Hereafter

Hereafter: Part III The Soul Stitchers, Chapter 41

41

THERE WE SAT IN THE TRAINING room, alone with our thoughts and apprehensions, but filled with the anticipation and excitement of knowing we were about to embark on a fantastic voyage both self-discovery combined with an opportunity to Serve. The God we loved more than life itself has made it plane that any believer worthy of salt-of-the-earth status would serve by promoting the Greater Good—helping those who live in the world thrive with enough to eat, a place to live and work, and the opportunity to develop their gifts to the fullest, all to be realized when humanity embraces the spirit of Justice and Sharing in their societies.

Our desire to serve meant more than any other consideration that might have been keeping us tethered to heaven’s safe soil.

“Ready to go?” I pressed, a little concerned about changing my mind should anything delay our departure.

“Sure, I’m with you, but we’re not heading for a holodeck this time. What about the settings?” Antonio challenged, and rightly so.

I always was a bit impulsive, but we were on our own now and it was time to show some initiative. After all, we couldn’t be bothering the Masters right out of the gate when in fact we hadn’t even left yet. Anyway, Jorus wouldn’t have left if we couldn’t carry on without him.

“Settings . . . settings . . . the holodeck touchpad . . . ,” I mumbled, “look, that’s not the problem this time because we’ll actually be materializing in a real place in real time. We just have to look like we fit in when we get there and that we can take care of during the lucid dream phase. What we do need, and I’ll leave that up to you, is the location of that sweatshop you saw in the news. So, where was it?” I pestered.

“Let me think . . . oh yes it was in New York City, in the old Garment District of Manhattan.”

“And just where in Manhattan is that?”

“After seeing the story I did a little research. Hard to believe, but that part of the city hasn’t changed much in the past millennium, the Garment District is still between 5th and 9th Avenues and from 34th to 42nd Streets,” Antonio clarified with his usual Google-search level of accuracy.

The Kingdom Age years were about realizing God’s dream for all on Earth to share in the bounty and promise of a life lived to the fullest—centered on love for God and extending that love to everyone around you. With Jesus there to lead the way, every society began to flourish, but the enhanced quality of life did not involve technological development or massive building projects, so like Rome or Paris, New York City was relatively structurally unchanged during the Kingdom Age.

Many were willing to live a simpler life so that all could have an adequate life. It all worked so well until Jesus went back to heaven, the Masters also withdrew, and the divine energy keeping all dark forces at bay, was pulled back.

“Okay, now we know where to materialize, but we can’t just show up and take the place of one of the kids. We need access to the man who owns the whole operation and a way to get him to see those kids as the children of God bearing eternal souls and worthy of respect and dignity,” I said, getting a little preachy, but Antonio understood what I was getting at.

“I still find it hard to believe that things have gotten so bad in the few decades since you left Earth. I’d been back in heaven for centuries and we all knew what God had planned for Earth, to test mankind once again after the Kingdom Age had run its course, but living conditions on Earth had come such a long way. It’s shocking to think the people who live there now, who’ve been given back their full measure of free will, when confronted with all the old temptations seem to be back to square one,” Antonio lamented, massaging his furrowed, confused brow with thumb and fingers of his open left hand.

“You can’t believe it . . . I won’t believe it until I see this sweatshop with my own eyes. What I mean is we won’t know how to handle this until we’re right there to see what these girls are dealing with,” I added, knowing I was sounding like a doubting Thomas, but Antonio understood.

“I hear you . . . we’ve got to get down there, get the lay of the land, and then come up with a plan,” Antonio declared.

“Plan . . . plan . . . we still need to decide who we’re going to be when we materialize on Earth. Any ideas?” I posed, while at the same time racing to formulate an effective strategy.

From the news story we understood the fundamental problem fueling the reemergence of child labor in the garment sweatshops. Instead of continuing to share, individuals began slipping back into their selfish ways, accumulating excess wealth, property, and power at the expense of groups of others. It took Jesus, acting as the Earth’s global pastor to shepherd His flock to the place where they were willing to share. How were we supposed to make up for that vacuum of divine leadership?

The human heart was still the human heart—and love was still able to overcome all other considerations. Our task would be to remind the children’s taskmaster that he still had a heart. With that critical insight, I knew what to suggest to Antonio. He agreed, we settled back into our chairs, launched the transformation meditation, picked our settings, and just before leaving, while holding hands, Antonio quipped, “Beam me up, Scotty.”