Daniel J. Gansle

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What is becoming increasingly clear today is that world oil production has peaked and is now entering into a marked period of decline. One day it will run out altogether. That is exactly why, as we discussed earlier, President George W. Bush resonated the phrase, “addicted to oil” in 2006 and thereafter. It was no mere allegory – it was a clear warning that we have a big problem on our hands. Indeed, Bible prophecy seems to point directly toward a bitter imbroglio amongst the industrialized [and industrializing] nations on the plain of Megiddo for that last remaining drop of the black gold.

Today, we don’t yet have a viable, cheap alternative to oil. That’s not to say we won’t in the near future, but the gap between the end of the oil age and the beginning of the renewable fuel age will see some very difficult times. Strained by the increasingly high price of petroleum and near total dependence on Middle Eastern oil, in conjunction with terrorism around the word threatening world stability and international oil interests, entire economies will come to the point of near collapse. Combined with global warming and crushing debt, the unintended consequences will be severe – starvation, disease, violent protests over skyrocketing gas prices, home foreclosures, increasing skirmishes over precious resources, skyrocketing food prices, poverty, and environmental chaos on a scale never witnessed before.

So where is all of this leading? Clearly it’s leading to a new paradigm, one of responsible stewardship of our environment, of new forms of clean, renewable energy, and a new way of thinking about ourselves and our place in this grand universe.

But fascinating is the fact that these issues (particularly global warming and the coming energy crisis) have the potential to wreak serious havoc on our economy and our sociopolitical structures.

© 2007 Daniel J. Gansle
Your World, Your Future, & Bible Prophecy
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“Ah great, late again,” sighs Maria as she hurriedly glances at her cell phone time display. Breathing in the warm, late summer air with increasing rapidity, her feet pick up speed as she dashes toward the subway station. As usual, a car horn honks in her ear as she darts out into the busy crosswalk in front.

Glancing over to her right, a mysterious-looking middle-aged man donning an up-collared all-black trenchcoat, a black hat, and a poorly concealed communication earpiece loiters near the escalator entrance under a shady tree. For a brief moment she makes eye contact with the stranger and begins to feel a certain uneasiness. She can’t put her finger on it – but something just doesn’t feel right.

As her foot lands on the escalator step, memories of palm-strewn, sun-drenched beaches and turquoise waters flow into her consciousness like so many Caribbean dreams. “Why does it always have to end so quickly!” she ponders.

The cool breeze of the subway tunnel hits her like a ton of bricks as she slowly descends, teasing her hair that she worked so hard to keep in place. As the daylight fades behind her, she feels the damp subterranean air moistening her skin.

Wind from bodies rushing down the steps next to her on the left wash over her face. She considers leaping over to the left and doing the same, but her stubborn feet remain planted firmly on that one step.

“Ouch!” she cries out as a hurried rider rushing down the escalator at breakneck speed accidentally elbows her in her rib cage and continues on, not looking back. Behind her, she hears another woman blabbing away on her cell phone – something about Jesus, or perhaps the Bible.

“Ah great, another one of those right-wing religious nuts,” she thinks. She lowers her head and gently rests her eyes, tuning out the insane world around her.

Her mind drifts back to that mysterious man standing by the escalator entrance. Who was he? Secret Service? CIA? Why was he just standing there watching everyone? Why was he dressed like that?

Suddenly, a horrific scream pierces the dank air. She lifts up her head to see what is the matter. As if she had been transported to another dimension, she feels a certain electricity in the air. Things are somehow different, but she just can’t put a finger on it.

As she peers down the escalator into the tunnel, she notices something odd: suddenly, it looks like a weekend rather than a weekday. “Where’d everybody go?” she thinks. She looks behind her. That crazy religious woman who was talking on her cell phone? Gone.

Another scream, and another. People frantically begin to look around – confused, dazed. The voices of bewilderment rise as each one begins to ask the other, “What’s going on? What just happened?”

A panicked young lady on the other side of the escalator, face contorted as if she had seen a ghost, screams out, “Steve? Steve? What happ…Steve?”

Then just as quickly, a bone-chilling burst of angst-ridden wailing emanates from deep within the tunnels. The sound is inhuman; almost hellish. At the same time, chaos and commotion can be heard at the street level above. Sirens begin to wail; people frozen in sheer terror; jaws aghast and eyes aglaze.

A frail, elderly woman carefully makes her way down the escalator and grabs Maria’s arm. Voice trembling, the woman inquires, “Have…have you seen my husband? He’s got Alzheimer’s and I somehow lost him. He was standing right next to me, where…have you seen him? Where could he have gone?”

“Sorry ma’am, I haven’t seen him, Maria replies, “what…what’s going on? Why is everyone screaming?”

“I don’t know, I don’t…all I know is that my husband…what happened? Where is Bob, where is my husband?”

Maria’s cell phone begins to ring as she steps off the escalator. As she walks closer to the turnstyles to go down into the platform area, she notices something she’s never seen before: the guard station is unoccupied, yet wallets and purses are carelessly strewn about on the deep red tile floor all around her.

Her thoughts are quickly drowned out by the agony that envelops her. Panicked; scared out of their wits; running around dazed, as if something terribly tragic just happened. She quickly reaches for her cell phone. “Hey babe are you alright?” her husband inquires, voice trembling, breath quickened.

“Yeah, but things are going crazy down here, everybody’s panicked and screaming. What happened, what’s going on? Did we get another 9/11 or…”

“Oh it’s worse, much worse…uh man, oh no, jeez! Holy gosh! Another plane just dropped in a neighborhood just a few miles outside the city, Maria, you gotta get back home! Please, please – get back home now!”

“What is…”

“Just listen to me Maria, turn around now and come back home…it’s going crazy out there, on the news…on the news…uh – on the news they’re saying it’s another 9/11 but worse, planes are crashing into cities, lots of them, not just two or three…the news says that…” (static temporarily drowns out conversation)

“That what? What’s going on? Okay, I’m on my way back home, I’ve just gotta…”

“It says now the uh, the Beltway is shut down in all directions because of major accidents on both sides, all traffic at a standstill – umm…they’re shutting down air traffic…oh man!” Suddenly, Maria hears a loud explosion through her cell phone. “Honey, calm down…I’m coming home, it’ll just be a few minutes…”

As she exits the tunnel back out onto the street level, it’s like a scene out of some futuristic movie. Sirens wailing, smashed-up cars smoking, a building in flames. The stench of burning something in the air…she can’t put a finger on it, but it smells like death. A loud “boom!” and a thunderous release.

People are running everywhere, but where? Where are they running to? What are they running from? The faces of terror – eyes glazed over, jaws aghast, faces blackened and dirty, hair tossed about as if in a raging windstorm. It’s all happening in slow motion it seems, and yet so quickly. Smoke everywhere, and thick, fast-moving clouds of dust. Screams penetrating the air like bullets, but it’s all so surreal.

“What happened?” Maria inquires, “another 9/11? Who’s attacking us this time, and why? I thought we were safer…”

© 2007 Daniel J. Gansle
Rapture Redux