Peter's Walk

The day that would change the course of the rest of my life began like any other day. And I’m not talking about the day Jesus of Nazareth first called me to follow Him, though if it wasn’t for that day, I would never have experienced the events I’m about to relate. This was the day that I started to change from a timid follower into a faithful disciple. Allow me to explain.

The day had started like any other. I woke up, drank some milk, kissed my wife goodbye, and went out to meet Jesus, as I’d done every morning since He’d first called me away from my fishing business. We walked around Galilee, following closely behind Jesus as He spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, answered queries from strangers, dodged tests from Pharisees, ate meals with sinners, healed people who asked him for healing, and forgave peoples’ sin. None of it was unusual for a day in the life of a disciple.

Things changed when a messenger came from the Essenes. Jesus’ cousin, John, who had lived out in the wilderness under rigorous conditions with their sect, had been executed by Herod. John had been preaching about repentance, was always dressed in a camel’s hair garment, eating locusts and honey—which didn’t do much for his case—and was baptizing people in the Jordan River for forgiveness of sins when he had been arrested and thrown in jail by Herod’s soldiers. Word on the street was that he had been accusing Herod of an immoral relationship. But now the news was out that he had been executed. Jesus didn’t take the news of his death very well, but none of us twelve blamed Him for that, though Iscariot did mutter something to me under his breath about how Jesus should grow up; “everyone dies,” he’d said.

It was at this point that Jesus decided He needed to get away from the crowds, so He called on John and James, Andrew and me to prepare a boat to take across the Sea of Galilee.

We prepared the craft quickly, raising the sail, raising the oars, and raising our eyes and voices to heaven asking Adonai to grant us a safe voyage across the sea. I noticed storm clouds forming over the surrounding mountains as we were crossing the halfway point, but thought nothing of it, because Jesus was in the boat with us. He’d calmed a storm for us before; if one came up today, it would be no different. But no storm came up, and after about an hour of sailing, we were on the opposite side of the sea.

So were the crowds. Somehow they had beaten us there, and as soon as Jesus’ foot crossed from the boat to the shore, the needy people were standing there asking for favors. I attempted to tell them to come again some other time, but Jesus told me not to, because He had no qualms about helping them. He reminded us that this was why He had come. So we all got out of the boat, and decided to help bring the lame and guide the blind to Jesus in order to be healed. For five hours we did this, and finally the sun was approaching the horizon.

I was tired. I wanted to eat dinner, maybe hear a story or two from Jesus, get a good teaching on the Torah from Him, and go home to be with my wife. So, I approached Him, taking Andrew, Thomas, and Judas along with me, and told Him, “This place is a wilderness, and the time for the evening meal has already passed. Send the crowds away so they can go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”

Jesus responded as only He could. “They don’t need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

I was taken aback. Who does He think I am? I’m certainly not Adonai. He told us to pray, “Give us today our daily bread,” and now He wants me to give them their daily bread? I was dumbfounded. All I said, though, was, “We only have five loaves and two fish here.”

“Bring them here to Me,” Jesus said.

I handed them over to Jesus, and, beginning with that, I had no clue that the next twelve hours of my life would be one of the most intense sets of twelve hours in my entire life. Jesus proceeded to instruct the large crowd on how to gather around on the grass. Then, He looked up to heaven, blessed the food in Adonai’s name, broke it into pieces and gave the pieces to us twelve to pass out to the people. As He broke off the small lump of bread and handed it to me, I couldn’t believe the idiocy of what I was being asked to do. There was no possible way that this would feed everyone, let alone one-twelfth of everyone. But I did as I was told, and broke pieces off to give to everyone. By the time I’d passed out my section of the loaf, I’d handed pieces to more people than I could count, and I wasn’t giving skimpy amounts either. I broke off part of it, handed it out, broke off another chunk, handed it out, broke off another chunk, handed it out, as did the other eleven of us, and by the time we ran out and returned to Jesus, everyone had received food.

I spoke first, “How’d that happen?”

Jesus replied, “You’ve seen nothing yet, Simon.”

It was true. After everyone ate, Jesus sent us out to gather leftovers. We came back with twelve large basketfuls; one for each of us. It made no sense, but I had no time to question it before Jesus told us to get in the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side, yet again.

We obeyed. We were all still completely dumbstruck about the bread, and we conversed about it as we prepared the boat for the return voyage to Gennesaret. I felt better knowing that I wasn’t the only one who was amazed that food had multiplied the way it had; it proved I wasn’t dreaming. But as we set out on the sea for the return home, any great dream the food episode might have been was forgotten by the nightmare that was about to strike in the figure of a storm at sea.

The trip started well. The darkness was heavy, barely pierced at all by the small lantern at the prow, but I was a fisherman. This was my life. My brother Andrew, and John and James were also fishermen. We lived on this sea. We’d spent many nights on this sea. We’d sailed it many times. We knew where the best fishing spots were. If anyone had a question about this sea, we were the go-to guys. And I, as the oldest, was the leader. But Jesus’ words after handing out the bread and fish stuck with me: “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

The thought snapped me back to reality. I looked up at the sky and noticed not a star in sight. That’s when I heard my brother holler, “I just felt rain. Prepare for a storm.” Then I felt a drop as well. It was followed by many more. Why did Jesus send us off alone? I wondered. Then the wind struck the mast, resulting in a tearing sound. “I’ll have to replace that now,” I said to myself, cursing that I didn’t know where the money was going to come from to pay for it. The wind kept blowing, the rain kept falling, and then the first wave crashed over the side.

