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NIGHT OF THE TRANSITION


TRANSITION





He stunned me with the announcement: “Now I wish to unveil to your very eyes the
heart of the Gospel, the most ignored and hidden mystery of the 
Return, the Evangel’s best kept secret. Anyone who has access to this
knowledge already has one foot in the sacred threshold of paradise, his heart
ready for that one spark to set it ablaze with the sublime vision of the
Rapture.”
 


I began to shake like a leaf on a tempestuous night.
 


It is December 1999—on the eve of a brave new millennium—and against the
backdrop of shifting geography, history and religion, one determined pilgrim, in
the company of over a thousand other intoxicated lovers of Jesus, is on a long
arduous journey, from the coastal regions of West Africa across the shimmering
sands of the Sahara to the edge of the Holy Land to witness the Rapture of
Christ on that unforgettable Night of the Transition. 

 


By the author of


Gatekeepers: The Quest for Clues to an Age-Old Riddle,


this religious fiction offers alternative, refreshing and thought-provoking
insights into the great issues of the Bible—issues that have confounded
countless generations of believers—such as the creation story, proof of the
existence of God, Satan, the virgin birth, miracles, the Trinity, heaven and
hell, the Second Coming, the   
Resurrection, the Judgment, and the end of the world. 
 

In Store Price: $29.00 

Online Price:   $28.00



AMAZON

ISBN:




978-1-921919-60-2 
 Format:
Paperback

Number of pages: 286
Genre:
Fiction/Religious


EBOOKS
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Author:
Kobina Amissah Fynn

Imprint: Poseidon

Publisher: Poseidon Books
Date Published:  2012
Language: English


Other books by
Kobina Amissah Fynn


Gatekeepers: The Quest for Clues to an Age-Old Riddle
(Poseidon Books)

Set in a small
coastal village in Ghana,
the book explores the coming of the Messiah of the end times from the
perspective of Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Zoroastrian and Buddhist
traditions and prophecies.

You can preview
Gatekeepers here.


HOME PAGE

 

NIGHT OF THE
TRANSITION

 

 

The Background:
During much of the twentieth century, great was
the expectancy the world over that at last the long-awaited return of Jesus
Christ was soon to occur. Many modern-day self-ordained prophets confidently
issued forecasts of when that glorious Day would be, only for disillusionment to
set in each time the date arrived. As the century wore towards its close with no
sign of Christ, so did the gaze of a distracted world shift to the turn of the
approaching millennium as the most likely occasion for the Return to take place.
But while AD 2000 did come and go, the Rapture did not materialize. Why? Or did
it?

 

You are about to join one
millenarian as he sets out on an intriguing journey of discovery…

 

 

READ A SAMPLE:

I. Saints on the Move

 

 

Hundreds of
white-clad members of the Perpetual Shrine of the Holy Angels were on the
move—on a move that was unprecedented in the history of millenarianism in Africa
and, if Shrine-Master Francis Krikri was to be believed, was even unprecedented
in the history of religion in the entire world! They were on the move to
rendezvous with their Saviour, Jesus Christ, on His long-awaited return to
earth—a return which according to the Shrine-Master would be realized on the
“Night of the Transition”.

This was none
other than the night on which the year 1999 would first embrace and then part
ways with an extraordinary new year—the year 2000 AD—at an instant so unique, so
the Shrine-Master had forecast, it would herald the consummation of all history.

But where were
those white-clad members headed for? Where else but for Israel, the Holy Land,
the Promised Land, focal centre of the dramatic events that were to rock and
agitate the entire world!

And did they
have visas to enter the land of Israel? No, but who cared for a visa on a night
like this when the foundations of the world would violently shake and crumble,
and national borders would count for nothing in the face of the majesty of the
Son of Man after He had flooded the world with dazzling light and all-subduing
power!

But why that
particular night of all nights? Shrine-Master Francis Krikri had regularly
preached to his congregation that all prophecies pointed conclusively to the
year 2000—“the inception of the Third Millennium”—as the year when the world
would end; and the Night of the Transition was the most auspicious, indeed the
only “possible” night for the Return to take place and “the Rapture” to occur. 
   

To buttress his
argument, he had informed his congregation that even the worldwide scientific
community had been swept over by a strange fear of this particular night. A
loophole that had been detected in computer software programmes had led to the
conclusion that at the exact millisecond of switchover from 1999 to the year
2000, computers the world over would instantaneously be infected by a highly
malicious “Millennium Bug” disease, otherwise known as “Y2K”; that come the
moment of transition from 31 December 1999 to 1 January 2000, all hell would
break loose on earth! Millions of computers would crash and spontaneously
ignite, leaving homes and office buildings ablaze from one location to the next.
Electrical power stations, from east to west and from north to south, would
instantly cease working at best or implode at worst resulting in blackouts in
cities and towns on all continents; aeroplanes would drop unexpectedly from the
sky, factories blow apart in mid-production. Mobile phones would be transformed
into electronic firecrackers—and confusion, bewilderment and panic would suffuse
all parts of the globe!

“This negative
world outlook,” the Shrine-Master had further prefigured, “will just be a drop
in the ocean of things to come; for—make no mistake!—the outbreak of Y2K will
synchronize with the commencement of the Rapture, the result being that
tribulations upon tribulations will be visited upon the earth in wave after
terrifying wave.”

Even the name
that had been given to what was after all a computer software problem, he argued
further, was, unbeknown to the scientists themselves, inspired by the Rapture to
come. He expanded “Y2K” to “Yesu
Second Kristo”—“Yesu Kristo”
being the vernacular version of “Jesus Christ”—and the same abbreviation, he
emphasized, could mean: “Year of the Second [K]Coming”!

“Hence, make no
mistake, what that simple Y2K abbreviation really stands for,” so the
Shrine-Master had, with characteristic gusto, pontificated to his congregation,
“is ‘The Second Coming of Jesus’.”

In strident
tone, he assured everyone that waves of inspired pilgrims would spontaneously
depart from all corners of the globe to converge in Israel on that blessed day.
All that was expected of a humble believer in Jesus was to have just one of his
feet on the soil of Israel to be saved!

Planning for
this night had begun a full year in advance. All members of the Perpetual Shrine
of the Holy Angels had been obliged to deposit a minimum of ¢4m (four million
cedis) of one-way travel money (equivalent to some US$1,200) with the
Shrine-Master for safekeeping as a condition for participating in the
pilgrimage. All their other assets were to be handed over to him—those in kind
to be sold, the monetary proceeds accruing from the sale to be added to the
assets in cash—to be widely distributed to the poor and needy of the land.
According to the Shrine-Master, such a deeply benevolent and charitable
exercise, carried out in the name of the contributors, was the only visa each
devoted member of the congregation needed for acceptance into the divine
Kingdom. In support of this he would quote Matthew 25:34-40 of the Authorized
King James Bible—the shrine’s preferred English version of the Holy Bible—and
follow it up with the vernacular translation:

 


Then shall the King say unto them on
his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for
you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungered, and ye gave me
meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye
came unto me… Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

 

And the
congregation would respond with an exuberant “Amen!” and clap approvingly.

The journey to
Israel was to be done by road, for, as the Shrine-Master had rightly pointed
out, that was the only way to ensure that the poorer members of the congregation
were able to participate fully with everyone else in the divine enterprise; but
he added that travelling by road would have other hidden benefits as well which
would become apparent as the trip progressed.

Wednesday, 1
December 1999, was the start of this extraordinary pilgrimage. Shrine-Deputy
Paul Kweku Kumi was to head this large concourse of pilgrims. The Shrine-Master
would remain in Accra with the other Shrine-Deputy, Robert Nii Ashong, to pray
for the success of the undertaking; to oversee the distribution, to the poor and
needy, of the pilgrims’ remaining worldly possessions that had been given up to
the shrine; and the Shrine-Master and his Deputy would then fly to Cairo to link
up with the pilgrims before the Night of the Transition and, almost certainly,
before the crossing into Israel. The pilgrims were expected to arrive in Cairo
by Christmas at the latest—to rest, to pray, before heading for the
Egyptian-Israeli border by 30 December in readiness for the biggest night the
world had ever witnessed!

So it was that
I found myself in the company of the Lord’s “elect”, the “saints” of the Last
Day, who were headed for the Promised Land to meet with destiny and receive the
crown of acceptance from the Lord Himself. We the pilgrims were all members of
the Perpetual Shrine of the Holy Angels, but some illegal economic migrants on a
clandestine mission to Europe—“hustlers”, as we called them—had made common
cause with our journey through North Africa, their intention being to cross the
Mediterranean from there, and smuggle themselves into Europe.
 

