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The Jevlir Caravansary

Category: Contemporary Short Stories

  • The God-Talk Club and the She-Bears

    [This is a work of fiction, from my God-Talk Club series. – added 11:42 central time]

    Small talk was dying down and everyone had their drinks.  Mark had a question:

    “I’ve been given an assignment,”1 he said to the group, and I’d like your thoughts.

    “What is it?” asked Mandy.

    “We’re supposed to write a 10 minute homily on 2 Kings 3:23-24.”

    “Ten minutes?  That’s going to cramp your style.  You can’t tell them everything you’ve learned in your seminary classes.”  Mandy was laughing as she said it, and Mark took it in good humor.  He really did like to put his whole seminary training into each homily.

    “Ten minutes,” echoed Jerry.  “You can’t really get to the meat of a scripture in that period of time.

    “I didn’t know you Presbyterians had long sermons.  I thought you generally had about 20 minute homilies,” said Mandy.

    “Not at my church.  It’s more like 30-40 minutes, and sometimes we get more in the pastor’s Sunday School class.”

    “Oh, you learn something new every day,” said Mandy.  “But we should get back to Mark.  What are your questions?”

    “Well,” said Mark and paused.  He felt like he knew what he’d hear from each person and was almost afraid to start.  “It’s such a violent story.  Elisha seems to get offended and so he slaughters a bunch of kids.  Where’s the moral in that?”

    Justine, Mandy, and Jerry started talking at once, then started to apologize to each other.

    Over the confusion, Bob Norman cut in.  “OK, I’ll bite.  What is this story of the she-bears?”

    “You don’t know that one?” exclaimed Mac.  “That’s  a skeptical staple.  A Christian says ‘God is love’ and you say ‘But what about the she bears?’  I’m going to have to revoke your skeptic’s license.”

    Bob was working on getting used to Mac.  He was a science teacher, an atheist, and quite convinced, but he had been raised in a conventionally religious home, one where he didn’t see church all that often.  Until he had gotten together with the God-Talk Club he hadn’t argued religion that much.  He just didn’t believe.

    Mac, on the other hand, seemed to think that the purpose of skeptics was to argue with Christians.  She knew more about Christianity than most Christians.

    “So what is the story?” asked Bob, looking at Mac.

    “Well, this prophet named Elisha was walking along, and some children started taunting him about being bald.  So he cursed them and called some she bears to maul them.  The bears got 42 of them.”

    Jerry cut in, “Well, not precisely.  How about we read the text as it’s written?”

    Jerry pulled out his Bible and read:

    (23) He went from there to Bethel, and while he was going up on the way, some small boys came out of the city and jeered at him, saying, “Go up, you baldhead! Go up, you baldhead!”  (24) And he turned around, and when he saw them, he cursed them in the name of the LORD.  And two she-bears came out of the woods and tore forty-two of the boys. — 2 Kings 2:23-24 (ESV)

    “OK,” asked Bob, “so why are they telling this guy to go up?  And is this Elisha you’re talking about?”

    “Well Elijah had just been taken up into heaven, so the boys were suggesting that Elisha do the same thing,” said Jerry.

    “But I don’t believe that anyone can go up to heaven,” said Bob.

    “Why don’t we discuss the story based on what the people who wrote it believed?” asked Mandy.  She barely cut off Jerry who had been about to argue the point.  He again thought about how hard it was for him to take Mandy seriously because of the way she behaved, yet she had these flashes of wisdom.

    “Maybe the boys didn’t believe that Elijah had ascended either,” said Mark.  “They might have been suggesting that Elisha was lying.  Elisha was the only witness, after all.”

    “That’s quite possible,” said Mandy.

    “But it doesn’t help us much in understanding the story,” said Jerry.  Whatever their reasons they were taunting God’s prophet.”

    “So Justine,” said Bob, turning to look her right in the eye.  “What would you do if some children in your congregation were taunting you?”

    “Well, it would depend on what they were doing,” she answered.  “If they’re just joking, I’d laugh and go on.  If they’re threatening me, I’m going to deal with it.  Worst case, I might call the police.  I’ve had some teenagers who needed police intervention.  I don’t like it, but it happens.”

    “But you wouldn’t curse them, or, in the absence of readily available she-bears, you wouldn’t release the dogs on them,” said Mac decisively, as though she thought she had just won a point.

    “Precisely,” said Bob.

    “But Justine isn’t a prophet,” said Jerry.

    “So?  She’s a pastor.  Isn’t that close enough?” asked Bob.

    “I hardly think so.  Elisha was the greatest prophet of his time.  It would be more like taunting the president,” said Jerry.

    “But the secret service doesn’t shoot adults who taunt the president, much less children,” said Bob.

    “Supposing a teenager–and these boys could be teenagers–was carrying a handgun and waved it at the president.  Then what would happen?” asked Jerry.

    “It’s quite possible that the secret service might shoot the teenager.  But there’s no indication these children were carrying guns, or swords or spears,” said Bob again.

    “But there’s nothing that says they didn’t either.  They might have been very threatening.”  Now Jerry looked like he was making a point.