There we were, trapped on a boat—eighteen cubits long by five cubits wide—totally at the mercy of the wind and waves. The rain poured down as Andrew and I pulled the broken sail down and stowed it under the bed upon which Jesus had slept the last time we were in this predicament. The sight again reminded me that He was gone. I felt betrayed. But there was no time to think about that at the moment. All of the disciples minus Iscariot, Thomas, Matthew, and me picked up oars, and sat down in the puddles that were forming from the storm, and began to row.

It was crazy outside. The winds were blowing hurricane force winds; the waves were churning our ship up and down in the water like a milkmaid churning butter. We all thought we were going to die. The darkness outside didn’t help either; the only light came from the small lantern on the prow, and I wondered to myself just how long it would be before that lantern was snuffed out by the wind or waves. My questions were answered as another set of waves crashed on the deck, flooded the top, smothered our light, and soaked down onto the rowers below. No one was happy, and we all began praying to Adonai to rescue us from this certain death.

*          *          *

After several hours of the same, nerves were at the breaking point. Thomas, Iscariot, Matthew, and I were all complaining that Jesus had certainly called us to follow Him just so we would die on this stupid body of water. Cries of complaint came from the rowers who were soaked to the bone, cold, and frightened, and I had to remind them repeatedly, “We’re no better off.”

Andrew specifically called me once, “Simon, is it really worth it for us to row against this storm? We’re just wearing ourselves out.”

I didn’t want to agree with him, but he was right. This storm had us trapped. We’d be lucky to survive, let alone make any progress before the storm ended. I kept my mouth shut though, simply reminding him, “We’re no better off.”

That was when I spied something in the distance. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was, given the churning waves, spray from the waves, falling rain, and utter darkness. I kept looking and it began to come into focus. It was a blacker spot against an already black background. I didn’t have a clue what it could be, so I called Matthew over to me. He looked in the direction I pointed, and conveyed the same sense of confusion I had expressed. We didn’t know what it was. It was definitely getting larger though, regardless of what it was.

I told the rowers to stop rowing, and they hurriedly obeyed. When they had stowed their oars and reached me, I urged them to look in the direction of the figure. They obliged.

Leave it to my little brother to say something stupid, but he was the first to speak. “I think I know what that is,” his voice started to shake. “I heard some soldiers talking one day about phantoms that can walk around and kill people.” He paused, gulped, and continued, “It’s a phantom!”

It caused everyone on the boat to break out in a panic. “It’s a phantom! We’re all going to die!” If I’m honest, I was screaming just as much as everyone else. “We’re doomed. The phantom will destroy us all.” Never mind that the wind, waves, and rain were more likely to kill us all, though they were all but forgotten amidst the excitement of the new observation.

That’s when it happened. The phantom spoke. And when it spoke, I recognized His voice. “Be courageous. I am. Have no fear.” It was Jesus, but it was what He said between the first and last sentences that gave me pause. “I am.”

Not, “I am here,” but just the plain and simple, “I am.” It brought to mind what I had learned in the synagogue on the Sabbath growing up as a good Jewish boy. When Moses met Adonai at the burning bush, he asked Him, “Who should I say sent me?” Adonai replied, “Tell the Israelites, ‘I AM sent you.’” If I wasn’t mistaken, Jesus had just claimed to be Adonai, and there He was, walking on the water.

I wasn’t the only one who realized it was Jesus either, because all twelve of us on the deck of the ship looking out into the distance had clearly understood what He had said. We had completely forgotten the storm amidst shouts of, “It’s Jesus,” “He’s come for us,” “He really does care,” ringing out all around the boat. My brother shed some light on the situation again. “I heard the soldiers also say that only deities can walk on water; are you sure that’s Jesus?”

“What do centurions know?” the Zealot replied.

“I would cast a lot that He’s standing on a log,” Thomas quipped.

I had to agree with the Zealot over Thomas. Soldiers are a bunch of numbskull freaks wearing armor, living for Caesar, hurting our people, who have been hit in the helmet once too many times with a sword or shield to know what they are talking about. I decided to make my opinion known to my fellows in the boat. “I promise you that that’s Jesus, and I promise that He is simply walking on the water.”

The boat grew silent. No one said anything for several seconds. The figure in the distance standing on the water still stood there, dark against the darkness of the water and sky. Then Andrew spoke. “Okay, Simon. If you’re so confident that that really is Jesus, prove it. Don’t be a Pharisee. Do something about it.”

So I did. I called out to Jesus. “Lord, since I believe that it is You, command me to come to You on the water.” It was out before I could stop myself. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, Jesus did crazy stuff; of course He can walk on water. But me?  There’s nothing in me to enable me to walk on water, just like there was nothing in the pigs at Gergesa to prevent their drowning in the sea when the demons fled into them. I hoped beyond hope that Jesus would see my faith and not call me on it.

But it was not to be that way. As I’ve learned in the days since that day, faith is worthless if it’s just something spoken; faith has to work itself out in action as well. That’s why Jesus proceeded to say, “Come.”

It was a simple, one word command. And when Jesus commands something, I must go. So I did. I knew I could do this. I multiplied fish and bread earlier by Jesus’ enablement. So I jumped over the side, keeping my gaze planted on Jesus, and when my feet hit the water, they didn’t sink. They didn’t sink at all. It was like jumping off the boat onto shore after a day of fishing. I couldn’t believe it.

