(Beyond Magic, by George and Eileen Anderson; second file)

Religion - traditional nice little services - is losing its grip.

Our P.O. box (an oversized one: we only venture into civilisation once a week to empty it) is often crammed to bursting with letters from pastors re-evaluating their whole life and work. Letters from people who've quit church and found that they've begun a new relationship with Dad.

Which isn't a not-so-subtle plug for the effect of our books. Enough times these people have come this way with nothing but God to guide them. Only once they've kind of settled in their relationship with him "outside the camp" does he let them see they aren't all alone as they thought.

God's not into the magic of popularity.

Another thing...

Regardless of how nice we think church is - isn't it time we realised it gives the wrong signals to outsiders?

For nigh on two thousand years, church has meant oppression, repression and graft to the majority of folk. Why should they believe anyone who says it's all changed, it's nice and safe and good and, above all, different.

* * *

Imagine the ruler of some tropical paradise (fade in steel guitars, the surf breaking endlessly on the reef, rustling palm fronds and the heavy evening scent of tipani)...

While he's overseas, some of his ambitious advisers stage a coup. For a long time he makes plans to return. And one day, he is back in power.

To help the ordinary villagers understand what the restoring of his kingship will mean, he sends his servants into the communities.

At first they go from shack to shack. Later they build their own accommodation. Set up offices.

And little by little those ambitious advisers and their families who had organised the coup to overthrow the king...

Infiltrate the offices. Take control. Begin to levy taxes, issue visas, grant permits for building and trade, for marriages even. All the time claiming to represent the king.

All the time without reference to him.

What if the genuine servants of the king want the villagers to know the true state of affairs? Should they set up more offices? Surely the villagers will mistrust them. And surely there will always be the danger that those ambitious, false advisers will infiltrate again and begin to issue permits and levy taxes.

Wouldn't it be better for the king's servants to live with the villagers? Be one with them in their homes and their marketplaces, at their feasts and dancing. Always ready to explain the king's plans and show that anyone can meet him personally.

Fact is...

The majority of folk want to meet God. They mayn't be all that brash about it. God is as embarrassing as sex - more so - to non-church types.

But if you disassociate yourself from church and make it totally clear that neither you nor they need have anything to do with religious operational systems, then you'll be staggered at the response.

We went into one Whangarei shop. Never been there before.

The bloke behind the counter made conversation while wrapping the goodies.

"What's your job, then?"

Eileen said we write books. He asked what kind. We said against church and for God - like it's best to deal direct with the manufacturer, rather than let any number of middle-men get their cut.

Result? For 45 minutes he was questioning us about relationship with God.

You see - there were no hidden hooks. God as Dad plus nothing.

We live out the back of beyond. Takes a spotter plane and tracker dogs to find our place. But we've had non-church types crawl out of the woodwork to ask us what gives with the King.

There's no sweat. No technique. They W-A-N-T to know.

* * *

Okay, try a bit of contrast.

Evangelistic campaigns.

No, we didn't go to hear Luis Palau. Yes, we did spend a morning interviewing him in his motel. We liked him.

(Where's the 'but'? Andersons always write 'but' after a bland statement like that.)

But...

Did you read the statistical report in Challenge Weekly about the crusade. Interesting, it was.

Financially they scored just over a million dollars. Which netted less than six hundred bucks profit. Good to see it in black and white.

Then there were the details of those who "went forward". The "enquirers". That was when things began to get cryptic.

Figures were given for "enquirers" at Auckland's Mt. Smart Stadium. But there was an oops, sorry for the numbers involved at all the other venues. They, er, 'weren't available'.

Maybe. Or maybe they were disappointing. After all, there was an awful lot of systematic documentation done at that crusade. For another thing...

Whangarei held a celebration to give thanks some four months after the crusade ended.

Four hundred attended. But when somebody asked all those who 'went forward' at the meetings to stand - the festivities went a wee bit quiet.

Only some ten or so people got to their feet.

All that effort, all that money, all those untold thousands of hours spent by good, dedicated church folk.

For what purpose?

No. We're not hinting that people who respond to an appeal at a Luis Palau crusade aren't genuine.

But we strongly suspect that this generation wants to meet God. And doesn't see any relevance in church whatever.

This generation doesn't believe the old fairy-tale that 'you must have fellowship or you'll die spiritually'.

It's not that the phrase is untrue. It's simply that it's a lie... (Double-talk? Not a bit of it. Have an explanation.)

Fellowship can't take place in a large gathering. Fellowship is what happens when a few people meet. Two, maybe. Certainly it gets tricky if there are more than four couples and their brats. And there has to be freedom for conversation to ebb and flow. For the serious and the hilarious.

And - if fellowship is so good and so essential - how come church folk only do what they do when they're told to? In numbers that make real communication tricky.

One verse that gets folk twitchy... 'Our fellowship is with the father and the son'. That's where it has to start. And we suspect that has to be totally sufficient.

What about fellowship with believers?

Don't use the word as a synonym for meetings. Even home meetings. Or for the pitiful small-talk that goes on before or after. Fellowship is an intimacy (and we D-O-N-'-T mean any funny business) on both a spiritual and a social level in a relaxed, no-deadlines atmosphere either among people of your own class ("Oooh! New Zealand doesn't have class." No? Time you woke up or grew up or stopped trying to claw your way into another class bracket.) or among people where you and they aren't bothered by social differences.

