"THE SECOND COMING!"
PURCHASE "THE SECOND COMING"
SYNOPSIS:
God looks down on Earth and is disgusted with what he sees his creation has become. He decides that humanity is a failed experiment and he orders Earth and humanity destroyed. He will start again from scratch. JC, however, intervenes and requests one more opportunity to turn humanity around. He is given one year to see if he can make a significant difference.
"The Second Coming" begins with Jesus (JC to his friends) in an induced coma in a Manila hospital after having been hit by a bus, losing his memory in the process. The book follows the exploits of Jesus and his "disciples" as they seek to firstly recover his memory and then embarking on a mission of saving humanity from the brink. The action takes us from Manila, to Davao, back to Manila and then off to Pangutaran Island in the Sulu Sea, as JC and his "disciples" seek to make a difference.
There is interwoven into the story the burgeoning romance between Jesus (Jose Christian Castillo or JC for short) and his number one "Disciple" Maria Lyn Manyanan (Ma for short). Ultimately it is the romance that is the center of this novel; the setting and the characters are just the clothes horse on which the story is hung.
God looks down on Earth and is disgusted with what he sees his creation has become. He decides that humanity is a failed experiment and he orders Earth and humanity destroyed. He will start again from scratch. JC, however, intervenes and requests one more opportunity to turn humanity around. He is given one year to see if he can make a significant difference.
"The Second Coming" begins with Jesus (JC to his friends) in an induced coma in a Manila hospital after having been hit by a bus, losing his memory in the process. The book follows the exploits of Jesus and his "disciples" as they seek to firstly recover his memory and then embarking on a mission of saving humanity from the brink. The action takes us from Manila, to Davao, back to Manila and then off to Pangutaran Island in the Sulu Sea, as JC and his "disciples" seek to make a difference.
There is interwoven into the story the burgeoning romance between Jesus (Jose Christian Castillo or JC for short) and his number one "Disciple" Maria Lyn Manyanan (Ma for short). Ultimately it is the romance that is the center of this novel; the setting and the characters are just the clothes horse on which the story is hung.
TRAILER FOR THE SECOND COMING
PUBLICATION:
The Second Coming has now been published by Pentian and is available on Amazon, Google Play and iTunes through the links at the top of the page.
The Second Coming has now been published by Pentian and is available on Amazon, Google Play and iTunes through the links at the top of the page.
READERS' FAVOURITE FIVE STAR REVIEW:
Grant Leishman’s book, The Second Coming, opens with a man recovering consciousness in hospital, and trying to remember his identity. Whoever he is, he’s sure he has a mission to accomplish and very little time to do it. Gradually his memory returns. He, Jose Castillo from the Philippines, is the son of God, and he has been ‘allowed’ to return to Earth. The Second Coming was promised over two millennia ago, but nowhere in the Bible is there a caveat: this is Jesus Christ’s last chance! Far from returning to save the people who condemned Him to death, He has one year to pull mankind back from the brink of annihilation. God intends to destroy what He regards as a flawed project and in excess of seven billion people depend on Jose, known to his friends as JC, for their survival.
Intriguingly different, often funny, Grant Leishman’s The Second Coming is a joy to read. He contrives, by means of humour that is never malicious, not to offend those with Christian beliefs, but the story is rooted in the Bible just enough to enable the suspension of disbelief. Amongst all the electrifying fictional action, JC performs a miracle and visits a cathedral where he clears the Filipinos hawking goods outside as uncharacteristically violently as Christ did when he drove the money changers from the temple in Jerusalem. Ma, Maria Lyn Manyanan, has to be Mary Magdalene and there have been suggestions that she was more to Jesus than a prostitute He forgave, so JC’s romance is well-grounded. “Lack of mass communication” is in the lyrics of a song from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar, implying it was a problem in 33 AD but it’s debatable if the worldwide links that exist today help or hinder Mr Leishman’s JC.
Grant Leishman’s book, The Second Coming, opens with a man recovering consciousness in hospital, and trying to remember his identity. Whoever he is, he’s sure he has a mission to accomplish and very little time to do it. Gradually his memory returns. He, Jose Castillo from the Philippines, is the son of God, and he has been ‘allowed’ to return to Earth. The Second Coming was promised over two millennia ago, but nowhere in the Bible is there a caveat: this is Jesus Christ’s last chance! Far from returning to save the people who condemned Him to death, He has one year to pull mankind back from the brink of annihilation. God intends to destroy what He regards as a flawed project and in excess of seven billion people depend on Jose, known to his friends as JC, for their survival.
