The Day I Met The Antichrist

   It was your average Wednesday afternoon.  Nothing strange that would foretell the odd events that were about to unfold in the religion aisle in the Borders Bookstore (I sure do miss that chain!). 

     I was minding my own business, comparing study Bibles.  In the back of my mind, I was going over the AWANA lesson I would be teaching in a few hours.  All was quiet in the store that time of day.

     "Hi there," a man's voice at the end of the aisle only slightly startled me.  I thought he might be an employee, about to ask me if I was finding everything all right.  A sideways glance disproved that.  

     The man was of average height, with brown hair and a most interesting suit.  It was old and worn, but it wasn't a cheap suit.  It was high quality material.

     "Hello," I answered politely and went back to looking at the Bibles.  The man stood awkwardly watching.  I decided to wait for him to say something.

     It didn't take long.

     "I notice you're looking at Bibles.  Are you a Christian?" He asked.

     At this, I got excited.  Maybe this was someone searching for the Truth, and I could witness to him!

     "Yes, I'm a Christian," I told him happily.

     "Well, I got saved at Harvest on Sunday.  I prayed with Greg Laurie," he told me.

     "Welcome to the family of God." I said.

  "Well, I have some questions about the Bible.  Can you answer them?"

     "I'll do my best," I answered, still feeling positive about this.

     "Okay," he launched in.  "So, do you believe the whole Bible?"

     "Yes." 

     "Even the book of Revelation?"

     "Yes."

     Here, he looked to be growing more concerned. After a brief pause, he slowly began his next question.  "Do you believe the Antichrist will be a literal person?"

     "Yes, I do."

     His voice dropped to a near whisper.  "Do you believe he could be alive today?"

     "He might not be, but he very well could be alive now."

     At this, his eyes filled with fear.  "No!" He exclaimed.  "Oh no!  Oh no!  Oh no!"

     I was alarmed.  Was this guy all right?

     Tears came into his eyes, but he pulled himself together.  "You see," he whispered dramatically, as if he were letting me in on a great secret.  "I think I'm the Antichrist!"

     I was speechless for a second, not sure if I had heard him correctly.  "You think you're the Antichrist?" I finally asked.  "Well, what led you to this conclusion?" 

      "I have secret powers," he was still whispering.  "And I have information that's vital to this nation's security!"

     I froze.  This was not what I bargained for.  What could I say?  Was I legally obligated to report this?  Before I could answer, he continued.  "I'm from the tribe of David!" This, he said proudly.  My mind spun.  

     "You could be Jewish," I finally stammered.  "But nobody knows what tribe they're from.  Those records were lost.  And there is no tribe of David.  David was from the tribe of Judah."

     I wasn't sure if he was tracking with me or not.  I went on to address more of the bizarreness.

     "You can't possibly be the Antichrist.  You said yourself that you became a Christian on Sunday.  A Christian can't be the Antichrist.  Besides, from my understanding of scripture, the Antichrist won't even come on the scene until all the Christians have been Raptured. We'll be in Heaven.  He may not even be born yet."

     My friend's countenance took a sort of confused turn.  "But I'm the most intelligent person in the United States!  I know how to get into Air Force One!"

     I felt a chill.  Did this guy want me to deny or confirm that he was the Man of Sin the Bible warns about?  Was this a way he was trying to seem important?

     "Well," I tried to continue with the momentum I already had.  "there are other reasons you're not the Antichrist.  The Antichrist isn't going to worry or wonder about who he is, the way you are.  He's going to know, and be very deliberate about it."

     My friend who was not really the Antichrist seemed to be listening.  I launched forward.

     "The Antichrist isn't going to call himself the Antichrist to people.  He's going to be a world leader who performs signs and wonders and deceives people."

     Tears came back to to his eyes.  "That's me to a T!"

     What could I say?

     "Look," I told him.  "You'll have to trust me on this.  You're not the Antichrist."

     I'm not sure if I resolved any of his confusion.  I felt creepy inside as I went on with my day.  As I drove to AWANA that night, I couldn't shake the experience.  He obviously wasn't well.  Mostly, he'd been very upset with the idea, but it had seemed he was disappointed when I shot down the possibility, as if a part of him really did want to be the Antichrist.  The concept of someone wanting that sent shivers through me.

     Well, I pulled into the parking lot at church and...it was deserted!  Not a soul.  Could it be that--

     No, I sighed in relief as Pastor Mike drove into the parking lot.  I ran to tell him about my adventures with the Antichrist at Borders Bookstore.  His response?

