My "Take" on the Current Rapture-of-the-Church Craze

IntellectualConservative.com ^ | December 4, 2002 | J. Grant Swank, Pastor

[Macklew]

Did you mean "rupture?" I have found no such word as "rapture" in the scriptures.

[Wrigley]

nice, but too much capitalization.

[malakhi]

I don't know you as well as others here apparently do. But the impression you are leaving is not a favorable one. You may wish to reconsider your approach.

[PayNoAttentionManBehindCurtain]

nice, but too much capitalization.

lol.

bigmack

[grantswank]

hmmmmm.

[CCWoody]

Bite me.

This funny to watch! For such an intellectual giant, grant has very little to say and is very emotionally based.

Woody.

[grantswank]

hmmm. seems you didn't read the article posted all that thoroughly, now did you?

so here is an academic exercise for you this evening: reread the post and see if you can find the response to your own whatever.

'kay?

[grantswank]

hmmmmm.

funny that you would underline emotional, considering your original emotional outburst post immediately following the article appearing.

hmmmmm.

need a bit of therapy, cc?

[Wrigley]

Its sort of like a nice brawl.

[grantswank]

CALAMITY AT CHRISTMAS


What a handsome Christmas tree we had bought at the local
agricultural school! It stood tall in the corner of our liv-
ing room. The stand was full of water, and all we
needed to do was string the lights and hang the ornaments.

My wife traditionally places the lighted angel atop
the tree. Next she carefully strings the lights from right
to left all the way down the tree. The rest of us hang
the decorations on the limbs.

This year we had everything in place when
suddenly the tree fell over. Our older daughter was caught
beneath it all. Lights went helter-skelter. Ornaments
flew across the room. Water poured out of the stand,
soaking into the carpet. A forlorn angel lay on its side
beneath the branches. What a mess for a December
Saturday afternoon!

It was not with the best of moods that we hoisted
the tree upright again. We moved it to another corner
so the carpet could dry out. Once more we filled the
stand with water. We straightened the angel atop the
tree, strung the lights, and laced the branches with
decorations.

To help lift our irritated spirits, we played tradi-
tional carols throughout the house, filling the rooms
with melody. Someone made a fresh pot of tea. Some-
one else discovered cookies in the kitchen cupboard.

Soon the front doorbell rang. Jay, our son, opened
the door to find a neighbor standing there.

"Is your father home?" he asked. Jay invited him
inside. I greeted my neighbor, wondering what
brought him to our house that day.

"Do you think I could chat with you, perhaps
even have prayer?" The man looked intently into my
face.

Because there was so much bustle in our house, I
quickly reasoned that it would be best for the two of
us to walk across to the nearby church sanctuary. I
grabbed my winter jacket and the church keys as my
friend followed behind me.

Once inside the church, he spilled out his woe.

"I need prayer. My family needs prayer. I knew
when I passed your church sign that God told me to
stop and ask for you to pray with me."

I was curious about what was bothering this
young man. Often we had waved to each other in
passing. From time to time I stopped by with baked
goods for his family. He had even spoken to me once
about his alcoholic brother, asking me for counsel.

"It's Christmas--yet my family is heavy in heart
this season," he began. His cheery Irish cheeks gave
no hint as to the weight upon his spirit. "My wife got
the news that she has cancer," he said softly, not quite
sure he had the courage to say those words. "She's
started chemotherapy. Her weight is affected. Her hair
is going. Yet she has such courage. She puts on a
strong front, particularly for the children." There were
six in the family.

We sat together on the front pew of the sanctuary.

To our right the newly decorated church shone with
bulbs and balls. To our left the baby doll representing
Jesus lay quietly, peacefully. Each of the sanctuary
windows had been decorated with a candle. Yet in the
midst of this festive atmosphere two men's hearts
sank.

"I'm so sorry to hear this," I said. "We must take
this to the Lord."

We left our places, made our way to the simple
altar, and knelt. Our hearts spilled before the throne of
heaven. In the calm of the church a serenity began to
blanket our troubled souls. It became quite easy to
pray as the Spirit of a loving God drew near to bring
special comfort.

I heard this man sobbing beside me, especially
when I mentioned his children in prayer. I knew this
would be the heaviest part of his burden.

"Lord, be near these little ones in their private
worlds of anguish. In their tears, talk peace to them. In
their confusion, come with heaven's understanding."

Presently the Spirit released us from our prayers.

Two men stood at the front of the sanctuary just a few
feet from the wooden prayer altar. We knew that, for
that moment, we had done all we could do.

Richard thanked me for being a praying friend as
well as a neighbor.

"When you were praying, Pastor, a special glow of
the Lord settled upon my heart," he whispered. "The
burden has been lifted considerably."

We walked out of the church together--one man
with a healthy wife and children ready to celebrate
Christmas, and the other with a sick wife and grieving
children ready to attempt to celebrate. I thought back
a few hours to a fallen tree with lights scattering like
disobedient children across our living room carpet.

We had become impatient; our day was not as perfect
as we had planned.

Now I reconsidered the meaning of calamity. The
tousled tree was nothing compared to a troubled
neighbor. Yet in the hurt of this man I knew God was
working to lift up the fallen, set aright the downcast,
and bring help to the scattered children's hearts. It
would take time. It would take prayer. But in the end
their lives would be straightened and lightened--in
one of heaven's ways or another.

[grantswank]

now now now.

let's not bend over backwards to appear philosophical and all that impressive stuff.

no need for all that, paynoattentionmanbehindcurtain, who appears to be revealing just a bit too much from behind that curtain.

[CCWoody]

need a bit of therapy, cc? ~ gaintswank

Naw! A few minutes around you and I know I'm not the one who needs therapy.

Woody.

[grantswank]

there ya go.

just when an author thought he had done meagerly for the kingdom's sake, cc shows up to broadcast that grant has indeed seen thru cc's therapeutic session with flying colors.

charge: $125.

of course, keep in mind that more sessions must follow. one won't do it. that is, not in certain unusual cases.

[PayNoAttentionManBehindCurtain]

grantswank is fervent, but never has anything of interest or substance to contribute to a discussion.

BigMack

[CCWoody]

I don't know "nice brawl". I don't come from one of the noble Scottish houses and my American ancestors were considered savage.

[Wrigley]

I was speaking of your indoor soccer, and now that I think about it, it didn't work.

[grantswank]

hmmm.

now the graphics begin.

more fun than a barrel of monkies.

of course, when the site's barrel is already full, why need more?

hmmmmmmm.

who said darwin wasn't right?

[Wrigley]

Hey, that's a good resembalance.

[grantswank]

now we wouldn't want to divert from the main intelligent theme of an article posted with intelligent responses following, now would we?

come now. wasted time is not good time.

[grantswank]

hmmmmmmm.

there are more gal fridays out there than i had ever imagined.

from kelly girl, perhaps?