The Tribulation

The Tribulation 

Witnessing Tools 
Thursday, June 19, 2014 
J.L. Robb 



''For then there will be great distress, unequaled from the beginning of the world until now-and never to be equaled again. If those days had not been cut short, no one would survive, but for the sake of the elect those days will be shortened.'' ~Matthew 24:21-22  NIV


The above quote was Jesus talking. He was explaining to the Apostles how bad things were going to be just prior to his return. In speaking of this future time Jesus states that had He not returned when He did, at the end of the Tribulation, everyone would be dead. Everyone. Most Christians refer to this 7-year time frame as the Tribulation. It is to occur in the last days, the end times as described throughout the Bible.


The Tribulation is also referred to as “the time of Jacob’s trouble” and “the day of God’s wrath.” None of the descriptions appear to be a good thing for those having to experience it, especially if they live in Israel.


Will the people who have to live through it know when the Tribulation begins? If there are no Christians left, the remaining population would probably have no clue what the Tribulation was to be. Though the Tribulation will be global, “Jacob’s trouble” seems to indicate that Israel will be a specific recipient of God’s wrath.


There was no Children of Israel clan until Abraham’s son Jacob was born. Jacob fulfilled his destiny by becoming the father of the Israeli people. God advised that Jacob would become known as Israel. It has been a long history.


Will any Christians have to endure this Tribulation; and if so, why? Would it mean they weren’t worthy, that they weren’t faithful enough? Would they be Christians who didn’t believe in the rapture? Would they be Christians who were left for a specific purpose?


I imagine that today there are Christians all over the world, especially in Muslim lands, who think they are living through the Tribulation. The murder, carnage, destruction and reign of evil and absolute terror throughout the Islamic world show no mercy from a god they call merciful.


According to a FOX News report, this persecution and execution of Christians by Islamic jihadists has increased dramatically in the past year. Here is but one example the article listed.


Rev. Faye Pama Musa, 52, was one of 2,123 Christians killed last year due to their faith, compared to 1,201 in 2012. More than half of those reported killings (1,213) occurred in Syria, followed by Nigeria (612) and Pakistan (88). (Courtesy: Open Doors)


Rev. Faye Pama Musa knew immediately why suspected Boko Haram militants burst into his home last year as his wife prepared dinner in the family’s northeastern Nigeria home. His stance against Christian persecution in the divided African nation had long made him a target.


Musa, who served as the general overseer of the Rhema Assembly International Church and secretary of the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) in Borno, saw the intruders near the front door of his home in Maiduguri as his wife, Mercy, prepped food. One of the couple’s daughters, Zion, had spotted the armed men just seconds earlier jumping a fence.


“Today you are a dead man,” one of the gunmen reported said on May 14 as he dragged Musa to the porch. “Call your Jesus to help you, Mr. CAN man!”


Zion Musa then begged the attackers to spare her father, a request met with a misfired bullet that caused her to faint. She survived but her 52-year-old father – a man who worked closely with Open Doors, a nondenominational group tracking persecuted Christians worldwide – did not.


This past Sunday, the al-Shabaab terrorist group killed 60 at the Breeze View Hotel in Kenya as residents and tourists watched the World Cup soccer match. According to witnesses, thereligion of peace gunmen separated the Muslim from the non-Muslim and told everyone to say, “There is no God but Allah.” Then they told the non-Muslims to lie down and executed them. In Nigeria, 16 Christians were killed and 200 houses burned.


According to Open Doors International, twice as many Christians died in 2013 than in 2012 because of their faith. The past year, more Christians were killed in Syria than in the rest of the combined world.


While Open Doors attests to approximately 2,100 Christian executions last year, the World Watch List claims this total as the very minimum. They estimate that the real number is between 7,000 and 8,000, because many Christian deaths are never reported.


I am sure to these terrorized Christians, it is their tribulation even if it’s not THE Tribulation.


My fourth book in The End Series is called The Dissappearance. It is now available for pre-purchase and hopefully will be available late August but could be September.


 For all of you who are reading the series, I think you will find it quite thought provoking.


When people suddenly start disappearing, many are miffed about why they remained behind. Some church members disappear while others do not. One thing that is notable however is that no Muslims or Jews were among the vanished, nor Hindus or Buddhists.


As preachers, rabbis and clerics try to comfort their flocks, they have no real answers but do have a lot of questions. Some "Christians" who are left become angry at God, while others find faith and wait for whatever is coming.


I hope you will pre-order your autographed copies today, because that helps me raise marketing capital for publishing and advertising. I might even put you in the book if you want to be. Books are available through our website at http://www.theendthebook.com/

I am including the first chapter, and thanks to everyone who is following Jeff, Abe the Bartender, Condi the news babe and The Admiral. If you find any typos, please let me know!


