Kingdom Come - The Final Victory (8 page)

“I’m not sure about that anymore, Chloe,” Cameron said. “She taught, yes, and she counseled. And it seemed she was an enthusiastic saint. But as I think back, I can’t say I ever knew of someone coming to Christ specifically through her leading. Can you?”

Chloe fell silent.

“The Jospins want me to speak at her funeral, Rayford,” Cameron said. “They know the truth, and yet still that’s what they want. Whatever would I say? She seemed a wonderful girl, and had her death been the result of an accident back in previous years, I’d have been able to rhapsodize about her. She was a dear friend, a valued coworker.”

“And an unbeliever,” Chloe said.

“How did the conversation go with her parents?” Rayford said. “What are they suggesting you say?”

“They just want a simple eulogy,” Cameron said. “But a funeral is no place for me to tell the awful truth. Cendrillon is in hell, no longer with us because she never trusted Christ for salvation. Is that what I tell people? And would her parents forgive me? Perhaps they’re in denial, desperate to find some loophole, some reason why a believer might die at one hundred.”

“Ask them, Cam,” Rayford said. “Because if they don’t permit you to be honest, there’s no point in doing anything but declining their request. The only benefit I see coming from this is if they allow you to warn other young people of the consequences of putting off the transaction with Jesus. I could go with you to see them and—”

Rayford paused when he noticed Yasmine nudge Abdullah. “Tell them,” she whispered. “You know you should.”

“What is it, Smitty?” Rayford said.

“Well, it is most troubling. Our daughter—you all know Bahira—when she heard the news she was most distraught, as we all were. But she perhaps a bit more. Not that they were all that close. Cendrillon had wanted to be her friend, but our daughter rebuffed her.”

“Because?”

“Because of what we are talking about now. In front of Cameron and Chloe and the others, Cendrillon was a model leader. Behind their backs she was critical, a scoffer, a doubter at best.”

“How long has Bahira known this?”

“Just a few weeks, and she feels horrible for not telling us sooner. She worries that she is responsible, because she knew Cendrillon’s birthday was coming and that it was possible she was not a believer.”

Rayford stood. “We need to visit the Jospins. Perhaps it should be only the three of us—Cam, Abdullah, and me. Is that all right with everyone? We’ll go to see about funeral arrangements and try to determine how much they knew and what they are thinking now. You know the saddest part about this, don’t you?”

Irene nodded. “Of course, Rafe. She is only the first. Maybe some who follow will be less surprising, but as the children of the Tribulation come of age, this is only the beginning of death during the Millennium.”

Raymie Steele knew that had it not been for the Rapture, he would have been long since dead. He had been twelve years old when Jesus shouted from the clouds and the trumpet sounded and he and his mother disappeared from their beds in the twinkling of an eye. He would have been nineteen at the Glorious Appearing, but his glorified body made him look more like a man in his midtwenties, and there he had stayed despite having now lived for 112 years.

He retained a crisp memory of his childhood despite the intervening aeon. Simple, believing, trusting, naïve—that’s how he would have described his prepubescent self. He loved his family, adored his mother, and worried about and prayed for his father and sister. How he rejoiced with the angels when Rayford and Chloe Steele became believers.

It was no stretch for Raymie to understand why one-hundred-year-olds would still be referred to as children now. People aged slowly and time seemed to pass quickly. Things he hadn’t given much thought to as a child—war, pestilence, disease, violence, crime—were virtually nonexistent, and he realized that this largely accounted for the longevity of the population. He had to chuckle.
That and the promise of
almighty God.

How bizarre it had been to enjoy long, rambling, interesting conversations with his parents. He had gone from an obedient, sometimes challenging—especially to his irresponsible, promise-breaking father—youngster to an adult overnight, and most striking was that he suddenly enjoyed an adult’s intellect as well. It had been new to him to realize that practically every subject of discussion had intricate layers of meaning, things that had to be examined and ferreted out in order to understand.

