No Light at the End! Help me!

No Light at the End! Help Me! (based on actual events)

The train wasn't slowing down...it wasn't slowing down! I was alone on the train (again?!) and that deep, inner terror was back with a vengeance - along with the new, weird sense somewhere even deeper inside, that it wasn't the end...that I wouldn't die and that the journey had a purpose.

Part of me said, "Just ride...go with it...let it happen...you'll see...there’s a reason for this…"

Another part of me screamed, "If you don't get off this train somehow, NOW, you're going to be crushed and smashed to bits – and maybe hurt or kill someone else in the process. Oh God, people are going to die!”

An evil feeling-ed, cold sweat was there when I woke from the terrifying, but utterly 'real' dream. A dream so present that I couldn't dismiss it. I'd had a few encounters with demons before; the real thing; evil spirits. And I had seen the physical and emotional transformation in some people when they transitioned from one 'state' to another. And, after being set free from their terror through laying on of hands and prayer in the name of Jesus, they often described the experience as ‘waking up from a bad dream’.

That’s how I felt…too many times lately. Did I need to be ‘set free’ from something demonic?

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"What goes through your heart - not your mind – emotionally, when you remember those times?", the pastor asked me.

He was more than your typical pastor, really. He was more of a 'spiritual conflict discernment therapist', although, I'm sure, he hated to be thought of in that way. In truth, he prayerfully, and by all accounts, sensitively, used the gifts of Discerning of Spirits, the Word of Knowledge, and Gifts of Healings, given by the Holy Spirit for people’s wholeness. Given by God to him as he, respectfully, rummaged around in people's pasts, and presents, looking for places that needed inner healing and even for demonic influence.

For some time, I had been troubled about different moments, experiences in my life – repeat ‘performances’. Together in our sessions we had, a bit humorously, come to call the experiences ‘my railway moments'. He had also insisted from the beginning that I tell the absolute truth - of course - when describing those events – as well as any other seasons or experiences in my life. No spiritual hype, fluff, interpretation, or exaggeration...just the cold, blunt facts.

Until now.

Now he was probing for thoughts and feelings and 'gut' instincts 'stuff'. His oft-used phrase was, "When that happened, or you reflect back on it now, what did you 'know in your knower'?"

It was a bit esoteric and mystical to my thinking, but I pretty much got what he meant. In not so many of the same words, I'd encouraged similar sharing when I had ministered to others who were searching, or troubled, or simply had spiritual pain.

“Try to push away logic and go with your gut...trust your 'knower'. Acknowledge your feelings - those hints and clues lurking in the background of your memories.”

He probed like this to try to get me to ‘open up’, and 'look in', to come to terms with those inner ‘clues’.

The serious problem was that for me, the true 'railway events' that held those 'clues' were now being blurred or blended - no, interrupted - by another 'event' that had not yet occurred. It was only hinted at in my dreams – and in my prayer times – and I didn’t like it.

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I'd had three previous, quite weird 'rail events' – when I was a younger Christian. I didn't want or need another. Actually, I didn't ask for the others - to be honest. Who would? Constant questions surrounded them…a sinister ‘vibe’ accompanied them.

Signs, symptoms or set up?

If and when you tell someone about such things, such truly strange happenings, on a train or a train station nonetheless - they will say it's a sign that God or something or someone is trying to get through to you. Positively or negatively. It depended on who you asked.

Or it's a symptom that you're using or taking something hallucinogenic - or maybe just going 'a bit nuts' – a’la like other Charismatic or Pentecostal or sect-like groups.

Or being set up by events outside your control or by people out of their moral minds scheming a plot against or to terrorize or use you.

All those sentiments and comments came to the fore when I remembered and retold my previous 'railway events' – which had been laid at my feet or mockingly shoved in my face by others. Regardless of this, they truly happened and had left an indelible impression on my life ever since.

