Month: March 2014

I return Phil’s things and he skewers me; consolation from friends–College Memoirs: Life at Roanoke–October 1994, Part 3

On October 2, I went to Immanuel Bible Church with Pearl, driven by a middle-aged (or older) man who went to the church.  We were to go there several times during the semester.

It was far too conservative for me, though I had no idea until reviewing the website just now, just how conservative it was.  I would have–metaphorically–run screaming if I’d known!

I wanted to go to the Evangelical Free church, but our driver had graduated.  So I went wherever I could, whenever I could–that is, until I got too used to sleeping in.

Once, possibly this first time we went, we passed Phil on the road as we left Roanoke.  He saw me, and I think he smiled at me.  I just sat there, stunned.

****

I started putting Dolphin Philosophy, complete with my usual drawing of a frolicking dolphin, on the message board we had by the bathroom door.  I wrote this on 10/2/94, which the dolphin Darwin said on SeaQuest DSV: “Darwin scared.  People bad!”

In a return to sophomore and junior year practices, I also started drawing little beetles on the board as well, every now and then.

Around this time, I’d look around at couples who’d been together a couple of years, and wonder, Will I ever have a lasting relationship, one that won’t fizzle out before the end of a year?

I’d look at people who were engaged or married and had been together for several years or more, and wonder, Will I ever last in a relationship long enough to get married and spend most of my life with a guy? 

We had Cinemax and HBO in the apartments.  But then at the general meeting for all the apartments, the meeting in which our Resident Assistant (RA) gave us cleaning supplies, somebody mentioned we were getting Cinemax and HBO.

The RA told us not to tell anybody from other residence halls, or they’d get jealous and complain.  Soon after, the cable guy hooked up our bedrooms so we could get cable outside of the living room.  (Without cable, not one channel came in on campus.)

We discovered that Cinemax and HBO were now scrambled.  We feared this would happen!

****

I found one of my small packing boxes.  I put in it the game “Crack the Case,” some mementos and pictures of Phil that he’d given me, and the porcelain bird.  (I kept very little.)

I was glad to include that game, which reminded me of him verbally abusing me and making me feel stupid whenever we played it.

I also put in the books and pencils he left behind that night he made the final decision to divorce me, and the bowl and spoon he left behind on the previous weekend.

I had cleaned them; I may have cleaned them before his final decision.  Otherwise, I probably would’ve been tempted to keep them dirty.

I put in a note that said simply, “These are some things of yours.  I can’t keep the bird anymore.”  I found our marriage contract, ripped it in two, and put it on the top.

I sent these to him through the campus mail.  I remember packing the box in the living room by the TV, and Sharon might have been there.

Sharon thought sending the bird back (and the ripped-up contract) was a good move that showed him I was breaking with him. 

He told me to keep the bird.  I’d been tempted, even encouraged by my friends, to break the porcelain bird, but a dream told me I’d regret doing this.  Instead, I gave it back to him, getting it off the living room shelf and out of my life forever.  It’s sad that that woman’s piece of art ended up meaning what it did to me.

Phil found me the next day, probably around the fifth, on my way back to the apartment after lunch.  He mentioned the “torn-up paper” and had a long talk with me.  He was civil, though he wasn’t kind.

He seemed offended by the torn-up marriage contract, even though he had been the one to nullify it.

He told me he was interested in doing something with Persephone.  He said he was going dancing on Saturday night in Fond du Lac–which we had planned to do together–and he was going to take her along instead.

I think he was going there with a group.

He also said, “It was never ‘us.'”  What a cruel thing to say!  And what was it supposed to mean?  To discount the past eight months, to discount our entire marriage,  like they meant nothing!

I don’t think I said much to that.  We also talked about how maybe in the future we’d be ready for each other, and I said I just wondered, how long?  (At the crack of doom, I guess.)  I came back in the apartment and cried.

I later got the impression that he and Persephone went dancing in Fond du Lac all the time.  It seemed like dancing in Fond du Lac was popular with S– young people.  It seems odd, because Fond du Lac kids talk like there’s nothing to do here.  And I believe the dance place where everybody went is now something else.