He enjoyed having become a favorite among the children who visited what he had come to refer to as Chloe and Cameron’s Cosmic Day Care Center.
COT
was a handy acronym for Children of the Tribulation, of course, but Raymie enjoyed teasing his sister about her recompense from the Lord turning into full-time babysitting.

Plainly, it was more than that. Because these kids showed up as blank slates and the only convert prospects in the world, Raymie considered his work as important as any in the kingdom. Nothing gave him greater joy than explaining to children old enough to understand that despite being born and raised in homes of believers and in a society where every adult was a follower of Christ, still they had to come to faith in Jesus on their own and for themselves.

In his dwelling, not far from where his parents frequently returned from their efforts in Indonesia, Raymie portrayed on his walls photos of the hundreds of children he had prayed with as they trusted Christ for salvation over the years. He thought about also pinning up his prime targets, but he needn’t be reminded of them. God kept them at the forefront of his mind daily.

While Raymie wondered what a normal life might have been like, with dating and love and marriage and parenthood, he found it convenient to not be distracted by such things while immersed in a life of service to Christ. As he prayed for the children under his charge, the Lord gave him the assurance that his efforts would nearly always be successful.

So now, for the first time in nearly a century, Raymie was confused. Had life been way too easy? Certainly. Was this tragedy—the death of a former colleague—a glimpse of how things would be as the kingdom became gradually infiltrated by sin?

Raymie was sad. He was shaken. He had been duped by a girl not much younger than he. And he knew the reason all too well. Nothing was automatic; nothing was guaranteed. While Satan was bound and thus could not tempt people to sin, could not fill their hearts with doubt and fear and questions, clearly the other two legs of the three-legged stool of evil—the world, the flesh, and the devil—were enough to lead one astray.

Raymie had stayed away from the impromptu meeting at Chloe’s when the news had spread, for he knew instinctively that his dear friend Bahira—daughter of his parents’ friends the Ababnehs—would need him. He met her near a favorite brook that skirted the foothills to the west, and they strolled in the cool early evening air despite the brightness of the sun.

He embraced her, and she wept on his shoulder. Raymie had not seen tears since before the Rapture. It felt strange to console a vibrant woman whose usual countenance was one of sheer joy. Bahira had a chiseled face, gleaming teeth, and huge dark eyes normally full of wonder and humor. Raymie led her to a rock, where they sat.

“I have discovered the reason for the Lord’s silence,” she said.

“You’ve experienced it too?”

“Of course.”

“Usually it’s because we should know the answer to what we’re asking.”

“But that’s not it this time, Raymie. I was asking Him for nothing but comfort. He granted a measure, but His silence scared me. Then it came to me. He too is grieving. As He rejoices whenever a soul chooses Him, the time has come again when some will go the other way.”

“But He is all-knowing, Bahira. Cendrillon could not have been a surprise to Him.”

She shrugged. “But still it must grieve Him. You know, I have only distant memories of fear and sadness from when my father turned hateful toward my mother because of her faith. Zaki and I worried and hid and cried and prayed. It was way too much for people our age. And then, like you and your mother, we were all suddenly in heaven and soon rejoicing at our father’s conversion. Our reunion with him at the Glorious Appearing remains one of my favorite memories. I tell you all that to say how foreign are the emotions I suffer now.”

“But you and Cendrillon were not close.”

“No, but until recently I had no concerns about her either. There are so many brothers and sisters in the Lord here; one can’t be close to all of them. You’ve been a cherished friend for many years, and I hope you know how much I treasure that. And I have others. Your sister has been special to me, and many of the children I’ve prayed with have remained close for decades. But how could I have missed what was going on with Cendrillon? I had no inkling until just recently. . . .”

“But you did get a hint?”

Bahira nodded and moved to the brook, where she knelt and cupped her hands to capture a drink. “She had always been mischievous and a kidder, but she was so involved in all our ministries that I thought I knew her heart. She sang; she told stories; she was wonderful with the little ones, playing with them, looking after them. I had no reason to believe she was not one of us.”

“Me either.”

