You were going about your business, that day. You were working on your grand and significant projects, making minute progress, until that day.
You were working with fervor, thinking that one more creation, and you'd be done. One more creation and you'd be able to escape that day.
Several interesting side-occupations. Distractions, so to speak. All meticulously worked on, in order to impress that, which came that day.
You were careful, studious, dedicated and loving in your work. All the little details were filled-in. The colors were right, the equations were correct, the experiments produced the right results. Until that day.
You had faith. And reason. And patience. Armed with all three, you were working diligently, until that day.
One more article. One more reserach item. One more effort, in any case. Perhaps, that one, the last effort, would be the sentinel that would spare you from that day.
So you were praying, you were working and you were worshiping God, oblivious to what was about to come: That day.
And that day finally and inevitably came. And found you working. That day was the day when God knocked on your mind's door. Hello? Who's there?
That day came like nothing you have felt or seen before. It was like a mountain thrown onto your head. It was like the entire universe collapsed onto your mind. It was that day.
You tried to postpone it, to push it away, to deny it. But that day came like an avalanche. Like the blast from ten thousand simultaneous bullets from a fast and efficient machine gun.
When that day came, you wanted to beg for forgiveness, to ask for a small postponement, so you could perhaps use some obscure resource to buy your way out of it. But that day was relentless.
That day, the voice of your dead father asked you a very crucial question: "What are you doing? What have you been doing? For God or me? Are you ready? Are you ready for non-existence in the bone sewer trash bin of Erebus?" On that day.
Not knowing what the right answer to this question was, you wanted to hide. Somewhere deep. Somewhere underground. Somewhere far away from the sight of this being, who was asking these questions. On that day.
Is there any place one can hide from God? Where? In the sun? He made the sun. In the Earth? He fashioned the Earth with His hands. On the Moon? It's His secret abode. On a far away galaxy? He has a thousand eyes. Eyes, back and forth. He sees even in the darkest recesses of Χάος & Erebus.
On that day pray that is your last. Because if He spares you from Death, you'll have to live the rest of your life with the burden of knowing: Knowing that your termination date at some close future date is inevitable. That's not an easy burden: The burden of Sisyphus looks like one of Disneyland's happy trips. I'd very much rather go up and down that hill, happily carrying a 5,000 kg stone forever, than be terminated into non-existence.
On that day God will ask you to take a stance: "Are you with me? Or against me?" He will ask. What can you say? What can you possibly say to Him?
On that day a transformation will take place. Your transformation from the blind sleep of ignorance, to the immutable state of knowing.
What will you do after that day? How will you face the world after that day? The world is His to do as He pleases. His to preserve, His to destroy, in one second.
Be very careful what you say on that day, because He is watching. You know He is. You can feel it.
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