For many, myself included, it can be difficult to stand strong when moments of challenge stretch from days to months and even into years. It is easy to become disillusioned. It is easy to understand how faith might fade.
It is not a question of unbelief we experience, but the feeling of, ‘what’s the use’.
Praying, reading the word, listening to the prophets, watching, and waiting, are enough. Even when we don’t feel like it is, it’s enough. I had this scenario come up in my spirit Tuesday morning. It’s not prophetic. It is not a dream. It is an idea of the types of things God may be doing. The things we can not see.
We all would like to see the Red Sea open or a fireball hit the arch of Baal. But faith tells me God is moving. He is working in ways we know nothing about.
This is a fictional story. An idea of how God can work. What He may doing while we think He’s not doing anything.
THE EXECUTIVE
The executive walked out of his building. The throng of busy office workers no longer clogged the sidewalk. Most workers had not yet returned. Some had of course, but many of those who once spent their days in the hundreds of buildings that made up the epicenter of business now worked elsewhere, or not at all.
He didn’t notice the big man that stood at the corner. But why would he? He had a company to run. He had profits to watch over. Mr. CEO was far too important to notice the man whose focus was only on him.
The stranger knew where the executive was headed. It was a ritual. He frequently visits the small park just a short walk towards the river. From there he would sit with other men of stature, planning the things that can not be included in emails or text messages. The executive found an empty bench and sat down.
In just moments the stranger took a seat next to him. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Do I know you?” The executive was a little surprised. The stranger did not pose a threat. He was simply an unwelcome surprise.
“We’ve never met.” He paused making eye contact that was uncomfortable for the executive. “But…I know you.”
“What do you want with me?” The executive took on an authoritative voice.
“I have a message.”
“From who?” The executive was wondering which of his powerful friends would send a surrogate to relay information. The park visit was, after all, designed for just such a meeting. The use of a messenger was new.
The stranger stood, turned towards the executive, and spoke. The stranger’s size and position were themselves a message. There was an intimidation factor to which the executive was not accustomed. “I have a message from God.”
The executive waved his hand and scoffed. “God? What kind of nut case are you? You don’t belong in this park.” His face had reddened. “You need to leave.” Then he shouted. “Now.”
“You have only a small window of time to repent. Your soul is about to be required of you. What you do now determines your fate.”
The executive was mad. His voice was loud. He was attracting attention. Had he noticed, he would have changed his tone. “My soul? My fate?”
“The blood of millions is on your hands. Confess, repent and ask for forgiveness. It is all you can do now.”
“What are you talking about?” The executive wondered if this was a setup. He thought that an undercover sting might be at work.
The stranger handed him a cell phone. “This has one app. Read it and consider what you’ve done. Your soul is going to be required of you. Time is short.”
Without thinking, the executive accepted the shiny phone. He took a moment to look at it. The screen was blank. It was obviously not turned on. When he looked up to confront the stranger there was no one there. The big man was gone. The executive was alone.
The phone the executive still held in his hand was the only proof that the conversation had occurred. He was not dreaming. This was not a hallucination.
He tucked the phone in his coat pocket and headed back to the safety of his office.
He came through the door in a hurry. His pace said something was wrong. He told his secretary he did not want to be disturbed. No calls, no visitors.
The walk back from the park gave him the extra minutes to process what the stranger had said. If this was a sting, if a whistleblower type of undercover report was in progress, he needed a plan. He had to figure this out. But he had to do it alone.
His instinct was to sit behind his massive desk. There was a certain power derived from such a position.
He laid the phone on the polished surface and stared. The nervousness he felt was confusing. What if the phone was a bomb? What if it was a bug? What if… what if. His mind was spinning.
Finally, he closed his eyes and touched the power button. The response was nearly instantaneous. The stranger had told him the phone had only one app. There it was. The Holy Bible.
He quietly scoffed to himself. The stranger said the message was from God. Now he had a Bible sitting on his desk.
It took several moments to give in to the need to touch the app. It opened quickly.
Exodus 7:17 Thus says the Lord: “By this you shall know that I am the Lord. Behold, I will strike the waters which are in the river with the rod that is in my hand, and they shall be turned to blood.
The executive read it. The water turned to blood were the only words of the single verse he saw.
He turned the phone over so he could not read the words. His mind whirled with ideas…thoughts of what it meant. He again considered a sting project of some kind. The words, however, went deep.
Then came a sound. He looked at the phone. It was now vibrating, rattling as it lay on the desktop. He turned it over and saw a text message. He hesitated for several moments. His curiosity was too great. He touched the button.
“Check your water.”
The executive’s office suite had its own private bathroom. Only the best for one of the world’s top corporate executives.
His pace was far too quick for someone believing this whole thing was a charade. His first act was to turn on the faucet. As the water began to stream out, he let out a heavy sigh. That too was too quick. No sooner had the relief been felt, the water turned to a bright crimson. It looked like wine, gushing from the tap. It wasn’t. The thick red liquid was blood.
He stifled a scream. His heart raced as his mind searched for an explanation. He turned and flushed the toilet. The water was clear. Again…the relief was temporary. He lifted the tank’s top to see it filled with what was most certainly blood.
“What do you want?!” He shouted the words to no one, yet he sensed they were heard. He didn’t know who or how, but his senses said they were. He was anxious, nervous, afraid, and then dizzy. He stumbled out of the bathroom into his spacious office. He laid down on the long sofa opposite the expanse of windows. They offered a view of Manhatten that his company willingly paid millions of dollars to enjoy.
He closed his eyes, hoping to find a moment of rest. The day had been crazy. There were no explanations. The stranger in the park, the cell phone and the message, the blood in his water were all a horrible nightmare.
