Why am I still here?

“Why am I still here?” That was the question Colin kept grappling with. “Aunt Helen is gone, disappeared—why am I still here?”

What happened?

He stood in her kitchen gazing out of the window into the well-tended garden. But he was careful not to step on that greyish residue on the ceramic tiles in front of the sink.

What was it; a case of spontaneous combustion? Did that really happen? Or was it something else? He was conflicted. If Helen was taken up in the so-called rapture, as some were now claiming, why was he still here?

He’d been in the basement fixing fuses. The lights had gone out in a few rooms, so she’d asked him to take a look. There were extra fuses in the box. Once he replaced the blown one he flicked the breaker and went upstairs to check if the problem was fixed. Success!

“I was right, it was a fuse,” he proudly announced while helping himself to a slice of freshly-baked apple pie. They often discussed God over pie and coffee—he joked that it was Helen’s Apple Pie Theology. She didn’t respond. He called out again. Nothing! Then he called louder. After suspecting the worst, he diligently checked the rooms to see if she’d collapsed. Still nothing! So he dialed her cell-phone. It rang on the little table, next to her Bible, beside her armchair.

Colin went outside to try the yards. He scanned up and down the street. She couldn’t have gone far. But Aunt Helen was nowhere. The last place he’d seen her was at the sink. When he finally inspected it he noticed the large grey smudge on the floor and cupboard door, and there was a burning whiff of odd fragrance in the air. Her walking cane leaned against the cupboard where she left it.

But if this was the rapture, where were her clothes and jewelry? Weren’t they supposed to be still here, like in those weird books? And why was he still here?

Snowballing chaos

Although he loved her, Aunt Helen was one of those rapture nuts people laughed about. She never tired of warning him to be prepared for the Lord’s coming.

“I’m old and could be gone before the Lord comes, Colin,” she told him.”I mightn’t be here to nag you. Better make sure you’re a Christian now. I love you, and worry regarding your salvation.”

How he resented that! Since Uncle Harry died, didn’t he help her whenever needed? Didn’t he drive her and her other widowed friends to Bible study every Wednesday night—and sometimes to church on Sunday? He did it even though it cramped his style with Ashley. She teased him about that, and it had become a perpetual joke with his friends.

He was a Christian, he re-assured himself. So was Ashley, and yet she was still here with him. Helen could be judgmental at times. According to her intolerant biblical worldview, everything they enjoyed was sinful. But God surely wasn’t some tyrannical spoilsport who needed to be worshiped and appeased; and who had His Son killed to accumulate blindly-devoted followers. Wasn’t God much bigger, more magnanimous and loving than that?

On that eventful day, it didn’t take long for social-media to blow up with other missing people reports from around the country and the world. Of course the word “rapture” trended on several media platforms. Meanwhile, he went through Helen’s phone and rang her church friends. None picked up. Moreover, the local police lines were too busy to respond to inquiries.

A snowballing chaos wrecked any semblance of peace around the globe. He hadn’t heard of planes crashing…yet. But there were hundreds of traffic incidents and riots.

In the midst of it all came the relentless mocking on social media. “Good riddance,” was a common theme. Different clever memes were passed around, and several comedians dreamed up funny routines. Along with other world leaders, the U.S. president initially remained silent. But official spokespersons (unsurprisingly) released several terse statements to reassure their respective nations. None offered any explanation.

Numerous websites went down; mostly Christian. Social media techies began monitoring and deleting speculative comments. Presumably it was all to stem rising panic. But it didn’t stop the flow of information.

A god of surprises

Helen vanished on Wednesday. By Friday, one senator put forward a theory. Before entering politics, she’d written several books on “Love” and “Oneness.” A professing Christian, Mary Wellings gently proposed that the Great Vanishing was simply Mother Earth purging herself. Those who’d been removed were obstructing the natural flow of spiritual evolution. And they sought to impose policies which were detrimental to the well-being of Gaia and future generations.

Colin thought it as hare-brained as the rapture theory. Ashley lost friends and family too. They met on the night of The Vanishing to exchange thoughts and console each other. Both couldn’t wait to hear Pastor Barbra’s sermon at church on Sunday. It wasn’t the same one Helen attended because she didn’t approve of it.

Dr. Barbra, as she liked to be called, was a middle-aged woman. An academic with a PhD, she’d written acclaimed treatises on religion, and everyone loved her. She contended that the Bible needed to be understood through a diversity of eyes, especially those of the marginalized; and affirmed that for two thousand years it had been hijacked by white patriarchy.

The church was packed that Sunday. Hardly anyone was sitting in the sidelines on the couches where they normally sipped mugs of freshly-brewed coffee and cups of tea. Dr. Barbra had everyone’s full attention when she approached the pulpit. As usual, her straight grey hair was perfectly set and she wore a large gold cross pendant over the rainbow scarf. She smiled warmly. After all became silent, Dr. Barbra spoke with excitement ringing in her voice.

“God is, indeed, a God of surprises!” she gushed. And then she went on to confess that for a long time doubt had filled her heart. She’d wondered about God’s silence, and began to question the Oneness of all things because of Christian division against all she held to be precious. “But God has finally spoken! She is on the move for the planet’s good. We have witnessed a miracle!” she announced happily.

Apparently Dr. Barbra agreed with Mary Wellings—that God had answered their prayers by mercifully removing the Separatists who opposed Oneness.

Why am I still here?

Halfway through an academic diatribe mocking weak-minded fundamentalists who still believed the rapture myth and the substitutionary atonement of sin, Colin and Ashley abruptly left. Interestingly, throughout Barbra’s lecture there was an awkward silence. No one seemed to find her witty jibes amusing.

Colin felt a heavy oppression. He and Ashley kept glancing over at each other. “Let’s get out of here,” she finally whispered. “There’s a rotten stench in this place,” he angrily said as they walked out.

Something didn’t gel with Barbra’s vile smugness. There was an inordinate confidence; a dismissive condescension. Although he disagreed with her, Aunt Helen was never like that. She was the most loving person he knew.

A part of him wanted the Great Vanishing to be the rapture just to vindicate his aunt’s character. But, “If she was taken in the rapture, why am I still here?” He asked this over and over again. Surely Aunt Helen left a clue somewhere.

Ashley and Colin vowed to find it.

Maranatha!