Steven’s Amazing Adventures,
and the Future of the World
(A Story about the End Times
with Messages from God)
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with Messages from God)
(Click here to open a safe website that reads text for free.
You can copy and paste this post to have this story read aloud.)
(Click to Read PART 1.)
(This story chronicles the adventures of Steven O'Neill, his wife Sarah, and their friends during the End Times. Judgment has already struck the U.S., and Steve and his friends have reached the vast continent of Asia. Witness the amazing things God will reveal about the coming kingdom of the Beast (or the Antichrist), the Mark of the Beast, and the Tribulation period. This story should keep you fascinated, as a realistic account of the future unfolds in the form of a fictional story.
But, this story is not just a story. It contains messages from God and prophecies that actually shall happen. It is written as fiction with fictional characters, but the message of the story is very real, and the cataclysmic events, touched on in this story, will actually impact this earth as God’s Holy Bible and its prophecies unfold. The world will soon enter a time much like that portrayed in this story. I encourage you to seek God about this to see what He will show you.)
_________________________________________
Chapter Eleven
PART 11: “Mark Mzembi”
Mark suddenly swerved around
a wooden board that had fallen out of a pickup truck some distance ahead,
missing it by inches. If he hit the board, the motorcycle might have crashed,
possibly killing him or giving him severe injuries, but he trusted God to
protect him. He was used to zipping down highways at 80 kilometers per hour* or
more on his Honda Shadow Ace. [*Or about 50 mph.]
A new government had been
established in Zimbabwe that was very antagonistic to Christians, which was the
main reason Mark Mzembi had left Zimbabwe, the home of his ancestors. Now 32
years old, Mark had lived in Zimbabwe for twelve years and in South Africa for
twenty years, moving back and forth between his divorced parents. His dad lived
in Johannesburg, while his mother lived in Zimbabwe. He was hoping to meet up
with his dad and stay with him while he looked for work in the Johannesburg
area.
Mark Mzembi put on some speed
and passed a slow farm truck that was hauling produce. Apple-ring acacia trees
and baobab trees appeared on either side of the road, scattered throughout a
savannah. Above, a blue sky with wispy clouds watched over the landscape.
The leader in this new
government began ruling Zimbabwe like a dictator. Joseph Dashimba* had seized
power by a coup with the assistance of supporters from two tribes in Zimbabwe
and portions of the military. Once in power, he formed a formidable government
that was beginning to look more and more like a communistic society. Although
Dashimba said he would reinstate elections, he did not show any signs that he
would. [*Dashimba is a made-up name. It is not necessarily a real surname.]
Many miles passed under his
tires and the savannah gave way to more fertile land, which soon turned into
farmland a few miles further down the road. More trees and green grass were
visible at the borders of the farmland than in the savannah some miles away. A
small town came into view, nestled among farm fields, populated with many sweet
thorn, leadwood, and marula trees. In a few minutes, Mark had entered the town
and was looking out for a gas station since the gage indicated he was low on
fuel. A decent-looking gas station with a service building soon caught his
attention down the road.
Something about them gave him
a bad feeling. As two of the men approached the service building, they looked
at Mark’s Shadow Ace and one pointed at it, saying something to his friend that
Mark couldn’t hear. One wore a green bandana on his head, and the other a dark
blue one.
When the two had entered the
building, they looked around at the customers, and the one with the green
bandana said, “Does anyone here own that Honda Shadow Ace motorcycle? I will
buy it from him for 25,551 rand*.” [*Or about $2,000 US dollars from the
year 2017.]
The five customers and gas
station attendant looked at the men, curiously. Then, Mark spoke up. “That is
my motorcycle,” he said, “but I won’t sell it. It was a gift from some
relatives.”
“Then, I’ll pay you 28,106
rand* for your motorcycle,” said the man with the green bandana. [*It is
roughly $2,200.]
“That isn’t a fair price.
But, even if it were, I won’t sell it,” Mark said.
“I’ll pay you 28,745 rand,”
the man offered, hoping Mark would accept.
