The Coming: Footpath to the End of the Age

By David Heeren

How had he gotten himself in such a mess? Charles Morgen knew the answer to his own rhetorical question, but that didn't make him feel any better about the situation. He had followed what he believed to be guidance from God, and now here he was, on a street in New York City, anticipating a face-to face c

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Aug 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781684862320

David Heeren

"When David Heeren conceived the brilliant idea of writing a sequel to Charles Sheldon's famous In His Steps, he undertook a very challenging assignment. He has succeeded in bringing forward the question raised in the 1896 best-seller -- What would Jesus do? -- up to date in our totally different environment more than a century later. His anecdotal style, in modern terminology, takes the reader through a series of dilemmas and difficulties confronting a young minister committed to walking as precisely in the steps of Jesus as he could for one year. Readers will find the results interesting and compelling."D. James Kennedy, Ph. D, (deceased)PREACHER, TV'S CORAL RIDGE HOURAUTHOR OF MORE THAN 65 BOOKS

Book preview

PROLOGUE

April 1, 2030, New York City

How had he gotten himself in such a mess?

Charles Morgen knew the answer to his own rhetorical question, but that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. He had followed what he believed to be guidance from God, and now here he was, on a street in New York City, anticipating a face-to-face confrontation with the most evil man in the world. But this involved one dubious presumption: That the opponent would be an actual human being.

Charles recently had read the biblical story of Elijah and four-hundred prophets of Baal. Even though Elijah won that confrontation by courageously calling upon God to send fire from heaven, he lost heart and fled a short time later when wicked Queen Jezebel threatened his life. Charles had wondered how a man could be so brave one minute and so frightened the next.

Now he knew.

Responding to the Holy Spirit, Charles and his wife Vera had walked more than a thousand miles to confront President Adam at the new national capital building in New York City. Charles had stunned the leftist-dominated political world by being elected to serve a term as president of the U.S.A., but this would not be an amiable meeting between a current head of state and a former one. It was actually more similar to Elijah’s confrontation with Jezebel’s prophets of Baal and their cheerleaders, four-hundred prophets of the goddess Asherah.

Charles felt like fleeing as Elijah had done. But at least Elijah had persevered long enough to give God a chance to embarrass Jezebel’s raucous prophets. Charles felt like leaving right now, and the contest hadn’t even started.

Charles was waiting in the street outside the capital building for the emergence of Adam, America’s first totalitarian ruler. A statue resembling a traditional depiction of Jesus had been set up in the street outside of the capital building. A few of Adam’s devoted psychics were cavorting around it just as Charles imagined Jezebel’s prophets romped around their sacrificial bull.

But this time there were a few differences. For one thing, there weren’t nearly as many men representing President Adam as had represented Jezebel’s god, Baal. There were a lot of pedestrians in the street, but most of them were going about their business without paying much attention to the psychics or the statue. New Yorkers were hard-headed folks. It took something stranger than a group of wildly demonstrative psychics to capture their attention.

Adam had not yet announced his presence, but Charles thought he knew how the announcement would be made. He had read in the book of Revelation that the final anti-Christ – Charles believed it was Adam – would cause fire to descend from heaven. That was it. Adam was going to use laser-beam technology or something like that to create the illusion that he had power to call down fire from heaven. Charles was going to be his foil.

But even if he succeeded in the illusion of calling down fire from heaven, would Adam be able to destroy the statue of Jesus? Would the Lord allow him to destroy the statue? Charles had no doubt that God could thwart Adam’s project if He wanted to.

But did He want to?

Charles could not read the mind of God, who often worked in mysterious ways. It might fulfill a purpose of His to allow Adam to succeed with his little fire-from-heaven charade. Or it might not. Charles would find out very soon.

But there was one question to which he might not know the answer until he got to heaven: Why had God sent him and his wife Vera on the long journey to New York City only to be embarrassed by the evil Adam? Charles didn’t know the answer to that question at the moment, but he believed the Holy Spirit was going to give him something important to say. Maybe that was the only thing that mattered.

Charles thought there was a good chance his words would be broadcast, as Adam’s would be to the American people. Though he believed the Holy Spirit would give him a message for the American people, he did not have faith that he would be given the same fire-summoning power that had been given to Elijah.

He was going to lose that aspect of the confrontation.

He and Vera would be arrested and either killed on the spot or transported to a labor camp. They might not have more than a few minutes left to live. He turned to her for a final embrace. After eighteen years of marriage, he still loved her with all his heart.