Intriguingly different, often funny, Grant Leishman’s The Second Coming is a joy to read. He contrives, by means of humour that is never malicious, not to offend those with Christian beliefs, but the story is rooted in the Bible just enough to enable the suspension of disbelief. Amongst all the electrifying fictional action, JC performs a miracle and visits a cathedral where he clears the Filipinos hawking goods outside as uncharacteristically violently as Christ did when he drove the money changers from the temple in Jerusalem. Ma, Maria Lyn Manyanan, has to be Mary Magdalene and there have been suggestions that she was more to Jesus than a prostitute He forgave, so JC’s romance is well-grounded. “Lack of mass communication” is in the lyrics of a song from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar, implying it was a problem in 33 AD but it’s debatable if the worldwide links that exist today help or hinder Mr Leishman’s JC.
EXTRACT:
This extract comes from JC's meeting with the Archangel Michael:
The eight friends lay side by side on mattresses spread across the floor of one of the old house's spare rooms. It wasn't a large room by any stretch of the imagination, and at night, with eight snoring adults, it could seem unnaturally hot and close. There was never any protocol as to who slept where in the room – it was very much a case of first come – first to lie down – at the far end. Woe and betide everyone if that person needed a toilet break at three in the morning. There was a regular clambering over people every couple of hours as one or more of the friends sought the relief of the CR (Comfort Room) but they didn't care too much – they were used to living in cramped conditions back in their small apartment in Manila and anyway, it was all part of the fun of being on vacation.
Tonight, JC found himself two from the door, with only Gabs and Ma between himself and relief. Ma, it seemed, always managed to snag the spot closest to the door, but the others never questioned that – she was a girl – and girls were different – so she deserved some consideration for that. He was not asleep though, as he lay there with his eyes closed, just listening to the muted breathing and the gentle snoring of his companions. Allowing his mind to roam over the activities of the day, he admitted it had indeed been an amazing day – in more ways than one. He grinned – amazing, yes - scary, that too – but everything had turned out okay in the end, and tomorrow they would head home. It had surely been a wonderful and relaxing two weeks – but yes, it was probably the right time to go home.
If the truth be known – JC was actually loath to drop off to sleep. He remembered well a Shakespearean line – from his childhood? "To sleep...perchance to dream," and it was the dreaming part he would rather avoid right at this time. The dreams hadn't stopped – that same recurring dream, every night – without fail, it would come to him just as soon as he dropped off to sleep. The same battle formation, the same warriors, the same army – all headed for a monumental battle. That hadn't changed either; the destination and the ultimate fight – where would it take place? Who was it against? Frustratingly that information still eluded him and he would awaken just as the realization seemed to begin to dawn on him. Often, he would lay there just barely awake, still bathed in sweat from the intensity of the dream, trying desperately to drift off to sleep again – in the vain hope that if he fell asleep again he might actually determine the answers to his questions. Of course it never happened – once he was awake he was awake for the day, and the frustration of not knowing was driving him crazy.
Although the critical answers to his questions remained elusive – the dream itself had become much more vivid, much more real and much more frightening. He could smell the lust of battle on the breath of the other warriors that rode alongside him.The colours of the tunics were more vivid; deep, and lustrous burnished gold, with the head-dresses of the warriors a resplendent shade of battle red. The vault of stars that the chariots raced across were couched in a mantle of deep purple that seemed endless in its intensity. As they charged he could feel every sense of his being alive and fully committed to this head-long rush to battle. He was part of a great war-machine that was scouring the heavens and threatening destruction to all that opposed it. It was both, thrilling – spine-chillingly so, and equally terrifyingly real – He was left in no doubt whatsoever that this scene was somehow part of his destiny.
No – he decided, better not to sleep tonight. We've got a long journey again tomorrow and if I don't sleep tonight then I can just cat-nap on the bus tomorrow. The dreams never seemed to bother him when he was just napping, so tonight – he thought – I’ll just lie here quietly recounting everything I've learned about myself since the accident. He looked both ways at his still sleeping companions and smiled a smile of deep contentment. Whatever happens – I couldn't wish for a more wonderful and amazing group of people to be on this journey with. Closing his eyes he retreated into his own private world of memories.
He wasn’t sure if it was seconds, minutes or even hours later – he was lost in his own reverie – but slowly he became aware of brightness behind his eyelids. Mmmm, someone had turned on the light – he thought – toilet-break no doubt. Opening his eyes, to see which of his companions was moving, and if he needed to get out of the way to assist him to get out the door – the source of the strange glow became apparent – and it sure as hell wasn’t any man-made light.