****

I traded a shift with Dirk, 9 to 11 pm in the library.  I sat folding Roanoke folders.  I kept one for myself because they were free.  Some guy dropped off these folders for us, just as he did the year before.

I liked them, but one of the librarians hated them.  She didn’t like how they were made, that they were unsolicited, and that since they were dropped off in the library, we student workers had to spend time folding them.  They were then left in a pile on the desk for anyone to take.

I liked mine, and later on in Winterim class, I decorated it with Celtic drawings and markers.  I ended up storing in it some papers I wanted to keep.  So she complained about them, but I loved mine.

Working at that time of night was scary, especially in what could be a haunted library.  And even if it wasn’t haunted, it was still scary to be out and about on the campus at night.

I was alert to shadows and bushes as I walked home, as I often would be that late at night, watching for guys who might want to jump me.  I didn’t use to be so jumpy at night on campus, until the rapist sophomore year put the fear of darkness into all us women without even stepping foot on the campus.

****

October 7-8.  I went to the InterVarsity Lock-in at Mike’s house.  It was held in the basement, which was made up into a rec room, and in one corner was the door to Mike’s bedroom.

It was nice to be there with my friends and not see Phil at all, but I was also depressed.  Persephone was there, and once asked me, “Is something wrong?”  I didn’t tell her it was Phil.

Guess what?  Phil dropped her off!  She apparently considered him weird, and just thought of him as a friend, but he insisted and she thought, Okay, whatever.

I tried to enjoy myself as best I could.  After all, many of my friends were there, and especially Mike.

While standing around the pool table eating and watching people play, Persephone’s roommate Trina said to me, “Right now, P is in his room having sex with a girl who Phil and I both think isn’t that pretty.”

This girl, apparently, was considered a slut, who all the guys (except Phil and, I hope, Mike) were hot over, and other girls didn’t understand why.  I didn’t know her, and didn’t know what she looked like, so I could say nothing about her.

As for P, a freshman, he had a girlfriend, but was known as a womanizer.  The girlfriend wasn’t on campus.  (Shortly before the end of the school year, according to Pearl, he said that his girlfriend taught him the value of a relationship without sex.)  In her absence, he slept with whomever he could find.

Spring Semester, Charles kept going on and on about him–P did this, P did that, P is so funny, P is so cool–so Pearl began saying, “I think Charles is in love with P.”  We’d laugh, especially since Charles was very much heterosexual.

We watched the Saved by the Bell movie which aired that evening, in which the blond kid married his girlfriend, the girl with the lovely, long brown hair (which she later cut off!  ergh!  when she went to 90210).

I didn’t watch the show myself, but some of my friends did.  I didn’t like watching someone get married, though, after my own marriage to Phil broke down before we even had a public wedding.  But I forced my feelings down so my friends could enjoy the movie.

We spent the night camped on sleeping bags, blankets and pillows on the floor in the basement.  Once I got up to go to the bathroom, stepped around my friends, and reflected on how life went on without Phil, that I was doing this apart from him and still having a good time.

Mike’s mother made us breakfast pizza the next morning.

****

We had made Mike an honorary woman and Phi-Delt because he hung around with us instead of guys, and acted “womanly” at times.  He loved the distinction.

Also, my friends and I recently went to Country Kitchen.  We were Tara, Pearl, Sharon, Astrid and me.  I don’t remember anyone else being with us.

I think that was the time I had a strange desire for the car to crash and I’d die (because of Phil), but I fought it off because that was so awful and would kill my friends as well.  I get thoughts like that when severely depressed.

There, we had ice cream desserts, and somebody asked who of us had crushes on Mike.  Astrid didn’t like admitting it, but we discovered or knew that she did or used to.  Sharon did or used to.  And I did.  Pearl thought Tara did, but she didn’t.

We wondered why so many of us liked him, because he was basically a dork (we meant that in the best possible way; we liked him the way he was).  We wondered if we didn’t have a big enough circle of guy friends, and that’s why we all kept falling for the same guy.

Of course, it could also be that he was one of few truly nice guys on that campus, not a drunk, druggie or out for all the booty he could get.