That’s when he heard the uproarious applause. Adam had emerged from the building and was confidently striding toward him.

PART ONE

FLIGHT

ONE

Three years earlier, April 11, 2027, Fort Lauderdale.

Vera sat in front of the dressing table, combing her hair, primping for church. The dressing table and a queen-size bed were the only pieces of bedroom furniture that the Morgens had been allowed to keep when the change had taken place. From the apartment’s single bathroom she heard her husband shout: First thing, babe.

Vera didn’t like to hear a man call a woman babe. She thought it sounded supercilious and sexist. But when Charles said it to her it seemed different, full of love without lacking respect. She shouted back, What is it?

Early in their marriage, upon discovering Vera’s penchant for being correct on her first impressions, Charles had adopted the phrase first thing. He used this phrase when he wanted to tell her what was on his mind and listen to her reaction. He said, I think the Lord wants me to prophesy.

That makes sense. He likes to do things in threes.

After a moment of silence she heard him say, I’m not following you.

She fastened her hair in a bun behind her neck. Lately she had begun doing that as an easy alternative to combing out her long brown hair. Preacher, politician, prophet. Three P words, like in a textbook sermon, she teased. They represent your life in a thimble, Charles.

He walked into the room and his eyes were drawn to the graceful curvature of her back. It seemed to him that her figure hadn’t added a pound during their fifteen years of marriage.

This is serious, he said. "I believe he really wants me to prophesy like one of the Old Testament prophets. The Holy Spirit is using the word witness, but it’s becoming clear that what he wants me to do is prophesy."

She stopped combing and looked at him in the mirror. I hope you’re not serious about this.

"But what do you really think?"

I think they’ll kill you, Charles. If you start talking and acting like one of those Old Testament prophets, you will be tortured and put to death.

Thanks for the encouragement. He added pensively, For I am crucified with Christ, and I no longer live…

She turned to face him, looking straight into his eyes. If you go, she said, I’m going with you.

They’ll kill you, too.

Think about it, she said. If I stay here, they will come for me as soon as they identify you. If you are sure you want to do this, I want to be with you. I could help.

Like Jeremiah’s scribe?

Call me Baruch.

TWO

April 16, 2027, Orlando.

After ritual applause at the end of a basketball game, the spectators filed out of the People’s Arena. As they descended a long flight of concrete steps, Phil turned to his wife with a tight smile. It was nice of the government to give us those tickets, Denise. I told you: Nothing has changed.

Right: Nothing.

He caught her arm, turning her to face him. Shaking an index finger in front of her face, he said in a harsh whisper, You have to do something about that sarcasm of yours. They’ll arrest us.

Denise pulled her arm away and looked at her husband with an expression that seemed to be a mixture of a glower and a grin. But, dear, you said it yourself: Nothing has changed. In the U.S.A. we have freedom of speech.

He turned away, his face reddening. They descended a few steps in silence before he said, That was an awful thing those terrorists did yesterday in Washington.

Uh-huh: Terrorists.

Before it’s all over millions could be dead.

Right: Millions.

Who do you think was responsible for it, Nazis or Christians?

Oh, the Christians, I’m sure.

Phil thought Denise was being sarcastic again, but he had no desire for another verbal exchange because he couldn’t match her quick wit. He said, We have been warned for years about the possibility of a biological attack, but now that it has actually happened, it seems, so...so…

Unreal

He nodded his head enthusiastically. "That’s exactly what I mean, unreal."

Well, maybe it seems unreal because it is.

He had no idea where she was going with this and didn’t want to know. He feared it might lead them straight to a rehab center or a labor camp. He tried to end the conversation with a dogmatic statement:

There is nothing funny about biological warfare taking millions of lives.

That’s right, she said, But what if the Nazis didn’t do it and the Christians didn’t do it? What if it isn’t warfare at all but politics?

A political ploy killing millions? That’s ridiculous. Didn’t you watch the news?

Sure: The views, the six o’clock ruse.

The FBI is working hard on this one.

Right, the FIB.

They have narrowed the suspects to the Nazis and the Christians.

There aren’t many Nazis around any more, so I’m sure it will turn out that the Christians did it. Just like they burned Rome. Nero caught them red-handed.

This flew over Phil’s head. He said, I’m glad the UN has agreed to allow us to move our governmental functions to their headquarters in New York City. Temporarily, of course. Until martial law can be rescinded. Until everything is back to normal.