Just inside the doorway – wreathed in a golden glow – was an enormous, giant of a man – dressed in armour and carrying a long, battle spear in his hand. JC sat bolt upright and gazed at the apparition in awe, fear and utter astonishment. He realized, with a start, that the warrior standing just inside their bedroom doorway was in fact the self-same warrior from his dreams. He was the very same soldier that JC had ridden beside, night after night, across the vault of the Universe. Although he should have been terrified – he should have screamed – the truth was there seemed rightness to his presence in that room – like he was just meant to be there. He sat – open-mouthed – just taking in the sheer magnificence and grandeur of the armoured man.
From the tip of his bright red, feathered head-dress – JC’s eyes travelled down to his face. He had the long, flowing golden locks that hung from beneath his helmet that JC had marvelled at on the ride – as they had flared out behind their charge. Even here – in the semi-darkened room, the hair had a lustre that was somehow other-worldly and seemed to glow almost with a life of its own. He looked at the warrior's face – strong – angular – and courageous looking from any angle – but it was the eyes that captured his attention the most. They were the deepest indigo – flecked with gold and right at that moment, as JC stared at them, they seemed almost to flash and bristle with impatience.
Following down his body – muscular and lean – he noted the armour appeared more decorative than functional. It shone with a burnished light of its own – it had to be made of solid gold – he thought. But he knew that gold was impractical in battle – it was too soft – too malleable – and just too damn heavy for a soldier to wear. Dropping down to the soldier’s feet it actually surprised JC – that it didn't surprise him – to note that his sandals were winged. He really was every inch a warrior and a fearsome sight, yet although he knew he should probably be terrified – he just sat – and waited for the warrior to speak.
For the longest time – they just stared at each other – until finally with a tone of voice that threatened never-ending malice – the warrior spoke. All he said was, "you – outside now!" With that he turned and strode from the room. JC just sat there for a second or two, gathering his wits, and then jumping to his feet he rapidly followed the quickly retreating soldier, down the hallway and into the lounge.
As he entered the lounge, he felt overwhelmed by the sheer magnificence of this great warrior’s presence. His aura shone – as a brilliant white light – as he stood legs astride – arms folded tightly across his chest, in a gesture of annoyance. JC timidly approached the soldier and stood roughly three feet away. He didn't see the slap coming, but he certainly felt it – as his head rocked back and his face stung with its ferocity. Staggering backwards, he tried desperately to retain his feet, but before he could recover, the soldier had grabbed him by the t-shirt – screwing his hand into a fist –
and thrusting JC back against the wall. The soldier’s face was pushed in so close to JC's own face that he swore he could actually smell his mouthwash.
In a voice that bristled with indignation he growled; "and just what in the hell do you think you're playing at JC? We send you down here to carry out a job – six months go by – and it looks like you've achieved nothing – nada – zilch! So come on kiddo, it’s time to explain yourself." Squirming in his tight grasp, JC reached up to pry the soldier's hand free from his tunic. It took him – prying one finger at a time loose – before he was able to finally remove the hand. Straightening his shirt, he addressed the imposing figure.
"Listen here – I have no idea who you are and even less idea what you're talking about – so perhaps it's you who needs to do some explaining of your own ha!" The soldier looked stunned and his expression was reminiscent of a kid who has just been told that Santa Claus doesn't exist. He stepped back from JC and looked inquiringly at him. "Come on JC, of course you know who I am – we’ve been best friends since Adam was a boy. What’s has happened to you?"
JC moved over to the couch and sat down, running his hands through his hair, exasperatedly – “Well, for a start – I got hit by a bus two weeks ago and I totally lost all memory of who I was – until my real friends, through there," indicating the bedroom with his arm, "helped me to recover a lot of my memories – but – to be fair, I still can't actually remember anything from more than six months ago." JC looked down, feeling quite bereft and lost.
"Ohhhh – buddy – come on – it’s not as bad as all that – really. I’m here now and we’ll get this all sorted out, so you can get on with the job you were sent to do." He moved over to the couch and sat beside JC putting a comforting arm around him. JC felt the immense power and depth of love through the soldier's touch and relaxed noticeably. He smiled at him and said, "all right then – well – you’d start by telling me what this is all about."
The soldier took a deep breath and looked heavenward – as if for celestial guidance – “Right then – we’d better start from the beginning: First off the bat – Who am I? My name is Michael. Officially I'm an Archangel of Heaven – but unofficially, I'm your best bud and have always been. We do everything together; we ride together – we sing together – we drink together, and when necessary – we fight together."