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Train Event #1

In October 1970 in Cape Town, South Africa, my life had been dramatically and wonderfully turned upside-down. While neither seeking nor wanting to know or hear anything about a God who I didn't think existed - or His Son whom I knew absolutely nothing about - I was told about Jesus at a youth camp in a place called Piketberg. The effect the message had on me was overwhelming, and as a result it had me trying to politely thank the speaker who had shared it… But politely didn’t happen. Instead, it had me grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and screaming and shaking him violently and tearfully...

"Why has no one told me about this before!? This is the most amazing news I have ever heard! Why has no one told me before now!?" He calmed me down and prayed with me.

And so, my new life began...and, although I never connected the inner emotional conflict and weird sense of being watched now, these days, with that new beginning for my life, looking back I know I was being taken down unknown tracks on a journey to where, I did not know.

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In January 1971, I met Kendra at another campsite, near Simonstown, Cape. Blonde, cute - no, adorable! - sexy, cool, and utterly together within herself. When I kissed her for the first time, she gently pushed me away and said clearly and with a certainty and absoluteness I had never heard or known, "I like you, and I'm glad we kissed, but you need to understand something...Jesus is first in my life...I love Him above and before all others - more than anything. You need to know that."

Never in my life had I heard anything even remotely like those words. Never. I was in a new world, on a new journey, that I never saw coming.

I didn't know it then, not only were my hormones, but also a spiritual battle was about to rage. The sense that evening and in the days following was that not only was I being carried along, but also being targeted...a kind of spooky chill coupled with that looking-over-my-shoulder far too often, feeling. I had no context or explanation for this. I didn't even know how to describe to or discuss it with anyone.

Someone said to me around that time, “If the devil couldn’t stop you from becoming a Christian, then he’s going to do his damnedest to try to make sure you’re a poor one…”

Then I had a dream, on a train...I think.

After a great final day on a sunny beach at the campsite, I caught the last train home from Simonstown to Cape Town at about 22.30 on Sunday night - semi-express; only one stop in the middle. It was about a one-hour trip. The ticket office wasn't open. By the time the train had reached the only midway stop (Wynberg), I was alone - except for a man sitting near the front of the carriage. I just stared out the window at the stars which I continued to do as the train came to a stop.

"You."

I snapped-turned my head toward the voice. It was the man. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, his shadowed face hidden back inside the hood. He took one, purposeful step toward me and raised his arm and pointed a boney finger at my face. "You. Help me. Please."

Before I could say anything, he turned and virtually leapt through the open door. I jumped up and rushed to the door, but it closed, and the train started to pull away. Quickly back at my seat, I stared through the window, up and down the platform, but he was nowhere to be seen. The troubling chill was back as the train picked up speed considerably - far too fast for a suburban train - it was shuddering and shaking near-out of control. I clung to the arm on the seat not knowing what to do.

I awoke bewildered, alone in a pitch-black train carriage and station. Only the Exit/Uitgang, Whites Only/Net Blankes signs in Cape Town Station shimmered in the darkness. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to check the time.

"You!" Gruff.

Startled, I looked up into the flashlight and boney finger of a security guard pointed right at my face.

"Let me see your ticket."

"I don't have one...sorry."

"That's not good...man, you young people today!" Irritated.

He grabbed me firmly by the collar of my light jacket and pulled me up. His face was partially hidden in the darkness and the high collar of his security uniform and hat. He escorted me out of the station while I apologized several more times. As I exited the station, he stepped in front of me and came very close to my face and said in a quiet, but strange voice, "You...you, need to help yourself or you may end up going down a track you don’t want to go down. If you don’t help yourself, you’ll not be able to help others." Very weird.

It was 01.37. As I stepped through the door into the street, I turned back to look at the officer one more time. He wasn’t there. Vanished. The chill was back.

No buses running at that hour, so I had to walk to my place that was more than a mile away - never a fun or particularly safe thing to do in my neighborhood…and I couldn't shake the experience of the last few hours. The creepy chill accompanied me all the way home. I felt I was in danger. I just knew it.