“Thank you for the offer, but
I won’t sell it. It is worth at least 38,400 rand*, ” Mark said, adamantly. [*Or
about $3,000.]
The man with the green
bandana scowled at him, but said nothing. He left the service building and
returned to his comrades outside, while the man with the dark blue bandana paid
for their fuel.
Mark went to the men’s room
after paying for the gas. When he returned outside, he found his motorcycle
missing from its parking space at the pump. Then, his jaw dropped. The men were
in the process of strapping the machine onto the motorcycle trailer, beside the
other motorbike.
“Hey,” Mark said, angrily. “That’s
my motorcycle!”
The man with the dark blue
bandana turned toward him, saying, “You didn’t want to sell it, so we’re taking
it.”
“I’ll call the police and
have you arrested, unless you give it back,” Mark said.
The man laughed. “The police
can’t track us down. Many of the police look the other way because we bribe
them.”
“Who are you?” Mark said,
shaken.
“It’s none of your business,”
the man said, spitting on the ground. “If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut
about this. Or, you just might not live to see tomorrow.” He patted a gun-shaped
bulge under his belt.
One of the men replaced the
gas cap on his truck and put the gas nozzle back in its holder. Then, the men
climbed back into their truck. With a rev of the engine, the pickup roared off
down the road, and out of sight.
Mark felt his world fall out
from beneath him. His nice, dark blue motorcycle was stolen, and the mysterious
thieves had threatened to kill him if he reported the matter to the police. ‘How
can they afford such a nice pickup truck?’ Mark wondered. ‘And, why did they
want to take my motorcycle when they already had a nice one?’
The motorcycle also had all
his belongings, such as changes of clothes, some food, cash, and some tools.
“Mark, My son,” a voice said
to his spirit and soul.
Looking up, he said, “Yes,
Father God?”
“I am with you,” Abba Father
God said, “I know that you lost the motorcycle and your stuff, but I will
provide for you. This is a trial for you to seek Me through, but I will deliver
you and I will provide for you. Tell me about your concerns, and leave them
with Me. I will work all things out for your good.
“You have done well in
leaving Zimbabwe, but seek Me about where you should go next. You are still in
an area that is not safe, for soon, South Africa will be overrun by terrorists
and by gangs that will seek to enslave the people and plunder the country. I am
calling out to South Africa, but few of them are wanting to seek Me. Many just
want to do their own will and survive. But, I will continue to call out to
them. Now, my son, seek Me and I will show you what to do.”
“What should I do, Father
God? I feel trapped,” Mark said. “I don’t know where to go from here. All my
stuff was in that motorcycle. I only have some cash in my wallet. But, that
will be used up soon. What should I do?”
“My son,” Father God said, “I
want you to speak to the owner of this gas station and ask him where the
nearest hotel or motel is located. He will give you directions. Then, walk
there. I will provide the money for your stay at the hotel and for all you
need. Trust Me, My son.”
Mark breathed deeply and
sighed. “I will trust you, Abba Father. You know best. I just feel like my life
is really getting difficult.”
“It is getting difficult,”
God said, “because I am refining you and preparing you for the future, Mark. I
shall provide for all your needs along the way. Just trust Me. And, I the LORD
your GOD and Abba Father have spoken.”
Mark nodded. “Okay. Yes, I
mean. I’ll do what you show me, Father God.” Then, Mark closed his eyes and
breathed deeply again. “I will follow you all the way, Father, because you love
me. You are trustworthy. You will meet my needs. Thank you.”
Then, Mark returned to the
service building. After getting directions to the closest motel, he walked down
the street for several blocks before taking a turn to the right and walking two
blocks more. A somewhat run-down motel with an aging sign out front sat beside
some apartment buildings. It’s sign read “Roadside Lodge” but the letter “e”
was missing, leaving behind a faint outline of the letter.
Cracks filled with weeds
appeared in some parts of its parking lot. Crossing the pavement to the office
area, Mark pulled out his wallet and checked how much money he had. He had
1,290 rand, which was approximately equal to 100 US dollars from the year 2017.
