I expected the brightness; I saw it coming. Like static electricity, the portal pulsated across my body, but even that was anticipated. This, on the other hand, . . . well, . . . it’s not what I had imagined.    

I clinch tightly to the white reins as the hooves make impact, springing me forward into an upheaval of sand and dust. Granules hit across my face, but it doesn’t sting and my sight is not at all affected. I look at Grandma confused and again wish that I would’ve had a few more classes with my angel teacher, Amraphel. This isn’t the coast of California. Why did I think I would return there? It’s not even Colorado where my Uncle Brody and cousin Cheryl are living. Nope, this is a desert–a hilly desert. And I think it’s night because the sky is dark–vacant really. But because of the light that is emanating from our bodies and the horses, it’s as if it were day. I search the sky because I have never seen it look this way. There are no stars, no moon . . . nothing—complete emptiness. I wonder if our coming had anything to do with that or if it was an occurrence that happened before our arrival. 

“Where are we?” I ask my Grandma, puzzled.

“Judea.”

“Israel?” I ask quizzically.

“Well, yeah, sugar. Were you expecting the Caribbean?”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting this.”

She smiles and winks at me. “We won’t be here too long, this is only where we enter.”

It is a rough terrain, foreign from the land I had become accustomed to—the land that I left and will never see again. We follow the myriad of white horses ahead of us and I begin to notice movement and hear shouts coming from all around me. People are surfacing from what looks like hidden entrances in the surrounding cliffs. They call out to each other, and more begin to come out from hiding. Their expressions tell me that they are still afraid and they are trying to figure out who we are. Mothers and fathers pick up their children and embrace them. I look at my mom and Beverly and remember just a short time ago my concerns for their safety, yet here they are with me, forever safe. And now, these people will be safe too because their king, Yeshua, has come to rescue them.

We approach the remains of a small city and slow our horses to a stop behind the others. Rubble covers the ground where buildings and houses once stood. We are waiting, although I am not sure why. To my delight, an angel appears above us, and behind him dimly lit angels fill the sky.

“Close your eyes,” he says, calmly.

We obey, and now with my eyes closed, a scene plays out before me, like my own personal movie in my mind. I see the Temple Mount below me, as if I am standing on raised land off to its side. It is filled with many armies, the same armies that we saw from the Opening before leaving Alpha. Although they are dressed according to their own country, they all have a symbol on their hats, a golden star. A line of soldiers stand along the large wall that surrounds the Old City of Jerusalem. They are holding weapons, and I notice that implanted on the tops of each of their hands is the same electronic patch that I saw in my dream; the one on the woman that my Uncle Brody helped. They are facing the Kidron Valley which is below them and filled with men and women, some in combat uniform and others wearing regular clothing—they too carry the system, as the woman from Colorado called it, on their hands.       

As I look across the land, it is obvious that great war has come upon Jerusalem, making her desolate. Only the Temple Mount seems to be intact. I then realize that these armies have been warring each other and I am baffled. Hadn’t they come to make war with us? For some reason, though, they have all stopped and are waiting for something. Two men begin to lift into the air above the Temple Mount and stop in mid-air. It’s like they floated up, but now they stand still—one in blue priestly garments, and the other is wearing a suit with a blue sash draping down his chest—gold toned medal pendants are attached, a golden star is in the center. I zoom in closer and realize that I have seen these men before. It is Adamo Nami—he is the one wearing priestly garments—and next to him his prophet. The prophet speaks out and his voice resounds as if coming from a loudspeaker.

“Listen to your king,” his deep voice thunders.