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Train Event #2

I didn’t go to Viet Nam even though the draft lottery in July 1971 said I should…I was drawn No. 52…which meant I could more than likely end up serving or fighting somewhere for four years. Viet Nam was a likely location. But I was legally blind in my left eye (sports injury), so was disqualified. Instead, I was in Cape Town to play baseball and to, egotistically, be God’s answer to everyone’s prayers – including healing and deliverance and any other miracle you cared to hope for.

I admit, my theology was a bit lop-sided, and at the same time, I felt like a doctrinal/religious hypocrite. I was quite well-known, a celebrity really, in the ‘Christian sporting world.’ I talked up a good game about salvation, healing and spiritual victory, but my own left eye was blind. I felt like I was the one, someone’s ‘one’, that could make a difference in their lives. But to do this, it had to start with me…I needed to show my faith to others by being healed. (Don’t say it.)

One evening there was a special ‘Victory Healing Service’ at the Headquarters Christian Coffee Bar on Longmarket Street – some dramatic, touring, miracle pastor, I was told. It didn’t take long before it was ‘known’ (always uncomfortable; but truthfully, I loved the platform and limelight a bit too much) that I was in the meeting and, at the end of the very emotional, wild sermon and appeal, the buzz in the room increased as I was one of the first people to go forward to be prayed for.

As I stood before him, his arms raised, speaking in tongues – he abruptly stopped and stared directly at me. One arm still raised, the other now pointed at me - and in almost in a startled whisper, he said, “You.”

Without asking me what I wanted prayer for, he laid hands on my head, spoke in tongues, and exclaimed, “Be healed! In Jesus name!”

And then tried to push me over – which I knew was a 'technique' and part of many ‘healing shows’. I stumbled momentarily, kept my balance, but then took off my glasses ‘in faith’, put them in my pocket, raised my hands and began to thank God - and speak in tongues. My eyes were closed as I worshipped.

Suddenly, I was on a train, barreling at high speed through a tunnel. It was long, curved and utterly filled with light – incredibly bright, midday, glowing light. But at the end of the tunnel was an impenetrable darkness that seemed to push the light back. It was backward…there should be light at the end!

I was shaken from my vision when the place went Hallelujah nuts! People began to point at me, “You! You!”

I looked at them stunned. Back slaps and ‘Praise the Lords!’ followed me to my seat…but as more people were inspired by my ‘act of faith’ and streamed forward for prayer, I quietly slipped out the side door…my glasses still in my pocket.

I wandered around aimlessly for ages – for several mentally and emotionally-troubled hours. I came to my senses at Cape Town Train Station. It was very late, and yet again, the very last train of the evening would need to take me to the work hostel I was living at – in Pinelands, Cape. The ticket office wasn’t open.

It was about 00.15 in the morning – and I was completely, dog-tired, dead asleep – and alone on the train.

I woke up with a start as I heard the sound of the train screeching to a halt - and the air pressure sound of ‘whoosh’ that told me that the doors were opening. I jumped up from my seat and looked out the window. I saw that we were next to my platform. I ran to the door just as it closed – ‘Ding, whoosh, thump!’ I shoved my fingers into the soft molding in the middle of the doors but couldn’t pry it open. The train began to pull away. Without a moment’s thought, I ran back to my seat, threw down the window and jumped out of the moving train onto the platform.

Ok, that’s not completely true - about not giving it a moment’s thought…actually, in a nanosecond I reminded myself that the next stop, Thornton, was a mile or more along a notoriously dangerous road that ran along a more ominously risky ‘People Get Mugged Here Cemetery’. And I would need to walk through it…alone, in the dark…and, and….

Jump Dave, jump!

So, I did.

I landed on the platform, and slightly shaken, I walked up the platform stairs, over the pedestrian walkway that went over the tracks, down the other side…then three or four hundred yards to the hostel where I was living. I went into my room, breathing heavily, heart thumping, happy-ish, and quite relieved.

Until I remembered my eye.