“The blood from your tap is from those you have killed. The millions you have betrayed demand from you your very soul.”
The executive’s eyes popped open. The words were clear. He heard them. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t his imagination. The words were real. “Who’s speaking?” He wanted to shout, but his voice came out as hardly more than a whisper.
“Confess and repent.” The words were clear.
“Who are you?”
“The time is short. Your only hope for mercy will come with confession and repentance. Tell the world what you’ve done. Tell the world the truth. Do it now. Time is short.”
The executive laid on the couch. His eyes were wide open. The thought of rest was gone. Any hope of peace had been taken from him. He was anxious and he was scared. He had no explanation for any of this. He silently wondered if it could be that God was real. Could the warning be real?
He laid on the couch for a long time. Sleep had not come. His imagination went from what judgment would be like, to what prison might be like, to what his friends might think, and then to what if this is all a hoax. What if a giant sting was being played out?
A rational, smart person would know that voices in his office are not consistent with a sting. That blood running from his tap is not typical for an entrapment scheme. That a toilet full of blood speaks to something supernatural. He was not, however, at this moment, rational.
He cursed as he stood to his feet. He waved a hand as if dismissing an invisible being and walked to his desk. As he sat down the phone began to vibrate. There was a new message.
“Read this to the media.” It was followed by a long, accurate description of how he, his company, the government, foreign actors, and a few powerful titans of industry had planned and instituted a scheme that would kill millions of people around the world.
“I can’t do this.” The executive knew there was no one to hear him. His voice was low, and his fear was obvious.
“Do it now.” The voice was audible. He heard it clearly. His eyes scanned the office looking for its source. There could be no source. He was alone.
An expletive slipped from his lips as he grabbed his thin leather briefcase and headed to the door.
“Take the phone.” He didn’t hear the words. They just crossed his mind. He walked back, snatched the phone off the desk, and again headed to the door. “Have my driver meet me out front. NOW.” His steps were quick and the lady at the desk wasted little time calling the driver.
The shiny Maybach screeched to a stop just as the high-priced executive arrived at the curb. The driver was out and opening the right rear door in what appeared a single fluid motion. He was a fit man in his late thirties. The long sleeves of his black suit coat covered any trace of tattoos. His hair was cut high and tight. He gave every appearance of former military or law enforcement. He was neither. In fact, he was barely one rung above a mercenary. He would routinely read the ads in the Solder of Fortune style magazines.
“Home.” The only word exchanged.
As the car pulled from the curb he could feel the vibration from the phone. He attempted to ignore it. Finally, he pulled it from his coat and read the screen. It was the Bible app again. He hesitated for a moment, uttered another expletive, and touched the app.
Exodus 9:9 And it will become fine dust in all the land of Egypt, and it will cause boils that break out in sores on man and beast throughout all the land of Egypt.”
As he was reading the Scripture, his personal phone chirped. He pulled it from his thin leather briefcase and saw his wife on the screen. It was odd. She was using FaceTime.
He heard her screams when he touched the green button to answer. “Help me, something is happening. I’m covered in these.” She had large splotches all over her face and arms.
He looked at his wife, then to the verse on the other phone. His eyes focused on a single word. Boils. He didn’t know how to answer. Finally, “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a minute.” He hit the red button and ended the call.
“You think it’s only a coincidence?” The voice came from the man to his left. It was him. The man from the park. The guy who started all this. He had suddenly appeared in the seat next to the executive.
“What…how…?” The executive’s voice showed shock.
“Have you noticed how many plagues there are in the story?”
“No, but…”
“Tell your driver to go here.” He showed the man an address.
“Is that a news outlet?”
“Yes, it’s one that will tell the truth. The big names will edit what you say, or delete it completely.”
“My wife…”
“Do this and she’ll be fine.” He didn’t need to add the part about the pharaoh’s heart being hardened after each plague. The executive was getting the message. “If it helps, you’re not the only one.”
“What?”
“You think what you do in secret is hidden from God? God knows all you’ve done and those you did it with.” He paused. “All of it.”
“Who are you?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“I don’t believe this stuff, you know that.” The executive turned away to look out the window.
“That doesn’t change anything. You are entitled to believe anything you choose. You’re just not entitled to your own truth.”
“Who are you?” He had turned back to the stranger.
“I’m the angel of death.”
The executive began to weep. “I didn’t…”
“Your soul will be required of you very soon. God is a merciful God. He loves all people. He does not, however, can not accept sinful people to be in his midst.”
“That’s me?”
“You know what you’ve done. You know you’ve never considered God. Now you face eternity. Mercy is available but only for a very short time. Once I take you, there is no going back. What you decide will be forever.”
He looked away. The street was just a blur. It didn’t matter. “What’s it like?”
The stranger was kind. There is no enjoyment in taking a soul. “Depends on your choice. Choose God and its life in the light. Reject God, and its death. Eternal darkness.”
“I don’t believe in Hell. I don’t think demons are real either.”
“You’ve been living with them all your life.”
“Who?”
“Demons.” The stranger prayed to ask the Lord to open the man’s eyes to who was in the car.
When the prayer was answered, the executive screamed. His driver was the ugliest, most gruesome creature he had ever seen.
The stranger tried to comfort him. He knew the driver. He knew the driver knew he was in the car. The driver also knew he was powerless against an angel of the Lord. The driver was content in driving.
As quickly as the driver’s demonic spirit was revealed it vanished.
The executive took several moments to collect himself. Then he leaned forward towards the front seat. “Change of plans. We’re going here.” He handed the driver a note with an address provided by the stranger.
I hope you have found value in this short piece. I have just written The Tent, a short story that I am offering to all who subscribe. Subscribers receive all my post by email.