Look - the reason why good, successful groups around NZ are closing down is that the people in them are already able to fellowship together - and regard meetings as just so much interruption. And it's only happening in smaller towns and cities. Not in the 'main centres'. Talking to folk from the Big Smoke we find that (on their own evaluation) there's not enough fellowship going on in the metropolises. People are artificial, on their guard, constantly striking a pose - which is why we're highly prejudiced in favour of the small town/village thing. There (although it might surprise the city slickers) you've got to be able to hit it off with your neighbours, even work in with them. There's not the anonymity that comes almost automatically in the city. 'Love your neighbour,' someone once said. 'Why? I've never even met them,' is the current reply.

That's what we meant by a lie, a page or so back.

So... Those people who went out to the front at that crusade are probably hale and hearty. Safely relating to Dad at home and work. Away from the spells and the magic.

Makes you wonder if all the expense, all the effort, was really worth it. Or if God would have done as much with individuals who didn't need to be prodded into action by an army of crusade organisers.

But how much can God trust us not to harm new converts? Our religious magic still clings, and we long to adjust their bad language and clothes, their choice of books and magazines. Not forgetting sex.

Believers seem to have a bit of a problem over sinners and sin. They reckon they should go through all kinds of evangelical gymnastics to repent and get themselves right with God.

Largely, that's evangelical traditionalism and is awfully unscriptural. Because scripture teaches that God is already reconciled to us, and our job is to tell the nasty sinners that HE has no hassles with them - all they need to do is to be reconciled to him. With no particular ceremonial.

We're experts on sin. And smug about it.

We're dangerously close to being Christian atheists.

Does that sound a contradiction?

After all, if Buddhism can become a world-wide movement by taking any concept of an Ultimate God out of religion and substituting the magic powers of human mind...

Maybe that needs footnotes.

Buddhism is generally thought of as a religion. And religion is generally thought of as a system for worshipping God (or a god, or gods; whatever). But oddly enough, Buddhism can happily bed down with other religions. The reason is, quite simply, that although most branches of Buddhism have quite an understanding of the spirit world - including how to manipulate areas of it - yet the concept of a universal God plays no part in the religion, and in many Buddhist nations no word exists for the concept which was neither affirmed nor denied by Buddha himself but simply ignored.

So although it is in fact a non-religion as far as any acknowledgement of G/god is concerned, the lack of any supreme being hasn't exactly hinder effectiveness of some of its techniques.

So if it is possible to have a frankly godless religion that functions very-nicely-thank-you, Christians need to beware that they aren't running around like blue-tailed flies, talking oh-so-seriously about God; yet all the time behaving as if he were nowhere within cooee, and needed our expertise to get his work done.

Sorry. 'Christian atheists' is too strong. 'Christian agnostics' is better. People who honestly 'don't know' what Dad can do because they've never stepped aside long enough to let him do it.

And mightn't recognise his handiwork if it weren't as neat and squeaky-clean as they are themselves.

* * *

Somehow, the two of us found ourselves in the home of a bunch of Brethren folk. Enjoyable time, it was. Until somebody (not us) began to pray.

Immediately, a flurry of activity from the lady of the house. Deftly, like a conjurer launching into a well-rehearsed routine, she snapped open her nearby handbag. From it she whisked a chiffon headsquare and - flick! - it was over her head and knotted under her chin. Just like that.

There'd scarcely been time to upset even one angel.

It was all very sweet and that. But nothing to do with scripture. (Please have a look at the Greek before you send us a snorter: some translations are frankly dishonest.)

And as often as not, God talks to his kids when they're pondering on the loo (hands up anyone who thinks a bloke who prays on the loo is a pantheist) or wallowing in the bath. With never a headsquare in sight.

The fact is that religion may be "very nice". But the magic hold that it has over fairly normal people is getting less and less legitimate as the kingdom is being understood and entered by more and more.

Okay, too - there may be vaguely scriptural elements in such things as hymns, prayers, offerings, teaching, pastors. But these inevitably get brought together in a concrete form that is unknown in scripture.

It's about time we woke up to the fact that even the good things, the successful things of the past need to be set aside, so's we can discover what God really wants.

Jack Hayford wrote in Communicate two years ago that "It costs something to lay down some of the wealth of what you've learned; to lay down some of the methods that have worked for you; not to cease them as though they were discredited, but to recognise that God is bigger than our modus operandi".

And it's a biggie that God's going to be dealing with.

Hang onto your hats.

We're going in.

* * *

According to the Bible, it's getting close to six thousand years since Adam rebelled.

In fact, closer than you might imagine. Whatever the date on your calendar. you can add four years to it. Because a monk called Little Dennis (Dionysius Exiguus to his friends) cooked the books (or used dud batteries in his abacus) and came up with the wrong figure when he was working out a universal system of dating - the one we now label 'A.D.'

Okay. So six thousand years of hard yakker brings us to a Sabbath day's rest of a thousand years. The Millennium, in fact.

Nice.

Except that the Millennium doesn't just glide in on roller bearings.

There are a few hairy happenings to live through first.

Now, let's squelch a few myths before we get into that. Like - from the same people who gave you "The Gifts Of The Spirit Aren't For Today", and that resounding success "You Can't Go By Feelings" (otherwise known as "God Only Speaks Through The Bible")...

Now presenting "You...Mustn't...Set...Dates".

Ever been told that? That you mustn't set dates for all kinds of events in prophecy?

"No man knows the day or the hour," say they lugubriously.

Okay. Not the day. Not the hour.

What about the week, month and year?

What about when Daniel did his homework? Found that he and his Israeli cobbers had done their dash in captivity. So he started singing a minor key version of "Show Me The Way To Go Home, Already".

And what about those funny little verses at the end of Daniel's prophecy. Blessed is he who waits for such-and-such a time. They've got to mean something to somebody, somehow.