Failed, weak-faith-guilt caught up with me then. Up to this point I still hadn’t dared to close my right eye and look with and test my left to see if I had been healed. I gotta do this! But then I said to myself, “If I test my eye, then it's just saying I'm lacking in faith. If I look with my left eye, I'm saying I don't believe God. If I do look with my left eye, I'm believing but, then again, I'm showing unbelief at the same time. Sheesh! What a treadmill!”

It was very confusing and a stupid faith dilemma. I was shaking, feeling a moment of truth approaching. I closed my eyes to pray.

Immediately, I was on the train in the tunnel again. Again, I was barreling along at high speed. Again, the sense that I was hurtling into a dark place that I absolutely must go to – to where!? I jolted into consciousness and was shaking in fear at the sudden reality that I didn’t know where ‘where’ was.

I hated the feeling.

I went into the bathroom down the hallway, closed the cubicle, sat down, and said “Sorry I’m doubting you Lord”, and “Yes, I believe you Lord”, in the same breath - and just hoped I didn’t get another flash of confusing ‘insight’ or stumble on to some train tracks again – or jump out of a window straight into the pedestrian crossing stone wall and end up under the train wheels.

I covered my right eye with my hand and looked through my left eye. I wasn’t healed.

I started to cry. “Lord, I'm sorry I didn't have enough faith. I did not have enough faith; I did not have enough belief; I was not strong enough; I was not a good enough Christian! The people were counting on me to believe in you! They were looking to me...believing in me...there were so many of them who I've failed!”

Tearfully, but tinged with anger (at who…myself or God?), I said through trembling, gritted teeth…

“Lord, if I needed more faith tonight to be healed than what I had, it will never happen. So, Lord, I don't know what's going on, but I will never, ever be healed because I can't have more faith than I had tonight. I can’t give you more…I can’t show you more…I can’t, I simply cannot believe more than I did tonight! That’s it, Father. I shot my faith bolt tonight…that was the maximum faith I could ever show at this stage of my walk Father! I'm sorry but I just can't do this anymore.”

“What do You want from me!?”

And with His loving, caring, gentle mercy…still, small-voice seeping into my heart, into my soul and 'knower' – as only He can – he just whispered these words:

"You. Yes, you - didn't go to Viet Nam. I have somewhere for you to go. Someone needs you."

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Train Event #3

In those days, I was also extremely active speaking for Youth for Christ (YFC), Scripture Union (SU), Youth With a Mission (YWAM) and other parachurch organizations - or church youth groups. I was scheduled to do a very important session with YFC at a youth meeting in Durbanville (one of the Cape northern suburbs) and it was particularly important that I arrive about 7:00 PM to prepare. The meeting began officially at 7.30 PM. It was a Sunday night.

My, now girlfriend, Kendra and a friend, Lyndsay, had gone to spend the weekend with Kendra’s family in Paarl, about 75km from Cape Town, and were returning early Sunday evening. I’m not sure these many years later why I decided that I should detour to Cape Town Train Station to meet them when they arrived from Paarl, but that’s what I did. I knew they would only have a few minutes to change train lines and get on the southern suburbs line to head to Plumstead where they were staying. I knew it was going to be tight and that I needed to say a quick ‘hello’, quick kiss and quicker ‘good- bye’ - then get in my car and drive to the event for YFC.

There was some conflict in my heart and mind about this because I knew, that if I was completely honest with myself, I was compromising my values and I was putting a girlfriend ahead of my commitment to share with teenagers about Jesus. And I knew the timing was going to be critical – perhaps in more ways than one.

I checked the Arrivals board in the station. The train from Paarl would be arriving at about 6.30 PM. Quick hug and cuddle, then get to my car in the parking lot, then drive about 20-25 minutes (probably over the speed limit) and, if I’m lucky and ‘blessed by the Lord’ for being both a good boyfriend AND faithful sharer of the Gospel…I’d make it.

Yea, sure, right, Dave.

The train arrived at the platform on time, and I saw the girls get off and begin to walk along the platform headed toward the main hall - where they would then need to double-check the Departure timetable for the trains headed south. I was probably 50 yards away, but I saw what they were wearing, saw the overnight bag each was carrying - and I saw that they were laughing and joking.