It was at dawn
on Wednesday, 1 December 1999, when I Ebow Mensah, in the company of other
members of the shrine, boarded a State Transport bus from Accra, in the south of
the country, to Bolgatanga in the far north. Because of our numbers, we could
not all travel in the same vehicle. Many travelled by other means, and others
joined us in Bolgatanga from Bekwai, Bibiani, Cape Coast, Ejura, Elmina,
Gyankama, Ho, Koforidua, Kumasi, Navrongo, Noskoliga, Salaga, Saltpond, Sunyani,
the twin cities of Sekondi-Takoradi, Tamale, Tarkwa, Tumu, Wa, Wenchi, and from
many other towns and villages around the country. From Bolgatanga we continued
to Paga, a small town on the border with Burkina Faso, famed for its crocodile
pond. This was the assembling point for the launch of our mission. The
instruction, secretly given at short notice, was for each of us to quietly sneak
out of our homes on 1 December, to arrive in Paga no later than the morning of
Friday, 3 December. That day, in the late afternoon, the roll-call was taken of
all participants. There were 1,036 millenarian pilgrims, and 23 others were
noted as being on “other” missions, bringing the total number to 1,059 persons,
made up of babies, children, youths, adults and the aged, spanning all
generations and almost equally split between the sexes. After the roll-call, the
Shrine-Deputy took a number of the pilgrims aside for discussions, but it was
not clear to me why.

As for those on
“other” missions, these were the hustlers. It was Shrine-Deputy Kumi who allowed
them to travel with us, subject to availability of space, after they showed up
uninvited at the venue in Paga. No funds were demanded of them, as far as I
could tell, apart from their transport fares; but they were asked to assist with
security matters and with other unspecified duties which might come our way,
especially those things which we, the born-again Christian men, might be unable
or unwilling to tackle head-on. Indeed, Shrine-Deputy Kumi was overheard saying
that he did not see anything wrong with having a few additional “able-bodied
youthful men” around us, “just in case”. We pilgrims were forbidden to call back
home whilst on the trip, or indeed to even attempt to communicate with anyone
outside of our immediate surroundings. While they could not be bound by this
ruling, the hustlers were told to be circumspect about communicating anyway and
if they found it absolutely necessary to send a message back home, they were on
no account to make any references to the pilgrims, either individually or
collectively.

We had arrived
in Paga during the harmattan season and the winds in this part of the country
were, as expected, harsh and unforgiving. These harmattan winds, blowing
seasonally from the Sahara to the west coast of Africa, usually between November
and March each year, were so hot and dry they instantly evaporated every touch
of moisture on the body, leaving the skin completely dry but with a sensation of
coolness. In fact, by the time we reached Paga, our dark skins had already
turned the colour of white chalk from dryness, and our lips and the soles of our
feet were beginning to crack—so uncompromising were the winds. Our only
protection was to liberally smear our bodies with shea butter—especially our
lips, nostrils, and not forgetting the soles of our feet.

Despite the
discomfort from the atrocious conditions, the start of the pilgrimage left me
very excited and deeply emotional. Here were the elect from Ghana, gathered in
Paga at such an auspicious moment in time, to begin a pilgrimage that would see
us straight into heaven. Absolutely fantastic! Many a spare moment would my mind
fantasize about heaven. Heaven, what a delightful and enchanting place to be—the
abode of God, in the company of Jesus and the angels, with good food, good
music, lots of laughter and happiness… no sickness, nor pain, nor weariness, nor
death!

But there were
times when, like a yo-yo, my emotions would swing from one state to the next,
and back again. One instant, just thinking of heaven would send a thrill down my
spine and my whole being would blaze with ecstatic joy. Moments later, when my
thoughts became fixated on what was coming and its implication for the whole
world, my heart would miss a beat, and I would be seized with trepidation and
fear—fear of the unknown, fear borne out of my sense of unworthiness. This
feeling would linger on until I fell down on my knees and prayed for strength,
for assurance, for forgiveness of my many grievous sins and to be worthy of
acceptance into the Kingdom on that great Day.

And then I
would find myself fantasizing again about heaven and the feeling of exhilaration
would return, flooding my veins and members with a tingling sensation of sheer
bliss… Oh, sweet heaven!

 


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