I Can’t Believe It’s Not Kingdom Come (7)
Chapter 7 of the crime comedy from Chris Well. When the world fails to end on schedule, the mob is in no mood to discuss End-Times theology...
You can listen to the author commentary for this chapter here. (Don’t worry, no spoilers!)
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME will be serialized every Thursday and Saturday on Substack. Links emailed out once a week in our weekly Monster Complex™ newsletter!
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME
It’s not the end of the world—which could be a problem…
- 7 -
Hank Barton had a lot on his mind. After the home Bible study, the group broke up for after-meeting snacks. The ladies and gentlemen headed for the island in the Surtees’ kitchen, a smorgasbord of nacho chips and brownies and various soft drinks in two-liter plastic bottles.
Hank and his best friend, Sven Surtees, found themselves with their plastic cups of punch in the den by the big television, discussing whether the lady machine in Terminator 3 was or was not a step backward from the killer model in the previous movie.
“But in T2,” Sven was saying, “you have this killer machine made out of super-hard liquid that can make itself into anything.”
“Right,” Hank replied.
“And then you have this woman robot who’s just like the first model, but with this added liquid thing. It just seems—”
“She was the best of both models,” Hank said.
The two went on like that for a while, neither man budging from his position. Soon they were joined by some of the other guys in the group, and eventually the talk turned to politics.
“If I were president, I would fight to make the world safe for everyone.” Hank was full of red punch. Sugar and food coloring always got him worked up. “You know, protect free speech, protect our rights as Americans to worship who we please, believe what we please. ”
“Yeah,” one of the other guys said. “We are guaranteed freedom of religion. Not freedom from religion.”
Sven grinned at Hank. “So that’s only if you’re president, huh?” Hank nodded, his lips pursed. “When the church turned its back on the culture, it reaped the results. It’s the simple law of seedtime and harvest, where—”
One of the others—the guy with the Royals cap—frowned. “The what?”
“You know, the promise God gave to Noah: Whatever you plant will grow.”
“Did God say that?”
“Well, something very much like that.” Hank, nervous about his sloshing cup of punch, set it on a coaster on top of the entertainment center. He continued his speech, ticking points off on his fingers. “When the ark came to rest on the top of Ararat, God promised Noah several things—”
The other guy, in a JESUS shirt where the middle “S” was the Superman shield, broke in. “God said there wouldn’t be another flood.”
Hank looked at the man with a knowing smile. “God promised Noah several things: One, no more worldwide floods. Two, the sun and the moon—the passage of time. Three, summer and winter—the seasons. Four, seedtime and harvest—whatever you plant becomes something.” He looked around the circle. He had their attention. “Now, we have no control over the first three items, but the law of seedtime and harvest—that is something that is up to us. We have to be active. We have to do something for that law to work.” Royals Cap scowled. “But grace is free.”
Hank shook his head. “I didn’t say anything about grace. I’m talking about farming here. Grace does not make the corn come by itself. You have to do the work. Grace does not make the cows milk themselves. You have to—”
Sven cut in. “I don’t think you plant cows.”
“Whatever, man, I’m making a point here. God told Noah to build the ark, but Noah had to hammer the nails himself.”
Royals Cap nodded, his eyes lighting up. “Or he would have drowned with everyone else.”
“Right!” Hank nodded. “Or he would have drowned with everyone else. ”
“So you’re saying we should all be—farmers?”
“We already are, my friend. We already are.” He put an arm around Sven. “Look, everything you do or say is a seed that you plant. How you treat your wife. Whether you give at church. How you act around your co-workers. Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything. If you plant a lot of anger and distrust and unfairness, well, that’s your crop. That’s what you’re going to get back.”
Jesus Shirt frowned. “Sounds a lot like karma to me.”
“You’re right, it does.” Hank grabbed his cup of punch and took a sip. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he wiped it. “Where do you think they got the idea?”
Royals Cap: “So this is in the Bible?”
“Look it up.”
Sven smiled broadly. “And how does this make you president of the United States?”
Hank’s eyes looked into the distance. “I just feel like we need to do more. We need to invest in our future. Do you know that the percentage of Bible-believing Christians in America drops with each generation?”
Jesus Shirt: “I don’t know what a few percentage points—”
“Between the World War II generation and now, it’s dropped from something like sixty percent to only four percent.”
Royals Cap almost spit out his punch. “What?”
“Only four percent of teenagers today believe in the Bible. We have planted laziness and doubt in our kids, and now we’re looking at a post-Christian America in just a few years. Like five years. Or less.”
Sven asked in a whisper, “Five years?”
“In five years, this generation coming up will be in their twenties—they’ll be in the workforce. And statistically unreachable with the gospel.” Hank looked around the circle, all the men now waiting for him to go on. Stunned into silence. “So what do we do? We need to pray for grace—that God will save us from the crop we’ve planted. As for me, I’ve had on my heart for sometime that maybe I should enter public office.”
Sven looked at Hank soberly. “So you’re serious about being president?”
Hank grinned. “Well, maybe I should start a little smaller and work my way up.” He sipped from his punch. Nodded slowly. “But yeah, I want to be a part of the solution. Too many Christians are pulling back, watching from the sidelines. Waiting for Jesus to return and rescue them. I think we should be more proactive. When Jesus comes back, I want Him to catch me doing the work.”
Royals Cap was impressed. “But running for office, man. That’s so—grown up.”
Jesus Shirt agreed. “Yeah, where in the world would you start?”
Hank was mulling over the question when his eye caught the newsbreak on the TV. He hit the volume button to turn it up: “Seventh District City Councilman Lester Goode died of an apparent cardiac arrest…”
[NEXT CHAPTER BUTTON COMING]
AUTHOR COMMENTARY:
Given that Mark Hogan—the lead character in I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME—is a churchgoer who has, shall we say, gone “crazy,” I wanted to balance that with a character who was a churchgoer who was *not* crazy.
Hank Barton is also very religious, but he wants to make the world a better place—unlike Hogan, who practices a more selfish approach to religion. In the original published version TRIBULATION HOUSE, there was actually a third subplot that offered yet another counterpoint. But when I revised the book, I trimmed that one out because having the two sides was enough.
When I first published this revised edition on Wattpad—even that was a long time ago—one of the readers over there commented about all the different points of view in my book.
So, yes, this is an ensemble novel with multiple plotlines. But when I revised it, I did cut out two of the subplots that had been in the original published version. So now it has been whittled down from six subplots to “only” four subplots.
For my more recent novels, I’m trying to keep it down to fewer subplots. And looking at the latest books that I plan to share with you on Substack in the future: Those books do have lots of intersecting stuff happening, but I’m trying to share all that stuff through a single observer. So I’ve got that going for me.
There are 70 chapters for I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME. My plan is to post a chapter every Thursday and Saturday on Substack.
If you can’t wait to see how the book turns out, you can currently still read the whole eBook (as TRIBULATION HOUSE: RELOADED) on Wattpad.
Find Chris Well online: