We left home around five o’ clock this morning. The plan was to drive two hours to the airport and then fly to Dubai. We made it to the airport just in time to catch our flight. This is my first plane ride. We have always driven for our family vacations, probably because of how expensive it is to fly.
I have been told the “take off” is the worst part, unless you have a height complex. I like riding roller coasters; the taller the better. So I don’t think I will have a height issue. Oh my gosh, it’s time for “take off”. Okay, okay, what’s with all the shaking? Just relax take a deep breath close your eyes and it will all be over soon. When I opened my eyes, we were above the clouds. It’s so serene up here.
I looked around to see how the other passengers were doing. Some of them had headphones on jamming. Others were reading. I don’t see how they can read and ride. I can’t even read while riding in a car without getting nauseous. Uh oh, that guy really doesn’t look very well. His face is turning green and his skin looks clammy. I don’t think he’s going to make it. There he goes, headed straight for the bathroom. Bless his little heart.
I looked at my dad. He had his eyes closed and his head tilted slightly upward and pressed back against the seat. He didn’t look like he was sleeping, though.
“Dad?” I nudged him a little.
“Yes, Sweetheart.” He jerked and opened his eyes to see if something was wrong.
“Are you okay?”
He is kinda jumpy for a seasoned plane rider, so I wonder what’s got him on edge.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just praying and resting.”
He is always running so it’s not surprising he is tired.
“Have you given anymore thought to a university?”
I guess I have his attention now. I received my last few acceptance letters yesterday. Now, the choice is mine.
“I’m still thinking about it. At first, I was going to leave the state. Now, I’m thinking I may stay.”
I’m sure Phillip will stay and go to school around home so I’m considering not going so far away.
“That would be nice. Then we wouldn’t have to travel so far to visit you.” He looked at me, and then toned back his excitement. “But, of course, the choice is yours. We want you to attend the school that will make you most satisfied and comfortable. After all, you were the Valedictorian. I trust, if you could remain focused in high school, you will have no trouble in college.”
He must know I don’t want to stay here and be “perfect”. If he didn’t, he had to of seen it on my face when he started with that “visiting” talk. I want them to visit me, but I don’t want to be too accessible. If I am, there may be pop ups. I don’t want to be hanging with my friends and, all of a sudden, here he comes running in with a Bible trying to have Bible study. I honestly could see him doing that. I don’t want anyone to know who I am. I just want to blend in and be normal.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Dad.”
He smiled and returned to his “Prayer/rest” mode.
“Dad, what’s been going on lately? You seem different. I know you told me about the “last days” and demonic possessions when I asked about my dream and it all sounds-for lack of a better word-unbelievable...” I paused slightly at my word choice. “Yet, I can tell something is bothering you so some part of it must be real. So I’ll try to understand.”
I have noticed his looks of concern, especially about me for a while now. And lately, he has been getting way more mission calls. He has even been making more house calls in the area. Certainly, he knows I noticed the change. Yet, he looks surprised and relieved that I am more open to the previously failed conversation.
“A lot of things have been happening lately. As you know, I am getting a lot more calls requesting my assistance. I know you don’t know a lot about what I do. Your mother and I decided we would tell you guys when you were old enough to understand. You know I add to just about every message I preach the importance of knowing we are battling against Satan daily for souls. That battle is more real than you know.” He paused, I am guessing to organize his words considering our last conversation was basically a disaster.
It seems like this will be more of an answer than I was expecting. “When I get called, be it to go to Mexico or just up the street, it is usually regarding a possession; a demonic possession.”
I interrupted. “Like…‘The Exorcist’ possession?”
“Yes and no…that is a more dramatized depiction of how the possession usually is. Most possessions are not that obvious in physical appearance until the possessed is confronted by a minister. Then the evil spirit becomes more visible. Usually, the spirit will just inhabit the person and cause them to do terrible things. Lately, the things being done are extremely disturbing and violent. I believe Satan is devising a plan of a great attack. The evil spirits are getting stronger and seem to be experimenting and evolving.”
Well, he was correct in saying it was best to wait until we were older to have this conversation. All I can say is, I am still not old enough. This sounds so crazy! If he wasn’t a pastor and my father, I’d want to have him evaluated. I know he wouldn’t lie to me, especially about something “God based”. Yet, I can’t imagine real life “Exorcist type” stuff happening every day.
“So, people are getting possessed by demons and doing weird things. Why don’t we hear about any of this stuff, like on the news or something?”
