The Crest

The pair trudged from the Crest to the church in Old Portland City. They’d walked two hours to the destination based on something they read; something that piqued their interest. They came to hear words that would give them shelter in the storm of uncertainty. They needed a God.

The broadside said: “Prepare for the Armageddon. You can survive. The final tribulation is here. Be prepared. Tuesdays at 9 pm. The Nature Liberation Assembly Church of Hazelwood, Old Portland City.”

A beautiful female pastor in a long purple robe greeted them in the narthex. The pair looked at her; she smiled at them as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She possessed a magnificence that transcended the dark times, a spirit that lifted their hearts.

She beamed at them. “Welcome, brothers and sisters.”

They sat and waited in the nave with the others. There, they recognized other people from the Crest, but they dared not acknowledge them. On this clandestine mission, no one spoke.

The alluring pastor spoke. “You can survive,” she said.

“The righteous will cleanse the world and the evil will be annihilated. If you are lost, if you are alone, if you are serving on the Crest, we are here for you.” She stared at the couple.

“The evil is within our own walls; do you listen to their lies? Or do you want to be a part of change?”

The audience nodded in agreement.

“We are here for you. If you are down, we can help. If you want answers, we will respond. If you want companionship, we are here.”

“Yes, the planet is dying, science did that,” she said indifferently. “But we can heal the planet by removing that evil.” Her blue eyes pierced the crowd, enthralling them.

“Let us gather to pray. Dear God, we are here because you have warned us of these end times.” She mesmerized the crowd.

“Oh Father, in these climatic lost days, in this period of planet breakdown. Prepare us for the end. Help us be strong.”

The crowd repeated “help us.”

“Oh Father, in humanity’s darkest hour you would give us grace to die with dignity. That when your world is on fire, you would help us understand the truth.”

“Help us find the truth,” they said.

“Oh Father, that when your world is aching, you will heal it with your cooling winds.”

“Cooling winds,” they repeated.

“Oh Lord, that when our melancholia becomes so great, you will heal our frantic thoughts.”

“Heal our thoughts,” they said.

Oh God of Compassion, help us to face the world, to embrace the land, to live simply.

“Live simply,” they repeated.

“Oh Father, God of light, with the world in ruins, help us fight the evils of industry and the false god of science.”

“Help us fight,” they said.

“Oh Father, God of Compassion, from mountain peaks to the ocean depths, and across all months. Help us to survive the darkness that has come.”

“Help us through the darkness,” they said.

“Oh Father, the dark forces of technology have taken away our lands, removed from us the graceful flight of an eagle, and the pleasant scent of the lilac. Oh Father, God of Compassion, let us embrace the simple life and all its splendors. Today, as we witness the apocalypse and as we grow closer to the End Times, we await the rapture and the promise to guide true believers on the long walk to heaven. Let us embrace the rapture.”

“Embrace the rapture,” they repeated.