Back to normal? But how can anything be abnormal, if nothing has changed?

Ignoring her, he went on. It’s good that our president didn’t get sick. Even with inoculations, there are no guarantees when it comes to bio-terrorism. He’s a great man.

Handsomest man in the world, that’s for sure.

Phil didn’t know if Denise really meant this or if it was one more example of her sarcasm, but it gave him a chance to steer the conversation in a safer direction. It’s hard to believe he is a creation of modern science. Isn’t it wonderful what science can do?

Wonderful. You’re so right, dear: It’s hard to believe.

They were halfway across the pothole-pocked lot outside the arena, where at one time people had parked motor vehicles. That had been years ago when gasoline had been priced under $4.00 a gallon. Now it was $39.99.

Government officials claimed they had allowed gasoline prices to escalate above inflation rates as a deterrent to the use of air-polluting vehicles, but Denise noticed that the highest officials rode around in gas-guzzling limousines or were assigned their own government airplanes. Many people, including her husband, still possessed old cars but couldn’t afford to keep them operable.

Now, the parking lot was reserved for the exclusive use of electric trams. The trams took arena spectators to stations scattered throughout the city. There was a tram station within walking distance of everyone’s place of residence because the entire population of Orlando was confined to the inner city.

Phil thought he and Denise were fortunate. They lived in a two-room apartment less than one block from the nearest tram station.

As they lined up for the tram that would take them home, they noticed a crowd gathering around a man and woman who were dressed for hiking. The man knelt and began striking the macadam with his right fist in a methodical hammering motion. He struck seven times. Then in a voice that resounded across the old parking lot, he said:

The Lord will cause men to hear his majestic voice and will make them see his arm coming down with raging anger and consuming fire, with cloudburst, thunderstorm and hail.

The man drew a deep breath and resumed, This land is guilty of the vilest adultery in departing from the Lord. She decked herself with rings and jewelry, and went after her lovers, but me she forgot, declares the Lord.

The strange prophecy was over in less than a minute, before bounty hunters could force their way through the crowd surrounding the man and woman. By the time the scruffy mercenaries broke through, the strange couple had taken refuge within the crowd.

Phil and Denise were among the witnesses questioned by bounty hunters. Phil answered the questions truthfully but thought he detected deceit in Denise’s responses. Either she had seen something different from what he had seen or she was lying.

If other eyewitnesses were as vague in their responses to the questioning as she was, Phil thought there was little chance that the bounty hunters could apprehend the strange prophet and his female companion.

He and Denise had argued when President Adam announced that federal bounty hunters would be replacing local police as the primary peace-keeping authorities in the United States. Phil thought it was a terrific idea. Denise believed it was a step toward dictatorship. After Phil and Denise finished answering the bounty hunters’ questions, she said to him, By the way, dear, who won the game?

THREE

Easter Sunday, April 18, 2027

They don’t know who we are, Vera said.

It may take a while, but they will find out from the factory absentee reports, Charles said. They’ll do it by the process of elimination.

Vera understood what Charles meant. The government’s labor officials made regular checks on worker attendance records in order to discipline absentees. But she couldn’t ignore the double-entendre. Bad choice of words, she said.

He smiled. Well, you know how it is with us prophets. We have foot-in-mouth disease. Incurable.

I think you mean incorrigible, she retorted.

Charles and Vera were sitting in their parked car next to a lake between hills in a rural area about twenty-five miles northwest of Orlando. They were eating breakfast out of cans and watching the morning news. Their television set was small and battery-powered. The picture resembled a blizzard, but the audio was clear from a Peoples Broadcasting Network channel in Orlando.

He looked at her and liked what he saw. Her glossy brown hair was bound behind her neck by a broad blue rubber band. He thought she resembled the actress Teri Hatcher two or three decades ago. Like the younger version of Hatcher, Vera had candid brown eyes almost identical in color to her hair.

Charles didn’t know how she did it, because Vera was well into her middle years, but she still was in perfect shape. Maybe it was all those exercises, the jogging and workout machines. If she could commercialize her secret, Charles mused, she could become wealthy by selling it to desperate women who were losing their looks. That is, she could have sold it before the change.

Charles didn’t look too bad himself. Thanks to Vera’s nagging and his own realization that she was in better shape than he was, he had begun exercising regularly. They jogged together three times a week and he kept up with her most of the time.

