The Ultimate Train Ride

By The Disciple

The Ultimate Train Ride is the adventure of a lifetime. No other train in the history of the world will take you on a ride like this. It will encapsulate every human emotion that you possess. The train will reach higher peaks and lower valleys than ever seen before. You will laugh, you will cry, you will celebrate, and you will mourn. The train will take turns and twists you never thought possible.

There may be times when you are sitting in the main compartment surrounded by people, and yet you will feel terribly alone. There will also be times when you are alone in your cabin and feel as though someone is always with you.

There will be times when you look out the window at all the amazing sights to see, and yet you will miss the most beautiful sight of all. There will be other times when you close your eyes to rest, and you see visions of grandeur that words cannot express.

Pictures may tell a thousand words, but even that cannot possibly scratch the surface of this ride. There is no description worthy to consider; you just have to experience it for yourself. So what are you waiting for? Hop on, fasten your seat belt, and get ready for what will assuredly be a lifetime worth of memories.

May God richly bless you all,

The Disciple

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685177461

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The Ultimate Train Ride

The Disciple

Copyright © 2022 by The Disciple

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

All scriptures, unless otherwise stated, are taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Listen and Learn

Death Was Everywhere

The Enlightenment

Life Is Good

The Calling

Baby Steps

The Missionary

The Hindu Women

The President

The Sermon

Getting Right with God

Blessed Are Ye That Hunger

The Lord’s Name in Vain

The Sauna Ministry

The Six-Hundred-Foot Tidal Wave

Rome Is Rome, and Italy Is Italy

The English Professor

The Wedding Weekend

The Honeymoon

COVID-19

Dedication

During the course of writing this book, I had referenced many people, some of whom were my family members. I mentioned my brother considerably because he accompanied me on a mission journey, and my father, because of the many wise things he said to me over the many years, and sometimes the incredibly funny things he has said to me over the many years, and really all the tremendous life lessons that can only be handed down by someone like him who has experienced them. I could go on and on about how much I love my dad, and I cherish to this day every moment I have to talk to him. But with all of that being said, it is my dearest, sweet, and loving mother whom I dedicate this book to.

If there is any chance in this world for me to do right, it is because of her tireless work as a mother and as a Christian. She would drag my brother and I into church every Sunday rain or shine. If we needed extra incentive in the form of our earlobes being tugged on, she was more than happy to do that as well. When we were little, she was the Bible school teacher for all the little kids, my brother and I included.

She was always so positive no matter what was happening. She would always tell my brother and I we could be anything we wanted to be, if we were willing to work hard enough to be it. Maybe some of the rich kids’ parents would tell them something like that too. But it just wasn’t the same as when my mother told us. The rich kid might have heard what they said, but it would never mean as much to them, because they knew even if they didn’t work hard enough, they would still have a golden parachute to soften their landing.

All my brother and I had was a belief in every word our mother had told us. And that was all we needed. If there was a picture in the dictionary to define someone who walks it like they talk about it, it would be my mother. Her life was a whole lot more than just a positive speech here and there for my brother and I.

To attest to her hard work, she was a tireless employee for many years. She had the respect of many of her coworkers who would stay in touch many years after she had left the company. Not only would she do all the things mothers do at home, but since my brother and I were very active in sports, Mom wouldn’t hesitate to play catch with us or even take a few swings from the plate.

To attest to her positive attitude that was far more than just words, she suffered in horrible pain for decades because of her affliction with multiple sclerosis. As she was a very independent person, at first, it just affected her mobility a little. It went from a little to more and more. She went from a cane, to a walker, to a wheelchair. And finally it hurt so bad for anybody to move her even to the wheelchair that she for all extensive purposes became bound to her bed. This of course produces horrible bedsores, and as they would try to turn her over, she would scream in pain from that even worse than the bedsores.

This went on for many years. She never once complained, not even for one second. No why me, pity parties, never once. She never lost faith in God, not once. In fact, her faith just got stronger, until the very end.

My father, my brother, and I had always agreed unanimously that hands down bar none, she was by far the toughest of us all. And while she suffered a great deal of the time while she was on her train ride, I know when I see her how much she will tell me it was worth every second because of the reward she received when her train ride was finally over.

I love you, Mom, and I will see you soon.

Your son,

The Disciple

Preface

Please let it be known that I personally have nothing against famous authors, having everyone want to interview them and being invited to all the best parties in town, and any other accolades that would be bestowed upon them, which come with being an accomplished author. If I were writing books about anything but the subject matter pertaining to the kingdom of God, I would probably be the first in line to receive any and all perks I could, if, of course, I were fortunate enough to be considered a successful author.

