Armageddon's Prisoners 3

Unlike the austere Gathering Houses Disciples used around the world, the Apostle’s conference room contained only the best appointments.  Where Houses had cheap plastic chairs and inexpensive carpet, this room boasted deep Italian leather chairs surrounding a polished granite table.  The building, built as a luxury hotel, never saw its intended use.  The First Apostle bought the property to use as the Foundation’s headquarters. The Apostles still preserved the hardwood floors, delicate filigree head rails, and window casings.

Laban Packard looked out the windows for a moment, watching a seaplane speed across Lake Union to take off.  Although he knew the plane made a tremendous noise, no sound penetrated the thick glass, rumored to be bulletproof.  Some days, soundproof glass seemed like a good idea. 

“John,” he said mildly, “could you at least stop swearing, it’s unseemly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Doug Sadler nod vigorously.  Doug, the oldest of the twelve men around the table, disliked many of John Rodgers’ habits, although they were friends.  At seventy-four, John was only a couple of years younger than Doug.  Eleven of the twelve men were over sixty. 

“I’m Chief Apostle!” Rodgers snapped, “I’ll talk any way I Goddamn well please.”

Laban saw Peter McCarrick, sitting across the table suppress a smile, “John, the office of Chief Apostle no longer exists.”

Rodgers faced turned even redder.  Laban tried to think of reason to excuse himself, he expected the meeting to get even uglier.  Rodgers, as if by magic changed his mood.  The people working with him soon grew accustomed to his sudden mood shifts. 

“You’re right, I really need to keep my emotions in check.”  He scanned the table smiling, “I’m sorry, I was out of hand.”

His attention turned to the empty seats, normally occupied by aides and secretaries, lining the walls of the room. 

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re in executive session, no witnesses.” 

He laughed mirthlessly at his own joke. 

“So let’s get back to work.”

“As I was saying,” David Howell continued, “I think we need to find a way to make the Disciples understand there is nothing fundamentally wrong with our interpretation of Bible prophecy.  It is clear that we are well into the Last Days.  Surely the great day of The Lord is not far off. 

“I regret my part in promoting the 2011 date, I still think the calculations are correct.  I’m continuing my research, perhaps my mistake involves lunar versus solar years…”

“And that brings us back to my point,” Philip Hogeboom snapped, “what if we’re wrong?”

Laban nodded, Phil was the real scholar among the Apostles.  He read Greek, Hebrew and Latin with a reasonable degree of fluency, something none of the others could claim. 

“We can’t be wrong,” Robert Olzak interjected, “clearly The Lord has placed us here to lead His people through the End into Paradise.”

“That’s circular reasoning.  “We lead in the time of the end, we’re leading so this is the time of the end.’  We’ll never get off this merry-go-round if we don’t change our approach.”

Laban looked up in surprise, Peter McCarrick focused on business aspects of the Foundation, he rarely involved himself in theological debates.  His motivation became apparent with his next words.

“I agree, the coming Paradise is a fundamental feature of The Lord’s Word.  However, it is not the only feature.  Our Disciple-making methods are no longer effective in today’s world.  We should branch out into modern media.  Instead of telling our young people to avoid college and career we should encourage them to pursue financially rewarding lives and donate more money to the Foundation.”

McCarrick’s eyes swept the table, taking in the reflexive disagreement of most of his colleagues.  The Foundation had long discouraged education and career as distractions from the commission to make Disciples.

“Look how well it’s worked for the Mormons…”

“Damn it,” Rodgers went off again, “I’m not going to take my example of leadership from a bunch of crazy cultists.  What’s next? Recruit Hollywood harlots like Scientology?”

David Howell grinned, for a moment breaking out of the funk that had consumed him since 2011 came and went with no Armageddon.

“I don’t know John, ‘Hollywood Harlots’ has a nice ring to it.”

For a moment, Laban thought Rodgers’ head would explode.  But after a moment, he too joined in the laughter.

“Well we’re not going to set a new strategic direction for the Foundation today.  Let’s all jot down some thoughts on the matter and we’ll take it up next week.  We can call in the others and start our regular session.”

**

That evening Laban stopped by Phil’s living quarters for a private chat.  Phil’s wife said he was in the library.  Laban took the walkway over the street that connected the Apostle’s space with the administrative annex housing the library.  He found Phil in his favorite location, the ancient language section.  Laban was sure that nobody else used the small room with Greek and Hebrew texts.

“Good evening, Phil, what are you doing in here?”

“Thinking.”

“Do we still do that?”

“Well,” Phil said sarcastically, “somebody has to.  We’ve  trained the Disciples not to do it for themselves.”

For several minutes, the two men talked about the current state of affairs at the Foundation without discovering anything new.  Both expressed concern over the rot and disinterest in the religion’s core.  The failure of the 2011 prophetic interpretation provided ample ammunition for the Word’s critics, and the Disciples had no idea what happened to the hope they had chased for many years.

“I’m hearing about more and more problems in the local Gatherings,” Laban noted, “people are getting crazy.  Just this morning I got a letter about three Servants in New York running an investment scam.  And another letter about possible wife swapping in a Gathering in California.

“That’s not how the Lord’s people are supposed to behave.  And it’s our fault.  We told them the world was about to end, that they would be living in Paradise with a thing to worry about.  We told them we had all the answers, now they have no idea how to live.”

Laban had no idea how to answer that.  It was all true.

**

John Rodgers and David Howell sat in the corner of John’s living room, a small conversation nook nestled between two large windows with panoramic views of Seattle. 

The city blazed with light, which shimmered on the water of Lake Union.  The Space Needle towered to the west.  Neither man looked at the view.

The two sat on small couches facing each other over a low coffee table.  Two glass of scotch sat on coasters.  John preferred to talk over drinks late at night.  His associates were used to it.  Although officially the position no longer meant anything, most Disciples still thought of him as “Chief 

Apostle.”  Certainly he thought of himself that way.

“David, we need to get the Disciples whipped back into shape.  None of this ‘lighten the load’ nonsense weaklings like Packard and his friends keep prattling on about.”

Howell nodded, but said nothing.  These conversations went better if the “Chief” did most of the talking.

“I mean it, and this is no criticism of you.  They got all worked up about this date and forgot about serving the Lord.  We never said 2011 would see Paradise restored.  We only suggested that it would be a logical time.  Next thing you know, people are selling houses, cashing in retirement plans and going to Timbuktu to make Disciple.”

He took a drink and continued.

“David, we need a plan to get the Disciples focused on the important things again.  I think we’ve let in too many people who are not truly dedicated to The Lord.

“It’s time to thin the heard so to speak.”  


Two notes:
1) This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination; any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.  To the best of my knowledge no organization called "The Word of God Foundation" exists.

2) comments are invited.  Publication of comments is subject to moderation.  If you wish to comment, but do not want your remarks made public, please include a note to that effect.