JC put his hand up to stop Michael speaking; “So, let me get this straight – what you’re telling me is that you are an angel from Heaven, and supposedly I'm your best friend, so that must mean I'm from heaven too. So who am I, then – Gabriel or something?"
Michael guffawed at that; “Gabriel – good God no – Gabriel would be mortified to hear you suggest that – nope, you're definitely not Gabriel." Michael paused as if to gather strength for his next revelation. "You my young friend are the Son of God – the one – the only – Jesus Christ! I would have thought that your initials – JC – might have given you a clue, but I guess not."
JC's mouth opened wide as his jaw almost hit the floor – Jesus Christ! The Son of God! No! No! No! This was just way too much. Surely he was delusional – he was dreaming – he’d wake up in a minute – it had to be a dream. In desperation he grabbed the loose skin in top of his hand and gave it a vicious twist. "Owwww – shit, that hurt," he exclaimed loudly. Michael just chortled softly and waited for it all to sink in.JC sat there – mulling this information over in his mind. Hmmmm – maybe, just maybe – it wasn't as fanciful as he first thought, maybe it could be true. It would certainly explain an awful lot of things that had happened to him recently, so he decided he had no choice but to take this Michael character at face value and learn whatever he could from him. Sitting straight upright on the couch, he turned to Michael; "ok, maybe I can buy that – for now – so tell me the rest. What am I doing on earth? What's my mission here?"
"Ah now – there’s a tale to tell, but if you keep interrupting me, we'll be here all night and we really haven't got that much time. You need to leave in the morning and get on with the mission."
"Yeah, yeah, we're going back to Manila tomorrow," JC interrupted.
"Did I say Manila bud? And what did I tell you about interrupting hmmmm!" Michael shot back, angrily – “Now be quiet, sit still, and listen, for a change". Feeling a little like the new kid in school, hauled before the principal, a castigated JC sat back and waited for Michael to continue. He cleared his throat before carrying on.
"Right, so what happened was God was looking down on earth one day – he was in one of those moods of his – you know the sort. Oh, that's right; you probably don't anymore, never mind. Anyway, God was angry with the way things had turned out here on Earth. He said to you, despite your sacrifice last time Jesus, nothing's really changed. I've almost given up on humanity – Just take a look – everything you went there and died for, they've thrown back in our faces. All the sins they were guilty of 2,000 years ago – they're still guilty of – greed, corruption, lust, murder, idolatry – you name it, they're doing it! What was your sacrifice for? Even our own representatives on Earth – our churches – have become fragmented – run by self-serving egoists. I'm at my wits end son and I think it's time to admit that humanity is a failed experiment – it didn't work.' God was totally adamant JC – He wanted us to destroy earth – and all of humanity. He wanted to start again from scratch – and try something else."
Michael paused and gathered his breath. JC was absolutely captivated by what he was hearing and waved his arm for Michael to continue talking. "Well – initially God wanted to flood the place – wipe out everyone and every living thing – but St Peter actually reminded him that he'd make a promise a long time ago, that he'd never, ever do anything like that again. Well, he couldn't go back on a promise – so he turned to me and said 'Michael, I want you to lead a celestial army to earth and destroy it – split it asunder – wipe out the despicable, evil place that despoils my beautiful Universe.'
Obviously I couldn't disobey God, so I began to gather our army of Angels to prepare to descend on Earth and annihilate it – but that was when you intervened,"
JC was awestruck by this all; “So, what – what – did I do Michael?"
"JC – you my friend, came up with the plan to beat all plans. You said to God: 'Look – I went there once and I sacrificed my life for humanity. I experienced the intense pain, the agony and the humiliation of being crucified and if you destroy Earth now, you dismiss my pain and suffering as being unimportant – well, it wasn't – it was damn important. I can't let you destroy Earth without at least you giving me another chance to turn them around.' Now let me tell you JC – God was mightily moved by your passion and love for humanity – It’s one of the few times, since your crucifixion – that I've actually seen him shed a tear."
Michael paused in his speech and said, "I'm thirsty – I’ll just grab a drink from the kitchen." Walking over to the kitchen, he left JC to ponder his words, alone on the couch. He had been totally mesmerized by Michael's story – and as wild and outlandish as it all seemed – he just knew instinctively that it was true – that this was indeed the missing link to his past – to his history. Sitting back feeling stunned and overwhelmed, he waited for Michael to return and continue.
"So, anyway, what God decided – after your impassioned plea – was that he would allow you another year on Earth to try and make a difference. He said he didn't expect miracles, no pun intended – hehehe – but he did expect to see a significant change in humanity and it’s adherence to moral principles and justice – but most of all he said he expected to see an end to conflict on Earth."