"But" (say the no feelings, no gifts, no dates brigade) "too many people have Gone Funny trying to juggle dates to fit their pet schemes."

Maybe.

Not as many as you might imagine. F'rinstance, a fair swag of folk living last century saw that the Turks would get the heave-ho from Jerusalem in 1917 and the Israelis would officially return to their land in unbelief around the mid- nineteen-hundreds.

That's not bad.

But relax! We're not about to give you a date for the return of the King.

First things first.

If you're at all into prophecy or have sat for a while under one of those whizz-bang apocalyptic gentlemen of doom, you'll know that we need an antichrist, a false prophet and a tribulation, plus a whole heap of other impressive beasties.

Where on earth are they?

Let's backtrack.

* * *

When the King, Jesus, the Son of God came to live on the third planet out from a medium-sized yellow star...

One of the problems that he caused people was that he was real.

Lived at an address you could go and visit. With mum, step-dad, brothers and sisters.

Kids went to school with him. He haggled for vegies in the market.

Which is a bit tricky for religious folk to take in.

Which is why only odd bods - like the Magi, like Simeon and Anna - recognised him without a spectacular degree of prompting. Even the shepherds had the incentive of a squad of supernatural soldiers to encourage them on their way.

Real is difficult, if you're religious. Ask his disciples. Or his brothers.

Okay... So hold very firmly the fact that the Messiah was somebody's next door neighbour. Somebody had to wear the clothes he'd grown out of.

Really real. Therefore difficult to recognise.

Which brings us to the Antichrist.

Just as real. Living at such-and-such an address in a town that anyone can go to.

Real.

Time was, of course, when every Protestant made a great fuss about it being the Pope.

That's not considered very nice, nowadays. Unity's the buzzword, eh.

Anyhow, there are any number of qualifications that the Antichrist must have to fit the scriptural pattern. And they will be pointers to stop us missing the obvious.

For starters, he's the Anti-Christ. This doesn't mean that he goes round saying that Jesus never existed. Essentially it means that he sets himself in the place of Christ. Acts as a substitute for him.

Next, he has to have enough going for him to deceive - if it were possible - even the elect. Which automatically rules out the kinky little Hindu gurus, and the back-street messiahs in Birmingham who advertise in dirty magazines. They get some sort of following, sure. But mainly from folk who want the wool pulled over their eyes.

And to deceive the elect means he must be a high-profile doer of good. Just as Judas - the son of perdition - was a fully-paid-up member of the twelve disciples, so this bloke can't be a Moslem or a Confucian. Nor just some dynamic politician (I mean - did you ever feel any real awe for Henry Kissinger?) The Antichrist has got to be firmly in the forefront of the Christian religion.

Standing in the temple of God. Proclaiming that he himself is God.

That's big.

It can't be the pastor of that little fellowship down the road. Oh, he's real enough. Just doesn't have the clout, that's all.

Can't be Derek Prince or Loren Cunningham. They're big - but totally unknown to whole hunks of Christendom.

Billy Graham?

Ah! Now we're getting warm. There's someone who's known widely throughout the world. Not only by church types, either.

But no matter how highly you think of him, he's not really famous for doing good.

Evangelism, yes. Unusual, impressive good, no.

Put Billy on hold.

And check a few more scriptures on the Antichrist.

He - or the system he represents - must be given a "mortal wound". His recovery - or the recovery of the system he heads up - must be unexpected and attract the attention of everyone. Not just his loyal followers.

He must be prepared to receive "names of blasphemy". The system he fronts must have been capable of manipulating kings and economies. And the city where he lives and where his headquarters is based must be built on seven hills.

Oh.

Then...

He personally survived an assassination attempt that all expected to be fatal, rites.

He also fronts an organisation that received a mortal wound when Luther nailed those 95 theses to the door of Wittenburg church, thus triggering the reformation.

He accepts the title 'Holy Father', which cuts clean across the revelation of God brought by Jesus - who forbade any man on earth to be called father.

The history of the Roman church shows continual domination of kings and economies. If a king were slow to obey the pope, his whole land was placed under an interdict. Which simply meant that nobody could be christened, married, shrived (forgiven after confession) or buried by the church. Which simply meant everybody was in a state of sin and heading for hell. Which simply meant that the king was under a fair bit of pressure to toe the line.

And if you didn't know that Rome stands on seven hills, we'd like to know what you got up to at the back of the geography class.

But...

That's old-fashioned.

And not very nice.

That's what people used to say about the Pope and the Roman Catholic church a long time ago.

We're different now.

Are we? And - more to the point - are they?

Let's get something perfectly clear right away. We're not knocking ordinary run-of-the-mill Catholics. We've as many friends and relatives in that system as we have in the Baptist or Anglican thingy. And you'll find God's kids in all those set-ups...

...Because salvation is by grace plus nothing. Which means you can start your new life pretty much anywhere. Massage parlour or church or on a motorway in the rush hour. God's not fussy.

Doesn't sanctify the situation, though.

"I was born again in Madame Fifi's Whips 'n' Bondage Parlour - so I just know that's where God wants me to be."

Oh yeah? And for Madame Fifi, substitute the name of your religious system - same difference, same unsanctified situation.

Like we say, though - we're not niggling at ordinary Catholics per se. It's the Catholic system and the one at the top of it that we want to hit head-on.

With good reason, too.

This flippin' generation of church folk scarcely knows anything about church history. Many of the books that are printed on the subject are blander than liquid paraffin. Even the reprints of old books somehow get castrated and disembowelled by the publishers. "Foxe's Book of Martyrs", f'rinstance, was five inches thick, originally. Pocket-size paperback, now.

So. We'll get into history in a minute. Couple of things first.