Things like this don’t happen. My wife would never believe that I walked on the sea. Humans don’t walk on the sea, but here were two humans—Jesus and myself—walking on the sea. I took a step toward Jesus; I still felt like I was on dry ground. I took another step; no difference. I took another step; Jesus was getting closer; before too many more steps, I’d be able to reach out and touch Him.

A wave crashed over me, and my mind was instantly jerked back to the storm surrounding me. The water was not calm, even where I was walking. Waves had been lapping over my feet the whole time since I’d stepped out of the boat. I hadn’t paid it any mind until the huge swell crashed over me. The wind was blowing.

Jesus was still fathoms away from me, walking calmly towards me, as if nothing was going wrong. I actually noticed huge waves rushing toward Him simply vanishing, as if they were bowing before Him. It upset me that He was untouched by the waves, but they were crashing over me. I was totally at their mercy.

Now that I was soaked, the wind chilled me to the bone. I glanced back to the boat, and they were still staring out towards me. I heard someone yell, “He’s sinking,” and that’s when I realized the water was up to my waist. Then it was at my neck. I started flailing in the water, not knowing what I should do. My mind flew back to a psalm I had learned as a child, so I cried out, “Save me, Lord. For the water has risen to my neck.”

That’s when I felt Jesus’ hand touch my shoulder. He had knelt completely down, reached His arm under the water, and grabbed my shoulder with His hand. He pulled me up with His carpenter-strong arm, and as I stood next to Him on the water, not sinking, I felt like a fool. I was such a foolish disciple. I was the most unworthy. I was the one whose faith and trust were tested, and I was the one who failed. As long as I’d looked at Him, I was doing fine; as soon as my gaze moved off Him and onto my situation, I was sinking in the water. I knew for certain that I’d hear a reprimand from my Master.

As I stood next to Him, I thought of all the ways I’d answer the reprimand that was surely coming from Him. I figured I could argue that I at least tried to follow Him out on the water; no one else had. I figured I could argue that I was perfectly content to be under the water; fish live there, so it would be an adventure. I figured I could argue that it had been a long day, and all I really wanted was sleep; if I had been more awake, I could have focused better on Jesus.

Just as I was about to open my mouth and preempt His reprimand, He beat me to it. Our eyes met as He asked, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” His eyes weren’t accusatory, but rather understanding. Full of understanding. It was the same look He gave me the other fateful early morning when we were together, yet apart; the day I denied Him three times before He was crucified, after assuring Him that I would never leave Him. And just like that day, and that look, His gaze and His question crushed any opposition inside me.

I had no response to speak. Rather we walked silently back as I just stared at Him. It was as if He intimately understood me. He didn’t say, “You’re an idiot for not having more faith!” He didn’t say, “I hate your lack of faith.” He simply asked, “Why did you doubt?” as if to get me to search out my motivations.

Doubt has always been my biggest struggle. It led me to fear. It led me to lies. It led me to violence. It led me to denial of the greatest Person I have ever known, the greatest Person who has ever known me. But He never gave up on me; even after this sinking incident, He took me by the hand, set me back on my feet, and later said that I was blessed for knowing that He was the Messiah. What’s better than hearing from Jesus’ own mouth that you are blessed?

But as we walked the rest of the way to the boat that morning, in silence, I was awed by Jesus. I didn’t know what to say or do, except to keep my eyes on Him. I could hear the wind. I could feel the waves. I could hear the others in the boat, but I paid them no attention. Jesus was walking with me. He cared for me, even though I often failed Him, and would continue to do so—and still do.

My excuses for failing to walk well seemed so pathetic in the presence of Jesus. It didn’t matter what others did; what I did was what I was responsible for. Of course I don’t want to be a fish; am I stupid? My exhaustion was no excuse, though I often resorted to that excuse; Jesus deserved my everything. I once told Jesus, speaking for all of the twelve, that we’d left everything to follow Him; I knew that I certainly hadn’t left my sleep to follow Him, so what a bold, arrogant assumption that had been.

And He could have let me drown in my failure, but He didn’t. He knelt down and lifted me out. He humbled Himself, lowering Himself down upon the raging waves to pull me back onto my feet. It reminds me of the fact that He humbled Himself to become a man at all. I hadn’t completely understood it at the time, but Adonai Himself had been walking on the water that day. My little brother had been right; a deity had been walking on the water. And it humbles me to think that He saw me important enough in His eyes to give me the honor of participating with Him in His power.

We clambered back into the boat, and I couldn’t bring myself to stand. I flopped onto my back and gazed up at the dark sky as rain smacked me in the face. I was exhausted. Being awake since sunrise the day before had taken its toll. In addition, my experience on the Sea with the Lord of the Sea left me empty. The emotions that went into that moment were more than I could handle, and they left me exhausted. I closed my eyes.

Cries jolted me back to alertness. The realization of Jesus’ presence, Jesus’ power, and my experience had worn off the people in the boat, and the water level inside was still rising. The wind whipped around, waves crashed, men cried out to Jesus and Adonai simultaneously. It was chaos. A dead person couldn’t sleep through it.

And then, just like that, the rain stopped, wind stopped, and the waves grew calm. The only thing that continued for a few seconds afterwards was the cries of the men in the boat. They soon ceased as well, as the clouds disappeared, and the glow of the sunrise in the east started to show over the mountains.

What happened next was amazing. It was totally unexpected, but looking back it was exactly what needed to happen. And, it’s a good thing only us twelve and Jesus were in the boat, because if the Pharisees had seen what happened, they would have hounded Jesus a lot harder.

It started as I turned from my back onto my front—still laying in a puddle of water—and looked ahead of me. Jesus was standing there, His eyes gazing down at me. I don’t know what caused me to do it, but I drew my knees under my chest—assuming a kneeling, prostrate position—and stretched my hands out to Jesus. “Truly You are the Son of God,” I said. “Thank You for saving me from the waves. Thank You for calling me to trust You. Help me to trust You better in the future. I just want to be a worthy follower.”

I was too caught up in the moment and too caught up in my own praise to worry about what the others were doing or saying, but all around I heard splashes (as if they were falling to their knees) and the phrase, “Truly You are the Son of God.”

It was a day I’ll never forget. The day that changed me from a timid follower into a faithful disciple.

*          *          *

“But Peter, sir,” the young man began, “how did that event change you into a faithful follower. You were unfaithful later, when you denied Christ. You’ve told me that yourself in many sermons since I joined your faith fellowship.” The young man had dark brown hair and eager eyes, wore a grey toga, and sat cross-legged on the floor (with a writing tablet and ink on his lap) at the feet of an older man.

The older man spoke. “Mark, my son, would you consider yourself faithful to Jesus?”

“Yes,” came the instant reply.

“As would I consider you to be,” Peter said, pausing. “But, would you not also admit to having deserted Paul’s ministry early on?”

Hesitant to respond, he answered, “Yes,” as his face grew somber.

Peter pulled on his greying beard as he spoke. “Faithfulness is not seen in light of perfection. It is seen in light of pattern. Your pattern has been faithfulness. Faithfulness to Christ, faithfulness to me, and hopefully one day renewed faithfulness to our brother Paul as well. In my case, I did deny Christ in His moment of greatest temptation, but so did Judas. And while I hate comparing myself to anyone but our Lord, it is important to recognize the difference between Judas and myself. Judas hung himself; I was restored and continued with Jesus, and still continue with Jesus to this day.”

“I understand, sir. It’s quite a remarkable difference, and a very good point to remember. Thank you.” He paused, before looking at the writing materials on his lap, and then asked, “So how should I write this episode for my relation of Jesus’ life?”

“The first thing to do is make sure to leave out any personal details about me. I don’t want this to be Peter’s story; I want it to be Jesus’ story. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” Mark then began writing. Several minutes later, Mark said, “I’ve got it. Let me read it to you:

‘The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to Him all that they had done and taught.

He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a remote place and rest for a while.” For many people were coming and going, and they did not even have time to eat.

So they went away in the boat by themselves to a remote place, but many saw them leaving and recognized them. People ran there by land from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. So as He stepped ashore, He saw a huge crowd and had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. Then He began to teach them many things.

When it was already late, His disciples approached Him and said, “This place is a wilderness, and it is already late! Send them away, so they can go into the surrounding countryside and villages to buy themselves something to eat.”

“You give them something to eat,” He responded.

They said to Him, “Should we go and buy 200 denarii worth of bread and give them something to eat?”

And He asked them, “How many loaves do you have? Go look.”

When they found out they said, “Five, and two fish.”

Then He instructed them to have all the people sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in ranks of hundreds and fifties. Then He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, He blessed and broke the loaves. He kept giving them to His disciples to set before the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. Everyone ate and was filled. Then they picked up 12 baskets full of pieces of bread and fish. Now those who ate the loaves were 5,000 men.

Immediately He made His disciples get into the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side, to Bethsaida, while He dismissed the crowd. After He said good-bye to them, He went away to the mountain to pray. When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the sea, and He was alone on the land. He saw them being battered as they rowed, because the wind was against them.

Around three in the morning He came toward them walking on the sea and wanted to pass by them.

When they saw Him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out; for they all saw Him and were terrified.

Immediately He spoke with them and said, “Have courage! I am. Don’t be afraid.”

Then He got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased. They were completely astounded.’ ”

Mark waited a second before speaking again. “How does that sound?”

Peter’s voice quaked as he spoke. “That sounds very good, my son. My name didn’t even come up once. Just as it should be. Thank you.” He paused, closed his eyes, and a minute later spoke again. “That writing will impact many people. The Spirit of Christ will certainly use it for His glory.”

Mark was silent.

Peter was silent too.

Then Mark spoke again. “So what happened next in your encounter with Jesus?”

Survivor prologue (ruff draft) [Awakening, book 3]

I OPENED MY EYES, and the sight was thoroughly terrifying. A lanky, redhead male, with a toothy grin was staring straight at me. He was only inches from my face. It took me straight back to my worst nightmares. Red Savage. The guy who’s haunted me since I was a teenager, and who accused me throughout my early days as a believer. Early days doesn’t quite cover the amount of time he’s haunted me. It’s been almost six years since I started following Christ with all that’s in me, and he’s been dogging me hard, especially the last six or so months.

“You are worthless.” His breath was terrible, and his words stung.

Sarah—the awesomest girl I’ve ever known—just broke up with me two weeks ago. It was just a month ago that you last heard from me; when Red was put to flight by my friend Connor, and Sarah was reassured in my stance for purity. In the month that followed a whole lot of things happened. First, I got a full-time job. Second, I started the process of officially moving from Desert Valley, California to Ozark Ridge, Missouri. Third, I became incredibly depressed and easily frustrated. Sarah was amazing though, and was walking through it with me. She wanted to help me. She wanted to see me succeed. She wanted me to see Christ clearly in a time when all I could see was my failures and insecurities. But me being the fool that I am told her to stop trying to help me; I basically told her, “If you’re going to try to act like my wife, let’s just get married and make it official.” She didn’t deserve it. And then that fateful day came around.

