Rapture Practice Read Online Free PDF Page A

for a couple of minutes because I have to take a few notes in a half-size, three-ring blue canvas binder Dad gave me when I was in first grade. He calls it my “Life Notebook,” and it has half-sheet notebook paper and dividers in it. One of the dividers is labeled QUIET TIME . I’m supposed to read the Bible every day and then write down what truth I found in that passage and how God used it to speak to my heart.
    Another tab is labeled SERMON NOTES , and I’m supposed to take notes on what the speaker is preaching about. I write down several of the first things Pastor Schwartz says. He’s talking about how God knew he would have to send Jesus to die for our sins before he ever created the universe, and that each one of us who is born again was “preordained” to be saved. This means God knows whether or not we will ask Jesus to be our savior long before we are born. The assistant pastor is using this word
preordain
a lot, so I write it down.
    After a while, I get bored and start drawing wedding dresses.
    I always think about weddings in this church auditorium, mainly because I’ve been to so many of them here. Dad performs lots of ceremonies, and Mom is often asked to sing. I love weddings, especially the bridal gowns. Tonight, I drawseveral dresses with sweetheart necklines, probably a little lower than Mom would think is modest. The one I like best has a princess waistline and a full train, with Camelot sleeves. I’ve learned the different names for these styles from reading the descriptions of the dresses in the bridal section of the JCPenney catalog. Camelot sleeves have been very popular lately at our church.
    Finally, the sermon is wrapping up, and I decide to jot down a couple more points in case Dad wants to see my notes later. The assistant pastor is talking about how to handle it when Satan tempts us to doubt God’s word. He reads the story in the Gospel of Mark about the father who brings his demon-possessed son to Jesus for healing. Jesus tells the father that all he must do for his son to be healed is believe. The father says to Jesus, “I believe; help thou my unbelief.”
    I like that Bible verse. The man seems to be saying, “I believe close to ninety percent of the time, but every once in a while I have these questions, these little things that don’t make sense,” and he’s asking Jesus for help with that tiny ten percent.
    After the closing hymn, the assistant pastor encourages us to be there next Sunday night, when a missionary family from New Guinea will talk about their work in the bush.
    My family will be back again before next Sunday night. On Wednesday night, my parents will come for the weekly prayer meeting. The choir practices that night, too, and the kids who aren’t old enough for youth group yet go to specialgroup meetings. The girls attend Pioneer Girls, and I join the rest of the guys in Boys’ Brigade. Boys’ Brigade is like a Christian version of Boy Scouts. In addition to tying knots, we memorize Bible verses each week to earn special pins and badges for our uniforms. My dentist leads the Brigade. He’s very jolly, without being fat, and patient as we learn to tie knots and make things out of wood. Last week, I learned how to change a tire.
    After the final prayer, I tell Mom that I’m going to the bathroom and will meet the family at the car. I head straight for the parking lot. At least no one will notice my dorky socks in the car.
    It’s a long wait. Dad and Mom always have lots of people to talk to after the services at church. Everybody loves my parents. People are always asking both of them to speak at various events or Bible studies and asking Dad’s advice about things. Finally, Mom and Dad make it to the car, too.
    On the way home, Dad talks about the missionary family who will be at church next Sunday. He knows them and has asked them to speak at one of his classes at the Bible college while they are in Kansas City this week.
    “I’d love to take our