The reason I will not sign my actual name to the book is very simple. In matters regarding God, and his wonderful plan of salvation, any attention that might be given to me, whether it be good, bad, or indifferent, could possibly detract from the whole purpose I wrote the book. The purpose is also very simple; it is my utmost desire and would be an answer that I was looking for many prayers of mine. It is just this: that all who will read this book no matter what they believe in, or maybe don’t believe in, would just take a moment to pause and try to open their hearts and minds to the message and ask themselves the following questions:

What if this God he speaks about in this book is real?

What implications would this have on my life if it is real?

I pray that all who read this book will not only ask these questions, but diligently search their hearts and minds for the answers.

After all, if I am wrong and none of this is true, then what have you to lose?

But what if I am right?

It is my most sincere hope with all my heart, mind, and soul that you do indeed ask these questions. Because if I am right, and as God is my witness I am indeed, then think of the eternal consequences if you do not consider those questions.

Introduction

I have truly had a fond appreciation for trains from the earliest days of my childhood that I can remember. The lights flashing, the bells ringing giving warning to the approaching motorist that the massive metal behemoth is about to come roaring through. The automated wooden arms at the railroad crossing come down signaling it is time to stop. As the motorist begins to stop, they sit and wait impatiently wondering when it is going to come and how long it will take to go by so they can speed off to their destination. For most children, the train is not a hindrance but a sight of wonder and amazement. Here come the engines roaring by. I always count them because I know the more engines there are, the longer the train will be. Sometimes it would seem like it would go forever. But where did the train come from, and where was it going? The innocence and simplicity of a child’s mind is quite a gift. The simple joy that I would derive from watching the train go by paled in comparison to the experience of riding on a passenger train. My first train ride, so I am told, was at the tender age of six months old. Of course I do not remember it, but my mother told me she was a little worried about how I would handle it, but she said I never cried once and seemed to be quite content. I could not help but think that subconsciously my joy and fascination might have started right there.

It was not until much later in life that I discovered an incredible secret—the ever-elusive train known to a select few as the Ultimate Train Ride. This magnificent train was unique in every way. It was capable of traveling around the world. The amount of passengers it could carry was far too many to count. The cost of a ticket for this train ride would not be affordable for even the richest man in the world.

But because of the overwhelming generosity of one very special benefactor who built this train from scratch, he would issue one ticket to everyone, but only one ticket, because of the associated cost that came with it. There was only one catch to it: you were not able to choose where or when you boarded the train or where or when you would depart from the train.

Chapter 1

Listen and Learn

I took the leap of faith as they say and started upon my journey. As I looked around the train, I saw crowds of people as far as the eye could see. I was fortunate enough to have been given a prize window seat, which I would thoroughly take advantage of. But for now I was enjoying the fine art of people watching. There was every type of person you could imagine: young, old, male, female, people from every race and religion. I really did not know just what to think about this trip, but one thing is for certain, it was going to be interesting.

As I started to settle in and relax after a few days of travel, I started to notice the different habits of all the people in my area of the train. Many of the people would be working away on their computers most of the day. Some of the older passengers would still enjoy reading books and magazines to pass the time. There were many who would frequently pace the aisles while talking on their cell phones. And of course there were lots of children of all ages. Some were very well behaved, and some were not.

As the days became weeks, the sound of the wheels on the railroad tracks became hypnotizing. Because this noise was subtle but constant, it had the effect of a type of laser focus on hearing the different conversations of the people in my area. The obvious white-collar businessman would constantly be engaged in talks that ultimately had to do with obtaining large sums of money. It didn’t matter the product in question or the means by which it would be obtained as long as the outcome was financially favorable to him. The obvious blue-collar workers’ conversations would oftentimes revolve around money as well. Their conversations were a little different though. While they were talking about money, it wasn’t how much they were making or trying to make. It was usually more of a worried tone of how they were going to be able to afford the things they want. Then there were the poorer people who would talk about money too, and their conversations were even a little different than the blue-collar folks. Their conversations had a much more worrisome tone, even desperate in some cases. They were not talking about which corporation they were going to raid like the white-collar people, nor were they talking about being able to afford college for their children like the blue-collar people. They were talking about being able to provide the basic needs of food and shelter for the survival of their families.