It was a Sunday. I woke up late, almost decided against going to church, and instead showed up late. I was frustrated by the sermon, because the preacher was speaking about the “victorious Christian life,” and I couldn’t see anything in my life that screamed, “Victory here!” After church, I went to work, and after work I was going to Sarah’s dorm to see her for a few before she went to bed. It was supposed to be a surprise, and on my way out of work I pulled out my phone to call her, and saw that my mom wanted me to call. In that moment, I decided to put my mom ahead of Sarah for once. During the phone call, I became extremely frustrated, and then after hanging up, I started complaining to Sarah. She called my sister Noelle down, since I was complaining about family situations. Long story short, I started complaining about my dad, my stroke, my life, and everything else. I ran out of the dorm and Noelle followed me as Sarah watched from the door. The story ended with me yelling, cussing, claiming God hates me, saying I was going to h#ll, and various other things. I sped away back to my apartment, and went to bed.

The next morning I woke up on time, spent time with the Lord, and apologized for my cr#p the night before. It was an awesome morning, and then Sarah came over for coffee. She wanted to talk about the night before, but I had had such a good morning, I tried to divert the conversation away. That was the last time we talked as a dating couple. But before she left, she kissed me on the cheek, and it meant the world to me; she also looked deeply into my eyes, as if to say, “I love you, and want you to beat this thing.”

Red spoke again, still inches from my face. “Love. What a joke. What kind of love leaves you in your time of greatest need?”

And I wanted to agree with him. I was planning my life around that girl. I was moving to Missouri for her. I was fighting lust for her. I was trying to be responsible for her. I stopped smoking, even recreationally, for her. I loved her. I would have traded the whole temporal world for her, but it wasn’t to be.

“God is so deceptive, isn’t He?” Red sneered. “What kind of good God would lure you out to Missouri with a girl and then have her break up with you? It’s cruel, isn’t it?”

I had to admit. He was right. But then the thought struck me: This is what you wanted all along, you stupid sh#tface.

“No. I wanted you to have her for yourself even two months ago. Remember when you guys were snuggling and watching that movie, and you both were thinking about getting closer to each other? You guys should have. If you had, she’d still be around. I’m not the bad guy here. It’s God. You know what you told Sarah two weeks ago about wanting more than anything to turn your back on God and pursue sin again? Why didn’t you? Why don’t you now? It’s not like she’s around anymore to tell you what to do or not do. She’s not around anymore to keep your pants on around other girls. She’s not around anymore to keep you off the internet. She’s not around anymore to criticize your personality type. Count your blessings and enjoy yourself!” He slapped me in the face.

“Shut up!” I yelled, with some other words thrown in as well. I don’t know if I’m allowed to cuss at the sinful part of my psyche, but I did, so it’s too late now. “She’s the clearest picture of my future wife that I have. She’s made all the old images blurry. Everything that I would have done for her; everything I was fighting you to possess for her, I still need for whoever is in my future. So please, Red Savage, take your sorry little #ss out of my face and go to h#ll where you belong.”

I continued, “I’ve known for the last seven months that you didn’t want me with Sarah. The pressure against me has been way too strong, and it almost drove me to suicide, but thanks be to God for the Shepherd’s Conference three days after that fateful Sunday that reminded me of the truth of the gospel. I can’t do anything to lose my standing before God. You can’t do anything to make me lose my standing with God. It’s those truths that got me through the last two weeks since the breakup.”

Red jumped in. “But you went back to the internet. You’re worthless. You don’t deserve God. You didn’t deserve Sarah. You don’t deserve anyone. And since I finally won the battle of Sarah and you, you’re going to be miserable and single the rest of your life. That was the woman God had chosen for you, and she dumped you, so I win.

“Just go ahead and enjoy all the porn and drugs and sex and alcohol you want. They’ll make you feel better.” He slapped me again. “Then, when you’re sick of all that sh#t, you can kill yourself and join me for eternity.”

“You’re a persistant little #sshole, aren’t you?" I accused. "I’ll be real clear: I was tempted to return to the internet, and I might have browsed for a really long time, but I stayed away from porn. I’m never going back. You lose that fight. And whether or not Sarah was supposed to be my future wife, I really don’t know at this point, but if she was, God is in total control. You might be rejoicing now, but God’s plan always wins out. Read Revelation. You end up in the lake of fire. I’m dressed in white worshipping Him for eternity. And if she wasn’t supposed to be my wife and some other woman is, Sarah had to be out of the picture eventually, so thank you. The point is, you lose.” I spat at him. “Now get the h#ll out of my face, and let me go back to sleep.”

“You haven’t won. I’ll be back.” He slapped me again as he turned to leave.

The last thing I remembered as I fell asleep again was the clock reading 4:35 AM, Friday, March 27, 2016.

Meeting

The snow fell around him, causing him to shiver in the early evening as he trudged through the powder. Every now and then he slipped, the ice on the sidewalk making his journey treacherous. He was not used to this type of weather. He had moved within its clutches the previous spring, when he took a job in a totally different climate so that he could be closer to a certain girl.

