Camping out, far out . . .

Sometimes on road trips I am likely to run the radio dial for something different. After sundown and into the wee hours of the morning are the best times for this diversion. For years I have run across a religious program hosted by Harold Camping. He is certainly different. His show is one of the call-in variety, sort of a Paul Finebaum Bible Study. (For those of you outside the confines of Alabama, Paul Finebaum is a popular radio sports talk host, now on Sirius XM if you want to give it a listen) About half of the times I have heard Camping's program he has discussed his prediction of the end times. He has now narrowed it down to Saturday. This Saturday. May 21.

Those of us who adhere to a religion that has, most of the time in retrospect, accepted that prophets are often sent by God to give us some tough news, find it troubling to make light of such a seemingly wild prediction. For those of us in the Christian faith it is still troubling, even though it would seem counter to Jesus' clear statement that nobody will know the time until it happens. But still, I don't believe it, even though something about it gets to something inside of me. Maybe I'm the only one. But it's silly, isn't it?

Then yesterday I heard Camping interviewed on NPR.

It must be serious.

I don't know whether May 21 is the last day or not. It would be good to know. No worries about next week's schedule. Preacher friends could forgo the Saturday ritual of "finishing" their sermons. Which bills to pay would be a bit easier. The list of things to do would get quite short. Or at least different. Yard work would somehow seem inappropriate on that last day.

But he was on NPR.

On the other hand, so was Donald Trump as a serious presidential candidate. So were hours of time devoted to discussions concerning President Obama's birth certificate and religious beliefs. Sarah Palin got more public radio airtime than Nina Totenberg. I could go on, but, since time may be truly getting short, I'll move on.

It is interesting how this prediction of the "rapture" effects us. Perhaps, in a serious moment, even though we don't believe it, it has made us think of whether we spend our time wisely, or goodly.

But there is another view. The "left behind" view. My mother had a great notion of this when she was a child. After hearing the Biblical prediction that when Jesus returns some will be taken up to heaven and some will be left behind, two will be working in the field, one will be taken up, one will be left behind, she decided she would always try to hang around people who were clearly not as nice as she was. I have used that illustration so many times I am sure she wishes she hadn't told me. But it deserved this one last time for the ages.

It is a sad thing that a religion based on perfect love can become so twisted. We begin to be concerned whether we have done enough to be on the first celestial bus out of here, of whether there is a seat for us. Never a thought that perhaps the Jesus thing to do would be to let someone else have our seat, if that is possible. There surely won't be room for everyone.

But there is. At least that's what I believe.

After Katrina I rode along on a bus with my brother in law Tommy and my nephew TJ and our new friend Charles, the driver of the bus, to New Orleans four or five days after the hurricane hit. The idea was to see if we could get a few people out of there. After a lot of waiting and talking we were finally allowed to go to the Causeway Bridge. It was about four in the morning and it was still inky dark in that place that was usually lit up 24 hours a day. We slowly approached the bridge with a few other buses escorted by the national guard. Suddenly the bus was surrounded by thousands of people trying to get in.

That bus had a capacity of about 45 or so. When they told us to open the doors, humanity flowed in like the flood waters over the levees. One of us was supposed to be counting, but when we passed 45, Charles didn't close the door. He kept letting them in. Looking at the faces of those desperate people, he couldn't close the door.

Of course, he ultimately had to. But it was love that made it so hard to do. And he was just Charles, not God.

God's bus is perfect. Seats for everyone. What does it take to get in?

Maybe just grabbing the outstretched hand of the driver as He looks into your desperate face. I don't know.

It's late and I am certainly rambling. It's been a tough week and it's just Wednesday.

But time may be getting short.

Of course it is, for all of us, every day, whether it's May 21 or not.

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