But, 2017 was past, and America had been recently conquered by Russia and
China, and the dollar had lost its value just prior to the invasion of America
by the two new superpowers.
At any rate, the money would
only be good for three nights at the average low-budget hotel in South Africa.
Plus, he needed money for food and for transportation by bus. Mark stopped in
mid-step and brought these concerns to his Heavenly Father God. Then, he felt
peace settle into his heart with the assurance that God would somehow provide
for his needs.
As he entered the reception
area of the motel, a lady behind the counter looked up and said, “Hello, how
may I help you?”
“I’d like a room for one
night,” Mark said.
After he completed the
transaction, Mark walked across the parking lot to his motel room. Inside, he
turned on the air conditioning unit and settled down on the bed. Despite the
somewhat rundown appearance of the motel, the room was in decent shape with
nice pictures of African savannah and elephants. And, the air conditioner
worked properly.
Mark walked over to the TV,
and asked God if he should watch a news station. God told him it would be fine.
The organization, called the Muslim
Caliphate*, was recruiting extremists from Africa, the Middle East, and
Central Asia. Violent clashes have broken out between the Caliphate and various
sub-Sahara African nations. [*This particular name is fictional, but this
union of terrorists, who shall conquer many African countries, really shall
exist in the future, God showed me.]
Russian-made tanks firing at
distant targets appeared on the screen, and smoke spouted from their barrels.
The next scene displayed Arab and African militants, wearing camouflage uniforms
and scarves around their faces, firing rocket propelled grenades.
African governments were
being toppled and overthrown from within by insurgents allied with the Muslim
Caliphate and by the external force of militant attacks. Moderate Muslims, under
the control of this Caliphate, had to submit to radical Islam or die for being
considered ‘infidels’ to the Muslim faith.
Mark Mzembi shook his head,
and placed his hand on his chin, in thought. He had remembered hearing
something about the Muslim Caliphate terrorist group a year ago, but it was
much smaller then than it was now. In one year, they had conquered ten African
countries by way of their internal supporters and by way of infiltration of the
governments of those countries. They had stirred up revolutions and had seized
the countries by political manipulation and by military power. Warlords in
those countries had mostly submitted to the Muslim Caliphate, due to monetary “gifts”
from the organization.
“My son,” God’s sweet voice
spoke to Mark.
“Yes Abba Father,” Mark said,
turning the TV off.
“I will show you that you
will be going to a city of refuge soon,” Abba God said. “But, I will prepare
you for that. I will guide you all along the way. This city of refuge will be a
place where you will stay while Africa descends into chaos and turmoil, and
while the persecution of Christians gets intense. It is not My will for the
Church to have to suffer extreme persecution, so I shall provide safe havens
for them to go to where I will provide for all their needs. I will have you
leave this hotel tomorrow and have you meet a fellow Christian man who will
take you into his family. He will take care of you, and you will be able to
help him. And, I the Lord your God and Abba Father have spoken.”
____________________
“The Meeting”
The next day, Mark Mzembi spent time in prayer and in reading from a New Testament pocket Bible he had kept in his right pocket. He left the motel a couple hours later and bought a meat sandwich from small grocery store across the street from the motel. As he chewed the sandwich, Mark heard God’s voice tell him to go to the left and head down an alley. He asked God again to make sure it was God speaking to him. Then, he headed for an alley between two brick buildings, which sat beside a street lined with small business.
A large cardboard box rested
up beside one wall of the alley. The square opening faced the opposite wall.
Curled up inside, a homeless man resting on his side faced the opposite wall of
the alley.
“Go, My son,” God said, “and
give him the 650 rand in your wallet, and keep the rest for later.”
“Yes, Abba Father,” Mark said
as he approached the homeless man.
A long, curly beard fell down
the man’s chest. His T-shirt had several large holes. Mark tapped lightly on
the box a few times until the man stirred. His eyes opened slightly and he
peered out at the young Zimbabwean man, who looked at him with concern.
“What do you want?” the
homeless man said gruffly.
“I want to give something to
you,” Mark said, pulling out his wallet.
