“The Lord is coming again, and He is coming soon,” declared Brother. “The signs are all around us in a culture which is obsessed with filth and degradation. He will not be patient with the wages of sin. He is coming again and He is coming soon. It could even be tomorrow or the next day; we never know.
“What we do know is that His coming will be a trumpet call to glory and a chorus of the heavenly host for those who have kept His company and lived according to His Word. Those who have taken up His cross, who have fellowshipped in the Spirit, will be lifted up to join Him in the air to live in eternal glory. Those who have chosen to live the secular life of greed and wantonness will be left behind. For them, the future will be a desperate and eternal suffering.”
Those who have kept His company will join the Lord in the air, Anne-Marie repeated to herself.
“Those in His company, those who have waited upon His guidance to submit and to serve, those have no need for any fear of death. They will never die because the Lord will lift them up to be with Him in glory for all eternity.”
Some of his subsequent words were lost on Anne-Marie because she reflected joyfully on this one eternal reality which surpassed all others: If she waited upon the Lord and served Him always, she would be lifted up, and the lifting up would be for always. She thought of the mountaintop. If the Rapture was coming, that was where she’d want to be. There was nothing to fear. Nothing.
At the close of the fellowship, when they joined hands and lifted up fervent prayers, there was much speaking in tongues around the circle. Even Anne-Marie herself found an inner river of transcendent hope and anticipation which took the form of little sobs and groans.
She slept soundly that night, undisturbed and at peace.
The next morning, refreshed but a little on the lethargic side, she sat through Bible study in a passive mode. She was distracted. She reminded herself if she was shaky or passive, the fast she was on was probably to blame. But it was going to have a consequence of a different kind of nourishment: purification.
She wondered when she would have a chance to speak to Brother Jackson alone. But the calming effect came when she remembered that waiting upon the Lord’s time had brought him back to Camp Shaddai.
At the conclusion of Bible study, she stayed behind again to write in her notebook.
Eleanor was wrong about Brother Jackson. I put my faith in the right place.
Thinking of Eleanor reminded her of the Oneppo Medal, which reminded her of the cheating. But the medal itself might represent idolatry, mightn’t it? Which would be a whole lot more sinister than simple academic cheating.
She shook her head and looked for concentration. She wrote: I would love to be alone with him, but I can’t be petty. Jealousy would be petty and worldly. We are all one in Christ, so Brother serves the whole community of fellowshippers, not just me.
Today is the twenty-eighth. I have five days left.
This last observation ignited a new wave of panic, but it didn’t last long. The fasting seemed to be producing the mellowing effect she’d hoped it would. Everything seemed to be moving more slowly. She felt receptive. And if the Lord was coming soon so she could join Him in the air, there was nothing to fear. Not Eleanor, not her parents, not the deadline or contract at school. Not diplomas. Not even Satan himself.
From her seat in the shelter, she watched the two figures in the distance, moving slowly along the wooded path in the direction of her favorite footbridge. One of the figures was Brother Jackson, and Rachel was the other. Her head was lowered, and Brother had his arm around her shoulders as if to comfort her. They walked slowly, but they were too far distant for Anne-Marie to tell if Rachel was in tears.
Her curiosity got the best of her. Are they talking about me? Are they talking about one of Rachel’s visions and how it might affect me? She followed them, keeping a safe distance. She couldn’t have done otherwise, in fact, because of her decreased physical energy. Moving slowly, she came to a mossy boulder. She sat down on it. She could see them sitting on the footbridge, but she was still too far away to tell what they might be saying. It was obvious from Rachel’s body language, though, that she was sharing inner and private elements with him.
Anne-Marie watched. Brother squeezed Rachel’s shoulder at one point while he pointed to the heavens with his free hand. His smile gleamed as brightly as the sunlight that struck the surface of the water.
He took the form of a beautiful man, thought Anne-Marie. Those were the words Rachel had used that morning a few days earlier to describe the form in which the incubus appeared to her. He took the form of a beautiful man.