Michael grinned at JC, "See, he doesn't want much, does he? The problem is you've already wasted a lot of time with no results – that’s why I was sent here – to give you the proverbial kick up the arse."
JC looked at Michael, "Ok, I accept all that – and I am ready to go, but I haven't wasted that much time really – I’ve already put together a fine group of 'disciples' ready to help me implement this massive effort." He looked a little nonplussed for a bit then asked Michael, "one thing I don't quite get – why Manila, why The Philippines. Why not Palestine again – or better still New York, London, or even Beijing? It just seems an odd place to start – The Philippines?"
Michael grinned, "Yeah, that was the subject of much discussion and, shall we say, fairly robust debate. In the end God said he chose The Philippines for three main reasons. Firstly – he felt, that in a world gone crazy, the Filipino people still represented a pocket of spirituality and religious conservatism that would immediately appeal to the appearance of a 'Messiah'. He just seemed to feel that you would be accepted more easily here – and let’s face it – you needed a good start if you were to be successful.
Michael screwed up his face as if trying to remember something. "Now, what were the other two reasons – Mmmm, one had to do with the power of technology. God said that in the twenty-first century, the world was a tiny, interconnected place and it didn't really matter where you were based. You could easily reach everyone through modern technology. Ahhhhm, I can't actually remember the third reason."
He stood there, for a while, in deep concentration until finally a “eureka” moment crossed his face. "Aha – I’ve got it now – God was really annoyed that there was an imposter here in The Philippines – as he put it, a charlatan claiming to be the Son of God. He was absolutely furious about it and said your first job was to expose this fake – this blasphemer – and to turn his followers to the one, true God."
"So JC, that's your first job – to expose this self-styled Son of God for the fraud he is and to convert his massive following to the one true God and his son - YOU! His name is Adonis C Quanico and he is to be found in Davao. He’s the leader of the Restoration Church, also known as The True Kingdom of Jesus Christ. So my young friend – go get 'em!" JC's head was reeling from everything he had been told by Michael, but inherently he knew he believed it all. This was his mission, this was his destiny and he couldn't wait to begin.
He stood up and went over to Michael, embracing him tightly. "Thank you my friend – thank you for coming to save me from oblivion. I knew I had a destiny, and now you've shown it to me – thank you, thank you, thank you." Michael just grinned and slapped him on the back – “You’re welcome buddy, now go and get some sleep – you have a lot of plans to make tomorrow."
JC released Michael from his embrace and watched as he waved one last time before quickly ascending right through the ceiling and back to his home. He stood there alone for a minute or two before heading for the bedroom and blessed sleep. He knew there would be no dream this time – he knew now – he was free from the nightmares...
This extract comes from JC's meeting with the Archangel Michael:
The eight friends lay side by side on mattresses spread across the floor of one of the old house's spare rooms. It wasn't a large room by any stretch of the imagination, and at night, with eight snoring adults, it could seem unnaturally hot and close. There was never any protocol as to who slept where in the room – it was very much a case of first come – first to lie down – at the far end. Woe and betide everyone if that person needed a toilet break at three in the morning. There was a regular clambering over people every couple of hours as one or more of the friends sought the relief of the CR (Comfort Room) but they didn't care too much – they were used to living in cramped conditions back in their small apartment in Manila and anyway, it was all part of the fun of being on vacation.
Tonight, JC found himself two from the door, with only Gabs and Ma between himself and relief. Ma, it seemed, always managed to snag the spot closest to the door, but the others never questioned that – she was a girl – and girls were different – so she deserved some consideration for that. He was not asleep though, as he lay there with his eyes closed, just listening to the muted breathing and the gentle snoring of his companions. Allowing his mind to roam over the activities of the day, he admitted it had indeed been an amazing day – in more ways than one. He grinned – amazing, yes - scary, that too – but everything had turned out okay in the end, and tomorrow they would head home. It had surely been a wonderful and relaxing two weeks – but yes, it was probably the right time to go home.
If the truth be known – JC was actually loath to drop off to sleep. He remembered well a Shakespearean line – from his childhood? "To sleep...perchance to dream," and it was the dreaming part he would rather avoid right at this time. The dreams hadn't stopped – that same recurring dream, every night – without fail, it would come to him just as soon as he dropped off to sleep. The same battle formation, the same warriors, the same army – all headed for a monumental battle. That hadn't changed either; the destination and the ultimate fight – where would it take place? Who was it against? Frustratingly that information still eluded him and he would awaken just as the realization seemed to begin to dawn on him. Often, he would lay there just barely awake, still bathed in sweat from the intensity of the dream, trying desperately to drift off to sleep again – in the vain hope that if he fell asleep again he might actually determine the answers to his questions. Of course it never happened – once he was awake he was awake for the day, and the frustration of not knowing was driving him crazy.
