Mad at Jesus

Does it make you uncomfortable that a large portion of the Christian community in America is preoccupied with the Rapture?  Rapture is the term Evangelicals use for the apocalyptic Second Coming of Christ where all Christians will be swept into heaven while unbelievers are left on earth to suffer the consequences of not being Christian. I think Michele Bachman predicts the “End Times” every time she gets in front of a microphone. If you aren’t familiar with this doctrine you really should check into it.  It’s real horror movie stuff-plagues, murders, genocide-not for the faint of heart.

I don’t understand it and was raised in it.  I’ve very nearly resorted to professional help to rid myself of the nightmares.  These churches spare no one, even children.  I was exposed to it through lengthy, vitriolic sermons and graphic movies shown at kiddy functions.  If my mother was five minutes late picking me up from school I was certain she had been “raptured” and I had been “left behind” to face the wrath of Jesus who knew full well  I really didn’t like him.

Even as an adult I still have horrible flashbacks of those movies. They go something like this, a little girl is walking with her mommy holding her hand, when suddenly her mother’s purse hits the  sidewalk, cars begin crashing around the startled tike as people rush past her screaming in terror.  It amazes me to think the producers of that flick honestly thought Jesus would leave a child behind to face carnage.  What could this child possibly have done?  I remember thinking whatever it was I had probably done it or thought it.

Where I grew up, thinking it was as bad as doing it.  Sin was sin, there was no gray area.  In fact there was very little any safe area, almost everything was a sin.  Missing Sunday school was a sin.  Lying was a sin.  Sex, drinking, movies, dancing all were sins.  Life revolved around one big confession to Jesus, who in my mind was an overbearing deity with nothing better to do but wait on me to screw up so he could strike me with cancer. 

Cancer was his punishment of choice.  Anyone who got cancer was obviously, “not right with the Lord”.  Even little old ladies incapable of harming a fly, much less drinking, dancing or having s-e-x were not immune.  Once stricken with cancer, word would spread throughout the congregation that in fact, God’s time was not our time and just because they didn’t look guilty for a recent infraction didn’t mean that they weren’t receiving latent punishment.

Latent punishment, that’s what the Rapture is all about.  All those unbelievers who refused to listen to the preachers, the missionaries, the TV evangelists all are doomed, if still living, to face the “Tribulation”.  The Tribulation is the time between all the right people being Raptured and all the wrong people finally being cast into the Lake of Fire.  The Lake of Fire would have to seem like a welcome respite considering the downward spiral of conditions on earth throughout the seven years.

Seven years, that was the duration of the Tribulation.  The first three and a half years, I was taught, would not seem so bad.  The Democrats would have control of the government again, everyone would marvel at the new and easy way to purchase products without having to carry money or credit cards.  You just went down to the post office, honestly the post office, and got a tattoo with your personal identification number. 

I recently heard a TV evangelist predict the “Mark of the Beast” was to be a device implanted under your skin that when scanned would deduct money from your bank account-so I suppose we have given up on the tattoo in lieu of a more modern spin on biblical interpretation.  However it was to happen, it was going to happen at the post office being instructed the postal service had the perfect system to become the purveyor of the mark since they had everyone’s address and would know, by the mail piling up, whom had been raptured and could now be removed from the mail route.

As in all gruesome tales, the last half is much worse than the first. As things are rocking along so well a man "rises up" and declares himself to be the reason for all this great stuff. And, having been deemed credible by the world powers everyone decides to make him their leader.  I always wondered why the prognosticators believed this leader they call the “Anti-Christ” would be an American, since when Revelations was written no one had even heard of the New World. I never asked, since that question seemed like it had sin written all over it.  I worried I had even thought it.

Well, this Anti-Christ is going wage war with the Jews and try to turn the rest of the world against them.  Then there is to be this terrible battle called Armageddon and all the world powers will gather in Israel and there will be blood up to the horse’s necks or something.  Then, just when it reaches the bloody crescendo, out of the clouds comes Jesus accompanied by all the righteous people to defeat the Anti-Christ and his armies.  And get this, the righteous people get to help reign over this new world. 

As much as I have tried to put this out of my life, I am too often reminded of the Rapture and its impending doom.  All I have to do is turn on the TV, read the newspaper, or surf the web.  There are to be signs before all hell breaks loose, literally.  There will be earthquakes, floods, fires, wars or even rumors of wars, you know just a typical day in the life of our planet.  I used to be afraid to watch the evening news or even the local weather forecast.  I just knew while I slept, Jesus would come back, take my family and leave my sorry, sinful fanny right there in the bed.

I also used to worry that if I ever did get good enough to be snatched up into the air with all the other good people my dog would starve, in which case I would get really mad at Jesus for starving my dog.  Once I got good and mad at Jesus again, I would realize I had sinned so I would stop worrying about my dog and begin fearing for my own skin again.  It really was a vicious cycle.

I used to plan how, when I had been left behind, I would get all the food out of the pantry and go live in the woods, with my dog of course, and so escape the mark of the beast.  I wasn’t real sure how I was going to live through the plague of mutant locusts I saw in the movie.  I thought if I could find a cave perhaps I could avoid having my blood sucked out in my sleep.  But I lived in Florida and we didn’t have any caves.  We just had culverts and they were full of spiders.  I figured I’d take my chances with the mutant locusts.  I hate spiders.

It took me years to leave the terror of being left behind, behind. I was well into my twenties before I finally ditched the last bit of nagging doubt and terror- but there are still moments, say when an earthquake is reported, that I feel that old familiar churning in my stomach.  It takes me a moment to recognize it for what it is.  I guess I still have some of the Pavlovian effect.  I suppose I always will.  I cringe when I hear these fundamentalists continue to spout this death and doom apocalyptic rhetoric.  I have learned to feel sorry for them though.  I think how sad it must be for them die so disappointed.  I think how crushing it will be to find out that Jesus probably isn’t as bad as they’ve made him out to be and that they aren’t as good as they thought themselves to be.

I used to wonder how Jesus feels about this?  I wondered if he resents his good name and reputation have been tainted by this culture of fear?  But nevertheless, I have forgiven him for scaring me and for giving those backsliding little old ladies cancer.

We’ve talked it all out, Jesus and me.  I told him I wasn’t afraid of him anymore and that I wasn’t going to live in fear of the end of the world.  He reminded me his first miracle was to change water to wine.  Since then, Jesus and I have been on pretty good terms.