MORE THAN A SKELETON

Thomas Nelson

Chapter One

Ah, there it is, he reflected, the proper sense of guilt so befitting a Lutheran. No one celebrated divine grace and forgiveness better than Lutherans, but the celebration was always more exquisite when preceded by a decent dose of guilt. When an adoring coed remarked that the blue of his BMW perfectly matched his eyes and that he looked like a maturing Robert Redford, Jonathan Weber worried that he may innocently have flirted with her. Still, he had finally learned to talk back to his nagging conscience and enjoy more of life on its own terms.

That morning, the drive to Harvard from his home in suburban Weston had taken exactly a half hour—right on schedule. Crossing the Charles River, he headed northward on J. F. Kennedy Street, carefully maneuvering through the trademark traffic radiating out of Harvard Square. His Beamer was doubly safe, he knew, because of its superb German engineering and his own meticulous care while driving. Not the faintest scratch had marred its enameled surface since he took delivery. At Mount Auburn Street, for example, he gave no thought whatever to outrunning the light that had just flashed yellow, but braked defensively to a stop. And that may have been his undoing.

Brakes shrieked, and a shattering crash from behind hurled Jon into his cream leather seat, then whipped him forward in reaction. Fortunately, he was wearing a seat belt and was only stunned, not injured. The same could not be said of his Z4. The rear-ending had driven its tail end into a configuration not intended by the engineers in Munich.

Storming out of his car, Jon saw a lanky, red-faced lad climbing out of the gray PT Cruiser that had assaulted him. A woeful look of anguish twisted the young man's features—and, of course, his grille. Before any confrontation, Jon walked to the rear of the Cruiser to record its license number. It was then that he noticed a large white sticker with red lettering on the back end of the car just above its plastic bumper: Warning: in case of Rapture, this car will be left driverless!

"So," Jon snapped at the driver. "Apparently your car is driverless: have you just been raptured? And if so, what in blazes are you doing back here on earth?"

"I'm ... awfully sorry about this," the youth drawled. "I was looking over at the river—it's such a beautiful day—and I just ... couldn't stop in time."

After exchanging the usual insurance information, Jon tried a few pleasantries to calm the shaken fellow, obviously a university undergrad. He really wanted to ask him why anyone would buy such an ugly imitation retro as a PT Cruiser, but thought better of it. "That bumper sticker of yours," he said. "Do you really believe that bit about being raptured out of your driver's seat?"

"I sure do!" The lad brightened, adding, "I've read all the books in the Left Behind series, and I think that—"

"But they're fiction!"

"Yes, but they're based on fact—on what Christians believe will surely happen during these end times."

"Not this Christian!" Jon objected. "Here's my card. Why not come to my office sometime and we'll talk about it?"

"Love to," the young man replied, finally managing a sheepish smile. "Again, I'm awfully, awfully sorry about this!"

By the time he reached his office, not far from Harvard's immortal Yard, Jon was angry—less about his wounded BMW and more about how end-times mania had beset the minds even of university undergrads, or at least one poor driver among them. He was scheduled to have an interview with a journalist from Newsweek later that morning, during which he had every intention of being cool, dispassionate, and tolerant. Now he wondered if he could actually manage it.

At exactly ten-thirty there was a knock on his office door. There stood the tall, distinguished figure of Kenneth L. Woodward, Newsweek's veteran religion editor, who had come to Cambridge to interview Jon for a cover story on the end-times mania sweeping the nation. The two were well acquainted from previous interviews.

"You know the drill, Jon," said Woodward, while opening his attaché case, pulling out a tape recorder, and placing it on a small table between their chairs. "I'll let you see my copy before we publish. We hardly ever do that, but I make special exceptions in the case of persnickety professors!"

Jon chuckled. "Just be sure you translate my comments into English, Ken!"

"Always difficult in your case!"

"I'm sure! But why me? How do you think I can help your story?"

"Well, isn't that obvious? Aren't you The Man Who Saved Christianity by exposing that 'skeleton in God's closet' several years ago? The Christian world's been grateful to you ever since, so your input on our story should have rather strong impact."

Jon held up his hands to object. "I've never known you to exaggerate, Ken. Why start now? But let's unpack what you have so far."

Woodward cleared his throat and began. "Well, you can guess where we're going with our end-times feature, and I'm sure you know the stats: millions upon millions of copies sold in the Left Behind series and end-times fanaticism abounds."

Woodward paused for effect, then continued, "There hasn't been a flurry like this since Hal Lindsey's The Late Great Planet Earth. That book, you'll recall, was the number one international bestseller throughout the 1970s—after the Bible itself.

"What we want from you, Jon, is a critique of the whole end-times thinking—fact and fiction. The authors of Left Behind based their series not only on their own nonfiction works on prophecy, but also on the writings of Hal Lindsey, John Walvoord, and other prophecy specialists."

"Okay, I'll have at it," Jon said. "But you may have to tone down what I say. You know I have an overactive tongue in an over-opinionated mouth."

"Don't worry. We'll run it by our lawyers."

Jon proceeded to summarize the popular claims of the prophecy enthusiasts as fairly as he could. At the start of their end-times scenario, so they taught, true believers would be physically taken up to heaven in a Rapture that would leave their non-Christian relatives and friends behind for a second chance at genuine faith. A seven-year period of Tribulation would follow, during which terrible things would afflict the new believers and unbelievers alike, many of them caused by an Antichrist figure at the summit of a one-world government with a single currency, who would lord it over subjects branded with "the mark." (Other prophecy specialists argued that the Rapture would take place in the middle of the seven-year Tribulation period or at its end.) Next, a final, horrendous battle at Armageddon would follow, and only then would Jesus return in His second coming,...