     "You should have gotten his autograph!"

    Alas, a lost opportunity to have the Antichrist's autograph.  

Substitute Teacher

     "Where is he?" 8-year-old Darren looked out the classroom window.  "Mr. Heinz is almost never late!"
     I was concerned too.  Mr. Heinz was the teacher of the third and fourth grade Sunday school class back in 1991.  We were all a close-knit church family.  Most of us lived in Corona, CA, and were very active in the small church's ministries, such as AWANA, Bible study, and of course Sunday school.  In fact, Mr. Heinz's wife was the principal of our new home school group.  We church kids really grew up together in a good sense of the word.
   "I don't know where he is," I answered.  "They were all at AWANA Wednesday." I racked my almost-ten-year-old brain for a reason why our teacher would be late.
     We all turned as we heard the door down the hall open.  Was it Mr. Heinz?
     "Hi, kids," it was my dad, the adult Sunday school teacher.  Was he teaching us?
     "What's going on, Dad?" I asked.
     "Mr. Heinz is sick.  We just got word.  He had appendicitis.  You'll have to go to Mr. Snow's* class [not his real name]."
     I think everyone wanted to groan.  Mr. Snow was the fifth and sixth grade teacher that year.  His room was just down the hall.
     Knowing there was no other option, we all shuffled down the hall, hoping for a good class experience, but prepared for otherwise.
     "Hi, guys!". Mr. Snow grinned merrily as we walked into the room at the far end of the hall.  He was as jolly as Saint Nicholas himself...but somewhere, buried not so deeply, was a raging volcano, ready to erupt at a moment's notice.
     "Hi, Mr. Snow!" I replied for the class, hoping to keep him happy.
     Class that day was relatively painless, if you didn't mind being lectured about how grateful you should be not to live in the Soviet Union.  Beyond that, we read the Sunday school quarterlies.  That's how to teach a class when you don't want to prepare!  Complain about foreign dictatorships and read pre-written material.
     "These words are hard," a couple of the third graders complained about the fifth and sixth grade quarterly.
     Mr. Snow laughed, " It's good to be challenged!" This was to become his mantra.
     It is not! I thought stubbornly.  It's good when things are easy!
      We were told Mr. Heinz would be out recovering for a while.  In the weeks that followed, we learned more about being challenged than we ever wanted to know! I always felt that volcano was on the verge of eruption!
     One particular Sunday, Mr. Snow finally said something that hit home.
     "How would you feel," he began, looking around the room seriously, "if the Soviets took your Bible?"
     "Why would they do that?" One of the older kids asked.  "I thought they didn't like Bibles."
     "Yeah," I added.  "Besides, they can only read Russian and my Bible is in English."
     Mr. Snow laughed.  "You misunderstand.  I mean, what if this was just like the Soviet Union and we didn't have freedom to read the Bible?"
     Suddenly, I was struck to the heart.  At that moment, I realized just how much God's Word impacted every area of my life.  Without it, there would be no AWANA, Sunday school, church family, Bible camps, devotions at home, or Christian home school.  And worse, how could people hear from God without the Bible?  I realized that I had taken God's word as my right, taken it for granted.
     Mr. Snow continued.  "If you lost your Bible, you would have to rely on the scriptures you memorized in order to hear from God."
     Again, I was struck with the seriousness of it.  I had gotten awards for scripture memorization.  I knew dozens of verses, even a couple passages.  It was impressive in Sunday school...but stacked against the possibility of losing my Bible forever, it was kind of lame.
     I had to do better.  I had to take memorizing the Bible more seriously...and I would!
     Meanwhile, Mr. Snow warned us about the poverty of Soviet citizens, no butter for the potatoes and all that (one student asked if they at least had cheese whiz, that's what HE liked on potatoes).  Boy would everyone be surprised at the end of the year when there no longer was a Soviet Union.
     "Mr. Heinz still isn't back," Darren moaned as I arrived at class the next Sunday.  "I don't want to go in Mr. Snow's class anymore.  I always feel like he's mad at us."
     I was hit with an idea, one so good I wondered why I hadn't thought of it sooner.
     "Let's go to my Mom's class!"
     My mom taught Kindergarten through second grade.  She was a popular teacher...and she gave out candy!
     "Great idea!" Darren grinned.