    “But wouldn’t that be adding something to the text?” asked Mark.

    “Well, we’re adding to the text whether we assume they’re little children or teenagers, and whether we assume they had no weapons or lots of them.  It doesn’t give us those details,” said Jerry.

    “So shouldn’t we deal with the text as it is?” asked Justine.  “It seems to say that taunting the prophet was enough provocation, and that God responded to Elijah’s curse by sending the she-bears.  I don’t particularly like it, but that’s what it says.”

    “Well, actually, I don’t think so,” said Mandy.  Everyone started looking right at her.  “The text doesn’t tell us whether Elisha’s action was justified.  It just tell us that it happened.”

    “So is it possible that Elisha might not be doing the right thing here?” asked Mark.

    “I think so.  I think Elisha was tired and angry and so he cursed the children.”  Mandy had that “mother concludes and has made the point to the children” look she got from time to time.  The fact that she was sprawled carelessly sideways across an easy chair detracted from the effect.

    “So why would God honor his angry request?” asked Jerry.

    Mandy considered for a moment.  “Because he was God’s prophet.  What would happen if he cursed someone and nothing happened?  God has to go hunting for a new prophet!”

    “I really don’t think that’s an appropriate way to speak about  a prophet.  Surely a prophet wouldn’t do wrong in a situation like this,” said Jerry.

    “Elijah made mistakes.  Moses made mistakes.  David was a man after God’s own heart and he committed adultery and then murdered someone to cover it up.  What makes you think Bible characters always do right?” said Mandy.

    “But in all those cases we have a clear indication that what they did was wrong.  Not here,” replied Jerry.

    “Well, from my point of view that makes God look even worse.  He will kill forty-two children in order to keep his prophet respectable,” said Bob.  Mac nodded.

    “But God can do anything he wants!  We don’t have the right to judge God’s actions,” said Jerry.

    “So when you say, ‘God is love’ is that your considered judgment, or are you just repeating what God told you to say?” asked Mac.

    “I know that God is love,” said Jerry.

    “But how do you know?  Can you know that God is love without looking at God’s actions and deciding, ‘Those are loving actions?’” asked Mac.

    “I think she’s got a point,” said Mandy.  “After all, we testify to God’s love and to the things God has done for us.  Have we not looked at God’s action and said, ‘That is love’?”

    “But we wouldn’t even know what love was if God didn’t tell us!” said Jerry.

    “Well, I agree with Jerry,” said Justine.  “God has the right to do what he wants.  So I think there must be something there that those children or teenagers did to deserve what happened to them.  If God did it, it must be right, and it says right there [she pointed to Jerry’s Bible] that God did it!”

    “I’ve got to agree with Jerry as well.  It seems that you [he looked at Mandy] and Mark want to have the story in your Bible but you don’t want to accept what it really says.”  Bob looked at Jerry.  “Not that I agree with you about anything else!”

    “I would never even think it,” said Jerry dryly.

    “I have to disagree.  You’ve both decided what the story must mean.  There are many other statements about morality in the Bible.  I think that if we are told elsewhere that an action is wrong, we are not forced to conclude that a person who does that in a story is right.  That was complicated,” said Mandy, and grinned.

    “But then you are saying that God did something wrong,” said Jerry, and Bob and Mac both nodded.

    “I’m saying that God worked with people as they were.  You can’t always have ideal actions when you’re not dealing with ideal people.”

    “There I agree with you, Mandy,” said Justine.  “I don’t really have a problem with this story, but God does work with us where we are.”

    “I think I like Mandy’s explanation,” said Mark.  I wonder if I can say it in 10 minutes?  I’m inclined to give all the explanations and let people choose.”

    And with that, the group began to break up.

    1The real-world source of this question is not a professor at my imaginary seminary but David Ker at his Lingamish blog. I already responded in a real-world sense on my Participatory Bible Study blog.

  • Pastoral Candidate

    [This is a work of fiction.*]

    Vernon noticed the arrangement of the room. As manager of a regional chain of restaurants, he was used to reading the way a meeting was set up and evaluating peoples’ attitudes.

    It was hard to be precise about the five men sitting across from him. He saw eagerness and uncertainty in nearly equal measures. He was surprised to notice some fear and hostility as well. He didn’t see any reason for it. These five men could decide on their own who they would invite to be pastor of this church, and there was no threat he could hold over them. Not that he wanted to!

    “Vernon,” said the chairman. “It’s OK if I call you Vernon, isn’t it?”

    “Sure Mr. Wilson,” said Vernon. “You knew me when I was in the nursery around here!” He chuckled, both because he was relaxed, and because he wanted the members of the board to relax.

    “OK, Vernon, I think I’ll get right to the point. We’re wondering why someone like you, who hasn’t been to church for over 10 years, thinks he is qualified to become pastor of this church.”

    Vernon was surprised. “I think we’re working under some misapprehension here. I thought you had invited me here because you were considering asking me!”

    “So you didn’t send us your resume? You didn’t ask Mrs. Thompson to deliver it to us?”

    “No, I didn’t . . .”

    “Well, then there is a misapprehension!”