Sitting back in my seat and reflecting on all the conversations I could hear made me come to the conclusion that it must be extremely stressful to be an adult. It wasn’t that many of the people talking didn’t have an occasional moment of laughter and enjoyment because it seemed that most did. But what they all had in common was their intense preoccupation regarding matters of money. It took all different shapes and forms, but in the end, it revolved around the almighty dollar. After a time, I started to realize something else they had in common. Whether they were the rich or the middle class or the poor, they would do whatever they had to in order to achieve the next monetary hurdle. The rich, whether they were female or male, or young or old, all had several things in common: they were smooth-talking every part of the deal they were working. They were always able to make it sound to whoever was on the other side of the phone that this was the opportunity of a lifetime. They had a quick answer for every question, and whatever they were selling or buying, they always made it sound like there were compelling reasons why the deal needed to be closed as soon as possible.

The blue-collar workers had many things in common as well. These hardworking men and women were willing to work two and three jobs if they had to. They needed to have the husband and the wife work in order to pay the bills. This meant they had to hire a babysitter or a nanny to watch their children while they were working. Some of them had horror stories about their babysitters. In order to get a good one, they often made the same amount of money that the parents would make at one of their jobs.

The poor people struggled even more. Many of the families only had one parent; it was usually the mom. I don’t know why most of them didn’t have fathers, but it made me very sad to see. Because the mother was by herself, she would have to work two or three jobs and pay for a babysitter if she could. I heard a few of them talking, and sometimes they had to leave the children alone while they were at work. Many of them would try to get government assistance if they could to help put food on the table.

I said to myself these were three very different financial classes of people, and yet they all spent the majority of their time and energy deeply concerned about matters of money. So what else did they have in common, if anything? The more I listened, the more I learned. The rich would constantly set financial goals or milestones. They would range from cars, houses, boats, planes, acquiring other companies, and so on. If they had a million dollars in the bank, the next milestone would be five million. If they had five million, the next milestone would be ten million. If they had ten million, they would strategize how they could get to a hundred million. And of course if they got that far, it would only be natural to want to be a billionaire. And then there was one guy I was listening to who was a multibillionaire who couldn’t possibly run out of money even if he tried. And logically he was the one who worked more hours than any of the rest. He seemed just a little bit smarter and cunning as well. But what was he trying to do? What was he trying to accomplish? And why?

After hearing several of the blue-collar people talk, I realized they were just as diligent about setting goals and milestones. Theirs were very different of course because they didn’t have anywhere near the same financial means as the rich people. Nevertheless, it was a never-ending series of financial quests that had to be achieved. One man said to his wife, If we can sacrifice eating out so much and not take any vacations for a few years, we might be able to come up with the fifty thousand dollars the mortgage lender said we would need to buy that house we have always wanted. Another couple sounded like they had a little envy over the new Chevy pickup truck their neighbor had bought and thought that they really needed to have something nice like that as well. Many of them talked about getting more overtime pay, and some really seemed concerned about why they hadn’t received that job promotion that they felt was well deserved and long overdue.

Then my heart really went out to the poorer people. Although their goals were radically different from the other classes of people, they were no different in setting goals and milestones. One lady I heard talking was so grateful that she had just made rent the week before and was able to feed her children dinner every night that week except for Thursday night. The very next sentence she admitted that she was a little more tired than usual because of working the three jobs and taking care of the kids when she got home. The person on the other end of the phone must have asked her if she was eating enough too. She had a kind of awkward pause on the phone before she said, Oh yes, I am fine. The person on the other line must not have believed her because it sounded like they questioned her response. Reluctantly she admitted to having a bowl of Top Ramen at least three or four times last week. The response on the other end of the phone was so loud I could actually hear them say, You mean to tell me you only had three bowls of Top Ramen for the entire week? And then without hesitation, the lady said with a smile to try to put the person at ease, Well, you know I have been dieting, trying my best to lose weight so I can be healthy for my children. After another few token reassurances, the lady was able to gracefully end the conversation and go about her business.

There was a really sweet lady named Shirley whom I met the other day who was only two rows away from me. She must have been talking to a friend because she was crying and said, I don’t know what will happen to my children as all of my relatives have passed away. She was so sad because she was told by the doctor that she had stage 4 cancer that was inoperable, and there was nothing they could do. The doctor had told her, If you only would have come in for regular checkups, we would have caught it, and it would not have been a big deal. What the doctor didn’t know is that she had no insurance and couldn’t afford to come in for regular checkups. When the children would get sick or occasionally injured as most kids do, she would take them to the emergency room, and they would have to help her. But receiving regular checkups and general medical maintenance and advice just was not possible. She had four young children all under the age of ten years old who were at best destined for an adoption center where maybe someone would adopt them, but the odds of all the children being placed together was extremely slim, and the mother knew it.

