On the Wings of a Dove

Dear brethren (and sisters). What a shock it was today.

I was having my "quiet time" between 6 am and noon as usual. About halfway through, Marjorie came running into the Manse study, screaming that Marston Moretaine was being "raptured".

Well, naturally I wondered. Marston is an amiable if dim chap, but a member of the Beaker Folk rather than one of my godly fellowship here in the Funambulist Baptist Chapel. So while my redeemed bottom was still firmly in my Quiet Time Chair, how was it that Marston was being called into heaven like the godly who will shine like stars? I know God's grace is imputed and not earned. But still, this seemed a bit much.

Begging God's pardon for leaving him, as it were, in listening mode, I left Manse Cottage and ran out into the street. And there was Marston.

Lying on the ground.

Being attacked by the Archdruid's pet eagles, which she uses to punish the incalcitrant.

Raptored.

I wished him well, and went back to the Manse to pray for him.