by Wm. Barnard
I picked up the paperback, titled Facts Are Stranger Than Fiction before finding the next one strangely titled, How Jesus Wrecked My College Keg Party.
Tossing them back in the crate, I noticed a tiny orange book that had been pushed to the corner by a stack of magazines. Surprised to discover a pocket-sized Bible, I couldn’t recall ever seeing one that compact and it struck me as odd that she would give me one with such small print.
The edges of a crumpled photo wedged inside the Bible caught my eye and I pulled it out to find a picture of my mother and Vanessa sitting on a car-sized boulder at Yosemite National Park. I was glad that I found this photo that captured our last vacation together a month before my mom became ill. The opened page also revealed a note Vanessa had written to me on the inside cover.
Dear Zach, my only desire is for you to see how real God is and how incredible it is to come into a genuine relationship with Him. If you take the time to read this book, I am sure that Jesus will reveal Himself to you through His Word and you too will know that God is good.
Love, Vanessa
Slapping it shut, I gripped it tensely between both hands. My eyes immediately looked up at a framed picture of Vanessa and Mom on my desk, but it soon became blurred through my watered eyes. As I placed a shaking hand over my face, a sense of pure desperation led me to do something I had not done since elementary school: I prayed to God.
“Lord, if you are real, if this book is true, please show me so I can know.”
Looking down, I opened the Bible randomly and it fell to the book of 1 Thessalonians, chapter four, and my eyes went directly to the following passage:
According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever.
Slowly folding the Bible closed, I sat there astonished at those last two lines. Knowing this was beyond coincidence, my soul stood confronted with the truth that God had indeed raptured His people.
More importantly, I could no longer deny that God had sent His angel Gabe for me to remember these words: “God still loves you, even after all you have done.” As the profoundness of that statement breached my heart, I found myself sliding out of my chair and onto my knees.
The tender lump in my throat caused my voice to quiver before I finally whispered, “Jesus, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” Absolutely broken by years of foolish pride, I collapsed face first onto the floor and began to cry.
After several minutes, I pushed myself up from the floor and used my shirt to dry my eyes. As I sat propped up against the wall, I felt drawn to flip the Bible open again and came across Psalm 130:
Out of the depths I cry to you, LORD; Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.
If you, LORD, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you.
I wait for the LORD, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.
I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Israel, put your hope in the LORD, for with the LORD is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.
Now positive that God heard my plea for mercy and had forgiven me, this ancient prayer had become my own song. For the first time in my life I made no attempt to wipe away my tears, but simply allowed them to spill freely off the edge of my smiling face.
THE NEXT FEW NIGHTS I stayed up late devouring entire books from the New Testament. Books like the Gospel of John and Acts led me to not only grasp spiritual truths, but provided great comfort by reminding me that Vanessa and Johnny were in God’s hands and I would see them again one day.
Even though I still wanted updates for late breaking news reports, and subjected myself to hours of heartbreaking accounts, that time proved useful as it taught me to pray throughout the day and develop a deeper compassion for others.
Rolling blackouts for the entire San Diego area left me without power for parts of the day, but also saved me from being completely mesmerized by the televised tragedies. Fortunately, How Jesus Wrecked My College Keg Party provided a well written story from an “ex-professional beer-drinker” whose life had been turned upside down from his search for truth. Initially challenged to examine his worldview by a Christian roommate, the author discovered his former party life paled in comparison to the spiritual high he now found in Jesus. While the ending of that book pulled on the strings of the heart, sitting down with Facts Are Stranger Than Fiction appealed to the intellect. The first chapters outlined archeological finds and secular history, showing why even scholars never doubted that the Bible was the most historically valid book in the world. The second half of the book took a philosophical approach, discussing things like the origins of morality and conscience, the purpose and the destiny of man.
Reading these books ultimately opened my eyes to how I had deceived myself over the years. I also came to realize that the aliens had specifically told me things I had wanted to hear versus those that I needed to hear. One scripture summed up why I had been so willing to listen to them: “The heart is deceitful and desperately wicked above all things; who can know it.”
While all these resources helped fan the embers of my faith in Christ, I remained deeply concerned about what would happen next around the world and what these aliens would actually do. My sister had mentioned some of the horrible things that would transpire in the last days, and remembering parts of Armageddon stories only added to my fear. Although it was still difficult to digest, I now discerned Jason had accessed it correctly: demons were indeed masquerading as extraterrestrials.
Knowing I needed to warn people and tell them the truth, I proclaimed on the webzine my testimony of how I had been deceived by the aliens. I shared what had been revealed to me the past week and how I found true hope in becoming a child of God. For the next few days, I relayed new things on the webpage I had uncovered from my research that substantiated the claims that Jesus is God.