“What would such publicity accomplish? It would cause you to have fear, if you believed it. Or, it would cause you to have a greater disbelief because you would think the person was faking and associate it with the whole church? The possessed person may even be deemed crazy and end up in a strait jacket at the psych ward. But would it make you want to serve and follow Christ more earnestly? Perhaps some would, but the majority would try to explain it away. Someone may even come up with a scientific hypothesis. It is better to cover it up for now, than to try and explain it to a world where so many question God. God has ordained ministers to fight against the evil spirits. I am one of the chosen ones.”
This is too much like a crazy, horror movie. So now, I guess one of those demon things is going to attack us. I started laughing more so at my thoughts than the conversation. My dad didn’t share my comic relief.
“I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to comprehend…You’re like an angel warrior.” I laughed again. “Sorry, I know you are serious, but it’s a little hard for me to believe. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
His expression wasn’t angry, but thoughtful. “You haven’t seen the air, but you breathe it every day. You haven’t seen God, but you believe in Him. I knew it would be hard to believe, that’s why I wanted you to come with me on this trip.”
Ok, so I’m going to see a possession. That is scary, but interesting at the same time. At least, I’m going with an angel warrior. I giggled to myself. But what if… it really is real?
My dad resumed his previous position. I decided to take a nap.
A few long hours later, we arrived. We were greeted by a man named Busho. Except he pronounced the “u” like “oo,” instead of the bush-o pronunciation I would have given. He seemed very nice, but a bit jittery. Perhaps, he was anxious. You’d think he was the rabbit on “Alice in Wonderland.” “I’m late. I’m late for a very important date.” It’s a good thing I can entertain myself because so far nothing about this trip seems fun or exciting.
We got into Busho’s car and he chauffeured us to the house where I assume we’ll be staying. Victor came out to welcome us in. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him before when I was younger. He is shorter than my dad with a darker complexion and bald head. I’d classify him as average looking. He, too, seemed bothered by something.
“Thank you so much for coming…And you brought your daughter.” It almost sounded like a question.
“Yes, she just gra
duated and I felt it time she see what the battlefield is like.”
Victor looked like he received the words differently than my father presented them. “Well, I can certainly see characteristics of your wife in her. She is a lovely girl.”
You can’t possibly see any characteristic of my mother in me. My mother is beautiful. Her long wavy hair flows past her shoulders to just below her shoulder blades. Her big deep brown eyes look at you with so much certainty it is hard to hold a stare with her. It’s like she is looking deep within you and stealing peaks at your soul. Yet, once you are engaged with her you can’t break away. My eyes cower when approached by another. Her inner qualities of humbleness and kindness are the only reason she would be deemed approachable. She could easily be the stuck up model type you could only look at from afar. To say that you see anything from such a woman in me is ludicrous. He must be referring to our height comparison because I am nowhere near a sight to be reckoned with when placed beside her.
My hair is long, but more curly than wavy. Unlike my mother’s dark brown ripples that flow down her back like a peaceful stream. I just started wearing mine pushed back behind my ears and shoulders thereby allowing my facial features to be emphasized. Basically, to compare me to someone as stunningly beautiful as my mother is an injustice to her. Yet, I had for a moment experienced a glimpse of such adoration on the last day of school. Everybody kept complimenting me on my outfit and my hair. Maybe I am pretty, but I am still no comparison to my mom, no one is.
“Can I speak with you privately? There is so much for me to tell you.”
I’ll take that as my cue to leave and will do so happily. As I reached for my bag, my father stopped me.
“I understand your hesitation, but please speak freely in front of Missy. It is important for her to know every aspect of the mission firsthand.”
Victor accepted my father’s response. I suppose he had no other choice. “I understand. Recently, a man arrived to our village professing he is the “Son of the Father”. He claims he was sent here to give humanity another chance…to fix the prophecy. He has been performing miracles and speaking from scripture. Although he is unclear as to whom his father is and his interpretation of the scripture is of misguided context. He acts as though he believes himself immortal.”
“The prophecy?” I said. Realizing afterwards that I probably shouldn’t be interjecting, but listening like a fly on the wall.
“The prophecy of Jesus Christ: He was sent here by the Father to be the ultimate sacrifice for mankind. In order to fulfill the prophecy, He had to be killed so that He would rise again and...”
I am very familiar with that prophecy. In fact, I had just had a dream about it. I, too, tried to save Jesus, yet it wasn’t my intention to fix the prophecy only to end his suffering. I guess you can’t have one without the other. I realize now Jesus’ sacrifice isn’t to be fixed. If Jesus had never died for our sins, how then would they be washed away; forgiven?
“What is this man trying to do?” Another question probably best kept to me.
Victor didn’t even hesitate at his answer. “Right now, he is trying to gain peoples hope…or faith, if you will. I believe that if he can make people believe his story, he will destroy everything: the Bible, the faith, the belief. I believe Satan sent him to pull off his ultimate deception.”