Although the critical answers to his questions remained elusive – the dream itself had become much more vivid, much more real and much more frightening. He could smell the lust of battle on the breath of the other warriors that rode alongside him.The colours of the tunics were more vivid; deep, and lustrous burnished gold, with the head-dresses of the warriors a resplendent shade of battle red. The vault of stars that the chariots raced across were couched in a mantle of deep purple that seemed endless in its intensity. As they charged he could feel every sense of his being alive and fully committed to this head-long rush to battle. He was part of a great war-machine that was scouring the heavens and threatening destruction to all that opposed it. It was both, thrilling – spine-chillingly so, and equally terrifyingly real – He was left in no doubt whatsoever that this scene was somehow part of his destiny.
No – he decided, better not to sleep tonight. We've got a long journey again tomorrow and if I don't sleep tonight then I can just cat-nap on the bus tomorrow. The dreams never seemed to bother him when he was just napping, so tonight – he thought – I’ll just lie here quietly recounting everything I've learned about myself since the accident. He looked both ways at his still sleeping companions and smiled a smile of deep contentment. Whatever happens – I couldn't wish for a more wonderful and amazing group of people to be on this journey with. Closing his eyes he retreated into his own private world of memories.
He wasn’t sure if it was seconds, minutes or even hours later – he was lost in his own reverie – but slowly he became aware of brightness behind his eyelids. Mmmm, someone had turned on the light – he thought – toilet-break no doubt. Opening his eyes, to see which of his companions was moving, and if he needed to get out of the way to assist him to get out the door – the source of the strange glow became apparent – and it sure as hell wasn’t any man-made light.
Just inside the doorway – wreathed in a golden glow – was an enormous, giant of a man – dressed in armour and carrying a long, battle spear in his hand. JC sat bolt upright and gazed at the apparition in awe, fear and utter astonishment. He realized, with a start, that the warrior standing just inside their bedroom doorway was in fact the self-same warrior from his dreams. He was the very same soldier that JC had ridden beside, night after night, across the vault of the Universe. Although he should have been terrified – he should have screamed – the truth was there seemed rightness to his presence in that room – like he was just meant to be there. He sat – open-mouthed – just taking in the sheer magnificence and grandeur of the armoured man.
From the tip of his bright red, feathered head-dress – JC’s eyes travelled down to his face. He had the long, flowing golden locks that hung from beneath his helmet that JC had marvelled at on the ride – as they had flared out behind their charge. Even here – in the semi-darkened room, the hair had a lustre that was somehow other-worldly and seemed to glow almost with a life of its own. He looked at the warrior's face – strong – angular – and courageous looking from any angle – but it was the eyes that captured his attention the most. They were the deepest indigo – flecked with gold and right at that moment, as JC stared at them, they seemed almost to flash and bristle with impatience.
Following down his body – muscular and lean – he noted the armour appeared more decorative than functional. It shone with a burnished light of its own – it had to be made of solid gold – he thought. But he knew that gold was impractical in battle – it was too soft – too malleable – and just too damn heavy for a soldier to wear. Dropping down to the soldier’s feet it actually surprised JC – that it didn't surprise him – to note that his sandals were winged. He really was every inch a warrior and a fearsome sight, yet although he knew he should probably be terrified – he just sat – and waited for the warrior to speak.
For the longest time – they just stared at each other – until finally with a tone of voice that threatened never-ending malice – the warrior spoke. All he said was, "you – outside now!" With that he turned and strode from the room. JC just sat there for a second or two, gathering his wits, and then jumping to his feet he rapidly followed the quickly retreating soldier, down the hallway and into the lounge.
As he entered the lounge, he felt overwhelmed by the sheer magnificence of this great warrior’s presence. His aura shone – as a brilliant white light – as he stood legs astride – arms folded tightly across his chest, in a gesture of annoyance. JC timidly approached the soldier and stood roughly three feet away. He didn't see the slap coming, but he certainly felt it – as his head rocked back and his face stung with its ferocity. Staggering backwards, he tried desperately to retain his feet, but before he could recover, the soldier had grabbed him by the t-shirt – screwing his hand into a fist –
and thrusting JC back against the wall. The soldier’s face was pushed in so close to JC's own face that he swore he could actually smell his mouthwash.