    “I was going to say,” Vernon continued, “that your mentioning Mrs. Thompson explains what happened. She visited me the other day and told me she believed God was still calling me to be a pastor. Then she discussed her son’s resume, and … I’m not quite sure how it happened … but she walked away with mine as an example. When you called, I assumed she’d talked you into inviting me to talk.”

    Everyone was grinning now, even Gerald Adams, the senior member of the church, who was known never to smile. It was just a slight grin, but he clearly was amused by how they all had been had.

    “So, do we actually have anything to talk about?” said both Vernon and Tom Wilson at nearly the same time.

    The silence that resulted had a couple of board members laughing, while a couple of others were trying to restore dignity to the meeting.

    “Well, Mr. Wilson . . . ”

    “Call me Tom,” said Tom Wilson.

    “OK Tom,” continued Vernon. “I think I need to answer your question. The reason I think you should consider inviting me to be pastor of this church is that I agree with Mrs. Thompson. I believe God is calling me here, and it’s time for me to quit sailing for Tarshish.”

    It took some of the men a few moments to get the reference, but to their credit, they did.

    Tom appeared to be trying to gather his thoughts. “That’s a good answer, and I admit I hoped you’d give a good answer. We could really use someone with your skills to try to revive this church. We just don’t have the numbers we had when you were a child.”

    He paused again for a long time, but Vernon could tell that he wasn’t finished. Finally, he continued. “Here’s the problem. I know that you’re smart enough about finances to know you’d take a pay cut to take this position. With an MBA on top of your M.Div, no doubt you could command a much larger salary than we could offer even if you went to pastor at another church.”

    “I won’t be taking a salary.” Tom’s words stopped all sound in the room.

    “No salary?” asked Tom.

    “No salary.”

    “How are you going to live?”

    “I’m actually going to demand much more than a salary.”

    “Just what do you mean?”

    “Do you mind if I give you a fairly long explanation? I’d like to make clear what it is I’ll provide and what I’m going to ask of you. I also want you to understand why.”

    “Take your time,” said Tom.

    “You may regret that!” Vernon paused a moment, making sure he had everyone’s attention. He was used to doing this sort of thing to rooms full of management trainees, but it was hard for him to do it with these men who had been the pillars of the church in his youth. They were the people he had learned to respect as a child and young person. You might not like them, but you didn’t ignore them.

    “Some of what I’m going to say is going to sound insulting, but I’m asking you to hear me out.” He wouldn’t have said that to management trainees. He just would have given them the facts, and then used a combination of good humor and biting challenge to bring them up to standards.

    “If I looked at this church as a branch of my company,” he continued, “I would have to rate it as a failure. I’d probably suggest closing it down and opening another store serving the same market. The reason is that this particular branch has a reputation to live down, and employees are stuck in a losing way of doing business.”

    “As evidence, let me point out that your membership is half what it was when I last attended your church. The Board of Elders has only one new member, and the average age has gone up by 10 years in those same ten years. Finally, though you’re searching for a pastor, you have only had one interview, and he decided he didn’t want the job.”

    “You’re wondering how I know all this. I know it because I’m a businessman, and I find such things out from habit. I’m thorough. I looked at my old church as I would have looked at a business.”

    “Here’s the problem: When I looked at this church as a business, it looks terrible. Hopeless. No point. I can’t live on any salary you could reasonably offer me. It’s not even close. I couldn’t live on your entire church budget. That has a great deal to do with choices I’ve made since I left seminary, but I’m stuck with the results of those choices.”

    “You’re all good men, and I believe you love the Lord. That’s why you’re still sitting there while I’m telling you things are hopeless. When I had all the numbers together I decided that I wouldn’t bother to talk to you, because there was no point. But I couldn’t shake that sense that I was being called.”

    “So I started to pray. Then I started to read. I read the gospel of Mark. I read 1 Corinthians. I read Ephesians. I read Philippians. Finally I went back to Ephesians 4. Then I had my answer.”

    “But before I could call you and talk to you, you called me. Mrs. Thompson was busy helping God out!”

    “So what is this solution?” asked Tom.

    “First, let me ask you a question you’re not going to like. Why is it that I see five men before me, but the entire work of the church is being done by the women?”

    “What do you mean?” broke in Gerald Adams. “You aren’t suggesting we should have women on the Board of Elders, are you?”

    “Well, I work with women on committees in my business all the time, and it works out quite well. But no, I was actually planning to challenge you with something much harder.”

    “What is that?” asked Tom.

    “I’m challenging you to bring your level of service up to your level of leadership. You will need to work according to Mark 10:44: ‘… whoever will be first among you will be servant of all.’”

    “How many of you have visited one of the church shut-ins during the last week?”

    “My wife does that,” muttered one man.

    “Good for her! But do you think God wants those visits done only by the women? What about Mr. Jefferson. He’s 93 years old, but he can still carry on a pretty good conversation if you pay attention. I went to visit him yesterday, just so I could see what it feels like. I’m sure he appreciates the older ladies of the church bringing him flowers, but he’d really love a conversation with one of you men.”

    The business evaluation had been something they could take easily. They knew it all, and this, Vernon was someone they had known as a child. They could pretend to be grading him on his work. Now he was under their skin and it was making them angry.