That wasn’t all Rachel had said, though. She’d added something else. Anne-Marie searched her memory, but the words didn’t come back to her until she looked again at Brother Jackson. He was still gesturing passionately while guarding Rachel with his strong arm around her shoulders. A rugged, strong man with a beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.
He took the form of a beautiful man. A rugged, strong man with a beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.
Anne-Marie felt increasingly drowsy. In spite of her keen interest in the exchange between Rachel and Brother, she got out the notebook again so she could write:
If the demon can take any form it wants, it can appear in the form of Brother Jackson.
But if my life is service and submission, fellowshipping with the Lord all my days, I will never die. There is nothing I need to fear. The Rapture is coming soon—the Lord is coming again, and I will be lifted up to join him in the air.
That evening, Brother Jackson shared with the group the highlights of the conversation he’d had with Rachel on the bridge. “Sister Rachel is blessed with the gift of prophecy. The Spirit has bestowed the gift, but she is young in the fellowship. She doesn’t always understand the meaning of her visions.”
Rachel told the group that Brother Jackson was revealing her inner prayers with her permission; he wasn’t betraying a confidence.
“We prayed about it,” Brother continued. “We asked the Lord’s help and His guidance. Her Spirit-filled gifts are bountiful, but she is still a child. The longer she lives within the life of the Spirit, the more understanding will come her way. When that happens, she will join the gift of interpretation with her gift of prophecy.”
“Yes,” many of the group responded. “Praise for the wisdom.”
“All praise.”
“Until then,” Brother Jackson continued, “her gift will not necessarily comfort her or bring her fulfillment. It may bring confusion and fear, as it often does. Am I right in saying so, Rachel?”
Rachel nodded. “That’s exactly it.”
“What we all need to learn from this,” explained Brother Jackson, “is that the bestowing of gifts of the Spirit is not always a source of comfort or inner peace. Part of it can seem nearly a torment. But even so, we have no reason to fear. Our future is eternity with the Heavenly Father; we have His Word on it.
“If a gift of the Spirit seems a burden sometimes, it is one which the Lord wants us to carry. No one ever said that to pick up the cross and follow Him would be easy. You already know that from your own experience. Those who follow Him unconditionally are frequently cast out, ridiculed, and even persecuted.”
“Yes, it’s true,” Anne-Marie murmured. She felt lightheaded.
Brother Jackson concluded his remarks: “If you find yourself blessed by gifts of the Spirit, don’t let them frighten you. Instead, wait upon the Lord to help you understand. He wouldn’t give you entry to the Mysteries, then leave you to fend for yourself. ‘Wait patiently upon the Lord,’ His Word tells us. Unlike other burdens, sacrifices in service to the Lord are joyful because they are opportunities to submit and to serve. Submitting and serving bring you into the flock of the Chosen. And never forget the glorious redemption, remember the Rapture, which may be coming much sooner than we might expect.”
June 29
When she finally got to meet with Brother Jackson alone, it wasn’t al
one at all. It was in the company of Sister Abigail, in her quarters. She had the tea poured ahead of time.
Anne-Marie might have been annoyed or discouraged that Sister had to be with them, but she was too lethargic. Two and a half days of fasting, subsisting exclusively on fruit juice and water, left her drained.
Brother Jackson took note of the silver cross he’d given her, still secured to the ring at her navel. Embarrassed, Anne-Marie tried to pull her shirt down far enough to cover her midriff. “It’s a beautiful cross,” she said, speaking slowly. “It will always be special to me.”
“It’s what resides beneath the cross that troubles Ruth Anne’s soul,” observed Sister Abigail. “She is carrying a child. She prays over the dilemma daily and seeks the Lord’s guidance. She’s even been fasting to make herself more receptive to His wisdom.”
“I remember,” said Brother Jackson. “It’s why I brought her here in the first place. Is the Spirit leading you here, Ruth Anne?”