Bobby’s trek through the snow was initiated when his car stopped working, which he had discovered was the case when he needed groceries. When the weather got too cold, his car was known to stop running properly—frozen battery juices or something. When it had started cranking slowly, he told himself he’d look into it later, which was his catch phrase: later. And now, as before, later never came and then it was too late.

Bobby cursed under his breath as he slipped again. The whole day (Friday of all days) had gone down the toilet. First, he’d woken up late (a surefire way to ruin any otherwise perfectly great day); then, his boss had given him two weeks’ notice for him to find a new job (his position was being downsized and he was the most recent hire); then, his girlfriend called and informed him that she was getting a promotion at her job (woohoo; what was he supposed to say?); then he realized he was out of main course options for dinner; and finally, on his way to solve that problem, he realized that his car was dead.

“This has been a pretty worthless day,” he muttered to no one in particular, as he reached for the door to the place where, until today, he had been happily employed. As he pushed on the door, Bobby saw one of his fellow employees look up as Bobby realized it had just hit closing time.

The employee looked at him with a look that conveyed, “Sorry. We’re closed.”

Bobby cursed again, turned around, and slipped again as he moved from the store’s entry-ramp to the sidewalk, causing a stream of profanity to flow. When he stood, he pulled his jacket tighter and flipped the hood up over his head. He started walking again, and this time it was aimless wandering.

He thought about the employee who was locking up, and the thought made him mad. Why couldn’t he have at least let me in? he wondered. I was only going to be a minute. If my stupid car hadn’t died I would have been there ahead of time. If the weather had been dry, like it was when I walked to work this morning, I would have been there on time. Bobby had worked directly with that employee several times in the past, and while their relationship had been entirely professional, he did know his name and the fact that he had been the most recent hire before himself. Why didn’t they let Jay go? What’s the difference between letting one guy go and letting nobody go? Surely they could have still kept me employed.

Bobby was standing at an intersection, waiting for the light to change so he could cross over to the stretch of buildings where his favorite bar was located, when he felt his phone vibrate. The photo i.d. told him that it was Lynnette—his girlfriend—her short, straight blonde hair cut all around just above her shoulders. He ignored the call. She’ll leave a message like she did this morning. She didn’t. Instead, she called back. He ignored it again. Why the heck won’t she just leave a message? She probably wants to brag about her promotion and make me feel worse. The phone rang again. It was her again. The text below her picture read “Lovely Lynnette.” He answered this time.

 “Hello?”

“Hi, Bobby, where are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m heading to Harbell’s.” He paused. “I—”

“Don—”

He reasserted himself. “I am—”

“Don’t you re—”

“I—” he interrupted himself to make sure she wasn’t going to cut him off again. Phones, he muttered in his mind. He spoke: “I’m being forced to walk everywhere. My car’s dead and I’m starved.”

Her line was silent for a few seconds. When she spoke, it was clear to Bobby that she was not as cheery as she had been on initially answering the phone. “Don’t you remember that we were supposed to go out tonight?”

Did she not hear that my car is dead? He spoke, “No, I don’t remember that. Besides, there’s no possible way for me to get to you. My car is dead.” His tone was not as friendly as it could have been.

“Can I meet you at Harbell’s? I really want to see you.”

I want to see her too. She always looks better in person than on a caller i.d. photo. His mind flew to thoughts of her typical relaxation/hang-out wardrobe: tight-fitting jeans and tight-fitting sweaters.

He didn’t answer in time so Lynnette spoke again. “Did you not get my message from earlier about my promotion?”

Bobby’s mind shot back to reality at the word “promotion.” He asked her to repeat the question.

“You don’t seem like yourself, Bobby,” she added after she had repeated herself. “Is everything going okay?”

“Are you stupid? My car’s dead. My stomach is empty.” A happy couple walked out of Harbell’s, making Bobby more frustrated, as he continued. “All you want to do is brag about how you got a promotion, but here I am freezing my butt off in the cold cuz my car is broken, and in two weeks I’m out of a job. So no, nothing’s going okay.” He could have stopped there, but he added, “No thanks to you, either.”

There was silence on the other end. Then he heard sobs.

“And now you want me to feel guilty? Well, I ain’t falling for it. You’re making money every day; more now than before. You’ve got a car that works all the time. You’ve got food in your stomach—”

She cut him off, choking back tears. “I actually haven’t eaten yet. Remember, we were supposed to go—”

“Shut up! I’m sick of you interrupting me. I don’t have to deal with this right now.” He hung up the phone.

Another couple walked out—arm in arm, gazing into each other’s eyes—and it took everything in Bobby not to punch the dude. He walked in as the door was closing and sat down at the bar, in the middle seat of the only three open ones. When the bartender asked him what he was drinking, he asked for a Samuel Adams.

I’m supposed to be the one who makes the money in my relationship. I’m supposed to provide. I’m supposed to be the emotionally stable one. He rested his head in his hands on the bar. What am I even doing here? I don’t have the money for this stuff. His drink got set down in front of him, and he looked up, but then resumed his previous position.

“Life got you down?”

“Yeah,” Bobby verbalized without moving anything but his mouth.

He did not want to talk to anyone, even though there were plenty of people to talk to in the small establishment. He wanted to hide under his jacket and hood and drink himself into oblivion at his own pace. How much worse can this day get? He decided not to think about that, and lifted his head enough to take a drink. As he did, he noticed the bartender still standing in front of him.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he asked.

Bobby was silent for a second, but then said, “Yeah, just a basic burger with mustard and pickle.”

