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Thy Kingdom Come
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Five days a week for one hour a day the community of Bethleben met together.
They would hold a meeting to learn about the Kingdom. Eben taught it. He had lots to talk about in the first ten years of the community. In the first ten years, the community had lots of questions. The early days everyone wanted to know everything about everything.
Anything and everything was on topic and point of interest. In those days the class instead of an hour could last considerably longer. It was to be expected since one minute they were dying and the next rescued into a land they felt as foreigners in. Strangers in a strange land. In many ways, they were.
Early questions had been like: Why was there no television, newspapers and democratic elections? Why they were alive, others not there? Why couldn’t they have a barbecue? Where were the forks and knives? Why were they living a Thousand Years? Who was in charge, really? What had happened to them? How did they get here? What were they going to eat? Where would they sleep?, the list of questions were long, but gradually they wore those out.
The one question that was never asked was:
Why me?
Why did God pick me?
No one dared to ask that question. The answer was scary.
To them guilt felt predetermined. They knew they were guilty of something deep down inside so why ask THAT ONE. Though each person was guilty enough the response might not have been what they were expecting. It rarely is. After all, no one deserved to be there. No one had a Right to be there. And it was true, quite a few, didn’t expect to be there.
So, now here they were….there.
Now that they were here, some still weren’t sure how they felt about it.
Certain attitudes and questions from those early days were carefully avoided for the first ten years or so. It HAD BEEN a traumatic experience, surviving.
God had healed in the Body in the first days of the Kingdom, but the mind took longer and the soul was scarred. These would take longer.
Physical addictions were gone, but the emotional baggage of the physical connection to the addiction itself, that needed a process to change, not just deny. It would take a transformation of their mind, as well as thoughts.
After all, most were full of images from recent past and the “old world.”
Time wore on and nothing eventful happened. Healing of body, soul and emotions occurred. The questions became less about survival. Soon it had changed to everyday life questions.
Like who was coming to town, when would the Sun rise again, were there any mountains left? Who was on first base? What is a base?
No one ever asked who won the Super Bowl, everyone knew, God did.
In the early days all Eben could do was simply limit questions and daily answer them as much as He could.
Gradually it became more like a classroom as people settled into their surroundings. Slowly they became acclimated. Peace began to permeate their souls. Gradually they healed, slowly they adapted. As soon as the Survivors had children, than it became a real classroom.
A lot had changed childbirth.
No pain, no sorrow. It was a challenge to some at first. Almost as if they expected the pain. When it didn’t occur, there was a letdown. Instead of post partum depression, it was almost a partum depression for some.
Racial memories were a strong force of reason to reckon with. The classroom helped. Of course telling someone who already had been through childbirth that there would be no pain now was like telling a blind man he could see just fine.
The blind man did better than those who had already experienced childbirth.
Every child they bore they waited for the other shoe to drop, or in this case, fetus, sure the baby would cause pain. Didn’t happen and bearing children became again a Celebration of Creation and an honor to the Creator. Not a horror a curse forgotten in the blessings of life.
These ‘newborn’ became a great source of joy for everyone, but Eben was especially touched. These ‘newborn’ he felt was the “hope” of the Older “Survivors”, the generation that survived the Tribulation Period.
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