Susan Mihalic

Susan Mihalic
August 05
Writer & editor. Passionate about freedom of expression. Liberal, aspiring to be pointy-headed. Follow me on Twitter: @susanmihalic.


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MAY 20, 2011 11:22PM

I Shalt Not Be Raptured

Rate: 8 Flag

If there is a Rapture, I'm pretty sure I’m not invited. It’s kind of like those family reunions I didn’t know about until after they took place, only on a larger scale.

Not that I don’t know about the Rapture—this one, anyway. I didn’t know about—nor was I invited to—the previous Rapture this guy predicted. But now, thanks to Facebook and Twitter, it’s impossible not to know that true believers are going to be sucked up to heaven on May 21, 2011, starting at 6 p.m. Eastern time. Does that mean it’ll be 4 p.m. Mountain time, or is this like a rolling thing that happens at 6 p.m. in each time zone? Because I have plans to watch the Preakness. I mean, I’m not going anywhere—I shalt not be Raptured—but if there’s a big Rapturous disruption, maybe NBC shalt not broadcast the race. Maybe scheduled programming will be interrupted by news bulletins with footage of people being whisked out of their clothes and zooming skyward.

I grew up in Mississippi, where things like the Rapture are taken very seriously. It’s not just a matter of life or death. It’s a matter of your eternal life or your eternal damnation. The Rapture was the kind of thing that freaked me out when I was a kid. It was the ultimate horror story.

When I was in my early teens, a friend asked me once, “Are you going to heaven when you die?”

“I hope so,” I said.

“Well, I know I’m going,” she said.

“How can you know something like that?”

“Because I’ve been saved.”

It was the first time I’d heard the expression saved. I had no idea what it meant. We attended the local Methodist church sporadically, but it wasn’t a hellfire-and-brimstone place. There were no theatrical, fist-pounding sermons. There were no threats. There was no mention of saved.

“Have you been saved?” my friend asked.

“Uh . . . I’ve been baptized.”

“It’s not the same thing,” she said.

I think she might have been trying to witness to me, to give me her testimony, and I felt an instinctive resistance, as if she were trying to hustle me down a path that didn’t feel right to me.

So here we are, thirty-odd years later, and tomorrow’s the Rapture, and I still haven’t been saved, and I guess getting sprinkled with some lemon-scented water when I was about ten years old doesn’t count. But these days, I know without a doubt what I believe in: compassion, integrity, and love. That’s pretty much the extent of my belief system. It’s not good enough to qualify me to be Raptured, but it’s good enough for me.

And I have a plan. My childhood friend would probably say that it isn’t God’s plan, but I’ve always been self-reliant. Since I’m staying right where I am, I intend to get a job working for the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. They’ll need someone who knows how to handle horses. You can’t ride a horse 24/7, even if you are an apocalyptic equestrian and your horse is a terrifying supernatural beast.

I’m not saying they’ll be easy to work for, but I’ve had demanding employers before, and anyway, the post-Rapture period isn’t called the Tribulation for nothing.

I have carrots. I'm ready.

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And apples. I have apples.
water, clear, running water is also nice. and a curry brush.
i would like to help, but my arms get tired pretty quickly. i could take the armageddon photos.
You made me laugh and smile and I thoroughly enjoyed this!
I dont know, maybe its time.
I really enjoyed this. A good friend, when I was growing up, was from a more, er, evangelical church than the Lutheran church I attended. She wanted to know if I was saved. The best answer: "Yes." Then, when they ask, "Oh, when?" you say, "On a hill in Galilee, 2000 years ago." I regret to say I never had the presence of mind to respond that way. But I read this in a Christianity forum a few years back, and always remembered it.
dianaani, yes, photos! What a great idea!

LL2, thank you very much.

Noirville, thanks for reading.

Snippy, what a perfect response. I think it would have stopped my friend in her tracks. As it was, I was just kind of confused and resistant, and she was . . . well, saved, I guess.
if you can handle a horse, you can handle anything. great story, susan. and your water was lemon-scented? whoa. :)
Candace, I specifically remember the lemon scent. I also remember being glad that sprinkling was acceptable, because I couldn't see myself getting dunked. It's funny what lines we will and won't cross, even when we're kids. Sprinkling? OK, yeah, that sounds all right. Dunking? Um, no, thank you. Saved? Er . . .
I haven't even been baptized, but I can handle carrots, apples and horses. Maybe your having been baptized will get you about half way up so you can hover at mid-level, Susan. =o) And keep on half your clothes.

Me I'm planning a nice, Satanic banquet. I'm thinking Deviled eggs for an appetizer, Shrimp Fra Diavolo, and some Devil's food cake for dessert.

Take good care of those horses. I am reminded of a country song going around lately:

"When the gun smoke settles we'll sing a victory tune
We'll all meet back at the local saloon
We'll raise up our glasses against evil forces
Singing whiskey for my men, beer for my horses"
Good Christ! I thought I was a fairly decent guy and here I am in Hell!!!! It's not devils or demons at all. It's run by corporations and there are endless wars and crazy bastards breaking down doors and shooting people. (I wonder where they go when they die.) People are losing their jobs and their homes and the evil controllers run the banks. And the real demons in the legislation racket are totally nuts. I never thought Hell could get this bad.
Susan, those horses look to be a handful.

Shiral had some good suggestions for the Satanic crowd.

Jan Sand has a (sadly) realistic take on things...

And, hey, the earthquakes and disappearances in each time zone have already commenced, no? Funny, nothing on the news...
Shiral, that might not be so bad--hovering in the stratosphere for a while . . . or wait, would it be the troposphere or the mesosphere . . . or is it--well, what is halfway to heaven? I'd rather take care of the horses and have a slice of your devil's food cake.

Linnnn, I actually knew a horse who could drink beer from a bottle. He'd take it in his teeth, throw his head back, and chug it.

Jan, I couldn't agree more.

Myriad, that's because the liberal media doesn't want people to know the truth. Folks are getting Raptured left and right. That is, the *right* folks are getting Raptured. The rest of us are getting *left* behind.
Good one, Susan, good one.
"the *right* folks are getting Raptured. The rest of us are getting *left* behind." Guess I'll be right here with ya, Susan, left behind.

BTW, I want a post about that horse that chugs a beer. There's gotta be a story there!
"the *right* folks are getting Raptured. The rest of us are getting *left* behind." Guess I'll be right here with ya, Susan, left behind.

BTW, I want a post about that horse that chugs a beer. There's gotta be a story there!
Penny, sadly, my employment opportunity didn't materialize. Guess I'll have to keep writing.