One: Protestant charismatics have been flirting with Catholics for about twenty years now, getting them to receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

Nice. We've been involved in some of that ourselves.

Except that there's been a lack of long-term honesty in the situation. Major differences of belief and practice have been whitewashed over. And the seductiveness, glamour, allure of high church ritual has been filtering back into the charismatic scene.

Two: In case you didn't know, there's been a steady move 'twixt the Anglican church and the Catholic church to - er - "unite".

Unity sounds good.

Unity sounds very Christian and loving.

As long as you switch your brain off and don't make any attempt to think.

Look - we run a little kitchen-table craft business. Keeps us in beer and baccy. The tax on it scarcely covers the Inland Revenue's cost of checking our arithmetic. Still - we enjoy it.

Now, say a couple of potters or leather workers wanted to combine with us. Nice folk. Known 'em for years. Good idea to team up. Share costs, premises, phone, advertising.

It might even work. Because we'd be pretty much on an equal footing.

Okay - now change things a bit. Say L.D. Nathan liked our stuff. Suggested some kind of joint business venture: us making, them selling. Could be a real licence to print money.

But Nathans are B-I-G. Carry tremendous clout. Which means we'd want a written contract. Vetted by our solicitor everso very carefully.

For the simple reason that although George and Eileen could unite with Terry and Bev on an equals basis...

No way could we "unite" with L.D. Nathan, Ltd. And only a cast-iron contract that spelled out our rights and safeguarded our interests would stop our little enterprise from being - even accidentally - engulfed by the giant corporation.

Lions and lambs lie down happily together. You just have to replace the lambs at regular intervals.

Okay. That's a round-the-houses way of saying that unity between Catholics and Anglicans is awfully Christian-sounding...

But in practice it's a weeny bit topheavy.

So they haven't rushed at it. Talks and things since the sixties. Sounds all wise and cautious.

Except that there have been no concessions from Rome. And the Pope gets to be boss.

* * *

If you want to read an interesting and authoritative book, try "The Pope in Britain" by Peter Jennings (Bodley Head, 1982; ISBN 0 370 30925-1). This book carries the Nihil Obstat from the Catholic Censor, Anton Cowan, and the Imprimatur of the Rt Rev, Philip Harvey, Bishop in North London. The Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur 'are a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free from doctrinal or moral error'.

Look at the pictures. Read the text.

Ask yourself why nobody got upset when the Pope gave Archbishop Runcie a crucifix. And Runcie posed while reporters photographed him kissing it.

In some Lutheran stronghold, the Pope actually, publicly, forgave Luther.

Forgave?

Why didn't someone scratch their head and ask a question or two.

After all, if we're - say - burglars by trade. And this cop arrests us in the act. Is it a nice, Christian gesture for us to forgive the cop for what he did?

Only if we were never guilty.

If we were guilty, the cop was doing his rightful job and we damn well need to repent.

Forgiving the bloke would be nothing short in insolent.

So what gives between Rome and Luther?

It never was a matter of theological hairsplitting. It was life and death. Truth and corruption.

Jesus and Satan.

Sorry. No neutral ground.

Some things are a matter of opinion. Or emphasis. Or a bit so-what. Was the thingummy that had Jonah for smoko a bona fide whale or a specially created marine monster? Sure, there's an answer. Doesn't matter a heck of a lot, really.

But try a few of these for size.

Because you're going to have to decide whether you - you personally - are going to join Rome as the finest thing that our Dad's been doing since Pentecost...

Or you're going to have to oppose it head-on. Even if it gets kind of exciting.

So. Try this.

Mary.

Mother of Jesus. Later, wife of Joseph.

That was a fantastic privilege, for a virgin to be mother to the Messiah.

End of story.

There's no need to gild the lily.

But Rome has made it a mortal sin not to believe that Mary - herself - was sinlessly conceived. Rome mistranslates scripture to hide the fact that she had several boys and girls by the normal, very enjoyable process with Joseph after Jesus was born. Rome mistranslates her name (because Rome hates the fact that she was a Jew) from Miriam - which means 'bitter' - to 'star of the sea'. Rome gives her the highly misleading title of 'Mother of God'. And Rome now calls her 'Mother of the Church'.

Happy?

Our mother is the Jerusalem above. Not Mary.

Okay - try this one.

How'd you feel if you found out that we were into seances? Attempting to get in touch with the dead. Making contact with departed spirits?

Not on, is it.

Then - what is prayer to (or through) Mary and the saints?

Spiritism. And the current Pope has a particular emphasis on Mary - even to the extent of stretching heraldic rules almost to breaking point to include her initial on his personal coat-of-arms.

Ever wondered how prayer to (or through) the saints actually works?

It's not just a psychic telephone exchange. That'd be bad enough. There's one - O-N-E - mediator between God and man. And although that's embarrassingly narrow, we don't make the rules. We only point out that any other technique gets you hell-for-leather into deception.

Which means that if prayers to the saints don't work - that's one hell of a blind alley that people are being conned into.

And if prayers to the saints do work - who (or what) is doing the answering? Anybody care to nominate ole Red-eyes?

Prayer to (or through) saints is worse than that, though. It's not "merely" a mini-seance. The reason Rome gives is that a saint's a saint because he or she actually did (you're not going to believe this)...

...more good works in their lifetime than they needed for salvation.

So, having notched up a fair credit balance, they can give a few brownie points to them as ask.

(It's called 'works of supererogation'. Sounds like someone's been excessively watering the pot plants, eh.)

