This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2015, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Editor's note • Robert Kirby is on vacation in England, hoping to outrun the blood moon. This is a reprint of an earlier column.

As you know, the end of the world didn't happen May 21, 2011, like Christian fire-shouter Harold Camping said it would. Everybody's laughing now, except of course Camping's followers, many of whom lost their homes and jobs and savings supporting his apocalyptic blather, and Camping himself, who died in 2013.

I was in my backyard when Camping's Rapture ruptured. There I was, plodding along behind the mower with Kings of Leon in my ears when suddenly, right out of the blue, nothing happened.

Even so, there was that teensy moment when I wondered if it would. What if Harold Camping's face had popped up on a huge Jumbotron in the sky? Wouldn't that have wiped the smirks off all our faces?

Harold: "Verily I warned you people. Heeeerrre's JESUS!"

Us: "Run away! Run away!"

Most people have experience with this "uh-oh" form of sudden belief, those hysterical moments when we're abruptly in the mood to plea-bargain with whatever comes next.

The day after Camping Day, Joplin, Mo., got hit with a monster tornado. It probably seemed like final judgment to people there as they watched their houses come apart.

Lots of people who hadn't prayed much before crammed all their lapsed beliefs into a spiritual shot in the dark.

I call it the micro-prayer, an instant of stark-raving clarity when you're willing to make any deal if only God will rescue you from some imminent calamity.

Typically, the prayer goes something like this: "Heavenly Father, I've been such a wretch and I don't deserve your help but if you could see your way clear to put a pile of mattresses at the bottom of this mine shaft, I Scout's Honor promise that I will ..."

Of course, the prayer doesn't actually come out that way. If there are witnesses about, what they hear you say is, "Oh, crap!"

But the full intent is there in the last half-second you have left. I know this because I'm something of an expert on micro-praying.

I've pitched these prayers in the general direction of heaven while on my way somewhere else at high speed, upside-down, and scorched. I even said one in the centrifuge of Bammer's Camaro when he rolled it in a canyon.

Even when you have more time, the micro-plea amounts to the same thing. I sometimes micro-plea to the gods whenever my wife studies our bank statements or a cop follows me on the freeway.

Those are the sorts of prayers we would have been offering up if Camping had been right.

Not to worry. We have another chance. People are now predicting that doomsday is coming at the end of September.

That's plenty of time to pray.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.