There was a silence. I felt very uneasy. It was like something dropped into the pit of my stomach. The look of concern on my father’s and Victor’s face told me they probably were experiencing a similar feeling.
“How can we stop him?” My father asked, although, it sounded more like a thought than an attempt for information. It was a simple question, yet the answer was far more complex. If we were honest, we’d have to say we didn’t know.
“I will go to him and expose him. I will show that he isn’t the Son of God. Then, the people will see his deception.” Father continued, attempting to answer his own question. “If we could catch him in a lie, his demonic motives would be revealed to the people. Surely, they would choose not to follow him then.”
Victor agreed, but cautiously added “We’d have to be careful. This man has been preaching great sermons and performing miracles. The task of swaying him in the eyes of his followers will not be easy. News of his power is spreading like wild fire from the tongues of the natives.”
I know the Bible speaks of false prophets, but I never thought it would be like this. The idea that someone would really be so bold as to defy God in such a mocking manner is frightening. Especially with him being so well versed in the scripture, he must know the consequence of his actions.
“Where is he? We must go now!” The urgency from my father poured upon us. We left at once.
I can tell by the way he moves, he is anxiously ready to confront this false prophet. Surprisingly, he doesn’t act as though this is a new scenario for him. He acts like he is used to exposing demons and this is just another mission. There is no fear, unlike that which I am harboring on the inside. Maybe the missions and duties he described before held some truth.
We arrived at what looked to be remnants of a temple. It is no longer enclosed leaving the people to stand on the dirt. The prophet stood on what rock remained of the temple which served as a stage. The wind was blowing the dust up into our faces. Yet it didn’t seem to faze the crowd.
“I close today asking you to remember the miracles you witnessed today, as well as, my power. Choose ye this day whom ye will serve?”
The prophet is a very handsome man. I expected to see a gremlin but he is very attractive, to say the least. This makes it harder to dislike him. He is probably the same height as my father with a muscular build. His facial features are very captivating. He could easily be a model. Don’t forget he’s a demon, Missy. I know. I know. I just wish he looked like a demon…Focus Missy.
My father seized the opportunity to gain his attention. “Rabbi,” He yelled. “You say you were sent by the Father, but why would he have sent you when the prophecy has already been fulfilled?”
The prophet ran his eyes over the crowd searching for the voice of question. “Reveal yourself,” He commanded. “You must be new to us because I have already explained who I am and why I have come.”
My father stepped forward. “It was I. I have traveled far to see with my own eyes the man people call the ‘Son of the Father’. Yet the Son of God has completed the prophecy, he came to earth and lived a perfect life according to God’s will. He then sacrificed himself in crucifixion in order for our sins to be washed away. He was raised from the dead and lives in Heaven with our Father. Why would it be necessary for him to send another? What more is there to do?”
The prophet looked amused by the question. It was almost as if he expected it. He gestured to my dad to come to him. “Come Friend. I assume you are a Minister for the Lord. Of course, you would be skeptical of my existence, my purpose. In fact, I’d expect you to be protective of the Bible’s teaching and your god.”
As my father started to walk towards him, I lightly grabbed his arm. “He may kill you,” I whispered.
“God hasn’t given us a spirit of fear,” He responded as he released my grip.
“I was sent to test God’s people. Yes, it was prophesied that Jesus would come and He would die. But, do we not all begin our cycle to death the moment we are born. No man will live forever. Jesus did not have to die by such anger and hatred. He could have died a more honorable death for someone of his importance. Yet, he was tortured and died a brutal, premature death at the hand of a selfish, evil people. By people who were angry and threatened by his claim to his Father. Had they not have been so eager to protect their pharaohs or other idols; they could have appreciated Jesus’ purpose. What kind of a people are you? My father sent me to teach you, heal you, and be your savior on Earth. How will you receive me? Will you always allow hatred
to rule in your heart? Will you kill me too?”
The people hung on his every word. They absorbed him like he was their life source. The deception was so thick it almost felt true. If I hadn’t spent every waking moment living and breathing God’s word I might have believed him. Yet despite how similar his story was to the truth, it was twisted. The people who killed Jesus were evil, which is why they needed a savior.
“God sent his Son that we would not perish, but have everlasting life. You refer to yourself as the ‘Son of the Father’, but who do you call father?” My father must have decided to cut the small talk and get to the meat of it.
He wouldn’t make a false claim to God directly because that would shift the glory back to God. He was trying to distract the people from God to him.
“If I wasn’t who I say I am, then how could I do this?” With a violent shake of his arm toward the corner of his stage, a fire blazed.
