I stood on the hotel skywalk, mesmerized by the afternoon sun as it danced on the clear blue waters, showering me in a warm light. A calm and gentle breeze played across my face, just enough to cool the small beads of sweat that had formed on my brow. Tall coconut palms lined the beach, standing in perfect formation. They gently swayed to and fro, the wind tousling their fronds.  They seemed to me to be genteel sentries, faithfully guarding their posts.  A glass skywalk wrapped itself around the entire 15th floor and was the hotel’s featured attraction. It was infamous for its breathtaking views and boasted a 10 feet wide horseshoe shaped glass bridge that extended 20 feet out, giving a clear and unhindered view of the water below. I had traversed the entire walkway, admiring its amazing views.

 The broad expanse of azure sky floated above the calm ocean waters, making it appear like God’s amphitheater.  If ever there was a perfect moment in time, this was it. It was that place that filled all your senses with a calm serenity. I was pondering the fact that this moment in time must be the Lord’s keepsake of what the new heavens and earth must be like, and I thanked Him for this small grace. It is those moments that remind me that all the tears and heartache of this world will soon be rolled up as a scroll, never to be looked on again.

And as I pondered this thought, I noticed that puffy white clouds formed a perfect line up in the blue sky, as if they were boats safely moored in a celestial harbor.  I was amazed, for they made a perfect cloud deck, as if some unseen hand had commanded that they go no farther. As I watched, the clouds began to swirl like the ebbing and flowing of a tide pool. I was fascinated, this was unlike anything I had ever seen.  They seemed to be moving in a perfectly choreographed dance. Then they split apart into three separate funnels, slowly growing in size. Their unblemished white hue gradually turned a noxious grey color and grew progressively darker, all the while holding their perfectly symmetrical rhythm. Their darkness felt heavy and oppressive, unlike any storm cloud I had ever encountered. It had an unnatural, almost oily feel to it, like it did not belong to this realm of created order. My fascination was replaced by a feeling of dread which rose up in my throat. My first instinct was to run, but my legs failed to carry out this command, as if my feet were glued to the floor. As I watched, the last of the serene blue sky gradually faded as if swallowed by some savage beast, snuffing out its sworn opponent. As they overtook the sky, the waters below, once so peaceful, now erupted in chaos. The dark frantic waves collided against one another as if someone had taken the corners of the ocean and shaken them violently. It now conveyed a state of un-creation, one that is uninhabitable and unwelcoming of life. Still in perfect uniformity, not unlike a potter shaping his clay into its final form, I could see the faint image of what I could only describe as their faces, growing in clarity. Unhuman eyes stared with hostility, mouths gaping as if singing some unholy song. Their visage constantly changed then morphed into another and then yet another profane and terrifying image.

By some miraculous grace, I was able to tear my eyes away and looked downward.  My first thought was concern for the those who had been on the waterfront, doing their Saturday afternoon beach thing. Large umbrellas dotted the sandy white landscape, resembling some sort of crazy multicolored mushroom field, along with picnic baskets and myriads of beach toys. Joggers with their large dogs, ran along the water’s edge, their footprints etched in the sand.  Toddlers with plastic pails and shovels built sandcastles, while the older children played volleyball. Couples sat on their large colorful beach towels, sunning themselves and casually discussing their plans for dinner. Lifeguards blew their whistles from their stilt-legged chairs, the shrill sound piercing the air. I was not sure which was the more unrealistic scene. The absolute horror that was playing itself out right before my eyes or the masses of people totally oblivious to what was happening. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I could not reconcile the two images in my mind, without the very likely possibility of going mad. I was startled at the sound of my own voice, reassuring myself that this was not real. How could it be?

