Dare The Devil

Chapter 10 - End of The World

“And far away, across the fields, the tolling of the iron bell, draws the faithful to their knees, to hear the softly spoken magic spell.”

--Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon

The end of the world was near.  No, not from some demon-infested attack, this was the Divine Plan of God Himself, as taught by Hal Lindsey, many other “End Times” preachers throughout the world, and Chuck Smith at Calvary Chapel, which I attended at least twice a week.

Some called it Millennium Madness, some called it Bible Prophesy.  It didn’t matter.  This was my Church, the only one I had ever attended in my 17 years on planet earth, and it was absolute Truth.  And it meant that, no matter what happened, I could not possibly live more than 6 years.

It went like this.  The Generation that saw Israel restored to being a nation would see the return of Christ, according to the Bible Prophesies as interpreted by the End-of-the-World-ers.  Israel was reformed in 1948.  A generation, Biblically speaking, was exactly 40 years.  1948 + 40 = 1988.  Now you have to subtract 7 years for the Great Tribulation, the horrid time when all hell would break loose on earth and Satan would rule without constraint.  The Antichrist would be revealed, the great World Leader who would make himself out to be God, appearing to bring peace to the Middle East, but require everyone to take his mark on their forehead.  And 3 ½ years into his reign God’s wrath would be poured out, and practically every living thing would suffer and die before Jesus came floating down out of the sky.

But before those 7 years happened, God would “rapture” all the good Christians out of the earth, meaning that they would suddenly disappear.  God wouldn’t leave them down here while Satan ran rampant through the earth.  No, never.  He just wouldn’t do that, being a loving God.  So, 1988 would see Jesus return, and the Christians would be raptured 7 years before that, and since 1988 – 7 = 1981 and since it was fall of 1975…. I couldn’t possibly live another 6 years.  It was a mathematical certainty of Biblical proportions.

Looking back a quarter century later it all seems so silly.  But at the time, in November of 1975, as a newborn babe in Christ, lacking any type of foundation or discernment or Bible knowledge to appreciate the total abuse the Scripture was being subjected to in order to pervert such a misinterpretation, I bought it, as they say, hook, line and sinker. 

This was truth, I had no doubt, and I was one of the good guys in this silly little mythology anyway, so why worry about anything, why be all that concerned about life or education or growth or college or working or anything?  Sure, we were told over and over “No one knows the hour of his return,” but they meant that literally, as in we don’t know if it will be 9:00 or 6:30, but we do know for sure that December 31, 1981 is guaranteed to be absolutely your last day on this earth.  Get Ready!  In some ways, being quite honest, my Christian conversion and life were not so much religion as fire insurance, since I knew “fer sure” I didn’t want to have the locust eat my eyes out or watch the plague peel the skin off my bones, as they said the book of Revelations indicated was about to happen to those “left behind.”

I am not a victim.  I blame no one for my sin, as I have said before.  But you must understand that, in addition to living in a new state and a new school and a new state of being, I lived each and every day entirely assured that Jesus was coming, and I had at most 6 years to party before suddenly disappearing from the earth and living forever in Heaven with Jesus.  Religious life didn’t really matter, since I was “sealed in the Lord”, which meant I couldn’t “lose my salvation” (aka my one-way ticket up to heaven in the Rapture) because I had said the right magic words by confessing my sins and asking Jesus to be my Savior.  Being good was nice, since it showed my love and thankfulness to Him for not letting the birds lunch on my brains, but getting sealed and saying the magic words were what mattered, which I had, so I was cool , and free to explore, shall we say, other delights.

Not so strange, I guess, that I was fascinated by Peter’s little magic spells.  If only I could remember the words, maybe I could get somewhere….

It was an odd time.  It would get stranger, but these were, indeed, as The Doors called them, “Strange Days.”

I would eventually be awarded the Actor of the Year at Uni High 1975-76 for my role as the lead in the Fall school play.  I stayed healthy enough this time to actually perform the role I had won, and I was, deservedly, the toast of the school, “The World and Beyond,” as Spinal Tap would later say.

And I had even cut-back on the weed.  The play helped that a lot, since the short term and, uh…..oh heck….what was I saying?….Oh, yeah, long term memory were really affected by the ole wacky tobaccy.  So I only partied on weekends.  And besides, with Peter gone there were no Voices and no Powers, and the records didn’t talk to me, and with the play and all (I was the star, did I mention I was the star?) I let the whole “Peter thing” (what else would you call it?) fall away. 

Or so I thought.

True, I might have forgotten it, or them, but they certainly didn’t forget about me.

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