“My children?” Mack interrupted. “What do you mean, I’m here because of my children?”
“Mackenzie, you love your children in a way that your own father was never able to love you and your sisters.”
“Of course I love my children. Every parent loves their children,” Mack asserted. “But why does that have anything to do with why I’m here?”
“In some sense every parent does love their children,” she responded, ignoring his second question. “But some parents are too broken to love them well and others are barely able to love them at all, you should understand that. But you, you do love your children well-very well.”
“I learned much of that from Nan.”
“We know. But you did learn, didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Among the mysteries of a broken humanity, that too is rather remarkable; to learn, to allow change.” She was as calm as a windless sea. “So then, Mackenzie, may I ask which of your children do you love the most?”
Mack smiled inside. As the kids had come along, he had wrestled to an answer to this very question. “I don’t love any one of them more than any of the others. I love each of them differently,” he said, choosing his words carefully.
“Explain that to me, Mackenzie,” she asked with interest.
“Well, each one of my children is unique. And that uniqueness and special personhood calls out a unique response from me.” Mack settled back into his chair. “I remember after Jon, my first, was born. I was so captivated by the wonder of who this little life was that I actually worried about whether I would have anything left to love a second child. But when Tyler came along, it was as if he brought with him a special gift for me, a whole new capacity to love him specially. Come to think of it, it’s like when Papa says she is especially fond of someone. When I think of each of my children individually, I find that I am especially fond of each one.”
“Well said, Mackenzie!” Her appreciation was tangible, but then she leaned forward slightly, her tone still soft, but serious. “But what about when they do not behave, or they make choices other than those you would want them to make, or they are just belligerent and rude? What about when they embarrass you in front of others? How does that affect your love for them?”
Mack responded slowly and deliberately. “It doesn’t, really.” He knew that what he was saying was true, even if Katie didn’t believe it sometimes. “I admit that it does affect me and sometimes I get embarrassed or angry, but even when they act badly, they are still my son or my daughter, they are still Josh or Kate, and they will be forever. What they do might affect my pride, but not my love for them.”
She sat back, beaming. “You are wise in the ways of real love, Mackenzie. So many believe that it is love that grows, but it is the knowing that grows and love simply expands to contain it. Love is just the skin of knowing. Mackenzie, you love your children, whom you know so well, with a wonderful and real love.”
A little embarrassed at her praise, Mack looked down. “Well, thanks, but I’m not that way with very many other people. My love tends to be pretty conditional most of the time.”
“But it’s a start, isn’t it, Mackenzie? And you didn’t move beyond your father’s inability on your own, it was God and you together who changed you to love this way. And now you love your children much the way Father loves his.”
Mack could feel his jaw involuntarily clench as he listened, and he felt the anger once more begin to rise. What should have been a reassuring commendation seemed more like a bitter pill that he now refused to swallow. He tried to relax to cover his emotions, but by the look in her eyes, he knew it was too late.
“Hmmmm,” she mused. “Something I said bother you, Mackenzie?” Her gaze now made him uncomfortable. He felt exposed.
“Mackenzie?” she encouraged. “Is there something you would like to say?”
The silence left by her question now hung in the air. Mack struggled to retain his composure. He could hear his mother’s advice ringing in his ears: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, better to not speak at all.”
“Uh… well, no! Not really.”
“Mackenzie,” she prompted, “this is not a time for your mother’s common sense. This is a time for honesty, for truth. You don’t believe that Father loves his children very well, do you? You don’t truly believe that God is good, do you?”
“Is Missy his child?” Mack snapped.
“Of course!” she answered.
“Then, no!” he blurted, rising to his feet. “I don’t believe that God loves all of his children very well!”
He had said it, and now his accusation echoed off whatever walls surrounded the chamber. While Mack stood there, angry and ready to explode, the woman remained calm and unchanging in her demeanor. Slowly she rose from her high-backed chair, moving silently behind it and motioning him toward it. “Why don’t you sit here?”
“Is that what honesty gets you, the hot seat?” he muttered sarcastically, but he didn’t move, simply staring back at her.
“Mackenzie.” She remained standing behind her chair. “Earlier, I began to tell you why you are here today. Not only are you here because of your children, but you are here for judgment.”
As the word echoed in the chamber, panic rose inside Mack like a swelling tide and slowly he sank into his chair. Instantly he felt guilty, as memories spilled through his mind like rats fleeing the rising flood. He gripped the arms of his chair, trying to find some balance in the onslaught of images and emotions. His failures as a human being suddenly loomed large, and in the back of his mind he could almost hear a voice intoning his catalogue of sins, his dread deepening as the list grew longer and longer. He had no defense. He was lost and he knew it.
“Mackenzie?” she began, only to be interrupted.
“Now I understand. I’m dead, aren’t I? That’s why I can see Jesus and Papa, cuz I’m dead.” He sat back and looked up into the darkness, feeling sick to his stomach. “I can’t believe it! I didn’t even feel anything.” He looked at the woman who patiently watched him. “How long have I been dead?” he asked.
“Mackenzie,” she began, “I am sorry to disappoint you, but you have not yet fallen asleep in your world, and I believe that you have mis-” Again, Mack cut her off.
“I’m not dead?” Now he was incredulous and stood again to his feet. “You mean all this is real and I’m still alive? But I thought you said I came here for judgment?”
“I did,” she stated matter of factly, a look of amusement on her face. “But, Macken-”
“Judgment? And I’m not even dead?” A third time he stopped her, processing what he heard, anger replacing his panic. “This hardly seems fair!” He knew his emotions were not helping. “Does this happen to other people-getting judged, I mean, before they’re even dead? What if I change? What if I do better the rest of my life? What if I repent? What then?”
#8220;Is there something you wish to repent of, Mackenzie?” she asked, unfazed by his outburst.
Mack slowly sat back down. He looked at the smooth surface of the floor and then shook his head before answering. “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” he mumbled. “I’m quite a mess, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are.” Mack looked up and she smiled back. “You are a glorious, destructive mess, Mackenzie, but you are not here to repent, at least not in the way that you understand. Mackenzie, you are not here to be judged.”
“But,” he again interrupted. “I thought you said that I was…”
“… here for judgment?” She remained cool and placid as a summer breeze as she finished his question. “I did. But you are not on trial here.”
Mack took a deep breath, relieved at her words.