Harold landed on the floor with a thump. Whoops! He had napped too long. He’d need to rush or he would miss his favorite service of the year. The soft candlelight, beautiful choir cantata, and favorite old Christmas carols–these always made the incarnation very real to Harold. He always felt like falling on his knees in worship before the manger scene.
Harold grabbed his jacket and rushed for the door. He reached for his Bible, but it was not on the stand by his reading chair. That seemed strange, but he was in a hurry!
He thought he’d have trouble finding a space, but found the church parking lot empty! Mystified, he ran to the church entrance. The door was locked, with a sign on it that said “CLOSED” in big, black letters, and just the letters “D.E.S.” in small print at the bottom.
Dazed, Harold drove slowly to the big shopping mall a few blocks away. Grim-faced shoppers were hurrying to and from their cars. He decided to go the mall’s Christian book store and ask what was going on. He could expect some friendly answers there. But the store was gone! In its place was a store selling skimpy women’s lingerie.
Harold half-stumbled to a nearby mall bench. A teenage boy sat down at the same time. He looked friendly, so Harold said, “Son, I’m a little confused. Could you answer a couple of questions?”
“Sure, what’s the problem?” “Well, isn’t this Christmas Eve; isn’t tomorrow Christmas Day?”
The youth eyed him curiously: “Yeah, I guess it is; hadn’t thought about it. Hey, it’s Winter Festival Time. People give gifts, and eat and drink like crazy. It’s wild! Say, where you been anyway; on another planet?”
Harold just got up and almost ran towards a mall exit. On the way he passed a book store. The window was full of blatantly pornographic material. A sign said, “SALE–50% OFF ON ALL 2025 CALENDARS–while they last!”
Harold staggered towards the exit. Some shoppers thought he had had a few too many holiday drinks. He found his car and drove, erratically, to the coffee shop near his house. A matronly middle-aged woman was on duty, and he ordered coffee and a donut.
Harold was the only customer. “Where is everyone?” he asked, as the waitress put his order in front of him. “Probably doing their last minute Winter Festival shopping.” she replied. “It’s just crazy!”
The waitress seemed friendly and about his age. He decided to chance it. “Look,” he said, “I need some help. Maybe I’ve got amnesia or something. I took a nap this afternoon. It was December 24, 2007. When I woke up, I had to hurry to get to church for the Christmas Eve candlelight service.”
First, I couln’t find my Bible. Then I got to church and found it locked up with a sign that said, ‘CLOSED.’ I drove to the mall, where all the rushing shoppers looked as if they were late for a funeral. There was no sign anywhere that tomorrow is Jesus’ birthday–not one! “Who am I, Rip Van Winkle; isn’t this 2007?!
Helen (that’s what her name tag said) was sympathetic. “I don’t know if you are nuts or not, but you sure need help. Let me tell you what’s been going on. It’s not pretty!”
“You sound like you’re a Christian,” she continued. “I am, too, but these days you don’t advertise to just anybody. Do you really think it is 2007?” Harold nodded, weakly.
“Well,” said Helen, it was about that time that this country really began to get sick. The American Correct Living Union, or ACLU, seemed to have all the federal judges on their private payroll. They went crazy on this ’separation of church and state’ thing. Congress and the Presdent caved in to the super-environmentalist, global warming agenda. Suddenly, we had the new Federal Department of Environmental Safety–D.E.S., for short. “You wouldn’t believe the new regulations!”
Helen glanced out of the coffee shop window and said, “Oh, no, there’s an example. That’s sad, and on this night of all nights!”
Outside, stopped for a red light, was a bus that looked like a school bus, except that it was painted gray and had the letters D.E.S. painted on the side. It had window shades. They were half closed, but Harold could see faces peering out from under them. They were old faces; each one a picture of fear and misery.
“Well,” said Helen, “those folks flunked THE TEST!” God help them!” She explained: The D.E.S. and Euthanasia Lobby had joined forces. They argued that energy sources were low; medical costs were out of sight; Social Security was going bankrupt, and the nation could not afford all of those old people living in rest homes, and using up energy. Besides, their “quality of life” was poor. It would be merciful to end it.
In 2012 a law was passed requiring everyone 80 or over to take a physical and mental exam. Those who passed were okay for three years; for those who flunked it was straight to the D.E.S. for a trip to the Clearance Center. It was all quick, discreet and sanitary; just like the abortionists dispose of unwanted unborn children.
It was just a matter of a pair of paper pajamas, a lethal injection, insertion in the crematory and sending an urn full of ashes to the relatives, who could then have a memorial service if they wanted to.
Helen shuddered, “I hope I don’t live to be 80. I just can’t figure out how we let this happen in our country.” She said the D.E.S. had probably closed Harold’s church because of new environmental standards. Any buildings, especially churches, not fully used five out of seven days, could be declared “environmentally wasteful” and ordered closed. “Lots of Christians have given up their buildings. But, you know what, I think the church is actually growing stronger,” Helen observed. “People have quit ‘playing church’ and are really committing themselves to the Lord.”
Just then, two grim-faced police officers entered the shop. “Who owns that old car out there with the expired plates?”, one demanded. “It’s my car, and the plates are good through next year,” Harold responded.
“Who are you trying to kid?” the officer growled. “According to the sticker, those plates haven’t been good for about 18 years. Let’s see your driver’s license.”
Before Harold knew what was going on, they declared his driver’s license had also expired. They said they would have to take him to the station and check him out further.
Just as he was being hustled out the door, he heard a voice,”Harold, Harold, it’s time to go, you’ve got to get ready!” Harold blinked and looked around. He was on the sofa in his own living room. His dear wife was shaking him awake.
“You sure took a long nap,” she remarked. “Hurry, or we’ll be late for the Christmas Eve service.” Harold did not reply. He just heaved a huge sigh and shook his head in amazement. He would tell Betty about the dream later.
Church friends wondered what had gotten into Harold. He positively bubbled over, saying “God bless you; praise the Lord!,” again and again.
Afterwards, it was a delight to step outside into the clear, crisp, starry evening. Harold took a deep breath and smiled contentedly. Then he glanced towards the street and his smile froze! Was that really a gray bus at the stoplight? Did it have the letters D.E.S. on the side?
Harold held his head in his hands. “What is going on in the world? Am I awake? Is the church awake? Or are we all still sleeping!?
–30–