Adamo Nami lifts his arms, the sapphire vestment swoops gracefully down, and very diplomatically he says, “My people.” He stands still for a moment letting the magnitude of his presence be admired, then lowers his arms. “You have fought well and we are very close to knowing which country will rule with me in my holy city. But I warn you that there is an evil coming now and we must be ready. We must unite for a time and guard our kingdom.” He motions to his prophet and the suited man stretches out his hands toward the sky and it gradually lights up, unbeknown to them, lit with angels. Clouds that were not previously there begin to form, and they become dark and furious, cloaking the light. Flashes come from the clouds and I watch people covering their heads as thunderous bolts of lightning jab down like daggers. The bolts do not reach the ground, rather serve only as a sign of power. Nami speaks out again, “Remember who is with us and who gives us this power, our master Lucifer, the morning star, the innocent one who was unjustly judged by his father. Today we defend his innocence and bring justice to our lord.” The armies roar with war cries. Cries of justice for their master Lucifer.

Warm air blows strands of hair against my face. I don’t bother moving it, rather I continue to watch this scene, saddened by the depth of their deception. I hear a distant wind, swirling, approaching. The mortals search the sky, their hair and clothing beginning to move as the wind makes contact with them. They all seem surprised by this strong wind, not knowing where it is coming from. Suddenly, with an unseen force, the gathered troops are knocked down, their faces now in the dirt, some making contact with cement and others falling from their rooftop positions, landing to their deaths. Adamo Nami and his prophet remain perfectly still in the sky. The survivors return to their feet in a stupor, fumbling to ready their weapons again, unable to see anything around them until a bright light appears at the top of the mount that is ahead of them. It is the Mount of Olives. The bright white expands, extending across the ridge until the sky is lit brighter than day. I see Yeshua on Oleksander, in the center of the mount, surrounded by his men—our men—and my heart leaps inside of me. I have never been more proud of my family, our kingdom, as I am right now.

An officer in uniform steps forward from the armies in the valley, and a commanding voice comes through a device in his ear. “What are you waiting for?” says the voice, “Go ahead!” The officer gives a signal and rifles begin to fire at our men.

On the mount, Yeshua dismounts his horse with bullets flying past and even through his body, but causing no harm and the holes immediately closing up. As his feet hit the ground the land begins to quake violently. The earth where he stands splits open so that it breaks apart creating a large gap in the mount, and the land begins to separate. I feel the earth below me moving, but my eyes remain closed, watching everything unfold. Slowly, the break spreads down the valley sucking the men and women into its crevice. It creeps toward the uniformed army at the wall of the old city, and this time, by their own choice, they fall down and take cover.

“I’ll do it myself,” says the voice on the other end, and within seconds the man, Adamo Nami, is standing at the wall of the city along with his prophet, both awaiting the coming quake. The prophet holds out his hand to stop it but it doesn’t work. The land is still splitting and heading straight for them.

“I will stop it,” says Nami, sneering.

He stretches out his hand and just as it approaches to surely swallow them up, it comes to a sudden stop. Nami looks at his friend and smiles. It appears as if his powers have saved them and in arrogance he yells out, “What’s the matter? Have you met your match?”

The land rumbles and the tombs of the nearby cemeteries begin to quake, but then it stops and everything becomes still, except for the cemetery at the foot of the Mount of Olives. That cemetery quakes again, and bodies, hundreds of bodies, come out from the tombs and from the surrounding earth. They are the resurrected bodies of believers who had been martyred since Yeshua’s last return. Angels, carrying special crowns in their hands, descend from the sky above, crown the resurrected bodies, and escort them to a place out of sight, behind Yeshua’s army.

“What is this?” Nami mocks. “Haven’t you enough men already to take me down?”

For a moment it is silent and the two men scoff to themselves. But something catches their attention from the ground below them. Out from the crack come two angels, both are carrying chains.

Quickly their faces become serious as the man realizes his powers have stopped working. “Shoot them!” he commands his army, but no one helps. The two men reach for guns from the dead bodies near them and begin to fire. The bullets go straight through the angels, to no avail, and they continue their approach.

They try to run but they appear to have become frozen, literally paralyzed. Their eyes fill with terror. The angels wrap the chains around them and lifting their feet from the ground, they take them and transport before Yeshua. They are thrown to his feet, where they bow in defeat. Not by their own choice, but by a power unknown to them. The angels pull them by the chains lifting them so that they stand before the true king. Another angel appears at Yeshua’s side, holding a key in one hand and a larger chain in the other.

