Do you know what it is like to write a story? Have you ever tried? I am new to this business but I have to tell you, as soon as I finished Notes from the Flesh, the “what-ifs” started in on me. What if I inserted this here, or removed that, there? What if instead of starting off this way, I began the story, that way? And then rising up before me, that most unsettling question of all: what happens if I make that little change? Could the whole dang-blasted tale shoot off in a new direction?
Here, I’ll show you what I mean. Bear with me while I demonstrate how a teensy weensy modification to one character, in one setting, can precipitate a drastic redirection of plot. What if near the end of Notes from the Flesh we tweaked Angie Torres’ personality? Suppose we softened her by removing that habit of going bonkers whenever the word more cropped up in a conversation. What if she were not so snippy with those who wasted her time, not so determined to beat a path to the door and buzz off to her next appointment?
My friend just now assaulted her ears—again. Watch as this unfolds in a way you could not have imagined. (At the conclusion I’ll ask for your opinion.)
Excuse me. I misunderstood. I must leave.
Wait! What is going on? Sit down. We just began. Don’t leave now. Dammit! Turn around! What’s wrong?
“What’s wrong”? You are still not ready.
Not ready? I have been ready for years.
No. You still stockpile.
I don’t understand.
No. You do understand. At least you of all people, you should understand. You cannot blend two stories, cannot mix them. You cannot pretend to take on a new story while maintaining the practices of the old. Your choice is between one end or the other, but not both.
Torres! Turn around and get back here. Angie…please don’t give up on me. Hey! Wait. You mentioned a name, you said you would give me a name. I need that name.
The Name? You are incapable of the Name.
Don’t look at me with that face. No!
Note to my readers: we now make that jump that takes our venture down a different path. In the midst of this intense interchange, Angie Torres paused to consider those four words, I need that name.
The thought struck: Yes he does, he needs that name. And, amazingly, he knows it. Could it be that behind the jumble of convoluted motives and wants, there exists a sliver of self-awareness?
She then felt the familiar pang in her gut, the hollowness that bespeaks sadness. It comes on in these situations when she converses with the tragically diverted. A question popped into her mind. (Or did she hear a whisper?):
Do you think lightly of the riches of his kindness and tolerance and patience, not knowing that the kindness of God will lead you to reverse yourself?
The question, or something similar, originated from a page in the Bible, penned in a letter by way of rebuke. The writer came down hard on a faction within a faith community, a faction claiming that their superior understanding of God’s law and morality conferred on them a superior status in relation to their other less knowledgeable members. Right now however, the question danced before Ms. Torres. She drew into herself, to reflect.
Perhaps I am thinking too lightly of these things. Have I not found myself on the receiving end of His kindness, tolerance and patience? Have I not received beyond measure? If I walk out, what does that say—about me, and about Him? And besides, would I incur some great loss by extending a measure of compassion, and a few additional moments to this confused man?
She returned to the table and sat down, feeling a little flushed in the face. Lifting her head, she then looked him in the eye, and continued.
Do you think yourself capable of this? I wonder. Your diversion seems thorough and complete. But, on the other hand, perhaps I am mistaken. Maybe somehow you will find your way. And . . . maybe I can be of help.
There, you see. I’m not so bad after all.
I did not say you were bad. I said diverted.
You asked for the name; you said you needed the name. Yes, that is true. We all need the Name.
The Name is Jesus Christ. And those two words I mentioned a moment ago, are his words, his invitation: “Follow me.”
Oh c’mon! Not that.
What do you mean not that?
Are you telling me that all this time, all these years you blabbed on about this story with an alternate ending; you’ve been leading up to that Christian religion mumbo jumbo?
Mumbo jumbo! For two thousand years people have grabbed hold of this story and made it theirs. This story ends in the ultimate victory of the God of Israel—the resurrection from the dead. I’m telling you that Jesus Christ is the one who lives, and he invites you to follow.
I don’t plan that we have a long conversation over this. But it appears I may be leaving sooner rather than later.
That is such nonsense! I’ve known a few Christians, even some here in the joint. They don’t strike me as the kind of people I want to hang out with.
There. That touches on what I just said about your penchant for diversion. The invitation is, “Follow me.” Not, “Follow them.”
Go back to what I said earlier. Think of this as a story. Jesus Christ invites you to give up one story and enter another, his story. The story you currently live will not lead to where you want to go; in fact, just the opposite. But, this new story contains a promise that addresses the conflict within your deepest self, that conflict regarding death. In other words, he promises to give you the very thing you want above all else: Life. Therefore, wouldn’t it be prudent to set aside what you think you know, and examine this carefully?
Oh, brother. Alright, I’m listening, carefully.
I’ll begin with the end, a thumbnail sketch from Jesus’ own words. Speaking of his Father and himself, he said: For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.
I have a question for you?
OK. Investigation generates questions. I’ll address them as best I can, even the agonizing ones.