More than anything, I felt compelled to share this: Jesus had suffered an intensely brutal death to pay the penalty for our sins so we could be forgiven. His resurrection assured us victory over the power of sin, death, and hell. By simply putting our faith in Him, we could know for certain that one day we would be in paradise with Him. I could only hope that my previous beliefs would lend some credibility to what I now professed and that my new postings could somehow reverse the damage I had done.
CHAPTER 22
Over the next week, I contacted several news organizations about my conversion story, but oddly none of them were interested in doing an interview with me. While glad I could still use my webzine to promote the gospel, my efforts to share my testimony resulted in a deluge of backlash. Even though a few of the letters were supportive, most of the responses I received were extremely negative. Many of the regular visitors to the site had no problem voicing their sense of betrayal, sharing how disappointed they were in me and how I had basically let everyone down. Some were not as tactful in their word choice, deciding to use their creative skills to come up with new combinations of curse words for me.
Despite anticipating negative reactions, I continued calling friends to share what happened to me, hoping to at least start a dialogue. My attempts were frustrated by the persisting trouble with cell phone towers and my call to Sterling happened to be the only one that remained uninterrupted.
Intrigued by my account, he said he would be willing to read the books Vanessa had given me. When I told him I would
no longer be pursuing the movie project, he chuckled and said, “Yeah, I kind of figured that.” Relieved that he wasn’t angry, I promised him I would mail out the books to him in the next week, but that he could just get the cliff notes from the webzine.
Retreating to the solitude of my back patio to pray for Sterling and his family, I became hopeful that the light sprinkles indicated that we would get some badly needed rain. The dark storm had moved in rapidly over the ocean, obscuring my view up the coastline. With the soft drizzle turning to downpour, I headed back inside, but stopped right as my hand grabbed the knob of the French doors leading into the kitchen.
Spontaneously turning my face to the sky, I raised my arms upward, allowing the rain to completely soak me. As I stood there enjoying the moment, the raindrops softened and I opened my eyes out over the sea below to catch a set of beautiful bright sunrays triumphantly breaking through the imposing black clouds.
AFTER GOING INSIDE AND CHANGING into a dry set of clothes, I tried calling Bill again and he completely surprised me by picking up on the first ring. He put me on hold and then said, “Look outside.”
Pushing the living room curtains aside, I saw Bill stepping out of his old Ford pickup. He quickly grabbed an umbrella from the bed of his truck, waving at me before he hung up.
Ecstatic for the opportunity to share the Gospel with him, I rushed to open the door.
“Bill, good to see you!” I said and found myself actually trying to hug him. He put his hand out to shake mine and I ended up in an awkward position as his extended forearm kept me from embracing him.
“Hey, Zach, Nice to see you.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. Is everything okay?”
He moved across the room, sat down on the couch and removed his cowboy hat. “Everything is good on the home front. So Zach, what’s this stuff about God and Jesus on the webpage?”
Not knowing where to even start, I said, “Yeah, I just put this thing together last week. Have you been able to check it out?”
“Yes, I took a look at it,” he said, lightly tapping his hat.
“Well, you know me, I was extremely skeptical about religion and I understand how others can be…”
“What about The Ancestors?” he winced and fixed his gaze on me.
“Well, if you read the webpage, then, well, you know that I…”
There was another knock at the door and I jumped out of my chair, welcoming the break so I could think of how to tactfully explain this new development to Bill. I walk hurriedly over to the window and noticed a full sized limo with a driver standing upright near the trunk.
Opening my front door, I staggered back a step, amazed to see Mr. Boris Wolfe himself standing on my front patio.
“Zach Miller. It’s a pleasure to meet again,” he said, shaking my hand.
Unable to say anything at first, I shook his hand robotically.
After inviting himself in, he waltzed across the living room before relaxing in a chair next to the couch. “This is quite a nice place you have here. The sunsets must be spectacular.”
“Mr. Wolfe, Zach was just telling me about his new postings on the webpage,” Bill said.
“Is that right? I would very much like to hear more about this myself,” Boris said, unbuttoning the top button of his black suit jacket.
Not many people had ever intimidated me, but Mr. Wolfe’s presence made me stammer. “Can I…would you guys like something to drink?” I started toward the kitchen, trying to avoid their stares.
“No, no, Mr. Miller. Thank you, but I’m actually in a hurry. We have lots of work to do as you well know and we are counting on your writing talents to help bring the hope of a new, unified world.”
His last statement gave me an instant case of indigestion and I wanted nothing more than to avoid talking about my change of heart with Mr. Wolfe.
Boris crossed his legs and held onto one knee with both hands. “Mr. Miller, I have talked to many people over the last year who have told me that your words have inspired them and given them good reason to be optimistic. They see that very hope being realized right now, even as we face so many challenges. You can make the difference and I’m sure you are eager to join our efforts in making things right in our new world,” he said stoically.