“Come out,” Yeshua says, looking at Adamo Nami.

A dark figure transpires out of the man. Nami’s eyes become large as he looks upon the creature now outside of his body. It is Satan himself. The angel immediately chains him and he, too, is paralyzed and cannot move. The two men are lifted up into the sky, and looking into an area of vast darkness I see flickering light afar off. I zoom in my vision as much as I can to see where they are taking them, and the smell of sulfur reaches my nostrils. It is a lake, but instead of water, it is fire. The two men are thrown in, screaming in horror. The fire reaches up as if to grab them and pulls them into its depths until the sound and sight of them are no more. The angels disappear and next to the fiery lake a deep, dark pit materializes. The angel pulls on Satan’s chain and he has no choice but to follow, but his eyes stay fixed on Yeshua. His expression makes my stomach sick. There is no sign of apology in his eyes, no remorse. Only bitterness and pride. If hate had a bodily form, this was it. Cursing spews from his mouth as he is thrown into the pit and the angel seals it shut. With a mighty voice, the angel declares, “For one-thousand years, this bottomless pit will remain sealed.” And then the angel bows toward Yeshua and is suddenly gone.

The same debilitation comes upon all of those left of the evil army so that they too become immobile. Yeshua again mounts Oleksander. With all eyes on him and with a loud cry he shouts the word, “Truth!” The land quakes again, shifting so that the mount below them lowers down to the ground, and I notice that all of the mountains are lowering, even the one I am on. The force of its movement causes the Old City of Jerusalem to lift up making it the highest point in sight.

I suddenly have the urge to open my eyes and I now realize this is real time. I am actually in this spot and looking upon Yeshua and the armies with my own eyes now. Black birds begin filling the sky from all directions, buzzards and crows encircle above. Yeshua lifts his left arm and the horses whinny and move about, ready to charge, including the one I am on.

Again, he yells, “Truth!” and the walls around the city shake and crumble down on top of the army. Bursting forth from the ground at the base of the Old City come rivers filling in the cracks in the earth that were created by the quakes. The rivers sweep through swallowing up the dead bodies in its path.

The angel appears before us again. “This is it,” he says. “Follow your king.” 

Yeshua’s lifted hand opens and Oleksander takes off, signaling all of our horses to go too. We spread across the land from three directions and move in towards the city of Jerusalem. For the third and final time, he yells the word and we all join in with him—”Truuuuuuuuth!” Those left in rebellion immediately begin rotting as the life is sucked right out of them. Their eyes rot in their sockets and their tongues rot in their mouths. They fall to their death and the birds dive down and begin devouring their flesh. The land is covered in black and white.

I have never smelled such vileness in all of my life. This smell I shall surely remember until the very end of time. And as I approach the Temple Mount where the walls once stood tall, rain suddenly begins to pour. My skin soaks it in as a pleasure that has been withheld for some time. The stench slowly begins to fade as the land itself welcomes the skeletal remains into it’s bosom, the rain washing it down.

I hear a shofar blow and look up upon the Mount to see Yeshua standing next to Oleksander, one arm upon his horse and the other lifted in the air. Men in white surround him. An angel appears and speaks forth, “All ye citizens of the earth, look upon your King and give praise to the one who was and is and who has finally come! He is your God and with him you shall now abide in peace and your souls have now found their rest.”