In a voice that bristled with indignation he growled; "and just what in the hell do you think you're playing at JC? We send you down here to carry out a job – six months go by – and it looks like you've achieved nothing – nada – zilch! So come on kiddo, it’s time to explain yourself." Squirming in his tight grasp, JC reached up to pry the soldier's hand free from his tunic. It took him – prying one finger at a time loose – before he was able to finally remove the hand. Straightening his shirt, he addressed the imposing figure.
"Listen here – I have no idea who you are and even less idea what you're talking about – so perhaps it's you who needs to do some explaining of your own ha!" The soldier looked stunned and his expression was reminiscent of a kid who has just been told that Santa Claus doesn't exist. He stepped back from JC and looked inquiringly at him. "Come on JC, of course you know who I am – we’ve been best friends since Adam was a boy. What’s has happened to you?"
JC moved over to the couch and sat down, running his hands through his hair, exasperatedly – “Well, for a start – I got hit by a bus two weeks ago and I totally lost all memory of who I was – until my real friends, through there," indicating the bedroom with his arm, "helped me to recover a lot of my memories – but – to be fair, I still can't actually remember anything from more than six months ago." JC looked down, feeling quite bereft and lost.
"Ohhhh – buddy – come on – it’s not as bad as all that – really. I’m here now and we’ll get this all sorted out, so you can get on with the job you were sent to do." He moved over to the couch and sat beside JC putting a comforting arm around him. JC felt the immense power and depth of love through the soldier's touch and relaxed noticeably. He smiled at him and said, "all right then – well – you’d start by telling me what this is all about."
The soldier took a deep breath and looked heavenward – as if for celestial guidance – “Right then – we’d better start from the beginning: First off the bat – Who am I? My name is Michael. Officially I'm an Archangel of Heaven – but unofficially, I'm your best bud and have always been. We do everything together; we ride together – we sing together – we drink together, and when necessary – we fight together."
JC put his hand up to stop Michael speaking; “So, let me get this straight – what you’re telling me is that you are an angel from Heaven, and supposedly I'm your best friend, so that must mean I'm from heaven too. So who am I, then – Gabriel or something?"
Michael guffawed at that; “Gabriel – good God no – Gabriel would be mortified to hear you suggest that – nope, you're definitely not Gabriel." Michael paused as if to gather strength for his next revelation. "You my young friend are the Son of God – the one – the only – Jesus Christ! I would have thought that your initials – JC – might have given you a clue, but I guess not."
JC's mouth opened wide as his jaw almost hit the floor – Jesus Christ! The Son of God! No! No! No! This was just way too much. Surely he was delusional – he was dreaming – he’d wake up in a minute – it had to be a dream. In desperation he grabbed the loose skin in top of his hand and gave it a vicious twist. "Owwww – shit, that hurt," he exclaimed loudly. Michael just chortled softly and waited for it all to sink in.JC sat there – mulling this information over in his mind. Hmmmm – maybe, just maybe – it wasn't as fanciful as he first thought, maybe it could be true. It would certainly explain an awful lot of things that had happened to him recently, so he decided he had no choice but to take this Michael character at face value and learn whatever he could from him. Sitting straight upright on the couch, he turned to Michael; "ok, maybe I can buy that – for now – so tell me the rest. What am I doing on earth? What's my mission here?"
"Ah now – there’s a tale to tell, but if you keep interrupting me, we'll be here all night and we really haven't got that much time. You need to leave in the morning and get on with the mission."
"Yeah, yeah, we're going back to Manila tomorrow," JC interrupted.
"Did I say Manila bud? And what did I tell you about interrupting hmmmm!" Michael shot back, angrily – “Now be quiet, sit still, and listen, for a change". Feeling a little like the new kid in school, hauled before the principal, a castigated JC sat back and waited for Michael to continue. He cleared his throat before carrying on.
"Right, so what happened was God was looking down on earth one day – he was in one of those moods of his – you know the sort. Oh, that's right; you probably don't anymore, never mind. Anyway, God was angry with the way things had turned out here on Earth. He said to you, despite your sacrifice last time Jesus, nothing's really changed. I've almost given up on humanity – Just take a look – everything you went there and died for, they've thrown back in our faces. All the sins they were guilty of 2,000 years ago – they're still guilty of – greed, corruption, lust, murder, idolatry – you name it, they're doing it! What was your sacrifice for? Even our own representatives on Earth – our churches – have become fragmented – run by self-serving egoists. I'm at my wits end son and I think it's time to admit that humanity is a failed experiment – it didn't work.' God was totally adamant JC – He wanted us to destroy earth – and all of humanity. He wanted to start again from scratch – and try something else."