    All of us third and fourth graders rushed to the opposite side of the building.
   Mom was just setting up her room."What are you doing here?  Aren't you in Mr. Snow's class until Mr. Heinz comes back?"
     "We want to be with you, Mom," I said.
     "We love you, Mrs. Heiden!" Darren exclaimed.
     My mother looked gently at us.  "Don't you think that would hurt Mr. Snow's feelings?"
    "What would hurt my feelings?"a voice from behind almost gave me a heart attack.  I spun around to face none other than Mr. Snow himself.
     THINK!  My mind raced.  "We, uh, we don't think we're smart enough for your class."
     "Really?" He looked surprised, then gratified.  Smiling, then chuckling, he said his famous line, "It's good to be challenged!" He swung his arm triumphantly, almost accidentally hitting the side of my head.  "Come on.  It's time to start class!"
     It was a subdued little group following Mr. Snow.  Our attempts to get into the fun class had failed.
     The fifth and sixth graders were already there. We all got to chatting.  Mr. Snow said it was time to pray and start class.  At the exact same second, Darren was saying the punchline to a joke: "I'm allergic to being a vegetarian!"
     Mr. Snow's face went from merry to furious in less than a sevond.  He may have set some sort of record.
     "If you're going to joke around, you can just leave!"
     Darren looked shocked.  "I'm sorry."
     "You heard me young man!  I've put up with enough nonsense!"
    Everyone was stunned silent.  Mr. Snow rose up out of his seat, made his way to Darren and glowered down at him.  "Come with me now!" He grabbed Darren's arm (not strongly or abusively, just enough to show he meant business).
     "I've had enough!  I've just had enough!" The teacher huffed as he and Darren disappeared out the door.
     No one said a word.
     Mr. Snow appeared out the window.  We could see him from the chest up, the top of Darren's head just visible beside him.  In the classroom, Mr. Snow had appeared the strong commander.  Now he looked lost, as if he were thinking, "Now that I have him outside, what do I do with him?"
    They disappeared from view.
     The seconds seemed like hours.  My heart pounded.  What was Mr. Snow doing to Darren?
     Finally, our silence was broken.
     "Well, let's start class," Mr. Snow was striking his hands together as he reentered the room.  What had he done?  My overactive imagination raced to the worst case scenarios, such as maybe he'd killed Darren!
     Class started.  Mr. Snow was jovial again.  He never mentioned Darren.  It was if he no longer existed!  Mr. Snow didn't seem to notice how subdued we all were.
     I will not leave you in the suspense we were left with.  Mr. Snow had simply left Darren outside in the front of the church.  Darren had ended up going to my mother's fun class.  While I worried for his very life, he was eating candy and playing fun Bible games!
     After Sunday school, I made a decision.  No matter what, I would somehow get Mr. Heinz back by next week.
     When I got home, I wrote him a letter, telling him how much we missed him and wanted him to feel better soon and come back.  I stuck a postage stamp on it (newly raised to 29 cents) and dropped it in the mail Monday morning.
    "Did you hear?  Did you hear?" Darren shouted triumphantly the next Sunday.
     "What?" I barely dared hope.
     "Mr. Heinz is coming back today!".
     There were cheers all around.  We all settled into our classroom to await our beloved teacher.
     "I'm just glad we're done with Mr. Snow," I said.  Some might say I spoke too soon.   Speak of the devil, Mr. Snow appeared around the corner.  My heart froze!  Had he heard me say that?  Worse, was he here because Mr. Heinz really wasn't coming back?
     But Mr. Snow looked happy.  Laughing, he asked, "Are you kids waiting for Mr. Heinz KETCHUP to get here?". He walked away, laughing at his own joke. Funny, but hadn't he disliked jokes last week?
     A few minutes later, Mr. Heinz walked in.  I almost wanted to hug him!  He smiled genuinely at the class.  Then he looked at me.  "Thanks for your letter, Janelle.  I read it, and it seemed to just make me better instantly!"
     My good feelings dimmed a little.  Instantly?  My letter had made him get well instantly?  If I had known that would happen, I would have written three weeks ago!  I was rather cross with myself.
    Oh well, maybe Mr. Snow was right.  Maybe it really was good to be challenged after all!
     *This very amusing story is true.  I only changed Mr. Snow's name.  Those named are people I have either spoken with about it, or I know beyond a doubt they would be okay with it.  Mr. Snow really did teach me the value of scripture memorization.