Can God make a rock that is so heavy he cannot lift it?
I meant sincere questions, serious and personal questions. Once again, you are allowing yourself to be diverted. Jesus is the point of reference, along with his teachings. His name is Jesus Christ. His invitation is, “Follow me.”
Ah, so you cannot answer the question. If God existed, he could do anything. But I just demonstrated something he cannot do. That proves God does not exist.
What it proves is your boundless capacity to take yourself off track, to your own detriment. His name is Jesus Christ and . . .
Yeah, yeah, I get it. His invitation is, “Follow me.” You seem stuck on that point.
I am stuck—on the main point. Nothing bears on your fate more than your decision in the face of this two-fold question: who do you say Jesus is, and will you come?
That story you just told seems pretty thin—not much to it. Although that part about love sounds appealing.
Yes, most of us like to hear about love—it’s the greatest part, but sometimes overlooked. Love permeates God’s purposes. God is love.
Regarding your comment—that this story seems pretty thin—you are wrong. I only gave you the end of the story, a part of the end. Here, I’ll give you a nutshell version that now expands on the ending. It also includes some of the behavioral component:
In the beginning, Jesus Christ the Son of God, existed with God, was God and was one with God. In obedience to his Father, he shed his glory and power, becoming a human being like one of us. He came to his own people, the Jews; and taught them about his Father and the rule of God on earth. He and his followers also demonstrated God’s emerging rule with miracles and works of power.
Through the agency of his native people and the ruling Roman governor, Jesus was crucified on a cross for our sins; according to the overriding purpose of his Father, and according to the anticipations of the ancient Jewish prophets, and their former king, David. He was buried, and on the third day (again, according to the prophets) he rose from the dead. He appeared before his disciples over a period of weeks, once again teaching them about the rule of God on earth. He then ascended to heaven and sat down at the right hand of God.
His followers, now tasting the emerging rule of God, continued to advance Jesus’ work. In imitation of him and under the power and guidance of God’s Spirit, they performed works of power and proclaimed the Gospel by announcing the rule of Jesus—now king of the earth, the forgiveness of sins in his name, and the promise of eternal life in his name. And because of the kindness and tolerance and patience of God this season of preparation continues to this day.
When the time is right, Jesus Christ will return. He will consummate his rule, the dead will rise and he will reorder this world and make it new, and thus put everything and every person in their rightful place.
Wow! You call that a nutshell version? Who can digest all that?
You take it in small bites; and take it you will when you follow him.
Hold it right there! I never said I would do this. I never said I would come to him or follow him as you put it.
The choice is yours; to come, or not to come. No one forces this on you. My role is to help you gain a clear understanding of what you choose to accept, or reject if that be the case. Let’s call it a Decision with Intelligence.
Oh, very funny—Decision with Intelligence, DWI—ha, ha, ha.
Do you like to read? You will find this easier if you are willing to read.
Yes, I read. I work in a library.
I want you to go online. In the search box, type free bibles. A list of organizations will pop up. Go ahead and order a free Bible. Choose a translation with up-to-date English. They will ship it to you.
I can’t do that. I’m not allowed to use computers. But over in building 2 I’m sure I can find a Bible.
Building 2?
That’s where we stash our collection of ancient works. Should I read the whole Bible?
No, that would be too much. I want you to read a few sections. Somewhere in this handbag I have a pen . . . here . . . OK, I’ll make a list.
The Bible is arranged as separate books. Start at the front, with the first book: Genesis. Read chapters one through four, concentrating on three things: learn how the people of the Bible understood God’s creation of the world; focus on how God views what he created; and third, learn the story of our self-inflicted damage and the origin of our twin problem, sin and death.
Then, I want you to thumb toward the back, to the section labeled New Testament. Read the Gospel of Mark. Of the all gospels, you’ll find this one to be brief and most direct in telling Jesus’ story.
There’s that word again, gospel. What is that?
The New Testament contains five narratives about Jesus, eye-witness accounts. Four of them are called gospels.
Why call them gospels? I’ve never heard that word before.
It comes from an old English expression: good spell, meaning good story. The term has been shortened to one word: gospel.
And why do I need to read a gospel?
Floating around out there, you’ll find multitudes of opinions of what this is about. You’ll hear phrases like Christianity, Christian religion, Christian faith, etcetera. A lot of paraphernalia has built up around Jesus, a lot. And, much of Christianity concerns itself with devotion to, and maintenance of these trappings. This obscures the fact that faith in him begins, not by adapting yourself to a religious system, but by learning the story about him.
I see. You want to launch me on a spiritual quest, to find my own true path; is that it?
I wouldn’t phrase it in such individualistic terms. I don’t want to mislead you. If you follow him, he will lead you to his people.
There is no isolated following. Jesus lives, and makes himself present in the world through his group of followers; he expresses himself corporately. You will find him quite stubborn on this point. In Jesus’ story all the practices relate back to love. His followers, by serving and honoring one another—by their love for each other—function as his appointed sign demonstrating that God is love. This sign works hand in hand with the telling of the Good Story, impressing upon listeners the immense weight of his truth and grace.