This may have been the time when a waitress kept banging drawers and snapping at us, so we thought she was having a nervous breakdown.

I don’t think it was anything we did or said.  Working at the S– Country Kitchen at night was said to be very stressful because of groups that come in and sit and have something to drink but nothing more, making the place very busy but with small tips.

Index 
Cast of Characters (Work in Progress)

Table of Contents

Freshman Year

September 1991:

 October 1991:

November 1991:

December 1991: Ride the Greyhound

January 1992: Dealing with a Breakup with Probable NVLD

 February 1992:

March 1992: Shawn: Just Friends or Dating?

April 1992: Pledging, Prayer Group–and Peter’s Smear Campaign

May 1992:

Sophomore Year 

Summer 1992:

September 1992:

October 1992–Shawn’s Exasperating Ambivalence:

November 1992:

December 1992:

January 1993:

February 1993:

March 1993:

April 1993:

May 1993:

Summer 1993: Music, Storm and Prophetic Dreams

September 1993:

October 1993:

November 1993:

December 1993:

January 1994:

February 1994:

March 1994:

April 1994:

Senior Year 

June 1994–Bits of Abuse Here and There:

July & August 1994:

January 1995:

February 1995:

March 1995:

April 1995:

May 1995:

 

 

“Soul Ties”–College Memoirs: Life at Roanoke–October 1994, Part 2

We’d always cheer if a glass got broken in Bossard: It was done during my freshman, sophomore, and junior years.

I didn’t usually cheer myself, just laughed at the cheering; maybe I clapped sometimes, I don’t remember.  I think I broke one myself, once.

The sad thing was, senior year, almost nobody cheered the broken glasses!  You’d hear the faintest “yay,” probably from a senior jock or somebody, but nothing from anyone else.

It seemed as if the freshmen didn’t know the traditions and didn’t care.  It was sad and wrong!

(Of course, in 1998 I discovered a Roanoke jock on a S– BBS, and he told me that people did cheer the broken glasses again, and the tradition had continued.  This was good to know.)

One day that semester, my friends and I went to Sonlight Books in S–, and we saw my old suitemate Tom there!  He cried out when he saw me, grinned, and chatted with me for a few minutes.

He was with a woman, I didn’t know who–sister?  girlfriend?  wife?  I kind of hoped she wasn’t his girlfriend (or wife), because here was a Christian guy who most likely wouldn’t treat me wrong.

After the way he’d changed, with the way he’d turned into this dynamic Christian, and the things he’d said and done before and after Peter broke up with me, I didn’t think he would treat me bad in any way.

But I didn’t know if I’d meet him again, or if I was really that interested.  It was still too soon after the breakup.

By the way, I never did see him again.  A websearch reveals that he got married, though it doesn’t say when.

After all this time, we finally got a peephole on our apartment door!  Now we could know if the person knocking–no, banging–no, slamming his/her fist against the door and scaring us all to heck was a crazed Zeta, or just our friend Mike, or even Astrid–she was known to do that, too.  (By the way, we found that amusing.)

Now that we had our PEEP-hole, after having ordered it so long ago (that was Roanoke maintenance for you), Tara liked to say, “We have our PEEP-hole!”  And we now liked to say, “Let’s look out the PEEP-hole! and see who it is!”  (We got this from here: )

A Sharon-ism, or something Sharon liked to say: “Schubert” instead of the sh– word.  It was amusing and unique, and much more colorful and creative than a cuss word.

Once, Jennifer and Sharon played a game on Pearl’s computer.  It had a kid who went through all the usual game levels and trials, and shot things, a game which seemed to be related to the game Phil had bought that summer with a kid who made a spaceship in his backyard and flew to Mars.  Once you got to a certain level on Pearl’s game, a homicidal Energizer Bunny tried to kill you.

Pearl said Jennifer and Sharon used to play it together all the time junior year.  Two people could play it at once, and they’d sing, “Kill the rabbit, kill the RABbit, kill the RABbit!”–yet another Bugs Bunny thing.