“Boris…” I sputtered.
From the look on his face, it appeared that I had managed to stun Boris by addressing him by his first name. As I tried to regain my momentum, an unexplainable boldness came over me.
“I was wrong. I mean, I was dead wrong. I truly believe that the aliens are lying to us to keep us from putting our faith in Jesus.”
“I don’t believe it,” he said.
Calmly calculating his next response, he paused for a moment as he tapped his fingers together methodically on top of his knee. “Mr. Miller, you may not know this about me, but I have been on the Interfaith Council for the United Nations for several months now. While I certainly acknowledge that Jesus made tremendous contributions to society, I’ve also witnessed firsthand the danger that comes from being so myopic to believe there are no other viable means to achieve spiritual harmony. I truly believe that like so many other people around the world, you are suffering from post-traumatic stress, which is clearly obscuring your vision.”
“Actually, I’ve never seen things so clearly,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Mr. Miller, please remember, you and I stood right next to each other and witnessed firsthand The Visitation. We were in no way ever in any danger, nor are we now.”
“That’s because they want to use us…”
“Insanity!” Boris shouted before clenching his teeth.
He then quickly grasped his hands together and uncrossed his legs as if to get a handle on the situation. “Mr. Miller, you’ve been told that there are evil ancestors and that they would try to deceive you. And now, going against all logic, you have chosen to listen to them.”
“I don’t see it that way now,” I said, facing him and hoping he would see my resolve.
“Well, then. I do have to catch a flight to an important meeting in L.A., so I must be on my way.” Boris stood up abruptly and buttoned his suit jacket.
I followed him to the door where he turned around to shake my hand and I obliged. “Zach, when you come around and start to think more rationally, please contact me so we can collaborate on some projects together.”
“Boris, I can assure you, I see the light now and will tell anyone who will listen that Jesus is Lord.”
“I see,” Boris scoffed.
Without even looking toward the couch, he said, “Mr. Hunter, may I have a quick word with you?”
Bill stood up swiftly and walked by me, scratching his eyebrow so he could avoid looking at me. Before going through the door, he let out a deep breath and muttered, “I’ll be right back.”
As I watched from behind the edge of my curtains, the limo driver shadowed Boris with an outstretched arm to keep his boss under an umbrella. Bill caught up to them at the curb on top of the driveway and it came as no surprise to see Boris do all the talking. In fact, Bill didn’t say a word. Standing still in the constant drizzle and holding his chin pensively, Bill continuously nodded to whatever the EU Ambassador said.
Lightning flashed across the hilltop behind them and I saw Boris duck into the back of the limo right before the thunder followed.
The stretched out car disappeared down the street and Bill slogged back down the wet sidewalk. Stepping back from the curtains, I hurried over to the kitchen table eager to continue my conversation without Boris’ formidable presence.
“Look Bill, I know you are very open minded person. You gotta read one of these books I have right here. See, this one is called How Jesus Wrecked My College Keg Party. I know. Quirky title. But it’s well thought out and extremely pragmatic. My sister actually left it for me years ago and you’ll see why I believe this…” I stopped as I got close enough to see that Bill’s damp face had lost its color. “Bill, ar
e you all right?”
“Uh, yeah. I just need to use your restroom.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s right down there. There’re some towels in the cabinet so you can dry your hair.”
Hearing Bill’s heavy footsteps echo down the hallway towards the bathroom, I quickly went over to my computer and flipped over to my webzine. Right after finding the recent message that I wanted to share with him, I heard a flush from the restroom.
When I could hear his feet shuffling back my way, I yelled, “Check this out, Bill. This is what I am talking about. This woman just wrote me about how she had been raised in a Christian home and how her mom told her that she felt Jesus would come soon and rapture His people out of here. Last year after she had gone off to college, she became enamored with my story about The Ancestors because she felt it was much more inclusive than her parents’ religion. She said the moment all those people disappeared she instinctively knew that her mom had been prophetic…”
ZACH NEVER HEARD THE BLAST as the bullet instantly ripped through his skull, leaving his limp body to crash violently onto the wooden floor. Bill casually threw a hand towel he had used to deafen the gunshot into a garbage bag before stooping down to place the pistol into Zach’s lifeless hand.
A burst of sunrays suddenly crashed through the French doors, stretching across the floor to cover Zach’s body. Annoyed by the blinding light, Bill used his hand to shield his eyes and stood up quickly. He ripped the latex gloves off his hands one by one and stuffed them into the bag before replacing them with a new pair from his back pocket. Nudging one of Zach’s legs to the side with his cowboy boot, Bill scooted into the chair and ran his fingers across the keyboard.