So what had I learned from hearing all of these people? On the surface they all seemed so very different, but while the goals and milestones were indeed radically different, some of the goals were reached, and some were not. Sometimes in the case of the lady with cancer, the goals were literally a matter of life and death. The common denominators were all similar. They all worked very hard, some with their hands, some with their minds, some with a combination of both. They all had deadlines that had to be met. Some were set by their bosses or bill collectors, and some were goals they set for themselves. Either way they all had what seemed to be a tremendous amount of pressure and stress related to matters of money.

There was something else that would happen almost every single time. It didn’t matter which of the three classes of people; they all reacted to the situation the same way. Whenever they would reach a goal or a milestone, they would appear to have one form of happiness or another. For some, it would be a sense of accomplishment. For the more narcissistic types, it would be as if they added another trophy to stack up on their I love me wall. For others, it was a source of true elation and relief that they were able to survive another month. No matter the type of celebration, they were all very short lived. And then the cycle repeated itself. A new goal was set with a whole different set of circumstances and obstacles to overcome in order to get over the next hurdle.

I was simply dumbfounded by what seemed to be a never-ending series of events that would take up what seemed to be every waking moment, and every ounce of energy these people had. My next thought was, is this really what I had to look forward to? Or was I missing something?

Chapter 2

Death Was Everywhere

I always enjoyed a couple of good-quality cups of coffee in the morning to gather my thoughts and prepare myself for the day. A very light snack and a little exercise always seem to start my day on a positive note. This day was particularly beautiful as we were passing through a valley with snowcapped mountaintops. There was a slight cloud cover just over the top of the mountain but not enough to cover a wonderful beam of sunshine that was bursting through that gave warmth to my face as I peered out the window. Directly outside the window just past the tracks was a green meadow. You could see what looked like a light amount of steam coming from the grass as the warmth of the sun melted the morning dew. As I was caught up in the moment thinking about what a magnificent morning it was, I started to look around to see if everyone was enjoying it as much as I was. I did notice some people doing the same thing I was, but most of the others were going about business as usual.

The teenagers were always very consistent in their habits or should I say rituals. They would of course start by checking all of their messages on their cell phones. Some would be voice mails and text. But mostly it would be via the usual suspects of social media apps. After responding back to any messages that they thought worthy of responding to, then of course they would see how many more followers they had on their Instagram account. Once those high-priority matters had been taken care of, now of course it was time to start taking those ever-important selfies to see how good they looked and naturally the shameless self-promotion of their various social media platforms.

The adults mostly seemed to be creatures of habit as well. Coffee was the usual medicine of choice for the morning while gazing over the morning news. The older people would still read the newspaper, and pretty much everyone else would read or watch the news on their electronic portable devices. This all seemed pretty par for the course, the only difference being of what particular topics they were interested in. It ranged from business and finance to politics, and sports was always a popular one as well. Then of course headline grabbers would put whatever horrific event that involved criminal activity that led to massive amounts of death and chaos. I had always wondered what was so compelling about things of a morbid nature that would consistently get people to stop whatever they were doing so they could focus on the carnage

I felt the train slowing down as we would be pulling into a station in a few minutes. The train was so long that if I looked out the window, I could see many of the train cars in front and to the rear of me, but I couldn’t even come close to seeing the engines or the caboose on the train.

As we pulled into the station and came to a stop, I noticed that most of the people in my car were looking out the window. Naturally I wanted to see what was so important when I noticed two men carrying a stretcher off the train. This was definitely not someone who twisted their ankle while tripping over someone’s foot in the aisle. The person that was being carried off was in a fully-zipped-up body bag. Your mind starts to race, wondering what had happened to that person.

Then I saw what must have been the family members who were crying uncontrollably. I didn’t even know the person, but it still had a profound effect on me knowing that one day everyone I knew and loved would eventually wind up in one of those bags. Because of that very sobering prospect, I tried to preoccupy my mind to focus on things much less permanent.

After a brief period, I heard the engineer in his custom shouting the call all aboard!

At the last minute, I saw a mother hurrying up to the steps to heed the engineer’s call and board the train. She had what looked to be a brand-new baby boy swaddled in a crochet-knitted cover. The only reason I knew it was a boy was the tiny little blue beanie cap he was wearing, with his almost angelic but very tired face peering out as he peacefully slept in his mother’s arms. As the train pulled away, I gazed out the window still a little perplexed at the events of the morning. All of a sudden I felt a small but comforting smile start to come onto my face. The part of my mind that was trying to process death quickly shifted to the precious brand-new baby and her proud, protective, and loving mother who had just boarded the train. I thought surely that would bring a smile to anyone’s face.