    “I know this is not what you want to hear, but if the men of this church joined the women in visiting people in need, it would make a tremendous difference in this community. More importantly, it would make a tremendous difference to each one of you. Why? Because you would be doing what Jesus told you to!”

    “But let me ask you another question. How many of you have spoken to someone else about your faith during the last week?” He paused. “Nobody? You are believers. I know you are. You do work out there in the real world. I know you do. So what is the problem? Do you not think the gospel is important?”

    “And before you get too angry, let me confess that I didn’t share with anyone either. I can talk about being a backslider at the time, but I still believed; I was just frustrated with the church. I guess I didn’t think it was that important either.”

    “So here’s what I’m going to propose. I think you’re angry enough to throw me out of here. But I also know that you’re honest men and that you know your Bibles.”

    “I’ll become pastor of this church. But I will do it part time and for no salary. I’ve been supplementing my income by consulting and teaching seminars. I’m going to give that part up. Instead, I’m going to teach right here at this church.”

    “But there’s a condition. Every person in this room is going to become a servant along with me. I’m going to operate according to Ephesians 4:11-13. I’m going to equip. You’re going to equip. We’re all going to be teachers. But as we lead we’re also going to be servants.”

    “From what I hear you really believe I have been called to do this. I believe I have been called. You wanted a pastor to do all that visiting, to reach the people of the community, and to bring in young people. You’re going to do all that, and I’m going to teach you how.”

    “Now you can throw me out, and continue on the path to stagnation and death, or you can choose to answer the call to ministry–as a church.”

    Vernon sat there and looked from one to another of the men. He waited for them to respond, to tell him to leave. If they did that, he could go with a clear conscience. But he felt in his heart, more desperately than he had when applying for his first job, the desire to have them say “yes.”

    Finally a voice broke the silence. It was Gerald Adams.

    “Son,” he said, “you have made me madder than I have been in at least 20 years. I could go whip your butt as a disrespectful, arrogant young pup.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Problem is, Jesus did say what you said he did, and you’re right. So mad as I am–and I’m still mad!–I want you to be our pastor.”

    It only took moments for the rest of the men to agree. After all, nobody argued with Gerald Adams. Jesus, maybe, but not Gerald.

    * In a story dealing with theological issues, no character represents my own view. My short stories are intended to raise and discuss issues, not provide answers to theological questions.

    **This story came to me while I was editing The Jesus Paradigm by David Alan Black, just released by my company, but Dr. Black is not to be blamed for my ideas or attitudes.

  • My One Sports Moment

    This story is actually true. Well, at least it’s based on true events that happened to me. I’m probably dramatizing it a bit. Maybe more than a bit.

    You see, when I say I can’t play _____ (fill in the sport), I really mean it. I don’t think I’m an incredibly clumsy person, though I’m not particularly talented either.

    The problem is that most people have played at least a little bit of a variety of sports. People assume that when one says one doesn’t play baseball, for example, that one is very bad at it; not that one doesn’t play at all.

    For me, however, when I say I don’t play, I mean I really don’t. I dabbled in ping-pong, and played volleyball a few times. While I was in Guyana as a teenager, I did get hold of a cricket bat a couple of times. My Guyanese friends assumed I was so bad at it because I was used to baseball. But no, I hadn’t played baseball.

    The reason for this state of affairs was that my parents didn’t approve of competitive sports. I grew up on the fringes of the Seventh-day Adventist church, in what were known as “self-supporting” organizations. There we had very little to do with the ordinary culture around us.

    So fast forward a few years and I’m in the Air Force, taking technical training in San Angelo, Texas at Goodfellow Air Force Base. We had a half day for recreation, and what better way to occupy the afternoon than with a softball game. I even forget how we chose the teams.

    The folks on my team wondered what I played.

    “I don’t play softball,” I said.

    “Oh, but what do you do best?”

    “Nothing. I don’t play softball.”

    “This is just an informal game. It doesn’t matter if you’re any good or not.”

    “But I don’t play.”

    They stared at me blankly.

    “I don’t even know how to hold the bat.”

    “Oh!” Horror and comprehension dawned at once. How could an American young man grow to his 20s and not play softball. I chose the “I grew up overseas” explanation rather than “I grew up in an environment where softball was not religiously acceptable.”

    So one of the players takes me to the plate and shows me how to hold the bat, and generally explains the game. The other team just knew that I would be an easy out.

    I come up to bat and the pitcher does his thing. I watched one. I missed one.

    Then suddenly the ball was coming toward me and I was swinging the bat. The odds were ten thousand to one, or perhaps a hundred thousand to one, but the laws of probability were writhing in agony somewhere in the outfield. The barrel of the bat connected squarely with the ball and it disappeared over the fence, or at least past the arbitrary line we had designated as the fence.

    It was a solo home run. No, really!

    The other team was sure they’d been had, but then a few more innings went by and I demonstrated clearly that I truly did not know what I was doing. The laws of probability were back in force.

    But at least I had one moment.

  • I Want My SUV!

