Apocalyptic Reflection

 

Ferocious rain whips against this old wooden house as thunder rumbles and lightning flashes apocalyptically across the night sky. What is it about Stations of the Cross on a Texan Thursday evening that brings this on. I don't know, I can't fathom the ways of our old enemy the Weather, but it seems appropriate to this evening's devotion.

After all, what is the crucifixion if not the seeming triumph of Antichrist and with that we're reminded of a bestial number, a threefold series of sixes. St. John casts light on infernal mathematics in his Gospel.

At the sixth hour Christ is met by the harlot at the well. Again at the sixth hour, the followers of Caiaphas the false prophet stamp themselves with the mark of the beast, crying out, "We have no king but Caesar." Then darkness falls upon the land at the sixth hour as Jesus hangs dying on Calvary.

There it is, 666 and the character of Antichrist spelled out, whorish infidelity, idolatrous irreligion, and the murderous extinction of life itself. Such is Satan's revolt against God and the serpent appeared to have won, but not so fast.

The Samaritan woman at the well repents and becomes a great evangelist and martyr, St. Photina, in receipt of living water. The false prophets are swept away and the darkness of the cross gives out to the light of Easter and the empty tomb. Life, light and truth win over the deathly night of the beast.

All this played out in Christ's life, setting the template, model, figure and type of the final battle between good and evil. Every day draws us closer to this point and with it the lines are ever more clearly drawn and distinct. Hasten to enlist on the right side of this divide.

In the meanwhile, thunder and lightning crash down with the very force of the Eschaton itself.

Here endeth the Lesson,

LSP

Apocalyptic Storm

I had barely settled in for a relaxing evening after the Sunday Masses and visiting the sick and dying, when a worried churchperson called, "There's a big storm blowing in. The weather people are saying there'll be hailstones the size of golf balls!" Undaunted, I stepped onto the porch to see the action.

Sure enough, lightning was flashing across the sky, filling the still sky with its sudden glare, as yet noiseless, but promising greater things. A good cue to get an umbrella and go on patrol. Half way to the town square it began to rain, slowly at first then in great, pounding sheets. Thunder ripped and crashed from the heavens, like the wrath of God itself.

I took shelter at the Shamrock Pick 'N Steal and watched the rain before wading through flooded streets to the safety of the Compound and its porch. Would the town survive?

It did, but only just and by the grace of God. You can watch an exciting video of this exciting tempest here.

Weather the storm,

LSP