Once I made a remark about the electricity and water going off every year.  Charles said, “Say what?”  Actually, this turned out to be the only year besides maybe freshman year that the pump didn’t go out.  Sure, make a liar out of me….

One night, Mike and maybe one or two others called up the Psychic Hotline for kicks.  He hung up and told us they asked for his birthdate.  “If they’re psychic, they shoulda known my birthday!” he cried.

****

Friends and family told me Phil was psychotic and not good for me.

I asked God to please restore my soul, make me whole again, to return the part of my soul that Phil had received through sex with me, and return to him the part of his soul that I had.  I couldn’t deal with this connection, this joining, any more.

I wrote in a diary, “Part of my soul is gone, and I have part of my ex’s soul; without him around, I can’t reconnect with the part of my soul that’s gone.  There’s just an emptiness there, a feeling of being torn.”

This is a teaching in some churches, called “soul ties,” that with each person you have sex with, you exchange parts of your soul.

(This is not a teaching of the church I grew up in; I learned about it through The 700 Club.)

So to feel whole again and no longer connected to people you slept with before legal marriage, you must pray for your soul to be restored:

Obviously the two didn’t get married, but something spiritual “happened” when they were joined physically in the act of sex. They were “joined”; their souls were “tied.” …

Dangers of unholy soul ties

Unholy soul ties can be ‘demonic bridges’ between one person to the next. For example, if you were to have extra-marital sex with somebody who was involved in the occult and had horrible fears of demons, and was afraid of her own shadow..

you could end up with the same kind of tormenting spirits as she has, and be just as fearful (although you could have been afraid of nothing before sleeping with her!). This is because you are not only opening yourself up to a curse for sexual sin, but also a soul tie with a person who is tormented by demons. —Sex Outside Marriage

Once again, I took down Phil’s pictures and mementos, and put stuffed rabbit Benny back in the closet.  I hated putting him in there, since it wasn’t his fault and I’ve always tended to anthropomorphize stuffed animals.  But I just couldn’t look at him without crying.

Sometimes I would have him on the bed and whisper to him to tell his daddy to come home, sometimes he would be a comfort to me, but usually I couldn’t bear to have him around.

Peter’s gifts to me no longer bring me grief, and I can have them around if I wish, even smile at them.  But memories of Phil are so awful that I cannot stand to have Benny around.

In fact, when we moved in October of 1998, I found and threw out the rose stand of Phil’s first rose to me (Valentine’s Day 1994).  Mom has Benny now, and my niece plays with him.

I discovered some loot from Phil: a yellow highlighter I found in my bag, and some erasers he’d given me because he kept losing or ruining mine.

I didn’t remember where the highlighter came from, if he gave it to me or what, but he apparently forgot all about it, and it wasn’t worth giving back (if you want another one you can just buy one), so I didn’t bother.

Normally I’d insist on giving things back, but if he didn’t care enough about the highlighter to ask for it back, I might as well keep it.  So I gleefully did, feeling a sort of poetic justice about it.

****

One day my co-worker Megan and I chatted at the desk as we often did, and I said it was supposed to be a Christian college.  She said, “Roanoke isn’t a Christian college.  If it was, I wouldn’t have come here.”

Which supported the argument of my friends and I, that Roanoke wasn’t as Christian as it claimed.

This wasn’t just a conservative argument, by the way: Astrid and Mike agreed, and they were UCC.

Yet when I made the argument in a paper junior year, the teacher marked up my paper, saying I was wrong.

But it’s false advertising: If you’re looking for a Bible-type college, but get a secular one which calls itself “Christian,” now you’re stuck because you’ve enrolled, gotten financial aid, etc.

The “comfy chair” in the library was the one on the right behind the front desk.  Junior year we had that chair, which was padded, and a stool-like metal chair with a tiny back that didn’t lift me up very high on the desk.  It was hard to write while sitting on that chair without sitting on one leg, and I felt very short.

In the comfy chair, I still crossed my legs, sat on one leg, or double-crossed my legs–all very comfortable–but it was more for comfort than for height.  Senior year, we may have gotten a new, comfier chair and moved the old comfy chair to the left side, which would have been a great improvement.  I don’t remember now.

