My brother-in-law Justin recently stayed with us for a few weeks while he finalized a move to Nashville. (Everybody is doing it, even Justin Timberlake from what I hear. If Nashville gets an ocean coast it’s game over for every other city in America. Also, North Carolina is in a lot of trouble if that happens now that I think about it.)
One night, Justin (brother-in-law not Timberlake) noticed a pile of clothes from one of our kids on the floor that looked like this.
Realizing that most people, particularly good parents, don’t store piles of clothing on random floors, I quickly reassured him that we were not messy people. (Even though that collection of socks, shirt and shorts kind of looks like a starfish.)
I told him, “That’s not just a pile of clothes, that’s the rapture.”
After quietly running the math of paying for a hotel versus staying with people who are not pre-trib but apparently “post-socks”, he asked, “What do you mean the rapture?”