The train picked up its pace as we continued to travel on our journey. The views seemed to be even more spectacular the farther we went. After a couple of lovely but uneventful days, the train started slowing again to pull into the next station. A few moments after we came to a stop, I saw the people all looking out the window again. This time it was only a few cars in front of us. I thought, What now? And then it happened again. This time there were four people carrying two stretchers, and yes, there were two fully-zipped-up body bags on the stretchers. How could this be? After a brief period of astonishment, and borderline shock, my heart started racing; my mind was spinning even faster. What was going on? Had the food we were eating gone bad? Or worse yet had somebody poisoned it? Was there some sort of psychotic serial killer aboard this train? Could this all possibly be some explainable strange coincidence? One thing was for sure, I was not the only one who was deeply concerned. I tried to remain cool and not let the other passengers see me worrying, but that didn’t stop them from a whole host of different reactions, some ranging from sheer panic to a cavalier attitude as though it had no effect on them at all, and every other kind of reaction in between. I had no idea what exactly was going on, but I was determined to find out no matter what I had to do.

Once again the train pulled away from the station, and away we went. Although I continued to look out the window, my mind was not focusing on the scenery but trying to process what could possibly be happening. People began to settle somewhat, but there was still the smell of fear in the air that seemed thick enough to be cut with a knife. After a few days and restless nights, the people were trying to carry on with their lives in a normal fashion. It was almost time to pull into the next station as I felt the train slowing again. This time I braced in anticipation of all the people going toward the windows. As we came to a stop, I looked around, and there wasn’t the commotion that I had seen the last two times we stopped. I had a momentary sigh of relief, when I decided to open my window and stick my head out so I could see further down the train just to make sure. Part of me really wishes I hadn’t done that. I still couldn’t come close to seeing the very front or back of the train, but I could see considerably farther in each direction. I looked as far as the eye could see in front of me, and what I saw, I simply couldn’t believe. I paused for a moment to make sure I wasn’t imagining things, when I had come to the realization that it was indeed real. I checked myself as to not alert anyone else and cause absolute pandemonium. Then suddenly an even more horrifying thought had raced across my mind—I hadn’t yet looked behind me. Sure enough, I saw the same thing behind me. What I had seen was absolutely mind-boggling. There were more stretchers, more people carrying them, and yes, more people fully zipped up in body bags that I could possibly count as far as I could see in both directions. When the train started as usual to pull away from the station, I thought for sure at any moment there would be a stampede of people in panic mode fighting for their lives to get off the train. As I held my breath with a fearful expectation, nobody seemed to notice anything. A few more minutes went by, maybe fifteen at most, which at the moment seemed like an eternity. It was at this point I realized I was the only one in my train car that looked out the window. Thank God for the small details like that.

I silently took stock of my current situation. I thought to myself, I do not drink alcohol. I do not take drugs. And even though I was quite capable of doing wild and crazy things like many kids do, I certainly was not considered to be crazy or insane by clinical or legal definition. Once I had passed my own self-examination, I moved on to what I thought could be possible reasons for this amount of mass casualties. There were far too many bodies for a serial killer to use the more common methods of achieving their heinous acts of human depravity. The poison theory seemed possible, but I believe the random selection of targets would not be very likely to achieve because of the fact there were only so many choices on the menu, and invariably the different people in my train car would have by their sheer numbers sampled at least some of everything on the menu.

Then a scary thought popped into my head: if this was some sort of killer virus, that would explain the sheer random selection and the large body count. I thought if this was true, or even rumored to be true, the potential chaos that would ensue would be a worst nightmare scenario. Suddenly what I had previously considered the opportunity of a lifetime to be able to take a trip on this amazing train now seemed like I was trapped in a giant moving prison of death.

Chapter 3

The Enlightenment

I possessed a knowledge that at the very least the people in my general vicinity were not privy to. With this knowledge comes responsibility. How could I stop whatever was happening to prevent more people from dying? And of course what steps would I need to take to make sure I was not the next statistic of the random selection of death? If it got to me, was there anybody else willing to do whatever it would take to stop this force of death? I took as deep of a breath as I could to gather myself and try to take a step back. I did this often when in stressful situations because I knew if I didn’t, all I would see is the massive tree smack dab in front of me blocking my vision from seeing anything else. As the famous saying goes, how can you see the forest if all you can see is the tree standing in front of you?

At first, I still saw nothing that would seem relevant to the current situation at hand. And then I remembered a poem my mother had once read to me. It was called The Station by Robert J. Hastings. It was a deeply philosophical poem that had a profound effect on me. It too was about a train ride, and while I only heard it once and certainly did not memorize the poem, I believe I fully understood the point Mr. Hastings was trying