    [This is a work of fiction, and is part of my God-Talk club series. For more information follow the link. Also, I promised in my last God-Talk Club story that the club would discuss prophecy some more. This isn’t that post. I’ll get to it–soon, I hope. In another departure, this post was inspired by this one by John Meunier, rather than merely from my overactive imagination. This is also known as being “inspired by” a true story, in the Hollywood sense.]

    “I have a question for you god-people,” said Bob. He had been tense ever since they started gathering, as though he had something important to say or ask.

    “OK, spill it,” said Mandy.

    “I just really don’t understand how you religious types live with it,” Bob continued.

    “Live with what?” asked Mandy.

    “Well,” said Bob, “Last night I was watching TV and this televangelist came on. I don’t know why, but I started watching this guy for awhile. He made a call for people who wanted prayer, and then he launched into his fundraising. He told his audience that if they gave God money, God would reward them 10-fold or even 100-fold. He even did the math for them. If they gave $1,000 to his ministry–I don’t recall when, but he switched from ‘give to God’ to ‘give to me’ somewhere in there–they’d get $10,000 or even $100,000 back. He even had a story of a retired lady on a fixed income–that’s how he said it–who sent her last $1,000 to him, and then received back $10,000 from an insurance settlement she hadn’t expected.”

    “Wow!” said Mandy.

    “What a charlatan!” Jerry added.

    “Just can’t trust those preachers,” said Mac, winking in turn at Mark, Justine, and Jerry.

    “What I’m wondering,” Bob continued, ignoring all the byplay, “is what happens if some old lady–elderly, that is–sends him her last $1,000, and then nothing happens. You all know that’s much more likely than that she’ll get a $10,000 insurance settlement.”

    “What I’d like to know is why it’s an old lady. Why not an old gentleman? You’re not a male chauvinist pig, are you Bob?” Justine was just a bit annoyed!

    “What does that matter? It’s the fraud I’m talking about!”

    “What if the preacher means it?” asked Mandy. “I mean, what if he honestly believes that everyone who sends him money will get back multiples?”

    “Then he’s insane!” said Jerry, raising his voice almost to a shout.

    “I’m not defending him, Jerry. But don’t you or I have beliefs that someone else might regard as insane?”

    “Like what?”

    “Well, for example, I think we both believe that some guy was crucified back in Roman times, and his body came back to life, right?”

    “And you’re comparing that to claim God will multiply money someone sends to a charlatan preacher?”

    “Well–” Justine paused a moment. “Well, other than the charlatan part, isn’t multiplying the money less of a miracle than resurrection? It’s not impossible, is it, by miracle standards, that is?”

    “No,” said Jerry slowly. “It’s not impossible. But that’s not the point. God never actually promised to multiply our money.”

    “Yes he did,” said Justine, but both Jerry and Mandy ignored her. [Though it’s not discussed in this story, Justine is thinking of Matthew 19:29.]

    “That’s really not the issue,” Mandy continued, “Is it? The question is whether the guy who claims it will happen has to be insane.”

    “The problem there,” cut in Mark, who was sitting on the edge of his seat, “Is that this guy surely has to know that people are getting screwed all the time, that they aren’t all getting 10 or 100 times their money back.”

    “But I think that’s not quite the point either. We all ignore many, many things that we ought to know. If we were guilty of fraud because of what we ought to know but don’t, we’d all be in serious difficulties!”

    “On the other hand,” said Jerry, “This man is a preacher, claiming to be a minister of the gospel. He should know. If I were a financial advisor and advised my clients to send me money because it would be multiplied, even if I stupid enough to really think that my investment would produce that much, I’d be charged with fraud, because as financial advisor, I should know.”

    “That’s a good point,” said Mandy. “I’d really like to be able to get a guy like that for fraud. He makes me sick. But you also have freedom of religion. I believe that God wants me to put my tithe in the offering plate at church. I believe that God will save my soul and take me to heaven. I’m not really supposed to see it as a quid pro quo, but am I not basing giving thousands of dollars a year to my church on something that is totally unproven?”

    Mark jumped in again. “But you don’t have proof that it doesn’t work, do you? This preacher has evidence available to him that you won’t get the multiples of your money.”

    “No, not true,” said Justine. “There is good evidence that most people won’t get the money, but unless he’s lying about his one elderly donor, then somebody did get the multiple. Of course, all things considered, he might be lying about that.”

    “But there is no proof, or even evidence, that there is a connection between the two events!” Bob was emphatic.

    “But that’s again different from the evidence against everyone getting something. We know that not everyone gets the money. We don’t know that anyone will, but we don’t know for sure they won’t or even that they didn’t already.”

    “So you’re willing to give this guy more credit than the others do.” Bob Norman looked straight at Justine. “I thought you might. I’ve looked into your church, and you’re much more ‘miracle’ based than these other folks.”

    “On the contrary, I think the man is a huckster, and it would be fine with me if he was hauled off to jail.”

    “But you believe God can multiply.”

    “Can, Bob, can. Can, not will. There’s a big difference. I never teach anyone to believe that God will function like a slot machine. There’s a blessing, but it’s often not in this life. If you don’t like giving money that will probably not come back, then don’t give–at my church, or I suspect at Mandy’s or Jerry’s.”