It was not an ordinary fire with varying degrees of heat from the outside to the center. Instead, it looked as though the whole fire blazed with heat of the center portion of a regular fire; the hottest portion. Everybody gasped. Some people even screamed. The crowd began to back away from the flame. It was so hot you could feel the heat from more than twenty feet away.
“The Bible speaks of three men who were thrown into a fire such as this. They weren’t burned. Their God protected them.” He paused and turned his gaze from my father to the crowd. Most of them were holding their loved ones and gasping with fear. He commanded his guards with both words and gesture “Go and bring me those three!” He pointed to a group of teens. They were definitely younger than me, maybe fifteen.
We all watched as his guards grabbed them and brought them to the prophet who had once again met eyes with my father.
“You seem to have great concern as to who my father is? However, I have proven my power. I am not of this world. These people have witnessed my miracles. But you, who are you? Who is your Father? Tell your Father to save them that they not burn in this fire.”
The crowd shrieked in horror. Loud cries belted throughout. One of the mothers cried out in desperation for her son to be returned to her.
My father’s eyes searched the crowd for an instant as if he longed to provide comfort to her. “We are not to tempt our God. Even when Satan came requesting Jesus prove who he was, he did not do so. When Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego went into the fire it wasn’t to test God’s great power, but to show how God honored their obedience and faithfulness even in the midst of such consequence. It isn’t God’s will to go tick for tack with you in a conquest of power.” My Dad reasoned.
“And yet, if the one you serve is so great and powerful, surely he wouldn’t allow such innocent boys to die such a death…Throw them into the fire.” The prophet contended.
His guards pulled the boys who were now struggling with all their might. The look of fear on their faces sent a visible chill down my father’s spine and left me with a gut-wrenching pain. “We believe in you! Prophet, we believe in you! Please don’t kill us!” They reached for the prophet and secured earnest eye contact. For a flash second, I saw something in the boy’s faces…their eyes. It was like they were more afraid of what they saw in the prophet’s eyes than the fire. Their screams of terror were quickly smothered by cries of pain before being consumed by the fire.
I don’t know that I will ever forget those screams.
“Choose ye this day whom ye will serve!” The prophet yelled to the crowd. “See what happens when you disbelieve. I am who I say I am. Who do you believe?” He looked back to my father. “My father would protect his son.” He said before walking into the fire. The fire wrapped all around his body, yet he didn’t appear affected by it in the least way. He let out a loud cracking laugh as he scanned the faces of the people who looked shocked and amazed by the sight. “Who is your father?” He exclaimed before turning circles in the fire.
A voice sounding to belong to an elderly man arouse in the crowd. “I may not know everything there is to know about the Bible, but I believe that minister. God is not to be tempted. He will protect His kids. But you have to have faith and believe in Him.” He said as he made his way to the fire. “All my adult life, I served the Lord and he has not forsaken me yet. He will protect me from this fire.”
And with that he walked into the fire.
“My God. My God!” He screamed and started to dance. “It doesn’t burn. I knew it. I can’t feel it at all. Praise God forever more.”
The prophet looked at the old man. The flames obscured my vision of his facial expression. “Brother,” he said. “We must serve the same father. Thank you for joining me.” The prophet then attempted to wrap his arms around the man in a hug gesture.
“No!” The old man screamed. “You are not my brother and we do not serve the same God. I serve the God of Abraham, Moses, and Isaac. The Father of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ…”
His sentence was cut off as he slumped over in the fire.
“What happened?” Several people yelled out what we were all thinking. Whispers of confusion started. Everyone was afraid to speak loud enough for the prophet to hear.
“He spoke in a tongue he knew nothing about. Did Peter not start to sink when he took his eyes off Jesus?” The prophet answered while exiting the fire.
The flames stopped.
It was a question that made no sense with the current situation. Peter’s slight distraction didn’t result in his death. Besides, the old man was praising God up until the moment he died. He never showed doubt or disbelief. Yet, it was enough to stir the crowd in his favor. Everyone crowded around him calling him Master.
My father went to the spot where the fire once was. I ran to him.
“Dad, are you okay?” I grabbed him and hugged him. “How can this be? The Bible speaks of false prophets, but this seems beyond that. Is he the Antichrist?” I asked him as he looked at the remains in silence.
I looked at the old man slumped over in the burn spot. While nothing but charred remains of bones remained from the three boys, the old man’s body remained unburned.
I continued “He didn’t take his eyes off the Lord. The prophet killed him.”
It was merely confirmation of what I already knew. I’m almost certain had the boys kept claim to God they too would not have burned. Finally my dad spoke.
“This is bigger than anything we have ever had to come against. Let’s go. We have to regroup.”
CHAPTER 18--MISSY
Epic Testament Page 22