The bartender left, and Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. My problems are my problems. I don’t need no one else’s help. His chin was still resting on his hands as he took another drink. Beer tastes so much better when you’re happy. He hoped his burger would be there soon so he could get the lousy beer taste out.

Lynnette. The girl who’d completely changed the course of his life. Before he met her while on a business trip at her college in southwestern Missouri, he had been completely happy with his admissions counselor job at his alma mater in southern Florida. Maybe it was her short blond hair, her perfect figure, or her quiet demeanor that caused him to be more attracted to her than he had been to any other girl he’d ever met, but regardless of what it specifically was, no girl in the previous twenty-five years of his life had ever made him want to completely move halfway across the continent. And I’m an idiot for yelling at her, for calling her stupid, for hanging up on her. If she lets me stay with her after all of that, it will be a miracle.

With his chin still resting on his hands, he reached for his phone in his jacket pocket. By the time it was above the bar, it was unlocked and dialing “Lovely Lynnette.” Please answer. Please answer. He put it to his ear. It rang once. It rang twice. It rang a third time. Please answer!

It rang a fourth time and her voicemail answered. “Hello, you have reached Lynnette Turwin,” her gorgeous voice began. “I am unable to get to the phone right now—”

Bobby hung up and finished the recording in his mind. “But if you leave your name and number, I’d be delighted to talk to you at a later time, especially if you are Bobby Jones.” His own thoughts took over. I highly doubt that now. She’s probably crying her eyes out because of my big mouth, and hoping she can somehow get out of this relationship as soon and as easily as possible. And I don’t blame her either.

Bobby hadn’t noticed the customer who had sat in the open seat next to him while he was moping about his predicament, but he was alerted to his presence when the bartender came over to him. “Yo Jay, how’s it going? What can I get you to drink today? The usual?”

The hooded character replied, “It’s going well.” He paused briefly before elaborating, “I’m still employed, my lady is in her last twelve months of school as of this week, and I’m so excited to see what the next two weeks have in store for me.” The bartender nodded in response as Jay answered the other two questions. “Not the usual tonight.” He glanced around and noticed the bottle in front of Bobby. “I’ll actually take a Sam Adams tonight. Oh, and can I get a tall glass of water too?”

“No problem, Jay. You got it.” It took less than a minute for the bartender to grab a bottle out of a fridge, and to fill up a glass with ice and water. “Here you go,” he said as he set it in front of Jay and walked to the back.

“Thanks, Chris,” Jay called out.

Chris threw up a peace sign as if to say, “My pleasure.”

Bobby glanced over and his frustration resumed when he realized this was the same Jay that used to be his coworker. Happily employed. A good relationship. Two weeks of excitement. Everything not true in my life. He took a huge gulp of his beer, swished it around in his mouth, and resumed laying his head in his hands on the bar. I hate this junk.

Just then Chris came back with Bobby’s burger. He set it down and spoke softly to Bobby, as Bobby moved from a slouched to a seated position. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but that dude next to you could probably help. He’s encouraged me on numerous occasions, and even though I don’t agree with him on certain things, he’s still a guy worth talking to.”

“Ha.” Bobby picked up a fry and ate it. “He’s sort of actually part of my problem right now.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but the point still stands. Enjoy the food.” Chris walked away.

He can help you, Bobby thought, mocking Chris. Yeah right. The only thing that can help me right now is gallons of alcohol and for Lynnette to not hate me. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and held it in one hand while he ate the rest of his fries with the other. He contemplated calling again, but he decided against it, so as he ate, he scrolled through his pictures of Lynnette that were on his phone. They didn’t help him; they made him feel worse. He pushed the lock button and set it screen-down on the bar. I wish she was here right now.

He glanced over at Jay as he nibbled at his burger. Jay was tall, with short brown hair combed up with gel in the front, that stuck out from under a blue beanie that covered the rest of his hair, and he had short facial hair of the chin-strap brand. He wore a red- white- and blue-checkered, long-sleeved, button-down shirt, and his grey hooded sweatshirt was now hanging on the back of his barstool. He sipped slowly on his beer and drank through two glasses of water before his beer was even half gone. Strange, Bobby said to himself.

He looked back to himself. He’d already downed two beers, his food was gone, and he really wanted a third. It’s so much easier to drink when food can remove the taste, but I really want another. Then he thought of Lynnette. She hated it when he drank. If he only had one (once in a while) that was fine, but if he exceeded two, she didn’t like it. Lynnette. He wanted her there so badly. He wanted to apologize for his rudeness. He wanted to hold her and be held by her. She’s better than me, and she wants to talk about it, he remembered, thinking of her promotion. He groaned audibly, as his head went back into his arms atop the bar.

He felt a tap on his elbow.

“Leave me alone,” he huffed.

The tapping stopped.

Bobby heard Chris’s voice in front of him. “Can I get you another?”

Lynnette only wants to brag, and I don’t want to hear it, so it don’t matter if I have a third. He spoke, “Sure.” His head was still in his hands.

Chris brought the chilled drink, and set it in front of Bobby. Bobby grabbed it, but still let his head rest atop his arms on the bar. The cold feeling on his fingers helped him to feel better, at least externally. He raised his head and took a drink. As his head fell again, he heard Jay.

“Are you okay, dude?”

Bobby finished letting his head fall before speaking. “No. And you and your great life aren’t helping. Leave me alone, Mr. Great-job, Great-girl, Great-life.” He should consider himself lucky that I said anything to him.