Seeing the wallet, the man
moved out of his box and slowly stood. He wore old tennis shoes, which had some
holes.
“I felt that God wanted me to
give you this,” Mark said, pulling out the rand notes.
The homeless man’s eyes
opened wide at seeing the amount. “This is for me?” he said.
“Yes,” Mark said handing him
the 650 rand notes*. [*Or about $50.]
A smile spread across the man’s
weathered face. “You are very generous. God had you give this to me?”
“Yes,” Mark Mzembi said,
feeling God’s Spirit leading him to tell him the Gospel. “He wants you to know
that He loves you very much, and that only He can provide for all your needs.
He sent Jesus Christ, His Only Begotten Son, to die for your sins, and mine,
and to offer you eternal life through Jesus Christ’s blood, which will cleanse
away your sins, if you believe on His Name and on what He did for you.”
Feeling led by God, Mark
reached into his pocket and pulled out the small New Testament Bible. “This is
the New Testament, which contains the Gospel accounts of Jesus Christ and God’s
inspired Word in the form of letters to churches. I encourage you to
start with the Gospel of John. That reveals who Jesus is.”
The homeless man took the
Bible and thanked him.
“By the way, I am Mark,” Mark
said, reaching out a hand.
The homeless man shook his
hand, smiling. “I am Paul. I would like to read that Bible. Where do you come
from?”
“I am from Zimbabwe,” Mark
said.
“Did you hear about the
violence that erupted in Zimbabwe today?” Paul said.
“No. I haven’t.”
“Well, I heard a radio
playing and caught a snippet of news. There is a government crackdown on a
small militant group operating within the country of Zimbabwe. Thirty people
died in the fighting.”
“That is terrible. I left
Zimbabwe just two days ago. I hope my mother is safe.”
“I hope so too,” he said.
Leaving the homeless man with
the Bible and money, Mark walked out of the alley and back onto the sidewalk.
He lifted up a prayer to God for his mother to be delivered from harm and to
choose to leave Zimbabwe. She had not wanted to leave the country of her birth,
no matter how much Mark had pleaded with her to go with him to South Africa.
She could easily take a bus, but Ruth Mzembi found it difficult to leave the
only place she called home, and to leave her house and belongings behind. As he
thought about his mother, Mark realized he had to just trust her into God’s
hands. God will provide for her.
Mark wondered what to do
next. Cars, trucks, and motorcycles flowed in both directions down the street,
moving somewhat slowly at 40 kilometers per hour (or about 25 mph).
“My son,” Abba God said, “turn
around.”
“My son, go over to them and
ask if you can speak to the father,” God said.
“Yes, Abba Father,” Mark
said, as he began heading back toward the store. “I wonder…do you want me to
live with this family?”
“You may stay with them for a
short time,” Abba God said. “You can offer to work for the man. He is a farmer
and he could use your help. Very soon, events will transpire in South Africa,
which will require you to go to a place of refuge where I will lead you to, and
where I will provide mightily for you. That is correct, My son.”
“I trust you,” Mark said.
But, fear nagged him with the thought that perhaps the man was not who God’s
voice had said he was. ‘What if the man didn’t want a farm hand?’ the fear
seemed to say. ‘Or, what if the man wasn’t a farmer?’ Mark struggled with the
thoughts of fear as he walked. Upon reaching the store, he waited, wondering if
he should go in.
“Go in My son, and trust Me,
for this man will take you in,” Abba God said. “And, I the Lord your God have
spoken.”
Mark gave the fears to God
and reached for the door, but it opened before he reached it, and a black man
came out. He seemed to be wearing the same clothes as the man who had stepped
out of the blue van.
“Excuse me sir,” Mark said. “I
was wondering if you are a farmer?”
The man looked at him,
slightly puzzled. “Yes, I am,” he said.
“Wow,” Mark said smiling. “That
is amazing. God showed me that you are a farmer. I was wondering if you would
be willing to hire me to help you with the farm work? I am a Christian and an
honest worker.”