    “Precisely,” said Jerry. Mandy nodded.

    “Doesn’t this embarrass you?” Bob looked straight at Jerry, the respectable businessman of the group.

    “Yes it does. It makes me wish I could disappear into a hole in the ground. But at the same time, I know that man’s faith is not my faith. He’s a fraud, but that doesn’t make me a fraud.” He paused a moment. “Or even Justine, though I think she plays awfully close to the fire!”

    Mac mimed holding a revolver and blowing smoke from the barrel. “Close one, Justine, no?”

    “Jerry’s a true believer,” said Justine. “He tries to avoid it, but deep down he really believes.”

    Jerry had his mouth open, but Bob got in ahead of him. “I still really don’t see it. Wouldn’t the safest thing be not to accept things that are not properly supported by objective evidence? It seems a bit like gambling to me, only with much less likelihood of reward.”

    “Well, it might seem like gambling to you, but to me, it’s just part of my relationship with God.” Justine spoke in pretty definite tones.

    “If I was into my religion for the money, I’d get out,” said Mandy.

    “Amen!” said Jerry. “I’m here for the spiritual benefit.”

    “I don’t get this ‘spiritual’ stuff. How is it measured? How do you know it’s true?”

    “It’s not measurable,” said Mandy. “It’s faith.”

    “And that’s where it’s bogus,” said Mac. “Bob’s being nice to you guys, but I want to ask you, Mandy first: Do you think I’m a worse person than you are?”

    “No, absolutely not,” said Mandy.

    “So what’s the benefit of all this ‘spirituality’?”

    “I think a better question would be whether I’d be a worse person without it. I think I would. Be worse, that is.”

    “Do you think I’d be better if I was spiritual like you?”

    “I think you could do with cutting off some rough edges, since we’re being direct, but I don’t prescribe spirituality for others. It’s a personal thing.”

    “I bet Jerry doesn’t agree with you.”

    “Indeed I don’t!” said Jerry. “Sometimes I wonder about you, Mandy! How can you believe in Jesus as your savior and not be sure he’s right for someone else?”

    “To be more accurate, Jerry, I believe it’s not my business to prescribe what is right for someone else. If my husband were wearing that tie, I’d tell him to change it. In your case, it’s not really my business–well, except for illustration!”

    “More of this subjective stuff,” Bob cut in again. “You always retreat into the subjective. So how do you deal with a fraud in Christianity? If I want to know whether a preacher I see on TV really represents ‘true’ Christianity, how can I tell?”

    “Well, to start with, he’s on TV,” said Jerry.

    “That’s silly, and you know it!” replied Bob. “I can tell you the guy is a fraud because he’s proposing a magical process to multiply your money. You can only respond with other subjective stuff. There’s really no way for a non-Christian to know! Yet you don’t want me to blame you for the frauds on TV!”

    “It takes discernment,” said Justine.

    “Or perhaps just wisdom and good judgment,” said Mandy.

    “On the other hand, we could all just go with the evidence! How about that?” said Mac. Then she looked at her watch. “Oops! Got to go.”

    [Watch for more discussion when the God-Talk Club gets together again.]

  • Justine and the Prophets

    [This is a work of fiction, and is part of my God-Talk club series. For more information follow the link.]

    The God-Talk Club was gathered at the cafe, and everyone was fairly quiet. Even Ellen, who was normally their waitress was seated with them, claiming that she just happened to be getting off work. She couldn’t admit to the group that she had arranged her schedule so she could join them.

    As a moment of silence grew longer, Justine started looking back and forth, slightly embarrassed. She clearly had a topic to bring up and wasn’t sure how to start.

    “Spit it out!” said Mac. “You know someone’s going to ridicule you any way you say it, so just say it!”

    “I don’t think we ridicule people,” said Jerry. “We just express our opinions vigorously.” Jerry was always uncomfortable with the tone of some of the discussions, even though nobody seemed to get hurt. He tried to explain how it was really alright, something that nobody but him doubted.

    “So Justine,” said Mark, “Just go ahead and say it, or we’ll spend all evening talking about saying it.”
    “I had an interesting experience on Sunday,” Justine began. “I would try to protect the innocent, or better the guilty, but everyone in my church saw it all, so I can’t do that.”

    “Something interesting happening in church. Now there’s a miracle.” Bob Norman couldn’t imagine wasting time in church and never hesitated to make that clear to everyone.

    “Let her tell her story,” said Mark. He enjoyed hearing Justine talk about her ministry, because while they were both students at the seminary, she was already an ordained pastor.

    “Well,” Justine continued, then paused. “A new couple came to my church this past Sunday. They seemed reasonable and enthusiastic, and I was even hoping they’d choose to stay. They said they had moved into the area recently, and were looking for a place to worship and minister. I asked them what their gifts were, and they said that they were both prophets.”

    (more…)

  • The God-Talk Club – Including the Waitress

    [This is a work of fiction, and is part of my God-Talk club series. For more information follow the link.]

    Ellen McDonald set the extra large Coke on the table in front of Mark Morton and then sat down herself.