Bahira dried her hands on the skirt of her robe and sat again. “Not long ago she said something strange, and I didn’t know what to make of it. She said that as her childhood was coming to an end, there were times when she wished that for just one night she had pagan parents.”

“Pagan?”

“The word hit me as strangely as it does you, Raymie. I hadn’t heard it for so long. Cendrillon acted as if she were teasing, but she talked of visiting France or Turkey to see for herself if the nightlife rumors were true.”

“They are true, Bahira. My dad checked it out. It basically consists of kids in their eighties and nineties who crow about having not yet become followers of Christ. They call themselves the Other Light and say their study of the ancient Scriptures makes them fans of Lucifer and not Jesus.”

“But they’re just doing this for attention, aren’t they? Jesus lives beyond the Scriptures. He’s the Living Word. Surely they can’t claim not to believe in a God who has again limited Himself to human form and lives and reigns among us.”

“Dad says they seem for real. Yes, it may be for attention, and perhaps they know better and are planning to change their minds and their courses in time to avoid death at one hundred. I’m surprised the Lord doesn’t squash them like bugs.”

“His mercy is everlasting,” Bahira said quietly. “I know that sounds like a cliché, but He promised longevity, and Jehovah will not judge them as accursed until they reach that age. What did your dad say? Did he see them? hear them?”

“Oh yes. He says they have left the homes of their parents—who grieve them noisily and cry out in pain for others to pray for their children—and have begun enterprises that must be a stench in the Lord’s nostrils. Brothels, nightclubs, black markets.”

“But what have the judges done about such things?”

“Penalties have been handed down. Both France and Turkey have had to reestablish law enforcement agencies and even jails and prisons. But all this has seemed to accomplish is to make these infidels more attractive to other young people. Even with the evil one neutralized for now, the heart of man is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.”

“I worry about the next generation. The world is no longer pristine as it was when the Millennium began. And people are still born into sin. How long will it be before the awfulness of the earth returns, the way our parents knew it, and we have murder and other crimes?”

Raymie shook his head. “I just don’t get it. I suppose because you and I have glorified bodies and minds, it’s hard for us to empathize with people who want to go their own way. To me this
is
heaven, with Jesus here. What worries me is that by merely giving themselves—their movement—a name, they become organized and somehow legitimatized. The Other Light could become something that young people idealize or even idolize and want to join. You didn’t get the impression Cendrillon was a member, did you?”

“No, but how would I know? To my knowledge she had not yet visited France or Turkey, even though she is French. She did tell me that her cousins had told her of another pocket of
TOL
in Amman.”

“That’s news to me.”

“Again, Raymie, I hoped she was teasing, but I soon realized she was not. She pleaded with me to go with her to check it out. It would be our secret, and her cousins wouldn’t tell. We wouldn’t have to do anything, she said. Just watch and imagine, pretend our parents weren’t followers of Christ. I reminded her, ‘Cendrillon, I was raptured. I came from heaven. I am more than a follower of Christ. I have been redeemed and sealed. I don’t even have the desire to dabble in this.’

“That’s when she turned on me, Raymie. She accused me of being superior, holier-than-thou. I actually apologized. I certainly didn’t want to lord anything over her. I hadn’t been bragging, just explaining why the temporary pleasures of sin had no hold on me. She said, ‘They don’t have a hold on me either. I just want to see what I’m missing.’ Well, I guess she knows now.”

“Excuse me,” Raymie said, turning away to get a message from his father. When he turned back, he told Bahira of the plan for the three men to visit Cendrillon’s parents. “Should I tell my father what you told me?”

Bahira nodded. “Never fear the truth. The Jospins may not want to hear it, but they must be told. Her funeral can be a warning that saves countless lives.”

As they walked back to their dwellings, Raymie said, “I don’t envy the men this task. How would you like to have to tell parents such truth about their child?”

RAYFORD
HOPED
never again to have to face an ordeal like talking with Cendrillon Jospin’s parents. It might have been easier if they
had
become defensive and moved into denial mode. But these were devout believers who knew the truth. “She’s gone because she was lost,” her father managed, shoulders heaving.