Which knocks salvation-by-grace firmly on the head. Rome has always been hot on works. 'Cos it produces types like Mother Teresa who are good for business, and provide a nice smokescreen for the Mafia-type goings-on in the Vatican. Read Yallop's "In God's Name" and then try and find out how the Vatican's own internal enquiry into the murder of the previous Pope is going.

As we said - these aren't matters of opinion like "should we have communion once or twice a month".

The Pope claims he has received a vision of Mary in which she commanded him to dedicate - of all places - Russia to her. The vision is enough to make believers wary, but why Russia?

Try tying in a few news items.

Early in 1988, the Soviet General Secretary, Mikhail Gorbachev went to the Vatican and had an audience with the Pope.

Gorbachev wrote a book in 1987 called "Perestroika". In the English translation (you can get it from most N.Z. bookshops and libraries) he makes an unusually worded plea for Russia and Europe to unite. Okay, it's not surprising that he wants to see America cold-shouldered. But then he claims that Western Europe and Russia are but apartments in a common European home and says (...bear in mind that he is a top Soviet in an atheistic system):

"Old Russia was united with Europe by Christianity, and the millenium of its arrival in the land of our ancestors will be marked next year."

Russia - celebrating a thousand years of Christianity. The mind boggles. And looks for a motive.

What if it ties in with the Pope's wish to dedicate Russia to Mary? What if the Common Market and Communism could find a common factor in the Pope?

What if the symbolism in "Revelation" of the harlot who rides the beast is about to be fulfilled?

The Pope is anti Christ because he heads an operating system that effectively denies the two things that Jesus the Messiah came to earth for.

No. Three things.

Whereas...

* * *

The 'Father' business bothers us.

So, Eileen and me, we went to talk to a Catholic priest about it. To try and see things from his perspective.

We explained that we were writing a book that looked at the question of unity between protestants and Rome - and that we had serious hassles with the use of "Father" in addressing priests, and "Holy Father" in addressing the Pope. How did he reconcile it with the commands of Jesus not to call anyone that.

The priest made a good point. "Jesus wasn't talking to children," he said. "He was talking to adults. So he wasn't trying to cut across family relationships and say that youngsters mustn't call their father 'father'."

Fair enough. We could see that.

"What Jesus was saying," the priest continued, "was that father mustn't be used as a title by anyone."

Sorry. We didn't follow. Surely priests and the Pope in fact use precisely that title.

"Of course," he beamed. "They use it about each other as a mark of respect. And the people use it about them as a mark of respect, too. It avoids familiarity. Why, there are places I visit where the people actually come up and kiss my hand. That's something they do voluntarily; I never insist on it. Again, it's a mark of respect."

He seemed totally happy with his explanation. There was no problem for him in the contradiction between what Jesus commanded and what was in fact done in his church.

We clearly weren't communicating.

Another point on just how bad it is to use the title of Father for anyone except God...

Take a parallel example.

What's the best-known title of Jesus?

Christ.

Okay - if something startled you, or annoyed you - would you use the title 'Christ' as an exclamation? Or would you regard that as a mis-use of his title?

Blasphemy, in fact.

Look - there's more justification for a sudden, unthinking use of the title 'Christ' in a situation that has caught you unawares, than there ever could be for taking a name of God, 'Father', and giving it to a man claiming authority in a religious system.

But if the first is blasphemy, so is the second.

* * *

* * *

Now - maybe you're wondering what all the fuss is about.

Maybe you agree in a vague, abstract sort of way that Rome is a bit off-beam and the Pope ought to know better than to be front man for such a system.

"But why the fuss?" somebody's bound to ask. "Do you fellows think you're some sort of southern hemispherical Ian Paisley or whatever?"

Heaven forbid. We enjoy Dave Allen's imitations of the irascible Ian; we've no ambition to become Paisley-type clones.

But you need to know that the planned return of the Anglican church to Rome will cause a whole swag of other denominations to leap in and get swallowed up. Already in New Zealand the Salvation Army has entered into formal association with the Catholic church in the "Conference of Churches in Aotearoa - New Zealand", much to the surprise and discomfiture of many a Sally member.

Who else are in this association? Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, Greek and Rumanian Orthodox, Quakers. The Churches of Christ and Congregational are observers. All Charismatic churches, Lutherans and Baptists have said no, thank you.

The object of the association is, of course, unity. And although spokesman Major John Major assured us "the ecumenical movement is not to be perceived as, for example, all turning to Rome", yet the concern is always what "unity" will mean in practical terms when the initiative comes from denominational headquarters rather than grassroots.

And when - not if, when - the protestant groups gaily scurry back to Rome, the power of that organisation will be colossal.

When. Not if.

* * *

Did you know that the return of Protestantism to mother has been prophesied repeatedly down the centuries since the reformation? You need to hunt through some pretty old writing to find these prophecies. But they still exist. For instance...

When we last popped back to Britain to annoy relatives and survive their summer, we visited Eileen's gran on the Isle of Wight.

(Ninety-seven, no less - gran, not Eileen. Must've been something in the water there.)

She wouldn't darken the doors of a church if you paid her. Probably afraid it would interfere with her highly practical, highly effective relationship with God.

We had some very interesting straight talks.

"I couldn't stand the sight of you, George," she confided, "when you were in religion. You've improved since you left."

I think I know what she meant.

Anyhow, she insisted on giving Eileen her family Bible. Huge thing - the size of a family Bible. Leather bound, with shaped brass edges around the covers. Coloured engravings bound in with the text, and a record of family births, marriages and deaths going back to 1866.

Cost us a bomb to mail back to NZ, but we appreciated the gift.

Now, a Bible is a Bible. Except that we were thumbing through it a few weeks back and realised that, all the way through, below the main text, was printed somebody's notes.

