TARMAC PROPHECIES

TARMAC PROPHECIES by Wayne Dixon I remember my fascination with my Dixon grandparent’s window-shade biblical illustrations which ironically were stored in my Siefke grandparent’s garage. I would unroll them like ancient scrolls perusing their contents. There was an outline diagram of the Old Testament tabernacle, a favorite topic of Bertha Pinkham Dixon as she explained the New Testament hidden in the Old. My grandfather William Taylor Dixon favored prophecies with a giant figure of Daniel’s foreshadowing kingdoms come and gone. I remember one window-shade with the great plan of the ages from the beginning of time to the times of the Gentiles. That would be us, followed by the second coming and the everlasting kingdom. My grandfather had told me during my mid-teens that he expected to see it all come to pass during his lifetime, an awesome thought to an impressionable young man. My fascination with grandfather’s prophetic themes continued through to my retirement 50 years later. When I started a second Master’s degree late in life, I chose to research an obscure 17th century group known as Fifth Monarchists who similarly believed it would all happen during their lifetimes with a little help. They did help bring down Charles I whom they saw as the Antichrist only to be replaced with their own demise under Charles II. Charles II relentlessly pursued these men to the American colonies, where ironically one of their number, John Clarke of Rhode Island, obtained his royal charter initiating freedom of religion. I now see these developments as a tarmac from which events, like planes, take off and return. I see ancient prophecies as templates befitting many historic and future events. The apostle John said there were many antichrists gone out into the world. Even our present situations parallel previous circumstances in history reminiscent of Revelation language. The beasts prefigured there arise again from the sea with big horns and little horns. As a child driven to my grandfather’s house in San Bernardino from Glendora I would fall asleep in the back seat. I would look forward to these visits, and upon awaking I would ask, “Are we there yet?” Sometimes we were only to the fields of Cucamonga. Other times we were just around the corner. As I now look at world events I ask the same question, “Are we there yet?”