They hadn’t seen me yet. Kendra wouldn’t be expecting me to be there of course, and she’d be totally surprised. Cool! What a boyfriend!

So, just for fun I stepped behind a section of wall that also had a glass front where advertisers displayed products and the like. I planned to wait, say, 10-15 seconds? And then jump out… “Surprise!”

As I began to hide, I noticed immediately a copy of a music album cover on display. It was Santana’s latest album, Abraxas. I can’t tell you why or how, but that cover grabbed my attention and I suddenly felt a sense of foreboding. I’m not saying the cover was evil, and I may be over-blowing the significance of it, but I will certainly never forget that cover. Something spooky about it – something compelling – borderline bewitching.

I shook off the odd feeling and turned and looked away. A man was standing a few yards behind me. He spoke. “Help me.”

I did a double-take, heard a sound and looked back at the display window…the album cover had fallen down. I looked back at the man. He was gone.

My heart pounding in my chest – I remembered why I was there, and, with diluted enthusiasm, I jumped out from behind the wall.

“Ha! Surprise!”

The girls weren’t there. Gone. I moved toward the platform and looked left and right, up, and down. Gone.

Oh, I get it…they must have seen me before and decided to hide behind one of the large square pillars. Shaken, but laughing, I looked behind the nearest one expecting to see their smiling, joking faces. Nope.

Ah, the restroom! (They must have had to pee really badly to get there that quickly!) I ran down to the restroom section of the station, and at the door I shouted the girls’ names. No answer.

I went into the main terminal area and looked around the kiosks and called out for them the main hall. No answer. No girls.

Now truly troubled by all this, I looked at my watch and realized that now I was very late for the YFC meeting. I sprinted to my car and drove way too fast while trying to prepare my talk in my head…still struggling with my misguided values and priorities – but more with the disappearance of the girls.

The YFC leader, Brian, was a dear friend, but was very upset with me for being extraordinarily late and was very worried that I wasn’t even coming at all. This was pre-mobile phone days. He thought he would need to cancel the program. There were a lot of people there! It could damage YFC’s reputation.

When he saw me, irritation etched on his face, he simply pointed his finger at me and said, “You.” It cut me to my heart. I had been feeling so guilty and troubled while I was driving and was still feeling this way as I tried to calm myself down and reassure Brian with my ‘inspirational’ presence.

On the back of Brian’s one-word, loving rebuke, God’s still, small voice was again speaking in my knower, “Davey, you’re trying to be the high profile, public teacher and messenger of right priorities; about putting me first, honoring me with your time, with your talent, with your heart – with your life. Do you hear yourself? Do you see yourself now?”

I was going to stand before a group of young adults, young people, who were expecting me to deliver an eternal message that could affect and change their lives for good, forever. Instead, I had put my own selfish personal interests first, especially the misdirected focus on a girlfriend.

I was heartsick.

As I opened the session in prayer and stood before the quite large group of expectant, spiritually hungry and searching young people...

I was again taken, in my mind’s eye, to a train tunnel. So long, so very long…and me moving so unbelievably fast…going to who knows where…the darkness filling more of the tunnel than before… But then I shuddered a deep soul-wrenching shudder, as I began to understand my purpose and even my destiny. It terrified me.

I must have been standing transfixed, eyes closed, for some time trying to shake off the cold, bewildering fear the image produced – because Brian stepped up beside me on the platform and touched my shoulder.

“You…are you ok?”

I shook off the tunnel terror as best I could, and as I faced the group with a fake smile, the Lord really broke and humbled me and challenged me yet again. In the unspoken quietness of that moment, I pledged, then and there, that I would not let this happen again. I would give myself to His purposes wherever the tracks led.

The group heard the call of God and they responded to the message that He was sending into their hearts - not because I was talented, not because I was obedient, not because I had finally honored Him with my time or finally put him first. They responded simply because He is faithful to do His work and because He will keep His promises that if His word is delivered even by a flawed, stupid, young guy like myself, He will do His thing and change lives.