It was a good thing they were in excellent physical condition, because the time was coming when they would be on their own in the mountains. This was something the Holy Spirit had communicated to him right after his street prophecy in Orlando.

Flee to the mountains, the Spirit had said. And be thankful that your flight will not take place in winter.

Charles hadn’t mentioned this to Vera yet and didn’t know how she would react, but he knew it would happen because the Holy Spirit had communicated it to his spirit. He knew it as surely as he knew he had been redeemed by the blood Jesus had shed at Calvary 1997 years ago.

Now was as good a time as any, so he told Vera about the Spirit’s instructions. For a long time she sat pensively in silence. Then she said, The Lord is good to us. We have been thinking about what will happen when we are caught, and now we know He won’t allow us to be caught. At least, not until after we have reached the mountains. Do you think he is talking about the Appalachians?

I guess so. They’re the closest.

Vera flexed her right bicep and reached her arm out to him. Feel this, she said, placing his fingers on the muscle. Do you know what this is?

He struggled against a temptation to grin. He enjoyed it when his wife became playful. Managing to maintain a straight face, he said, I think you are about to tell me.

It’s the muscle of a mountain woman, she said. Charles, we can do this, you and me. We are in great shape.

Speak for yourself.

She grasped his chin firmly between her two strong hands and looked straight into his eyes. Don’t put yourself down. We are in great shape, both of us. We can do this. It’s going to be a wonderful adventure.

Vera’s logic was sound. The Spirit wouldn’t have told them to flee to the mountains if they weren’t going to be able to get there. Nevertheless, he didn’t share his wife’s optimism. He didn’t think this was going to be a wonderful experience, but a harrowing one.

The world now was different from that November day in 2012 when he and Vera had shared in wonderment at his election, against overwhelming odds, to the Florida House of Representatives. Other amazing victories had followed and he had wound up serving one term as president of the United States.

But now there was no more Florida House. There were no more state elections at all, only a coercive national referendum. Everything was different, in spite of the official mantra that nothing had changed.

This wasn’t going to be an old-fashioned vacation in a mountaintop chalet.

FOUR

April 21, Howey-in-the-Hills, FL

But, Lord, that doesn’t make sense.

They had parked their old Mercedes in the woods at the edge of a large lake nestled between rolling hills. It was the kind of American scene that painter Norman Rockwell would have favored. Vera had been enjoying the view.

What is it, Charles?

He wants me to prophesy in front of the old Seven-Eleven on Highway 19.

They had driven the Mercedes past the deserted store. Even as they went by, it was clear that the store had been vandalized and looted. All the windows were broken. No teen-agers hanging out. The entire area around the old store appeared deserted. No houses. No other stores. Nothing.

Wouldn’t that be like setting off firecrackers on a desert island? she asked. Do they really make a sound, if no one is around to hear them?

The person who set them off could hear them, he said. Let’s do it!

They found an old general supply store that had not yet been taken over by the new government. In a large cart they collected imperishable food, sturdy clothing and boots, camping, fishing and hunting supplies, including a bow with arrows.

While Charles took the cart to a checkout, Vera picked up the bow and an arrow and took aim as if she were going to shoot the arrow into an old globe in a dusty corner of the store. Are we going hunting? she asked.

Witnessing, he said.

He noticed the globe she was aiming at and inquired about it. The bearded shopkeeper told him everything was for sale. Just making ends meet, he said. Charles bought the globe for more than it was worth. He paid cash for everything. He and Vera had cleaned out their bank accounts before leaving Fort Lauderdale. Three years ago, their withdrawals would have amounted to a large sum of money. Now, because of inflation, it didn’t seem like much at all. They had enough to support themselves for six months. After that they would be on their own. Vera helped him cram everything into the loaded Mercedes.

Pointing at the globe, she asked, What do you want that thing for?

You’ll see.

They drove to the Seven-Eleven and parked. She watched as he removed the globe from the trunk and set it up in the middle of an unpaved parking lot that was overgrown with weeds. Then he took the bow and the quiver of arrows. Standing close enough to the globe so he couldn’t miss despite his inexperience as an archer, he removed an arrow from the quiver, aimed and shot it into the globe. It penetrated the surface and stuck fast.

After shooting six more arrows into the globe, Charles took a deep breath and, in an unnaturally loud voice, proclaimed, "I the Lord will bend my bow and fill