The Lawn Preacher
The Lawn Preacher
Prologue
In a quiet, crumbling corner of America, nestled in the outskirts of a small Midwestern town, a man named Josiah Harper lived a life that straddled hope and despair. Josiah was a Christian evangelist, a die-hard King James Bible (KJV) believer, and an ardent follower of the free grace doctrine. By day, he pushed an old, sputtering lawnmower from yard to yard, trimming grass to make ends meet as prices soared and inflation bit deeper into his already meager earnings. By night, he preached sermons on YouTube, pouring his heart into a camera lens, praying someone out there would listen.
But Josiah was tired—bone tired. The rising cost of fuel for his mower, the escalating crime in his once-peaceful town, and the constant churn of bad news from global markets to local disasters weighed heavily on him. He felt the world collapsing around him, like the prophesied Great Tribulation creeping closer with each passing day.
A Fractured Faith
Despite his deep faith, Josiah harbored an intense fear. He had always believed in the pre-tribulation rapture—the blessed hope that Christ would return before the world was plunged into chaos. But the worsening conditions made him wonder: What if I’m wrong? What if the rapture doesn’t come? The thought terrified him. He didn't want to face the horrors of the tribulation, the mark of the beast, or the globalist system tightening its grip.
Desperate for safety, Josiah bought a gun. But even with the cold steel of the pistol tucked under his pillow, he found no peace. “A gun won’t save me,” he muttered to himself. “Only Jesus can save me.” Yet as the days turned darker, his prayers for the rapture grew frantic, almost desperate. It wasn’t just about leaving—it was about escaping.
Psychic Driving the Gospel
Josiah’s sermons shifted in tone. Gone were the calm expositions of scripture and assurances of salvation by grace through faith in Christ alone. Instead, his messages became fiery, insistent, almost panicked. He began hammering his audience with the need to evangelize, warning that if they weren’t bringing others to Christ, they might not be truly saved.
“Listen to me!” he’d thunder. “If you’re not out there winning souls, you’re a goat, a false prophet! Don’t be deceived by this world! The fullness of the Gentiles must come in before we’re raptured. It’s your job to bring them in!”
Privately, Josiah knew his theology was strained. If salvation is by grace alone, he thought, then why am I telling them their works will prove their faith? But he buried these doubts. The urgency of his situation left no room for introspection. His sermons became a form of psychic driving—a relentless repetition of fear and duty aimed at his followers. He needed them to act, to evangelize, to bring the lost into the fold. Maybe if they work hard enough, the rapture will finally come. Maybe then I can escape.
The World Collapses
The months rolled on, and the world outside Josiah’s home grew darker. Illegal immigration surged in his town, stretching resources thin. The cost of groceries doubled, then tripled. Crime became so rampant that even his neighbors, once friendly and warm, began locking their doors and avoiding eye contact.
Then came the news that rocked the nation: the economy had collapsed. Banks shuttered, jobs vanished, and the streets filled with protests. Josiah watched it all unfold on his ancient TV, clutching his KJV Bible and whispering, “This is it. The Great Tribulation is here.”
In a desperate bid to stabilize society, the government unveiled a new global currency—accessible only through a biometric chip implanted in the hand. “The mark of the beast,” Josiah muttered, his hands trembling. “It’s happening.”
A Shattered Hope
By now, Josiah’s sermons had lost much of their audience. His fiery demands for evangelism had alienated even his most devoted followers. Yet Josiah refused to stop. He clung to the belief that if enough people believed in Christ, the fullness of the Gentiles would come in, and the rapture would occur. But deep down, he feared the truth: the rapture wasn’t coming—not yet.
One night, as riots raged outside and the sky glowed with the orange haze of burning buildings, Josiah sat at his desk, staring at a half-written sermon. The title: Why You’re a Goat if You Don’t Evangelize. He sighed, the weight of his contradictions pressing down on him like a lead blanket.
“What’s the point?” he whispered. “If salvation is by grace through faith, then why am I doing this? Why am I making them feel guilty? Why am I so afraid?”
The End of Days
The days blurred into weeks, and Josiah’s small town became unrecognizable—a shell of its former self. The government began mandating the biometric chip for all commerce. Josiah refused, knowing it would seal his fate. “Better to starve than take the mark,” he told himself. But starvation was no small matter. His pantry was nearly empty, and the thought of dying in such a brutal, chaotic world filled him with dread.
As he prayed one final time for the rapture, Josiah heard distant gunshots and screaming outside his window. The Great Tribulation had arrived in full force. And yet, he felt no closer to escape, no closer to safety.
The rapture hadn’t come. It wouldn’t come—not now. And Josiah was left to face the harsh reality he had tried so hard to deny: there was no shortcut, no quick escape. Only faith in God’s plan, however painful, however long it might take.
Epilogue
In the darkest hour of his life, Josiah finally set down his pen and closed his Bible. He no longer had answers, no longer had sermons to give. The Great Tribulation had begun, and the only thing he could do now was survive—and hope that one day, in God’s perfect timing, Christ would return.