Go back to what you said earlier. Did you say this Gospel of Mark at the end of the Bible somehow relates to that book in the front of the Bible? What did you call it?
Genesis. Yes, the word means origins or beginnings. Jesus resolved our two-fold seminal damage, sin and death. But, there is another reason to read the Gospels. Jesus presented himself as a template for his followers.
A template?
A template, a pattern. Remember, I want you to make his story, your story. Jesus’ story ends with life. Therefore, his actions and teachings will lay out the behaviors that give expression to your new end: Life. Also, by imitating him we make him present in the world.
OK chief. I understand my assignment.
Then, if you are inclined to continue, I want you to read another section that deals with that third leg our narrative, disposition.
Don’t you mean virtues? Remember, I had a question about this.
I prefer the term disposition—singular. Go to the back of the New Testament, look for the letters. In the Letter to the Romans, read chapter five. You’ll find a phrase: “…the love of God has been poured out within our hearts…” Read the entire chapter to get a grip on the context of that statement. You won’t understand it completely. But when I return, you and I will discuss. This passage refers to this new disposition. God is love, and he will make us know it—within ourselves.
(She is writing “Romans 5” on the back of a grocery receipt.)
Many of your religious systems rely on guilt and shame to hold people in line. But in following Jesus, we receive the same internal orientation that guided and strengthened him as he walked in the flesh—this inner perception that one is loved by his or her Father in heaven.
What did you mean just then, when you said, “When I return?”
Yes, well…in a couple weeks I’ll come back. Your understanding will be murky. Upon reading the Bible for the first time, some find it strange, even foreign. I’m sure you will have questions, and I can help. Besides, I’m curious to see your face after you interact with the Gospel.
You said this inner disposition, this awareness of being loved, gave Jesus some kind of strength. I don’t get that. I don’t associate love with strength.
This would take us into advanced material. At some point, I’ll show you some things from John’s writings. Like Jesus, if you listen, and if you become aware of your Father’s love within you, you will gain strength.
That doesn’t make sense. But go on. What else?
Well, I tell you what, since you raised the question, let’s have you read a little in John.
Go to the first letter of John. Read the first chapter and note the use of the word joy. Then, read more of the letter. See if you can understand the sources for his joy, and why it mattered to him. Again, we’re dealing with this new disposition. And, John’s comments on joy relate to that corporate feature of Jesus’ story I mentioned a moment ago. Also, in this letter you’ll find a couple repetitions of that statement: God is love. John makes a few points related to God’s love for us, and within us. Pay attention and listen carefully; it matters much in scheme of things. As I was saying, this was foundational for Jesus—the source of his strength.
(She scribbles rapidly.)
Oh, that reminds me. One additional passage: go to the Letter to the Hebrews, chapter twelve. Read the first three verses. Here you’ll encounter joy, but from a different angle. This short passage will shed light on what you read in the Gospel of Mark about Jesus and his motives.
I wouldn’t bother to read more in this Letter to the Hebrews. You cannot tackle that one without additional knowledge of the Bible. Maybe later.
And why would I want additional knowledge of the Bible?
Jesus was a Jew. His story (which, if you decide on this, becomes your story too) makes more sense if you understand it within the larger context of the entire history of ancient Israel and the promises to the Jewish people.
I think that’s enough. I need to run.
(She hands him the grocery receipt.)
Read over these Bible passages, write down your questions about Jesus, and we’ll discuss in two weeks.
I should go too. Dinner time approaches, and this is Tuesday—Chicken Night.
Chicken Night?
Once a week they give us a break from the usual slop. And, it’s all you can eat. I just raise my hand and they walk over and serve up more, as much as I want. I like the dark meat.
More, eh? I tell you what, let’s modify the plan. How about you read everything I listed at least two or three times, and I’ll return in four weeks.
Note to my readers: Do you see my point: how we can change just one character’s reaction in one situation, and the entire story takes off in a new direction?
Another question: now that we have two endings for Notes from the Flesh, which do you prefer? This new ending comes off as less cryptic and more explicit. Do you like that? Does explicitness appeal to you? Or would you prefer the closing in the book—a “less is more” approach that leaves some questions unanswered and room for your imagination, but also packs more dramatic punch?
And what about my friend? If you were standing in his shoes, which version of Angie and her exit would you find more helpful; the one from the book (that volatile impatient Angie who opens my friend’s eyes to the full meaning of his actions, illustrating his situation with absolute clarity, and then shooting a beeline for the exit), or this other version you’ve just read (Angie the helpful teacher who returns to the table, lays out an instructional reading plan, and encourages my friend to make the choice that leads to eternal life)?
If unsure where you stand, I have a suggestion: why not go back and read this second version a second time? You might notice something of value you missed on the first go round.