I thought that I would shout out—that I would yell in victory as the others are. Instead, I am weeping, bawling like a blubbering mess. I can’t help it, my soul requires it—tears of relief wash over me. I bury my face into the horse’s mane. All of the fighting is over and I can hardly handle it. My mind tries to grasp that this is real, that we no longer need protection from an enemy. That we may all truly live in peace in our new world with our holy king. I wipe my face to regain my composure and lift up to see Beverly and Mom staring at me with wide eyes. An unexpected laugh bursts forth from somewhere deep inside of me and in the corner of my eye I see them shake their heads to one another. The rain hits against my face and music sounds out. The beating of large drums resound and an amped up bass joins in. We jump from our horses and start to dance, splashing in the puddles of gathered rain. I now shout and cheer with the others, so caught up in the moment that I almost didn’t feel the hand touch my back. I turn to see Grandma and without thinking I fall into her embrace. Again, tears. We cry together and Mom and Beverly join us in our hug. The cool rain becomes warm upon our skin. And as our tears begin to dry, so does the rain. We lift from our huddle to meet the brightness of the sun, returned to her proper place—the sky renewed in her beauty. The brightest rainbow I have ever seen bows out over us. For the first time I feel soft grass between my toes and I hear the sound of birds singing as they fly above in playful swooping. Everything smells so fresh, like spring in all of her glory came forth in one single moment of time.

“Minnie!” We hear someone shout above the commotion and then we see them—our men. With cloaks removed, they walk toward us, their white button up shirts almost translucent from the soaking downpour. Their faces exhibit a sort of champion glow, reveling in victory and the joy that comes with it. It isn’t long before I’m hugging my best friend and cousin, Jense.

“Tell them,” Gramps says, nudging Jense.

The smile spreads across his face as he locks eyes with his mother, my aunt Claire. He grabs her hands. “I went to them,” he says. “I found them.”

Tears become visible in her questioning eyes. She looks around as if trying to decide what to do, like a desperate mother yearning for her child’s embrace . . . a lover vexed with desire for reconciliation. He rubs his hands over hers and she returns to his gaze.

“I couldn’t stay long, but I told them we’d be back soon. Mom, they look good,” he assures her.

She relaxes her shoulders and a smile returns to her face. My last memory of my Uncle Brody and my cousin Cheryl was that day watching them in the waterfall. Though we saw them and heard them, still we were left with uncertainty and longing for it all to be over—to be with them again. Now, in this moment, in our gathered reunion, a voice inside our spirits tell us, “Go to them.”

✦

The men have been gone every day until evening—Gramps, Jense, Mark, Uncle Brody, and Reggie. I stare out of the apartment window, down at the city below, and I am amazed at the transformation. Everyone has pitched in to rebuild, but not just here—it’s what’s been happening all over the world. We are a united people, creating a clean and healthy environment for ourselves and our families.

I’ve never seen so many mansions in one place before. This isn’t the Denver, Colorado I’ve always known. Something happened when we returned—the face of the earth changed, like a rebirth experience. Rivers and streams are now running where they never were before. The violent earthquakes flattened most of the buildings and houses, but you wouldn’t know it now. They have all been replaced by newer and bigger estates.

We have one week before leaving Reggie and Cheryl here in Colorado—one week before their log house is finished and the rest of us return to California to build our own homes.

Cheryl walks into the kitchen where mom and Aunt Claire are putting away the clean dishes. She is holding a small white wand in her hand, and an expression of controlled excitement covers her face. She looks ready to burst at any moment.

“What’s that?” I ask, walking in her direction.

She turns the wand so that we can see the plus sign on top. Aunt Claire gasps.

“Are you pregnant?”

Cheryl nods with a mixture of laughter and tears. Aunt Claire pulls her into a hug and mom throws her arms around the both of them. They rock with excitement as I stand still, my mind reeling by the whole idea.

A baby. Of course I knew that mortals could still have children, but now it’s actually happening. Mortals and immortals sharing a new world together. I try to imagine what it’s going to be like. I will stay the same, untouched by time. Cheryl, the baby, they will grow old and even eventually die. It’s a sobering fact and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

A noticeable peace wraps around me, like a hug from a father.

“Coco, I’m having a baby,” Cheryl shrills.

A huge smile grows across my face and I nod. “Congratulations!” I exclaim, joining in their elation.

✦

“…they will be priests of God and of Christ, and they will reign with him for a thousand years.” Revelation 20:6