I looked around perplexed. It was scary and unbelievable at the same time. Where had they all gone? The vigil had ended a little past three in the morning and each of us found semi comfortable spots to lay our heads till dawn when we would be able to go home. Carefully I got up from a chair which had been my make shift bed. I looked around the church. Just one bulb was on. I tried calling but the fear that filled my heart wouldn’t let my words through. A tear slipped down my face. I wiped it away that instant. No crying…yet. They had to be somewhere around. I found my way outside. The car was still there. Their shoes were still here. I heard a shrill cry coming from the back of the church and the fear that filled my heart moved me even when my legs could not. Suddenly the church I was born and raised had become so strange. I ran with all the strength in me trying to locate the sound. When I did, it was the most shocking moment of my life. I saw many familiar faces but my family was nowhere in sight. They all had their hands in the air screaming “take us too”. And then it dawned on me. The day I had talked of all my life, the day I had preached about, the day I had written about had finally come and had taken me unaware. How could this be I asked myself as unconsciously I joined the crowd in lifting up ‘holy’ hands; “Please take me too I murmured”. As I cried in disbelief of all that was happening, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. Turning around I saw the face of my elder brother. The quarrel we had before coming to church didn’t matter to either of us now as we clung to each other in a tight embrace. We had exchanged bitter words and I had promised not to forgive him. He had told me he would never forgive me either. No words were exchanged by us all through the church service because we each felt hurt and rightly so. God had to understand… we didn’t intend to let the sun go down on our anger. Siblings fought now and again. It wasn’t so much of a big deal. I looked into his eyes and I knew he felt the same way. We wish we could turn back the hand of time. I’ve always been the good church girl. I thought to myself. I’ve always loved God but at the same time I always failed to address my temper issues. “I’m so sorry Lord” I cried. Please let this be a dream. My entire family had gone with the rapture and only my brother and I were left. What would we do I asked as my mind flashed to all the verses of the Bible that talked of the days after rapture. It’s going to be horrible I screamed as I fell to the ground washing my clothes with my tears.
Through my muffled cries I could hear my dad calling out. He hit me hard so I would wake up. “Princess…Princess” I heard him say. I opened one eye, then the next. “Tell Jesus to take me too” I sobbed as my dad held me close, his hands stroking my dark hair. “It’s just a dream” was his reply.
Those four words were like balm to my soul. So it was a dream after all? “I’m sorry dad”. I began
“For what” he asked?
“Remember the other day, I said I hated you cos I was really angry and I said a lot of nasty things. And then two weeks ago, I put your shoes out in the rain because you wouldn’t give me money. And one month ago…”
It was a dream but I wouldn’t take any chances I thought to myself. If my anger wouldn’t get me into God’s kingdom, then I had to lay it aside.
“Remember therefore from where you have fallen: repent and do the first works, or else will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from its place-unless you repent”. Revelation 2:5
Written by Precious Idienumah,
Author, A Sketch of Murder