Commentaries don't exactly turn us on. But this one was written in 1778 by a John Brown who stated very soberly and clearly that around the twentieth century, Protestantism would return to Rome.

It was unthinkable in his day. Luther had dealt the Beast its mortal wound. All protestants knew the errors of the Catholic church. But there was that prophetic word. clear as crystal.

"The healing of the wounded head may denote the Pope's restoring jurisdiction to Rome, by his becoming a civil prince... or the apostasy of the Protestants to Popery". "The apostatising of Protestants to the essentials of Popery and... the persecution of such as shall continue faithful... are still future." "The Papists will, by drawing men from the doctrines of the gospel, leave scarcely any shadow of proper opposition to their abominations in Europe or the countries thereto belonging." This he dates between A.D. 1866 and 2016 - a wide time-span by our standards, but not for someone in the mid-seventeen-hundreds.

And although prophecy isn't to be swallowed unchewed, neither is it to be ignored.

Give it a think.

"But", somebody'll say, "unity between Rome and Canterbury isn't legally possible. The laws of England are structured around Anglicanism, with the monarch as the head."

Indeed they are. (And the incongruity of the state having its finger firmly in a religious pie made a whole hilarious episode - Bishop's Move - in the series "Yes, Prime Minister". There wasn't a single gag in the whole show, that week. Just facts. Facts that kept the audience - and us - helpless with laughter. Get the video. If you don't laugh, you'll cry.)

Take a closer look at the laws of England.

Yes, the monarch heads the Church of England. Appoints bishops and things.

But get hold of an English coin. (At least - the pre-decimal ones.) Have a little look at what's written on the reverse. (That's the other side from the obverse; can't miss it.)

Fid def. Or F.D. Short for fidei defensor. Means - as you knew all along - defender of the faith.

Which everyone assumes is defender of the Anglican faith. Or protestant faith.

No. Not so.

Titles are serious things. Kings and Queens don't just slap grand-sounding labels on themselves to be impressive. Titles are given for a reason. They are accepted and used very, very deliberately.

And Defender of the Faith...?

Luther had attacked Rome's seven sacraments.

King Henry the Eighth promptly (and no doubt with a team of ghost writers somewhere hidden in the tapestries) burst into print with a best-seller slickly titled "Assertio Septem Sacramentorum contra Lutherum", a name-calling attack on Martin Luther. And when Bishop John Clark sent a beautifully bound and illuminated manuscript copy to Pope Leo X in 1521, the Pope's response was to bestow on the king the title "Defender of the Faith".

Defender of the Catholic faith.

Thirteen years later Henry got all upset that he couldn't wheedle a divorce permit from Rome to off-load poor Catherine of Aragon. So he pulled down the signs that said RC and put up C of E in their place and made himself boss of the church in Britain instead of the Pope.

And - because he had no theological hassles with Rome and had no love for Luther - he held onto the Vatican-given title of Defender of the Faith. The Catholic faith.

Which Rome never withdrew. And which Rome acknowledges has continued to this day.

Now, in any complex legal system (like Britain has) there is always a fair chance that two laws can overlap, duplicate, or even totally contradict each other. So there has to be a way of working out degrees of clout. Which gives way to what.

A title given by Rome to a monarch prior to the split from Rome, acknowledged by Britain and Rome up to this time, carries overwhelming weight compared with a comparatively minor thing like Henry's legal manoeuvres to change spouses in mid-stream.

Remember that the Vatican gives its official imprimatur to, and its censor says that there is no doctrinal error in the statement that Archbishops of Canterbury have come in unbroken succession from the Roman church. So Anglicanism is called "the Anglican Communion" by the Pope.

Not the Anglican Church. It's an important point.

Meaning that, to Rome, there is only one church - the Roman Catholic Church.

Anglicanism is but a segment of it.

And will soon be home and hosed.

The Vatican is more powerful than most Protestants give it credit for. Read "Vatican" by Malachi Martin - a frankly pro- Catholic novel by a right-hand man to a former Pope and see the clout that this bachelor establishment, this religious civil service, has.

We interviewed many Catholic high-ups and were amazed to find that there is a strong undercurrent of hatred - yes, hatred - for the ruthless power of the Vatican. Even where the Pope is loved unquestioningly (and not all R.C.s are into "this Pope business" as one person said recently in a "Herald" feature) the local clergy wish they could run their own affairs and not be controlled via "our man in Wellington", the Papal Nuncio - who has full diplomatic status in the eyes of the NZ government, and absolute authority over every Catholic bishop, monsignor and priest in this country.

The Vatican is powerful. And the Vatican intends to use its power to bring about a colossal coup.

The world. No less.

After all, if you believed yours was the true church and the only manifestation of Christ on earth, it would surely be up to you - say - to bring in the Millennium.

Farfetched? According to "On Being" the Vatican has ordered the spending of one hundred million dollars a year from 1990 for a period of ten years. On world evangelism.

The project is called "Evangelism 2000". A lot of money for even the richest organisation in the world to splash around. So what's the punchline?

After ten years of a carefully orchestrated public relations exercise at a total cost of $1,000,000,000 - the Pope will make a live telecast by satellite to everybody throughout the world.

Because the official start to the Millennium is the 1st January 2001.

This isn't conjecture. It's published intention.

This is added in April 1994: Vatican Radio has just additionally announced that the ceremony for 'bringing in the Millennium' will involve the Pope taking his 161 cardinals to Mt. Sinai and holding a day of prayer with Jewish and Moslem leaders. This is seen as a parallel with Moses taking the tribal elders to the top of Sinai to eat and drink in the presence of God. Not only is this powerful symbolism - it is also of the uttermost presumption.

