“Whoa!” was all Mack could think. The landscape of how he, and just about everyone he knew, had sought to manage and navigate their lives was being reduced to little more than rubble. “So,” Mack was still processing, and not really coming up with much. “So?” He turned it back into a question.
“I don’t have an agenda here, Mack. Just the opposite,” Jesus interjected. “I came to give you Life to the fullest. My life.” Mack was still straining to understand. “The simplicity and purity of enjoying a growing friendship?”
“Uh, got it!”
“If you try to live this without me, without the ongoing dialogue of us sharing this journey together, it will be like trying to walk on the water by yourself. You can’t! And when you try, however well-intentioned, you’re going to sink.” Knowing full well the answer, Jesus asked, “Have you ever tried to save someone who was drowning?”
Mack’s chest and muscles instinctively tightened. He didn’t like remembering Josh and the canoe, and the sense of panic that suddenly rushed back from the memory.
“It’s extremely hard to rescue someone unless they are willing to trust you.”
“Yes, it sure is.”
“That’s all I ask of you. When you start to sink, let me rescue you.”
It seemed like a simple request, but Mack was used to being the lifeguard, not the one drowning. “Jesus, I’m not sure I know how to…”
“Let me show you. Just keep giving me the little bit you have, and together we’ll watch it grow.”
Mack began to put on his socks and shoes. “Sitting here with you, in this moment, it doesn’t seem that hard. But when I think about my regular life back home, I don’t know how to keep it as simple as you’re suggesting. I’m stuck in that same grasp for control everyone else is. Politics, economics, social systems, bills, family, commitments… it can all be a bit overwhelming. I don’t know how to change it all.”
“No one is asking you to!” Jesus said tenderly. “That is Sarayu’s task and she knows how to do it without brutalizing anyone. This whole thing is a process, not an event. All I want from you is to trust me with what little you can, and grow in loving people around you with the same love I share with you. It’s not your job to change them, or to convince them. You are free to love without an agenda.”
“That’s what I want to learn.”
“And you are.” Jesus winked.
Jesus stood up and stretched, and Mack followed. “I have been told so many lies,” he admitted.
Jesus looked at him and then with one arm pulled Mack in and hugged him. “I know, Mack, so have I. I just didn’t believe them.”
Together they began the walk down the dock. As they approached the shore, they slowed again. Jesus put his hand on Mack’s shoulder and gently turned him until they were face to face.
“Mack, the world system is what it is. Institutions, systems, ideologies, and all the vain, futile efforts of humanity that go with them are everywhere, and interaction with all of it is unavoidable. But I can give you freedom to overcome any system of power in which you find yourself, be it religious, economic, social, or political. You will grow in the freedom to be inside or outside all kinds of systems and to move freely between and among them. Together, you and I can be in it and not of it.”
“But so many of the people I care about seem to be both in it and of it!” Mack was thinking of his friends, church people who had expressed love to him and his family. He knew they loved Jesus, but were also sold out to religious activity and patriotism.
“Mack, I love them. And you wrongly judge many of them. For those who are both in it and of it, we must find ways to love and serve them, don’t you think?” asked Jesus. “Remember, the people who know me are the ones who are free to live and love without any agenda.”
“Is that what it means to be a Christian?” It sounded kind of stupid as Mack said it, but it was how he was trying to sum everything up in his mind.
“Who said anything about being a Christian? I’m not a Christian.”
The idea struck Mack as odd and unexpected and he couldn’t keep himself from grinning. “No, I suppose you aren’t.”
They arrived at the door of the workshop. Again Jesus stopped. “Those who love me come from every system that exists. They were Buddhists or Mormons, Baptists or Muslims, Democrats, Republicans and many who don’t vote or are not part of any Sunday morning or religious institutions. I have followers who were murderers and many who were self-righteous. Some are bankers and bookies, Americans and Iraqis, Jews and Palestinians. I have no desire to make them Christian, but I do want to join them in their transformation into sons and daughters of my Papa, into my brothers and sisters, into my Beloved.”
“Does that mean,” asked Mack, “that all roads will lead to you?”
“Not at all,” smiled Jesus as he reached for the door handle to the shop. “Most roads don’t lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you.” He paused. “Mack, I’ve got some things to finish up in the shop, so I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever you want, Mack, the afternoon is yours.” Jesus patted him on the shoulder and grinned. “One last thing, remember earlier when you thanked me for letting you see Missy? That was all Papa’s idea.” With that he turned and waved over his shoulder as he walked into the workshop.
Mack knew instantly what he wanted to do and headed for the shack to see if he could find Papa.
13 A MEETING OF HEARTS
Falsehood has an infinity of combinations, but truth has only one mode of being.
– Jean Jacques Rousseau
As Mack neared the cabin he could smell scones or muffins or something wonderful. It might have been only an hour since lunch due to Sarayu’s time-dimensional thingy, but he felt like he hadn’t eaten in hours. Even if he had been blind he would have had no trouble finding his way to the kitchen. But when he came in the back door he was surprised and disappointed to discover the place empty. “Anyone here?” he called.
“I’m on the porch, Mack,” came her voice through the open window. “Grab yourself something to drink and come join me.”
Mack poured himself some coffee and walked out on the front porch. Papa was reclining on an old Adirondack chair, eyes closed, soaking in the sun. “What’s this? God has time to catch a few rays? Don’t you have anything better to do this afternoon?”
“Mack, you have no idea what I’m doing right now.”
There was another chair on the opposite side, so he stepped over to it and as he sat down she opened one eye. Between them on a small end table sat a tray full of a rich-looking pastry with fresh butter and an array of jams and jellies.
“Wow, this smells great!” he exclaimed.
“Dive in. It’s a recipe I borrowed from your own great-great-grandma. Made it from scratch, too,” she grinned.
Mack wasn’t sure what “made it from scratch” might mean when God was saying it and decided to leave well enough alone. He picked up one of the scones and bit into it without anything on it. It was still warm from the oven and fairly melted in his mouth.
“Wow! That is good! Thank you!”
“Well, you’ll have to thank your great-great-grandma when you see her.”