She felt light in the head, so her answer was slow in coming. When Brother Jackson turned to face her, he seemed to turn in slow motion, then turn again several times in rapid succession, like some of those optical tricks she could remember from MTV videos. She thought of her sister. She thought of the counselor at Planned Parenthood. She thought of Rachel’s vision of the incubus, and how the demon could take the form of a beautiful man. She thought of the dreams she’d had of Brother Jackson, and the way they’d stimulated her. When she finally answered, she said, “I believe the Lord will light my way.”
“Have you received encouragement yet?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she answered firmly. “My sister said you wouldn’t come back, but now you have. I was right to put my faith in the Lord.”
“Praise Him,” said Brother Jackson.
Sister Abigail said, “All praise.” Then she added delicately, “Ruth Anne was once under the impression that you are the father of her child.”
“Mmm,” murmured Brother Jackson, arching his eyebrows.
Anne-Marie watched the arching brow, but it was like the MTV thing; the eyebrows seemed to lift again and again.
“She shared a dream with me,” said Abigail, “in which you came to her as a lover. We talked about it for a while, and of course we prayed about it.”
“Of course.”
“The dream was so real to her, she wondered if it wasn’t in fact a thing which actually happened.”
“A young woman this beautiful,” Brother Jackson interjected, “would make it hard on me or any other man. It would be the Devil’s own temptation, and that’s a fact.”
“We talked about Satan’s possible role in her dream experience,” Sister Abigail continued, “and how He would seek to disrupt her spiritual search by any means possible. Am I getting this right, Ruth Anne? Is this an accurate summary of our conversation?”
The words were exactly right. “Yes,” answered Anne-Marie. She couldn’t help gazing at Brother Jackson. He was the beautiful man. The lassitude which consumed her left her to simply look and listen.
“Rachel dreams the incubus,” said Anne-Marie. “He comes to her in the form of a vision.”
“Have you discussed this with her?” asked Sister.
“Oh yes, several times. Do you think her vision is intended for me?”
Abigail smiled sweetly. “Unfortunately, I’ve never been blessed with the gift of interpretation,” she said. “I have to be honest and admit my own limitations.”
Brother Jackson added, “Rachel is blessed with gifts of the Spirit, but don’t forget what I said last night. She is young and often uncertain about interpreting her own visions.”
Even in her listless condition, Anne-Marie knew how right he was. Rachel had told her that the time she envisioned her mother’s death, she didn’t actually know that was the specific meaning of the prophecy. At least not until after her mother was dead.
“I wish I could give you a certain answer to your questions,” said Abigail gently. “I have prayed about it fervently, I can assure you.”
“We have prayed about it together,” added Brother Jackson.
“Eventually, the answer will have to come from the Lord Himself, and no other way,” said Abigail.
Anne-Marie knew they were right.
“You look sleepy, dear. Do you need to take a nap?”
“Maybe after Bible study,” Anne-Marie replied.
“Are you sure the fasting is something which is going to benefit you?” Brother Jackson wanted to know. “Maybe the time has come to get some food inside you.”
“Maybe,” she answered. “But I need to keep the fast at least for the rest of today.”
It wasn’t until after lunch and crafts that she found herself alone with Rachel. Anne-Marie was in the laundry room of the dorm, ironing her headband. She was using the tip of the iron to work on the wrinkles, being careful all the time not to scorch the letters. She didn’t have much experience at ironing, and to try it on delicate fabric with close detail work was a challenge. Twice, fatigued, she sat down to rest.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asked her.
“I’m light in the head sometimes,” Anne-Marie admitted. She was still recalling the conversation with Brother Jackson and Sister Abigail. It was amazing how things that seemed so simple could turn out to be so complicated. But then, why should she expect the world of the Spirit to be simple?
“Are you still on the fast?” Rachel asked.
“Yeah, I’m still on.”
“Maybe you should get something to eat. Start another fast another time.” Rachel started folding towels.