Michael paused and gathered his breath. JC was absolutely captivated by what he was hearing and waved his arm for Michael to continue talking. "Well – initially God wanted to flood the place – wipe out everyone and every living thing – but St Peter actually reminded him that he'd make a promise a long time ago, that he'd never, ever do anything like that again. Well, he couldn't go back on a promise – so he turned to me and said 'Michael, I want you to lead a celestial army to earth and destroy it – split it asunder – wipe out the despicable, evil place that despoils my beautiful Universe.'
Obviously I couldn't disobey God, so I began to gather our army of Angels to prepare to descend on Earth and annihilate it – but that was when you intervened,"
JC was awestruck by this all; “So, what – what – did I do Michael?"
"JC – you my friend, came up with the plan to beat all plans. You said to God: 'Look – I went there once and I sacrificed my life for humanity. I experienced the intense pain, the agony and the humiliation of being crucified and if you destroy Earth now, you dismiss my pain and suffering as being unimportant – well, it wasn't – it was damn important. I can't let you destroy Earth without at least you giving me another chance to turn them around.' Now let me tell you JC – God was mightily moved by your passion and love for humanity – It’s one of the few times, since your crucifixion – that I've actually seen him shed a tear."
Michael paused in his speech and said, "I'm thirsty – I’ll just grab a drink from the kitchen." Walking over to the kitchen, he left JC to ponder his words, alone on the couch. He had been totally mesmerized by Michael's story – and as wild and outlandish as it all seemed – he just knew instinctively that it was true – that this was indeed the missing link to his past – to his history. Sitting back feeling stunned and overwhelmed, he waited for Michael to return and continue.
"So, anyway, what God decided – after your impassioned plea – was that he would allow you another year on Earth to try and make a difference. He said he didn't expect miracles, no pun intended – hehehe – but he did expect to see a significant change in humanity and it’s adherence to moral principles and justice – but most of all he said he expected to see an end to conflict on Earth."
Michael grinned at JC, "See, he doesn't want much, does he? The problem is you've already wasted a lot of time with no results – that’s why I was sent here – to give you the proverbial kick up the arse."
JC looked at Michael, "Ok, I accept all that – and I am ready to go, but I haven't wasted that much time really – I’ve already put together a fine group of 'disciples' ready to help me implement this massive effort." He looked a little nonplussed for a bit then asked Michael, "one thing I don't quite get – why Manila, why The Philippines. Why not Palestine again – or better still New York, London, or even Beijing? It just seems an odd place to start – The Philippines?"
Michael grinned, "Yeah, that was the subject of much discussion and, shall we say, fairly robust debate. In the end God said he chose The Philippines for three main reasons. Firstly – he felt, that in a world gone crazy, the Filipino people still represented a pocket of spirituality and religious conservatism that would immediately appeal to the appearance of a 'Messiah'. He just seemed to feel that you would be accepted more easily here – and let’s face it – you needed a good start if you were to be successful.
Michael screwed up his face as if trying to remember something. "Now, what were the other two reasons – Mmmm, one had to do with the power of technology. God said that in the twenty-first century, the world was a tiny, interconnected place and it didn't really matter where you were based. You could easily reach everyone through modern technology. Ahhhhm, I can't actually remember the third reason."
He stood there, for a while, in deep concentration until finally a “eureka” moment crossed his face. "Aha – I’ve got it now – God was really annoyed that there was an imposter here in The Philippines – as he put it, a charlatan claiming to be the Son of God. He was absolutely furious about it and said your first job was to expose this fake – this blasphemer – and to turn his followers to the one, true God."
"So JC, that's your first job – to expose this self-styled Son of God for the fraud he is and to convert his massive following to the one true God and his son - YOU! His name is Adonis C Quanico and he is to be found in Davao. He’s the leader of the Restoration Church, also known as The True Kingdom of Jesus Christ. So my young friend – go get 'em!" JC's head was reeling from everything he had been told by Michael, but inherently he knew he believed it all. This was his mission, this was his destiny and he couldn't wait to begin.
He stood up and went over to Michael, embracing him tightly. "Thank you my friend – thank you for coming to save me from oblivion. I knew I had a destiny, and now you've shown it to me – thank you, thank you, thank you." Michael just grinned and slapped him on the back – “You’re welcome buddy, now go and get some sleep – you have a lot of plans to make tomorrow."
JC released Michael from his embrace and watched as he waved one last time before quickly ascending right through the ceiling and back to his home. He stood there alone for a minute or two before heading for the bedroom and blessed sleep. He knew there would be no dream this time – he knew now – he was free from the nightmares...