The familiar smell of salty air mingled with the pleasant scent of tanning lotion reached my nostrils, giving this an even more surreal aspect. The scents acted as a smelling salt, keeping me tethered to reality.  I could hear the sounds of normalcy, albeit with an unnerving acoustic echo: children squealing and taunting one another in a game of tag, dogs barking happily as they raced up and down chasing balls and Frisbees. I could even hear the faint sounds of a car horn honking in the distance. I was gathering the courage to open my eyes, when I felt the sound before I heard it. A deep low guttural growl, the sound waves well below the frequencies that a human ear can hear. My whole body vibrated with the sound, and it seemed to tune my heartbeat with its own rhythm. I felt if I didn’t get away soon, my entire being would be assimilated. That was not an option, and I prayed for the strength to run or even just open my eyes again. I managed to pry one eyelid about a third of the way open. I tried to concentrate on my feet, half expecting to see the nails in my shoes where they had been nailed to the floor. And then it was as if an unseen hand propelled me forward with a gentle but firm shove. I started to move forward, then slowly gained speed. I commanded my eyes to focus on the large glass door that led to the interior of the building. 50 feet, then 40, then 30. The wail of the clouds grew with intensity. The faster I ran, the louder was their maniacal howl.  I crashed into the door, half expecting it to be locked. It swung open with ease, and I was met with a comforting coolness and that distinct although not unpleasant scent of the hotel air, which added another dimension of unreality to this nightmare.  I realized that the howling had stopped, and my heartbeat was once again my own.  I kneeled down on the red and gold carpet with its typical hotel pattern to catch my breath. I wanted more than anything to get to the safety of my hotel room, with things familiar, things I could understand. The long hallway lay before me, with huge glass windows that looked over the beach. I seriously considered crawling to the elevators so I would have no chance of seeing the terrifying funnels or see what had become of the people on the beach. No longer did the howls pierce my soul, but their counterpart left me even more terrified.  The silence was total and complete, I had a taste of what it would be like to be in the eye of a tornado. Seeing  that the hallway was completely deserted, the choice was fairly easy. I made my way on my hands and knees and finally to the elevator. I used the large gold trash can that was between the two elevator doors to hold myself up. My legs were weak and shaky, I was doubtful they could hold my weight. I pushed the big button with the red arrow pointing down, praying for two things: that it was still working and that I had enough strength to make it there.

The Lord heard my prayer, and I made it back without incident. I slid the plastic key in its slot, relieved to see the green light flashing. I shut the door and locked both deadbolts, knowing that it would only stop something human, but it made me feel better anyway. I was thankful I had remembered to close the heavy, maroon colored hotel drapes before I had left earlier. I laughed out loud, remembering that my biggest worry had been that the room would be too hot when I came back. That struck me as hilarious, and I actually fell to the floor laughing until tears rolled down my face and my ribs hurt.

I gathered the courage to open the heavy drapes, and I was confident that would my eyes would behold something that was like a scene from World War II, a D-Day kind of destruction. I was wrong. The sunlight came streaming through the window, casting a warm glow on the room, as if to mock me. The sky had returned to its blue brilliance, not even a wispy cloud tainted the sky. The sounds of normalcy returned to my ears as if someone was slowly turning up the volume on a distant radio. The mushroom umbrellas sat undisturbed on the sandy beach. Car horns barked their impatient beeps, mothers scolded their wandering kids, and lifeguards blew their whistles once again.  They had not seen. They had not known what evil had just taken place in the unseen realm before them. I envied their obliviousness, their veil of unknowing.

As I made my way to the big leather wing chair in the corner, there was a smoldering anger that ate at my insides, an undercurrent to the terror I had just seen. I felt like I had been cheated. My peace and sanity robbed in a miniscule period of time. I looked down at the end table, my half-drunk cup of coffee siting there innocently as if it were a compassionate friend of a bygone era. My worn leather Bible sat on the table beside it, right where I had left it. The page was opened to the Book of Revelation, as I had just that morning finished it. I cast a glance at the page, which was, ‘An Introduction to Apocalyptic Literature.’ The definition that it gave might as well have been in bold all caps letters.  If words could shout, it was shouting.

APOCALYPTIC LITERATURE REMINDS THAT NOT ALL IS WHAT IT SEEMS TO BE.

Wow, that was the understatement of the year.

I often think of that day, those people on the sandy beach, and envy the normalcy of their life. I wonder how often, like the opening night at at macabre opera, someone gets a glimpse behind the veil. What would their life look like today had they witnessed that oily darkness that often invades my dreams, and chases away even the the soundest sleep?

‘Why me’ is a question I often ask the Lord, but He has yet to answer.

 Maybe it was simply to write this story, to remind people that things are not always what they seem.  It may be that we need a reminder that although we live in a world of the tangible, things we can see and feel, we must reckon with the truth of the unseen. The strange reality is that the unseen things are from an eternal perspective more real than our physical world. This age in which we now reside, an era of pain and sorrow, will one day pass away with a great noise, and a time of reckoning will come for all.  Many will come to realize that, life as we percieve it, was never life as usual. Each day holds a weight of eternal significance, and reality will not be veiled forever.

Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, ⁸ but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. ⁹ And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him. ¹⁰ And I heard a loud voice in heaven, saying, “Now the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God and the authority of his Christ have come, for the accuser of our brothers^[a] has been thrown down, who accuses them day and night before our God. ¹¹ And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death. ¹² Therefore, rejoice, O heavens and you who dwell in them! But woe to you, O earth and sea, for the devil has come down to you in great wrath, because he knows that his time is short!” Rev 12:7-10

Until next time, salutations & selah.