“Not today. My promise to the Lord was that I would keep the fast for three days. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have some fruit.” She got up to iron a little more, but then sat down again within two or three minutes.
“Rachel,” Anne-Marie asked, “when you dreamed the incubus and it was the beautiful man?”
“Mmm?”
“Was it Brother Jackson? Was it Brother Jackson’s form the incubus took?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“But I need to know. It’s the one thing I have to know.”
“But you just can’t ask me that. Not that question.”
The one question I can’t ask? Anne-Marie tipped her head back. “But I have to know. If your vision was meant for me, I have to know.”
“Please don’t ask me that. I’m not even totally sure it was a vision.” Rachel began folding the towels more aggressively, but to Anne-Marie, in her spent condition, she seemed to move in slow-motion stages. That MTV thing again.
“But I have to. Can’t you see? I just have to.” She felt almost too weak to argue, but her urgency was so intense. “Did the incubus take Brother Jackson’s form in the dream?”
“Do I have to answer that, Ruth Anne? Can’t you just let it go?”
“No. I can’t let it go. I’m begging you to tell me.”
“Begging?”
“Yes, begging. I have to know.”
Rachel kept her eyes on the towels. “Okay yes,” she said. Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“You know what I mean: Was I in the dream, too?”
“Okay yes,” admitted Rachel, turning her back. Once again, her voice was very quiet.
Rachel dreamed about the pale horse and the footbridge. The Scripture passage was bold in Anne-Marie’s mind: And I saw, and behold, a pale horse, and its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed him. “How was I in it?” she demanded. “How?”
“You were just in it. Your face was. It was a scrambled dream, the hardest kind to interpret.” Rachel turned to face her. She put a hand on her hip. “Okay, yes. I dreamed the incubus and the pale horse.”
“And me, too. I was in it, too.”
“Yes.”
“Is this what you and Brother Jackson were talking about on the footbridge yesterday?” asked Anne-Marie.
“
Yes, that was most of it. If it was a vision, it was one that scared me.”
“It’s scaring me, too.”
“You see?” said Rachel. “You see why I didn’t want to answer your questions? I can only hope the Lord will forgive me.”
“But why do you need forgiveness, Rachel? You’re only sharing your gift.”
“Because I’m scaring you and I don’t know how to interpret the vision. It puts me on shaky ground.”
Anne-Marie was so tired she felt nearly exhausted. But she had to press on. “And did Brother Jackson know how to interpret the vision?”
“No. He urged me to wait for the Lord’s guidance.”
“The bridge with the pale horse means death,” said Anne-Marie slowly. “The incubus appeared in the form of the beautiful man. What if I’m carrying the seed of the demon?”
“It may not mean that at all. That’s only one possibility.”
“Yes, but what if? Does it mean I should like kill myself to kill the demon seed?”
“Of course the Lord doesn’t want you to kill yourself.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because suicide would be just as big a sin as abortion. Now can we drop this? I feel terrible because I’ve scared you. I wish I hadn’t let you drag it all out of me.”
“But your gift can only help me, Rachel.” Could I interpret the dream myself? Anne-Marie wondered. The pale horse and the incubus and me? Is it possible the Lord is giving me the gift of interpretation?
She asked Rachel that question: “Do you think the Lord would bless me with the gift of interpretation?”
“Praise God if he does, but you can only wait and see.”
Then Anne-Marie thought of the Rapture. She remembered the radiant smile on Brother Jackson’s face from two nights before. Joining the Lord in the air for everlasting, holy bliss. “Do you think the Rapture could happen for one person?” Anne-Marie asked. “You know, like the Lord lifts us up as individuals after we have entered His Kingdom here on earth?”
Rachel took Anne-Marie by the shoulders. Her grip was tight. It hurt. “That would be a miracle,” she said. “Now we need to drop this subject. At least I do.” Her dark eyes were suddenly wild, flecked with green particles. She let go of Anne-Marie’s shoulders. She was still moving in slow motion.
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