Get a helmet!


Chapter One


“The weather today will be hot for February, and dry. High temperature, 114-degrees. Skies will be partly cloudy with a chance of meteor showers.” ~The Weather Channel Atlanta, Georgia
“Run!”


Samarra nearly shoved Audry out the door of Jeff’s newest boy toy, a cherry-red Rimac Concept One, mouthing a silent curse at the sports car. Surely he could’ve found something a little more difficult to get out of; the seats seemed to encompass the soul. Seemed to her a one million dollar automobile ought to have some sort of seat-ejection system to help get out of the car.


“Come on Thomas, gotta go, hut… hut… hut. Run!!” she repeated with a shout to her son, wondering if he would ever make it to teenagehood; and they jogged hand in hand across the steamy-hot asphalt parking lot toward safety, hopefully. The dark pavement seemed to sink around their shoes, and the heat reflecting off the parking lot surely felt like a pizza oven.


An explosion in the distance sobered reality, and they ran faster toward the old Suwanee High School, out of breath and drinking water in the hot morning sun. At 105, the temperature wasn’t a record for the late February morning, even in Atlanta. That had been set the year before at 108. But it was early.


“Let’s go. Hurry.”


“I’m coming, Mom for Pete’s sake,” and Samarra smiled at how quickly her son had picked up Jeffrey’s sayings.


Audry held Thomas’ hand tightly, and fear was evident on her new brother’s face. Her heart beat a million beats a minute, at least.


Another tiny but potent meteorite slammed into the ground, followed by an earth-shaking boom; and a blue Chevy Volt evaporated from the corner parking spot, replaced by a house sized crater. A six-foot section of Buford Highway disappeared in an instant, along with two motorcyclists and the silver SUV, all hoping to find safety with no success. 


“I’m glad you bought that app, Samarra!!” Audry screamed, trying to be heard over the constant booming and keep balance on the shaking ground at the same time. She was glad.


Me too, Samarra thought. The IM-App had surely saved their lives more than once, she reckoned. Being warned of Incoming Meteorites had to be the app of all apps, considering how often they were happening.


“Incoming, Incoming!” her phone had announced just a few minutes earlier at her Sugarloaf home. “Twelve minutes until impact. Gwinnett County imminent target.”
While the IM-App had already proven to be a life saver, the app designers’ sense of humor shown in the background, a song by Skeeter Davis, Don’t They Know it’s the End of the World? It was an oldie, and she found it unnerving.


“Proceed to old Suwanee High School Shelter.”


Samarra’s heart pounded; and she stepped between Audry and Thomas, pulling both behind her. Thomas’ tiny, four-fingered hand was slippery with sweat; and Samarra hoped she had his asthma inhaler with her, just in case.


As parts of the Chevy Volt and chunks of black asphalt sped their way, Samarra threw the children to the ground, thankful that they had made it to the shade and crawled on top in the only protection she could think of, the only safety barrier she could provide. She held her breath, knowing something was bound to hit them.


Three workers having an early lunch in their white utility truck, escaped the truck and ran but fell to the ground.  Samarra covered Audry’s eyes and was glad she couldn’t see what shewas seeing as paving debris, a motorcycle tire and a Gideon Bible flew barely overhead.


The explosion’s after-effects passed quickly. Samarra and the children were up and running again. The back doors of the building would be heavy, but hopefully the shelter would save them. Samarra’s ankle began to burn, and she glanced on the run. 


Blood.


They continued their jaunt toward the old Suwanee High School, along with dozens of others. The building seemed to be getting further away.


“Ouch!” Samarra said, slapping the side of her neck.


 With the heat and lack of rain, mosquitos were more aggressive than ever, she thought; but that sure didn’t feel like a mosquito bite.


“What?” Audry asked, still running as fast as possible, out of breath.
“Nothing, honey. Something bit me, that’s all.”


The shelter was a product of post-World War II and was the area’s nuclear bomb shelter during the cold war. Though never used for that purpose, the building remained intact and was now a research facility built of thick concrete and steel with a six-foot thick reinforced roof.


 “Will the roof be thick enough, Samarra?” Audry asked on the run, dragging the dazed and confused Thomas along.


Meteor showers had become common, and Samarra always listened to the Weather Channel to stay abreast of the deadly showers. Between the daily meteorites and those huge chunks of ice falling from the sky, she thought she might open a helmet business. Their friend Chadbo had recommended helmets while outside, and she had listened.  He called them Satan’s Hailstones, and Samarra thought maybe they were.  She adjusted Thomas’s helmet, and the shelter was finally within reach.