Megan said the person in the comfy chair had to answer the phone, so when I was there, I had to jump up and answer.

She was the rookie freshman and I’d been working there a year already, yet she kept telling me how to do my job.  The rest of us had fun giving back the remarks she gave us.  The library clerk was really good at that, so I wondered if he disliked her.

Megan said we were supposed to smile and say hi to everyone who came in.  So she did, and got after me for not doing it.  So I sometimes preferred working with Sharon or James, who I think worked with me that year.  They didn’t always say hi, either.

Megan also said I didn’t answer the phone right.  When it was on-campus I’d say “Library,” always wishing I could say, “libr’y!”  like the British do.  It would be much quicker and funnier.  When it was off-campus I’d say, “Roanoke College Library.”

Megan said for on-campus I should say who was speaking, and for off-campus I should say that along with, “Hello.”  I thought I answered the phone just fine.

****

I went to lunch one day and, while getting my food in the line, Mike’s mom said to me, “Somebody here wants to see you.”

Who could it be?  At first I thought it was Phil, come to make up with me.  It turned out to be a blonde with short hair, one of Peter’s exes, dressed in the white plastic Food Service apron.

I’d never met any of his other girlfriends before, and I didn’t know how she knew about me.  Did Mike’s mom tell her, or did Peter?  Hopefully it was Mike’s mom!

Last I knew Peter and I were on good terms, and he said he was wrong to treat me the way he did, but I probably still feared what he’d say to subsequent girlfriends about me, especially after the lies he told Phil and Phil’s mom.

After she explained who she was, she said with a smile, “We both have something against him [Peter]!”

I didn’t say much, being stunned at the situation and not knowing what to say, and wondering how much I really had against Peter anymore.  It was…weird.  I wondered if she intended to talk to me in the future.  But if I ever saw her again, she said nothing.

Index 
Cast of Characters (Work in Progress)

Table of Contents

Freshman Year

September 1991:

 October 1991:

November 1991:

December 1991: Ride the Greyhound

January 1992: Dealing with a Breakup with Probable NVLD

 February 1992:

March 1992: Shawn: Just Friends or Dating?

April 1992: Pledging, Prayer Group–and Peter’s Smear Campaign

May 1992:

Sophomore Year 

Summer 1992:

September 1992:

October 1992–Shawn’s Exasperating Ambivalence:

November 1992:

December 1992:

January 1993:

February 1993:

March 1993:

April 1993:

May 1993:

Summer 1993: Music, Storm and Prophetic Dreams

September 1993:

October 1993:

November 1993:

December 1993:

January 1994:

February 1994:

March 1994:

April 1994:

Senior Year 

June 1994–Bits of Abuse Here and There:

July & August 1994:

January 1995:

February 1995:

March 1995:

April 1995:

May 1995:

 

 

My friends tell me Phil is psychotic–College Memoirs: Life at Roanoke–October 1994, Part 1

From a letter I wrote a friend on October 1:

Everyone says Phil is psychotic, unstable, in urgent need of professional help.  My dad says he’s on the edge.

Even Phil’s friend Dirk, who’s trying to be objective but is Phil’s confidante much more than I’d even want him to be mine, says that pressures of school are probably getting to him as well as problems with me.

His home life is probably the biggest cause of this “psychosis,” especially since he lives at home instead of on campus.  Arguments are the way of life there, and it’s doubtful whether his parents even love each other anymore.

[When I asked Sharon, a Psych major,] if he was having another nervous breakdown…she said, “No, it’s a psychosis.”  She says he was already acting weird last semester.

(Maybe that’s why my friends started to not like him, even though the semester before they tried to get him to do things with us, and seemed to like him.)

Dad says he’d better find some counselor to talk to or maybe his priest, before he goes over the edge.

…Why do I keep falling for guys with problems?  I don’t even know about the problems until later, usually.  Why do the sweet guys I find keep turning out to be jerks?  I like weird, not psychotic!

For months my guy seems like a rare find, and then all of a sudden he changes on me.  I plan to send my story to [a magazine] as a warning to other people: Don’t get a “spiritual” marriage that isn’t legal!