For someone who likes to talk, and really loved being 'seen' on the stage, I didn’t have a whole lot to say at the end of the meeting, and I don’t remember much of what transpired after I left that evening. I only know that, despite me, many young people gave their lives to Christ and that in terms of lessons learned, I was living on extended credit.

I drove back to my apartment in Plumstead – about an hour’s drive. By now it was very late and a school night for the girls. But I could not resist going to their apartment. I knocked on the door and they both came to the door, surprise on their faces as they opened it. I told them what had happened and chided them a little angrily about why they hid from me and didn’t answer my calling out their names at Cape Town Station.

“Where did you go!? Why didn’t you say something?! I was frantic with worry!”

They laughed out loud. “What are you talking about!? We never came to Cape Town Station! We got off the train at the southern line Salt River Station junction.”

“No, no, no way…! I saw you both when you got off the train in Cape Town. I SAW you!”

Some more incredulous laughing. Looking at each other smiling then back at me, “Oh, really?! Ok, if you saw us then, what were we wearing?!”

I described their jeans, their sweaters, Lyndsay’s long tan-colored trench coat, their handbags, the bag over Kendra’s shoulder, their small hand luggage…even their shoes - to a ‘T’ – perfectly.

I’d used the word, ‘gob-smacked’ before, but this was really the best occasion where it was totally appropriate. Shocked, open-mouthed, they confirmed I was exactly right.

But it was when, feeling a little ‘vindicated’, I left their place to go home that the cold presence surrounded me again and stopped me in my tracks.

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“What did you think or feel in your ‘knower’ when this happened?”, the pastor asked.

“That I was clueless about what the Lord wants from me or has for me…or what He is calling me to be and do. I was a baby in Christian years and experience terms. I was full of myself and talked a good game, but really, I was pretty much making it up (my Christian life) as a I went along. And I have spent far too much time running from a more important purpose – in a place or realm that scares me to even think about it…I’m not ready. All I know is that those three train events are now blurred together into one…and a new terrifying dream on another train is connected.”

He continued, “And about the three train events? Each one had mysterious, unexplained elements. Tell me truth, what do you think they meant then – or mean now? When did so many people look at or point at you, and said, ‘You!’ or ‘Help me’?”

I shuddered inside. I knew where this was headed, and I didn’t like it.

“I think He wants me to meet people in their darker places…alone...not on the platform, not on the stage...not high profile.”

“You will need to let Him take you to that new place first, yourself…you need to get through the tunnel yourself…you need to complete the journey yourself, first. And I suspect it will be…”

“Will be what?!”

“I really don’t know Dave…I really don’t know. C’mon, let’s pray.”

As we bowed our heads, and he laid his hands on my shoulders I collapsed to the floor as if struck by lightning. Suddenly, in my heart and mind, I was free, truly free!

I lived a train dream from that day forward. Like Tom Cruise in the film, Edge of Tomorrow, or Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, every day I woke up in a train carriage, with no ticket, no awareness of how I got on that specific train – and always one other person sitting nearby. Each day it was a different train, headed for a new destination - and each day I passed through a tunnel of light, headed toward thick, encroaching darkness. Each day, the person sitting nearby looked at me with an emptiness and longing and pain in their eyes that broke my heart and prompted my ‘knower’ to do more than just feel and care from my seat.

I believed I needed to be Him - for others. To represent Him in the real world. No more talk – rather be the power of His love in action.

The person didn’t speak or cry, “Help me.” They didn’t need to. I knew.

Each day, I stood up and went to them – and they simply looked up at me and, eyes full of tears or running down their cheeks, said, “You?”

And I touched them gently on the shoulder or face or head – or took their trembling hands in mine – and said…"No, Him."

“Don’t be afraid. He is with you. He is here with us now. He knows your pain. Nothing you are going through has escaped His notice. He is here now to make you whole and take you out of the awful tunnel you are in…trust Him now.”