In the far distance, toward Lawrenceville, she was sure she heard thunder; but the sky was blue. They ran faster.


Samarra and Audry stopped in their tracks and turned at the scream, looking back across the parking lot, now with three craters that resembled perfectly round sinkholes. The utility truck was no more, and the three men were now one.


He was limping badly, running the best he could; and in an instant Audry broke free of Samarra’s sweaty grip and ran toward the ailing man. Blood seeped from wounds on the small man’s face.


Samarra picked up Thomas and ran after Audry with a renewed adrenalin rush. She caught up with her just as the workman collapsed, only it was a work lady instead of a man. She would be easy to carry.


Samarra and Audry supported the bleeding woman, and Audry was in awe of their combined and sudden strength. It was as though the injured woman was made of straw. Audry wiped the blood from the lady’s face as she hung limp, but the blood reappeared quickly.


Was she dead?


The thought was scary, but then Audry heard the woman moan.


“We need to hurry, Audry.”


They turned the corner, heading toward the open security doors that would lead to the underground shelter. A gust of wind blew blue plastic trash cans across the parking lot.


Running and out of breath, Samarra didn’t notice the disappearance of the front lobby of the old Suwanee High School. It had been a maintenance repair shop; but rumors had it that it was a top secret research facility, or at least had been at one time.


“I hope Daddy makes it back today!” Audry shouted, a small piece of foam insulation now lodged in her long red hair. And she did; she missed him. Audry had known her mom would disappear that night in Jamaica. Mr. Hutz had told her, and he was always right. He can’t tell a lie.


“He will honey, if it’s at all possible. Hurry.”


Out of breath, Samarra, the injured woman and the two kids entered the shelter, only to be knocked out of the way by three teenagers with the latest earbuds pumping noise into their heads. Samarra stumbled, dropping the injured woman to the ground.


One of the locals, Samarra guessed, saw the three kids shove the women out of the way. He appeared in his sixties, maybe seventies but did not hesitate. The man intercepted the kids and slapped one squarely on the back of the head, dislodging the small speakers from the teen’s ears and knocking his backwards baseball cap off his heavily tattooed head. The three kids froze in fear.


“You didn’t see those people?” the man shouted, spittle coming from his mouth.


 “Get your sorry butts over there and carry that injured woman… or somebody’s gonna have to carry you!!”


Another explosion, this time smaller or further away, rattled the morning air and then silence as they all secured places in the shelter. Five minutes passed.
“Is that it?” someone asked out of the darkness.


“Stay put,” an authoritative voice called out. “App said it would last twenty to thirty minutes. It’s been six.”


Even with the heavy security door shoved completely shut, there came a faint sound from outside, more like the whine of an electric motor or kitchen blender. The hushed crowd looked around; but no one could tell from other’s expressions, because the facility was nearly dark except for a few red emergency lights here and there. The electric-blender whine quickly evolved into more of a mild rumble, and the decibels increased painfully.


Forty miles above the Suwanee shelter, one of the last meteors of the storm approached at less than ten thousand miles an hour, turtle-slow in the world of falling stars. The slow approach speed gave the small, thirty foot meteor ample time to heat up and let any liquids contained within convert to their gaseous states, building pressure. The surface of the giant rock slowly expanded like a huge pressure cooker; and like a pressure cooker out of control, all hell broke loose.


“What is that noise?” someone in the crowd shouted, not really expecting an answer. The rumble increased, and Samarra held the children and the unconscious woman tightly, protecting all three beneath her body.


The bus sized meteor, now glowing brighter than the morning sun, plotted its course directly at the old Suwanee High School shelter, as though the facility was painted in laser, a target waiting for the end. The gases continued to expand; and the pressure release outlets on the meteor could not release fast enough, at least fast enough for those below. Like a pressure-release valve in the home water heater, if the pressure can’t be released fast enough, it goboom!


One mile above the old Suwanee High School the meteor did go boom. While there would be no crater to speak of, the heat and blast wave would destroy most standing structures, whether they be plants, animals or buildings within a half-mile radius; and damage would extend as far as three miles.


The thirty-seven people in the shelter had no idea that a meteor was headed directly at them and were confused at the noise and high-pitched whine that increased with each microsecond. It seemed like a lifetime.


“What the hell is that?”


The voice was familiar. There was no flash of blinding light in the underground shelter; but the sound could not be hidden, followed quickly by the twenty-five hundred degree heat and then the blast wave.


The heavy, six-foot reinforced concrete roof shook violently and the victims below screamed out in terror. Samarra squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, and she wondered if this was what Luke meant when he wrote that verse 2,000 years earlier.


“People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken.”


Then she fainted from terror.




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