I don’t want to regret the special times when Phil and I have “been” together, but I have been starting to.  I don’t know what to think of myself as: divorced or “fallen”?

I hope we do end up together, because our spirits have joined [Evangelical belief] and I don’t want to explain to my future husband that he’s not my “first.”

…Nothing makes any sense anymore.  My life was going along great and I knew where I’d be after graduation.

Now I don’t know what’s going to happen anymore.  I just want to leave this place, this whole world, but there’s no way I can myself without sinning [suicide=sin].

I feel like Job when he said, “Why does death come to those who don’t want it, and some seek for death and don’t find it?” (paraphrase)

I’ve been turning to my friends for a place to keep my sanity and make life bearable.  I don’t feel so lonely as I would have.  I’m not always inclined to do a whole lot, but I force myself to get out and do things.

This is one benefit I see in today’s more open society: Spiritual marriages and even sleeping with a boyfriend have become more “acceptable” than they were when I was in college.

I do see a spiritual marriage as real if the two people are truly joined in their hearts, and would no longer advise against it, unless it would cause problems with your religious leaders.

I don’t think I’d have such a moral quandary if I went through this now, in 2014.  But in 1994, I felt like I’d fallen morally.

Index 
Cast of Characters (Work in Progress)

Table of Contents

Freshman Year

September 1991:

 October 1991:

November 1991:

December 1991: Ride the Greyhound

January 1992: Dealing with a Breakup with Probable NVLD

 February 1992:

March 1992: Shawn: Just Friends or Dating?

April 1992: Pledging, Prayer Group–and Peter’s Smear Campaign

May 1992:

Sophomore Year 

Summer 1992:

September 1992:

October 1992–Shawn’s Exasperating Ambivalence:

November 1992:

December 1992:

January 1993:

February 1993:

March 1993:

April 1993:

May 1993:

Summer 1993: Music, Storm and Prophetic Dreams

September 1993:

October 1993:

November 1993:

December 1993:

January 1994:

February 1994:

March 1994:

April 1994:

Senior Year 

June 1994–Bits of Abuse Here and There:

July & August 1994:

January 1995:

February 1995:

March 1995:

April 1995:

May 1995:

 

“The Rapture”: Left Behind Review, Part 3

 

Previous parts of this review

As the Slacktivist blogger has noted, in the first book (Left Behind) we read that young Chloe somehow got from Stanford to Chicago to be with her dad, even while the Rapture’s aftermath made travel virtually impossible–meaning she has accomplished an amazing feat all by herself.  But we don’t see how she did it.

On pages 249 and 257 to 259 of this book, we finally get to see how she did it, and yes, she is quite resourceful.

Yet another example of what should have gone into Left Behind, rather than endless phone conversations and other frustrating filler, but did finally make it into this last book.

On page 261–after several of the early books, before her death, depicted her as dumb and narcissistic–we get a surprising revelation about Hattie:

Hattie Durham enjoyed the delectable secret that she was not quite as ditzy as she seemed to be.  How people reacted to her–particularly men–she had recognized so many years before that she couldn’t remember not using it to her advantage.

Women seemed to baby talk to her, as if because she was a beautiful blonde she couldn’t have a brain.  And men seemed to talk to her with their eyes, as if their gibberish was meaningless, which it often was.

It was, however, not true that Hattie was other than calculating.  She had largely charmed her way to senior-flight-attendant status just after her twenty-seventh birthday–no small feat–but these jobs were not just handed out.

She had had to study, to be a quick learner, to gain favor with passengers, fellow crew members, and superiors.  They didn’t give such a title to a body, a face, a hairdo, and makeup in uniform.

What amazes me is how often we’re told that blondes and other beauties are treated as dumb just because they’re pretty.  I’ve never based my opinion of another’s intelligence on how attractive she is or is not.

Several of my best friends in college, all very intelligent, were also blondes.  The only time I heard them called a “wind tunnel” (when sitting next to each other) was by Shawn, but he knew they were smart.

Hattie certainly is not helping herself–or women’s lib–by pretending to play into the stereotype.