The following headline and three paragraphs appeared in "Advance" (the official publication of Christian Advance Ministries) December 1987. They are reproduced word-for-word:

The naive statement in brackets "(not to become Catholics)" is similar to phrases used about Palau's and Graham's crusades, that "they are not membership drives" - although the mechanics of the crusade lead inevitably to that end.

Can we believe that Rome will be more self-denying that these evangelists, and be content to introduce converts to the King and his kingdom?

Alone.

For already the Vatican is getting its own act together, ensuring converts from "Evangelisation 2000" don't find themselves in a dull-as-ditchwater structure with bored regulars already in the pews.

Lyndsay Freer, the director of Catholic Communications in Auckland told us how a married layman, Mario Cappello, the leader of IPCE (International Programme of Evangelisation) has been in New Zealand to set up an initiative for training Catholics as effective world evangelists.

"The Roman Catholic Church," says Cappello, "is like a sleeping army. The time is coming to awaken this sleeping army and win the world for Christ."

Even this radical approach isn't all. Since early in 1985 there has been an organised spiritual renewal process throughout most ( - not all: some didn't want to know) Catholic parishes. Called "Renew", it prompted RCs to :

Of course, the Vatican is skating on very thin ice indeed. Even now there are many plain and honest souls among the laity and clergy who go through the "Renew" process in a simple attempt to find God.

And find him. Find that he is totally real and adequate. Without any backup from a religious system. In the same way as countless numbers found him in the charismatic move.

Look - one of our pet hates and hobbyhorses is the way in which people are unaware of what goes on around them if it's not presented as one of the six items on the TV news.

Keep your eyes and ears open. Be aware of trends. Read the small paragraphs tucked away in inside pages of the paper. In Time and Newsweek. If you listen to short-wave broadcasts - in English - from other countries, you'll be amazed at the different facts, the different emphasis.

There are big changes going on out there. Either we're going to be soothed by the magic of it all. Or we're going to live beyond magic.

Unfortunately for those who'd like to be God's kids in a quiet, inoffensive way - there isn't any middle ground.

* * *

A while back we commented that church history isn't a big deal nowadays.

There's more of a tendency to bury the past and put a strong emphasis on everything's still to happen at some unspecified future date.

Okay. Some things are set in the future. Our future. But don't forget nearly a couple of thousand years have chugged by since John pulled the final page of "Revelation" from his typewriter and mailed it to the publisher.

Sometimes it pays to check on what's been happening since then

"Ever read Daniel?" this guy asked us.

We confessed we had. Not exactly recently. But we really had.

"It says that the Antichrist is going to change all the 'appointed times' and the laws concerning them. Presumably 'appointed times' means religious festivals and holidays and things. That sounds a massive job. Can't see anyone putting up with that!"

We agreed.

Imagine some bloke standing up and saying: "Okay, yous guys. From now on, we'll have Sunday on a different day. Christmas'll be shoved over a couple of months or so. Shift the date of Easter so's it seldom coincides with the Israelis' Passover. Reduce the gap between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. C'mon now. Chop-chop."

D'you reckon someone might notice?

D'you reckon someone might object?

D'you reckon someone might start thinking the guy doing that was the Antichrist?

Or d'you reckon something like that would be too difficult to engineer. Needing a fair bit of political clout and even a bit of mistranslating of scripture.

It's never going to happen, eh.

Right.

Every last one of God's 'appointed times' has been wrenched from its correct place. And laws associated with times and dates have been changed as well.

By whom? Guess.

Why? That's a good question.

Answer: so Christianity loses all relationship with Judaism. Instead of clearly being the fulfilment of all Judaism was geared up for - it becomes only a new-fangled, separate religion.

Another answer: the Catholic church has a deep hatred of the Jews. Hitler was never excommunicated for his massacre of the Jews. Others with war-crime records, such as Austria's President Kurt Waldheim, are received without hesitation by the Pope. But when Israel liberated Jerusalem from the Arab control imposed on it by the British, the Vatican deplored the move and stated the city should be "internationalised".

Okay - those statements are facts. What are the facts about changing all the 'appointed times'?

* * *

Once a week the so-called 'western world' either closes down and heads for beach and backblocks, or at least changes gear and becomes more laid-back. Churches do their dash. Shopping - if possible at all - is a fun thing. Doctors, lawyers, accountants sprout stubble and stubbies.

On Sunday. How come?

Grab a Bible. Any version. Look almost anywhere in it. What's the day God set aside for time out? (Not for worship, you'll note. Rest and relaxation.

The weekly Sabbath. Day number seven.

Then how come Sunday got into the act?

Ask anybody. Any religious body. They'll tell you that Christians shifted it to celebrate the day Jesus rose from the dead.

Very pious, that is. Hey God! We'll honour you by changing something you commanded, eh.

Changing it to a day with a major pagan association: the sun.

"Oh", say some of our friends, "you're going all seventh day and legalistic on us. Why, even the early church made quite a thing about the 'first day of the week' and met together then. So don't get all paranoid imagining some Catholic conspiracy to turn off the Jews or anything."

And we looked in our Bible, saw the 'first day of the week' was clearly there - sometimes, in some bubblegum versions, even translated 'Sunday' - and we shut up.

Until I grabbed for my interlinear Greek New Testament.

* * *

Pause for a bit of comment. Twentieth century types are under a lot of magical pressure to be mentally lazy. Instant everything. Pre-cooked, pre-digested. If it's not press-button, no skill required - we don't want to know.

Look, getting into anything takes a bit of effort, a bit of experimenting, a bit of failure and frustration. Strive to enter, says the handbook.