The man blinked twice before
smiling. “Glory to God,” he said. “God only continues to amaze me with His
power. I was actually thinking about hiring someone to help me operate the
combines and do other farm work. So, God showed you that I was a farmer? I don’t
know you from Adam, but you knew I was a farmer. I Praise God for His
sovereignty! I wanted a man I could trust to assist me, and you are that man.”
Returning his attention to
Mark, he reached out his hand and said, “I’m Sizwe Mahlangu.”
Shaking his outstretched
hand, Mark said, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mark Mzembi.”
After about ten minutes of
conversing with the farmer, Mark saw the door open and the kids with their
mother emerged from the grocery store. The children were eating ice cream
sandwiches and talking with each other.
The black lady approached
Mark and said hello. To her husband she said, “Who are you visiting with?”
“This is Mark Mzembi,” Sizwe
told his wife and some of the kids that were watching. “He’s a Christian like
us. I’ve hired him to work for me as a farm hand. We’ll let him stay in our
motor home. He can use the air conditioner to keep cool during the day.”
Glancing at his wife, he
said, “And, this is Martha, my wife.”
She nodded and then extended
a hand to Mark, and he shook it.
After a little more
conversing, they found out that Mark had lost his motor cycle and was homeless
due to the trouble in Zimbabwe.
“We will do all we can to
make you comfortable at our home,” Martha said graciously.
Soon, they entered the van,
and Mark started a new leg of his journey, doing something he had never
imagined he’d ever do. He was down to just 300 rand* and was moving to a
stranger’s home, hundreds of miles from Johannesburg where he had originally
intended to go. He would have to call his dad and explain the situation. Mark
sat beside the white boy in the back seat, who appeared to be about eight years
old with short, brown hair and blue eyes. [*Or about $23.]
After the van was moving and
heading toward the street, the boy turned to Mark. Looking up at the
32-year-old Zimbabwean, he said, “My name is James. What’s yours?”
“I’m Mark. How old are you?”
“I’m seven years old,” James
said. “You will love our farm. I have five chickens and two dogs. One is a
white Labrador and the other is an Australian Shepherd.” Holding up all ten
fingers, James said excitedly, “We also have thirty sheep and lots of cows.”
“Wow,” Mark said, smiling at
him. “That is a lot of cattle.”
As they drove through the
town, Mark noticed a dark blue Honda Shadow Ace motorcycle turn onto the same
street and follow the Nissan NV Passenger van three car lengths behind.
The motorcycle maintained that distance and trailed the van until it reached
the countryside.
“What are you looking at?”
James asked.
Mark was turned in his seek,
peering through the rear window. “I think we’re being followed,” he said.
The boy’s eyes widened. “Someone’s
following us? Are they bad guys?”
Mark didn’t respond, but just
continued to look behind him at the highway and receding landmarks.
Then, the Shadow Ace turned
off onto a gravel road, backed up, and roared off back toward the town they had
just left. Mark’s stomach turned when he saw the driver’s strange maneuvers. ‘That
has to be my stolen motorcycle!’ he thought to himself. ‘Why were we being
followed? Do they somehow know that I am traveling with this family?’ That
thought disturbed him.
____________________
(NOTE: I don't make any money from this novel. It will be posted up chapter by chapter free for all to see.)
[Part 12 excerpt:
... After a few minutes of connecting the plow to the tractor and securing it, they returned to the rig, and Sizwe guided Mark in tilling the soil.
The big machine pulled forward, tearing up the soil with its massive plow attachment. Chunks tumbled to the sides of the plow as dirt was displaced in long, tumbled lines. After they made several trips back and forth along the field, Sizwe’s two-way radio crackled to life.
“Sizwe are you there? Over,” his wife’s voice said from his two-way radio, which was clipped to his belt.
Putting the radio to his mouth, Sizwe pressed the talk button. “Yes, Martha? What is happening in your corner? Over.”
“You need to come and see the news,” Martha said. “Come soon, if you can. Over.”
“What news? Over,” Sizwe said.
“You just have to see it. Over,” she replied. ...]
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