    “I hope you won’t get fired for sitting down here with us,” said Mark.

    “Oh, I’m not on the clock.”

    “So what about this?” Mark pointed at the Coke.

    “It’s a Coke, just like you like.”

    “Why are you working if you’re not on the clock?”

    “Well, I’m not really working. I’m just getting you your drink.” Ellen paused. “I listen to bits and pieces of your conversations, but I can’t really join in. I’d like to hear more.”

    “You might even say something once in a while,” said Jerry Simonson. The whole group was gathered, though they hadn’t really gotten started on any topic. There was a long pause in the conversation, as though they couldn’t decide what to talk about.

    “If you’re not comfortable with me being here, I’ll go,” said Ellen.

    “Oh, absolutely not,” said Jerry.

    “Well, we have treated her like part of the furniture,” said Justine. “Sorry, Ellen. We know you’re a person, but it’s easy to ignore the waitress.”

    (more…)

  • A Righteous Disobedience

     [This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance of any person or event to anything in the real world is purely coincidental!]

    Children, obey your parents, for this is right. — Ephesians 6:1

    He was only 11, and he was walking home from school.  It should have been simple.  He was under strict instructions to walk straight home, not to stop for anything, and not to bring anyone home unless he had asked for permission ahead of time.  It was, he knew, the right thing to do.

    But then he  saw Debbie sitting in an alley against the wall, partially hidden behind a box.  He had already disobeyed by the time he identified her.  All he knew was that there was a human sitting in what looked like garbage.  When he got closer, he recognized her.  She had been missing from school that day.

    He’d never seen anyone like this.  She had on a shirt.  Her legs were bare and he could see that she was bruised.  It looked possible that her arm was broken.  He really knew very little about it, but it shouldn’t look like that.

    She just sat there and looked at him.  There was no hope in her eyes.  She knew he was supposed to go straight home.  She didn’t look embarrassed either, that she wasn’t properly dressed.  She wasn’t crying.

    “Can you walk?” he asked.

    “Leave me here,” she whispered.  “Your parents will beat you.  They’ll send me home.  My parents will beat me again.”

    “No they won’t,” he said, and not knowing where the conviction came from he was convinced he was right.  He couldn’t remember where he had heard it, but he was sure the Bible said somewhere “let the broken victims go free.”  (Luke 4:18, REB)

    She didn’t look hopeful, but when he reached down to her, and took hold of her unbroken arm, she tried to get up.  He helped her put his arm around his shoulders, and supported her weight, and then he started walking for home.  There weren’t that many people out at this time of day–there never were–but even so he never knew why nobody stopped them, or tried to help.  Somebody surely saw the young boy supporting a bruised and battered girl as they walked down the street together.  But nobody did anything.

    He was getting tired.  The last few blocks were agony.  She wasn’t helping that much, he didn’t think.  He kept muttering that line to himself.  He was breaking all the rules, he knew, but this had to be right.

    He was late at the front door.  His mother was waiting.  He was late enough that she might have started to look for him, but she was just at the gate.  As he stumbled through the gate he said, “Let the broken victims go free, mama.  Jesus said to let the broken victims go free.”

    But his mother was busy taking Debbie in her arms, and carrying her into the house.  For the next couple of hours things were busy.  An ambulance, police, several other official looking people, all passed through.  He didn’t really know whether anyone was happy with him or angry.  The police asked him where he’d found Debbie, and finally a nice looking older lady asked him some more questions.  He answer truthfully.  Why not?  There wasn’t any good lie for this.

    Finally he was alone again with his parents.  “It was the only thing I could do,” he said, looking first at his father, and then at his mother.

    “Of course it was!” they both exclaimed.

    “You’ve learned something important today, I think,” said his father.  “There are times to break the rules.  When I made those rules, I didn’t really expect something like this to happen.  I’m terribly proud of you.”  His father didn’t mention the option of running home quickly and getting his mother.  How could he expect the boy to think of that, and how it might have gotten help faster?

    “Just don’t go using every little excuse to break the rules,” he continued.  “This time, disobeying was the righteous thing to do!”

  • The God-Talk Club – Voting I

    [This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters, places, or events to reality is strictly coincidental. It is also part of a series. Characters who have been introduced in previous episodes will not be re-introduced. You can find a list of characters from episodes up to this one here.]

    Only four members of the God-Talk Club had gathered this evening. They were Mark Morton, who was taking a break from studying for a test in his systematic theology class, Jerry Simonson, more determined than ever to reach Mark with the gospel, even though Mark was a seminary student, Mandy Kelly, who never missed her prescribed break from home life, and Justine Reeder.

    “How is it that I never see you studying?” Mark asked Justine.

    “Oh, I study! I just don’t do it here.”

    “But I never see you studying on campus either.”

    “You never see me on campus.”

    “I have too seen you. A couple of times. I just never see you studying or in class.”

    “I know,” said Mandy. “She’s so smart she doesn’t have to study!”

    Justine looked embarrassed, but didn’t say anything.

    “If you don’t mind my asking,” said Mark, “What’s your GPA?”

    “I do mind you asking,” Justine replied. “I think that’s rude!”