So you might just find that it's worth getting hold of an interlinear Greek N.T. (where there's a she'll-be-right translation underneath) and a lexicon (that's a Greek/English dictionary, eh) just to find for yourself what's going on. Maybe you'll have to miss The Eastenders on the box. There's always a cost to these things.

Let's get back to Sundays. And Greek.

We started hunting through the N.T. for "the first day of the week"...

But we'd been told that the Jews numbered the days of the week to avoid heathen names for the days. "The first day, the second day." And so on.

Which might just possibly have been true. Except there's not the faintest trace of it in scripture. Anywhere.

Okay. What did we find in John 20.1?

Instead of 'the first day of the week' was, plain as a pikestaff - 'TE DE MIA TON SABBATON'. (We're going to be technical, now, but stay with us). That means (literally) 'BUT ON THE FIRST OF SABBATHS'. Note 'Sabbaths', plural.

Now, because Greek words have gender (sex!) and singulars and plurals, we saw that 'MIA' ('FIRST') is feminine and singular. That meant it couldn't have any connection with 'SABBATON' ('SABBATHS') which is neuter and plural. So the phrase is an 'elliptical' one (where a word that everyone understands is dropped out).

Here the missing word is 'HIMERA' ('DAY').

Put that in, and the phrase becomes 'BUT ON THE FIRST DAY OF SABBATHS'.

Huh?

Turn to Leviticus 23, 15-16. 'You shall count from the morrow after the Sabbaths... seven Sabbaths shall be complete... even to the morrow after the seventh Sabbath shall you number fifty days'.

This is the fifty-day count-down from the wave offering of the sheaf of first-fruits to the feast of ingathering. The whole period is called the Feast of Sabbaths (or Weeks) - see Ex. 34.22 (and Deut. 16.10 and 16, 2 Chr. 8.13) and the fifty days are know as Pentecost. (Pente=50) So the day referred to is N-O-T a certain once-a-week day where Christians decided to honour God by celebrating it as their day of rest...

But a specific once-a-year highly significant day in the calendar that God organised.

Okay, we know some preachers can bore the pants off you with endless sermons on the 'the Feasts of Israel'. Fact is, though, it's hard to get a full understanding of what Jesus lived, died and rose for if you don't understand the Feasts. And once you do understand the Feasts, you'll realise how essential it was for the Antichrist to get all the Christian festivals moved away - so that the truth of the Christian religion became myth, rather than fulfilment.

Anyhow - check this 'first day of the Sabbaths' for yourself. It occurs several times in scripture - Matt. 28.1, Mk. 16.2, Lk. 24.1, Jn. 20.19 and Acts 20.7 - always associated with the adjacent Passover. So it shows it is the day when the firstfruits were waved - the firstfruits being Christ.

And of course it makes sense of that odd passage in 1. Cor. 16.2 where believers were asked to make an offering for the poor in Jerusalem. No, they didn't pass the plate every week. One notable day in the year, that was... as every believer would know, if there hadn't been some dirty work at the crossroads many centuries back by a church that needed to keep God locked firmly outside.

Take a rest whenever. But remember God said the seventh day. Okay?

* * *

In our usual tactful way, a few paragraphs back we said the Antichrist wanted to turn the truth of the Christian religion into myth.

That's heavy.

The Pharisees were nagging at Jesus to put on a bit of a display for them. "No way," he said flatly. "It's a wicked and adulterous generation that's wanting signs. The only one you'll get is the sign of the prophet Jonah."

Now, there's a shortened version of this story in Luke. But check on the full story in Matt. 12.38-40.

Jesus continued: "As Jonah was three days and three nights in the whale's belly, so shall the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth."

How long? A month? No, three days and three nights.

One afternoon? No, three days and three nights.

Perhaps you've been told that when the Jews said "a day" they often meant just a bit of a day. So three days didn't mean three days, it meant only bits of days. No time at all, pretty much. 'Taint true.

Granted, there can be a wee bit of ambiguity as to whether 'day' means 'hours of daylight' (...are there not twelve hours in the day...), or whether it means a 'day' as one-seventh of a week.

But Jesus - telling his religious enemies the only sign he would give them to validate his entire ministry and claims to being the Messiah...

Avoids all confusion by stressing that he is going to be in the heart of the earth (not merely dead, but buried) for a time that completely spans three periods of daylight - three daytimes - and three periods of darkness - three nighttimes. Seventy-two hours, by our calculator.

Why the fuss? Obvious, isn't it.

Yes. And crucial.

If Jesus didn't fulfil that to the letter... And if the historical records don't bear out that he fulfilled that claim...

Because he staked everything on being dead for seventy-two hours. If he blew it - we've only got a symbolic figure, a great example, a wonderful self-sacrificing idealist. An emblem.

...A profitable source of magic.

And Christians throughout the world make out that he blew it.

How?

* * *

Let's ignore for the moment that we call our central Christian festival by the name of an incredibly dirty goddess.

Concentrate on the conventional teaching that Jesus died late afternoon on 'Good Friday' and rose early on Easter Sunday morning.

That's thirty-six hours. Give or take a little bit.

Two nights, not three. One day-time plus (maybe) the tiniest bit of another. Forty hours at the most - and that's stretching things.

Don't duck it. Don't say it doesn't matter. Jesus said it mattered - and when he gives his word, he gives himself. He hasn't got anything else to give. And - significantly - it was a false witness in scripture who claimed Jesus would rise within (i.e. less than) 72 hours. See Mk.14, 57 - 58.

So... what's the truth?

Again, it may take a bit of understanding. Again, stick with it. You may need to scribble things on the back of an old envelope - but it's an important point we're making.

* * *