesn't mean it's time to sell all you own and sit on a mountaintop waiting for a chariot to haul you away. If you truly believe Jesus is coming and that He could be coming soon, you ought to be about His work. And that's more about widows and orphans than it
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is about setting dates, figuring out who the Antichrist might be, waiting for pie in the sky by and by."
When the works of unknown saints were tried in the fire, the flame seemed to burst forth--not because there was waste that ignited like hay and stubble, but rather because the gold and silver and gems were shimmering, iridescent in the heat. It seemed the greatest rewards and loudest applause and cheering were reserved for "the last" who were among the first to be judged and praised.
It was still a delight to hear and see the stories of the heroes, and Jesus praised them for their service. But Raymie thought that perhaps because these had already been given much of their due while they were alive, here they came last.
One such, whose fame long outlived him on Earth, Was a man named Dwight Lyman Moody. How Raymie would have loved to read about him before and how he looked forward to chatting with him. The very idea that he would never run out of time and would be able to interact with everyone here was comprehensible only to his glorified mind.
Moody had been one of history's most dynamic pioneering servants of Christ. Having died before the dawn of the twentieth century and having thus predated the automobile, still he had traveled more than one million miles, spoken to more than 100 million people, and been responsible--on a human level--for having seen perhaps millions coming to saving faith in Jesus Christ. Many considered him the greatest evangelist since the apostle
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Paul and the forerunner of such preaching giants as Billy Sunday and Billy Graham.
Both Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant had attended his revival services. More than 125,000 attended in one day when he preached at the Chicago World's Exhibition in 1893.
Moody became so famous that he began to travel and preach internationally, and some said he was as well-known as the president of the United States. For a time his birthplace, Northfield, Massachusetts, was actually considered the most famous city in the world.
D. L. Moody's works radiated from the heat, and he was awarded the crowns of Glory, for feeding the flock, Righteousness, for "loving His appearing," and Rejoicing, the soul-winner's crown.
The first-class lavs were unoccupied, but as Buck headed for the stairs, he found several other passengers in the aisle. "Excuse me," he said, "I'm looking for someone."
"Who isn't?" a woman said.
Buck pushed his way past several people and found lines to the washrooms in business and economy. The pilot brushed past him without a word, and Buck was soon met by a flight atten
dant.
"Sir, I need you to return to your seat and fasten your belt."
"I'm looking for--"
"Everybody is looking for someone," she said.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
When it was Irene's turn to have her works tested by fire, it was as if she reverted to her earthly self and emotions. Scared, nervous, on the edge of embarrassment. But just when she was about to wonder if this had all been for real and demand to know why there would be discomfort in God's house, He spoke directly to her heart.
"Your son will be with you," God said. "And I am with you always, now and forever. Remember, it is only from one to whom much is given that much is required. You have been Mine for only a short time, and while there will be some waste in the fire, you also redeemed much of the time you served Me."
With that and with Raymie at her side, Irene moved through the long line, watching, listening, experiencing with others their testing and rewards, and having their stories projected onto her soul. What would others think
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of hers? She had always believed she was a nobody, a boring Midwestern girl who had met the love of her life at college and then seen him drift from her when she became a follower of Christ. That was no story. It was simply a history.
As she approached the altar, however, Irene was overcome with praise for Jesus and a renewed feeling of unworthiness to even be in His presence. Though she was aware that Raymie was right there, he was largely irrelevant at this moment. She prostrated herself and heard the whoosh of the fire as every moment of her life from the time Jackie had led her to Christ seemed to spill from her and into the flame.
Her own life flashed before her as it was beamed to everyone else, and she saw it in a new light, almost as if for the first time. Irene was seeing herself through the eyes of God. She had never before seen herself as sweet and precious and an object of desire. But the army brat who cavorted in rapid-fire scenes, the little girl Irene had always thought was conniving and selfish--because she had been told that over and over--had another side to her personality. Lost. She was lost for sure back then but didn't even know it. And how could she have?
The Rapture: In the twinkling of an eye, countdown to the earth's last days (Left Behind: Prequel - Main Products) Page 21