Another revelation is that Hattie never intended to be a cheap fling for Rayford: No, she was in love, and wanted him to give up his wife and marry her.

On page 271, Raymie realizes that the judgments are giving him a “crash course in church history.”  Yet we go from second-century martyrs Polycarp and Papias to fourteenth-century Bible translator John Wycliffe!

Where’s everything that happened in church history in the intervening 12 centuries?  Or does it not count until the beginning of the Protestant Reformation?

All of chapter 26 (other than the breakaways to scenes in Heaven) is what happens on the plane after the Rapture.  It is full of emotion, fear, and how the flight crew handles the sudden disappearance of dozens of passengers.

It also goes more into how Hattie and Rayford relate to each other, when they had planned to take their relationship to the next level, but instead were thrust into this crisis.

Where was this in the first book?

On page 309, we get into the thoughts of Rayford’s co-pilot Chris Smith (and soon find out why he killed himself in Left Behind); we read, “[The disappearances weren’t] going to be something he could watch on TV and gas about with his poker buddies.”

Er–what?  What th’ heck is “gas about”?  What generation used/uses that term, because it sure isn’t Gen-X or the Millennials?  If you’re going to use slang, shouldn’t it at least be from the 21st century?

We also learn about Smith’s wife, plain Jane, a good woman–whom Chris cheats on at every port (including recently with Hattie, as we learn on page 317).

Chris also has another wife and family (yes, a bigamist).  He thinks, “And [Jane] was a servant.”  What? a servant?  What, your wife waits on you hand and foot?  Some guys are never satisfied….

On page 319, Raymie, who has a big globe in his heavenly mansion, uses the globe to go back in time to watch the beginning of the world.  Sure enough, he starts in the Garden of Eden, and thinks, “It had all been true, the biblical record, and Raymie could immerse himself in every incident and see as it played out.”

Take that, evolutionists!  Even with all your fancy science, which has been proven to be correct again and again, yer wrong!

As we continue, the description of events on the plane is, yet again, what we should have seen in Left Behind.  Where was all this adventure and emotion back then?  I feel cheated!

On page 341, the apostle Paul is next up to be judged.  He “seemed eager to meet Jesus.”

But–Wouldn’t he have already met Jesus when he died and went to Heaven?  That’s how most of the Christian denominations seem to teach it: that when you die, you go to Heaven (or Paradise, the “holding tank” before the judgment), but not soul sleep.

Are the authors now telling us the correct teaching is soul sleep, which belongs to Jehovah’s Witnesses and Seventh-Day Adventists, not the Christian mainstream??

The end of the book leads into the second book of the series (Tribulation Force), as these last three have been prequels to Left Behind.

And then we get the author’s note, where we are assured that the authors’ version of the End Times is correct and anyone who would tell you different is a false messiah and false prophet deliberately teaching error and led by Satan (p. 348).

Which would include a large number of Christian denominations, including the most conservative ones, Catholic and Orthodox.

So we must follow the authors’ two keys to understanding the Second Coming, which are “You must take the Bible literally, including prophecy” and “You must keep in mind that there are two stages to the Second Coming.”

Never mind that both keys are just plain theologically WRONG.

And, of course, when the authors are asked why the books are “the most popular fiction series ever,” they say it’s “based on the Bible’s forecast of the last days,” “which many find fascinating”–and, of course, that’s “aside from Jerry’s incredible fiction-writing gift.”

Er–his what?  If it’s so incredible, then why is it mocked by the Slacktivist and so many others across the Net?  Why have I often felt like, “Why, again, am I slogging through these books?”

On page 350, LaHaye refers to his “nonfiction prophecy books”–I don’t think “nonfiction” means what you think it means….

Then he writes that “after you compare them” (the Rapture and the Glorious Appearing, as described in his books) “you will realize that they cannot possibly be describing the same event.”

Er–I’ve read many other books, including the Bible, and realized that they cannot possibly be describing TWO events.

And now on, FINALLY, to the LAST book!  Yippee!

[11/27/13-12/5/13]

Find all my Left Behind book reviews here.

 

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