    “I bet it’s so high you’re afraid we’ll think you’re boasting,” said Mandy.

    Jerry looked embarrassed. One of his problems with this group was that he was very courteous. It was hard for him to get his viewpoints taken seriously in this group without being blunt, and to be honest quite rude. “How about the election? Have any of you decided who to vote for?”

    There was a moment of stunned silence at the obvious change of subject, then Mandy laughed. “Yes, Grandpa! We’ll settle down and be a little less rude,” she said.

    “I didn’t mean that.” Jerry paused. “Well, I suppose I did. But I’d still like an answer, if anyone is willing.”

    “Why don’t you go first?” asked Mark.

    “Very well,” said Jerry. “I’ll be voting for Fred Thompson in our primary.”

    “Do you think he still has a chance?” asked Mark.

    “I don’t know, but I think he best represents my values—smaller government, private education options, and pro-life.”

    There was another long pause. Jerry looked from one face to another. Had he stepped over a line with these folks by asking their political views?

    “OK, I’ll go,” said Justine. “I’m voting for Barack Obama.”

    (more…)

  • Not a Christmas Carol


    * “No!” yelled Evelyn at the apparition. “No! You’ve got it all wrong!”

    “As I was saying,” the ghost intoned, “you will be visited by three spirits.”

    “Yes, I know. Christmas past, Christmas present, Christmas future. Everybody knows that. It’s been done and redone. But it doesn’t apply to me.”

    The ghost looked mildly disturbed, as though programmed to intone certain things and expect certain results. “Before dawn,” it continued, “you will be visited by three spirits.”

    “Yes, you said that already,” Evelyn interrupted peevishly. It didn’t help that the ghost looked a great deal like her late husband, a quiet and self-effacing man who could easily lose his place in a conversation if interrupted.

    The ghost looked a bit mistier, not to mention mystified. “You will be visited,” it started again.

    Evelyn jumped out of her chair, the comfortable recliner where she had been dozing briefly, preparing herself for Christmas eve, a busy night for her. She charged straight at the ghost, unconcerned by its resemblance to her late husband—or perhaps the resemblance drove her on. She was already wearing the Santa suit, one of several items of apparel that helped earn her the nickname “Ms. Claus.”

    (more…)

  • The God-Talk Club – Homeschooling

    [This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters, places, or events to reality is strictly coincidental. It is also part of a series. Characters who have been introduced in previous episodes will not be re-introduced. You can find a list of characters from episodes up to this one here.]

    The God-Talk Club was gathering again at the Roadside Cafe, their regular meeting place. Recently, the owner had added a couple of couches and some more comfortable chairs in groups, trying to take advantage of the number of students who chose to study in his cafe, and coincidentally eat large amounts of snacks and drink a great deal of his soft drinks. He had bought an assortment of used furniture, which kept up the general décor of the place—accidental crossed with tornado aftermath.

    Mark arrived earlier than usual, and claimed one of the new, more comfortable seats. He had just gotten settled in, when Ellen showed up with his regular large Coke. Generally they needed no words. This time when she delivered the drink she was leading a man who appeared to be in his late 20s, and who was dressed professionally. Mark immediately thought he was some type of executive, and wondered what he was doing here at the Roadside Cafe. Generally, the clientele ran to blue jeans and t-shirts, not professional dress.

    “Mark, this is Bob. I told him about your group.”

    “It isn’t much of a group. We just get together and argue on Friday nights.”

    “It’s the only group that meets regularly and seems to keep most of the same people,” said Ellen.

    “OK, yes, and I’m being rude.” He turned to Bob, half got up out of his seat, and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

    “You too,” said Bob, though he looked a bit uncomfortable.

    “Just settle in anywhere. There are no rules at the Roadside Cafe.”

    Bob found a seat on another couch. “How many people are there in your group?” he asked.

    “It really isn’t a group. It’s too informal. Usually there’s about half a dozen who show up. They show up when they want and leave when they want, but the discussion goes on. Most people just join by interrupting the discussion. Speaking of interruptions . . .” he waved at Jerry who was approaching.

    “This is Bob,” he said, looking at Jerry and waving in Bob’s general direction.

    Jerry walked over to where Bob was sitting and held out his hand. “I’m Jerry Simonson,” he said.

    “If Jerry had his way, we’d have rules, and maybe a chairman,” said Mark.

    Jerry, in a collared shirt and dark slacks looked a bit out of place as well, sort of a balance between Bob’s office wear and Mark’s torn and faded jeans.

    Jerry chuckled. “And if Mark had his way, none of us would know anyone else’s names.” He paused. “So how has it been going, Mark?”

    “It’s a pretty ordinary day in the middle of the semester. I finally got my grade back on that essay we discussed, and I passed.”

    “What are you studying?” asked Bob.

    “I’m at the seminary, M.Div.”

    “M.Div?”

    “Master of Divinity, preacher.”

    “But he doesn’t really know if he wants to be one,” said Jerry.

    “Maybe I’ll be a lawyer.”

    “And lie about people instead of God?” Bob looked like he thought he’d just scored points.

    (more…)