Jay spoke. “I don’t think you understand. I saw you try to get into the store, and I recognized you, Bobby. I recognize you here too, but you don’t really understand anything about my current situation, except what I told Chris when I got here.

“I don’t understand anything about your situation either, but I would say that we are more alike than you’d expect. Even though our skin is different, and our perceived life situations are different, you’ll be surprised to find out I am being let go from work as well.”

If Jay was going to keep talking, Bobby didn’t give him time to say any more. He sat up straight and turned to face Jay. That skin comment— He interrupted his own thought. “You were let go too?”

“Yes and no.” Jay elaborated. “I’m being let go, but I still have two weeks of work there, so I haven’t been let go yet. If I’m correct, it’s the same for you.” He paused. “Right?”

Bobby hesitated before saying, “Yeah. That’s right. I guess that’s a good way to look at it.” He took a drink and asked, “Two weeks of excitement though?” That concept made no sense to him.

“Yeah,” Jay began, sounding unsure. “In all honesty, I hate looking for work. It’s one of my least favorite things to do, and one of my least favorite life situations to be in as well. A year ago, when I moved out here from California—post-graduation—looking for work, was one of the most unsure periods of my life up to this point. I wrestled with myself about whether my incentive for moving out here was good or tainted by the relationship I had initiated the fall semester prior. I had everything I needed to survive and thrive in California except for her. So last January through the beginning of February were very up in the air regarding where I was supposed to be. Looking for work during that time was terribly depressing, but after I got a job I was happy. Now, I’m back in that place of uncertainty, so perhaps I wasn’t completely honest to say ‘exciting’ about the next two weeks, but at the same time it is exciting, because it’s not the normal day-in, day-out that I’ve gotten used to recently.” He took a drink of his beer before adding, “Sorry for the long explanation.”

Bobby was surprised. Why the heck is this guy so positive? He felt bad for assuming the worst about him from the beginning, but now he had more questions for him. Part of him wanted to continue moping alone, but another part wanted to get his mind off his situation. He took another drink and decided to continue the conversation. “Don’t worry about the backstory. It takes my mind off my mess.” He shook-stirred his drink nervously before speaking again. “You said you’re from California? How in the heck did you ever end up in Springfield, Missouri?”

Jay took a drink of water and glanced around the room as if he was looking for somebody, or even trying to avoid someone. “That’s a long story, and kind of funny as well. When I was a kid I had a dream of becoming a musician, and the first song I wrote had a chorus that said, ‘I got bored in California so I moved to . . .’ Unfortunately I never figured out where I’d go after getting bored. And I’ve long since given up the music career, even though I still enjoy throwing beats together and writing lyrics.

“But, I never would have imagined ending up in Missouri. I mean, who does? It was totally random that I would go to school up in Bolivar after two years of dreaming about transferring to a really great private school in Southern California, but money availability helps make decisions. Bolivar offered me a bunch of scholarships right off the bat when I applied, and I had to beg the other school to tell me if I was getting any scholarships.

“So after almost two whole years at that school, I am introduced through my sister to this awesome girl who I couldn’t get out of my mind. But the rest, they say, is history. I finally got up the nerve to talk to her, to ask her to get coffee with me, to ask for her number, to be my girlfriend, and two weeks ago we celebrated fourteen months.”

Whether or not Jay was done, Bobby didn’t care. He had to ask, “So you left California for a girl? Doesn’t California have everything? Katy Perry even has that song about California girls, right? You could have found someone there, couldn’t you?” He paused before adding, “Plus, you’ve got beaches, mountains, Hollywood, everything. I’m from Florida, but I excuse my move by saying, ‘No mountains, no Hollywood.’ Missouri has neither either, but maybe I’m getting closer. I moved west; you moved east.” Bobby was surprised that Jay just sat there listening patiently as he rambled.

Jay took a drink of water and then spoke. “I stereotyped most California girls before I left for college as the exact types that Katy Perry sang about. I told myself, ‘I’m going to get out of California and find a girl who’s worth my time.’ And looking back, I’ll admit that was the wrong way to think; not all California girls are Katy Perry status, and not all Missouri girls are better than that status. But I do know that after the last fourteen months I wouldn’t ask for any other girl to hold the place of number one woman in my life.

“And the farther from the mountains I get, the more special they are when I get to see them next. I’ve never been a huge fan of the beach. Hollywood is overrated in my opinion.” Jay drank from his beer. “So what brought you to Missouri?”

Bobby had all but forgotten his problems throughout the prior discussion, but that question brought it all straight back to the forefront of his mind. “Lynnette Turwin,” he began. He was surprising himself that he was actually talking about his life with a total stranger. “After graduating from Florida State, I worked in their admissions department, and I was on business here in Springfield at MSU to recruit people who were finishing up an associate’s degree. My job was to inform them what Florida could offer them for the next phase of their education.

“It was then that I saw her. She was walking the booths with her younger sister’s best friend, who ended up going to Florida, and I was hooked from the first time our eyes met.” Bobby paused, trying to decide how to explain his feelings for Lynnette, especially given his current predicament. “I don’t really know how to explain it,” he decided, looking at Jay, who nodded as if he understood. He took a drink before continuing. “She is the cutest girl I’ve ever met. Maybe it was—” he interrupted himself. “Maybe—” he stopped again. “Forget it. I don’t know what it is. All I know is that she changed the course of my life.

“I was happily employed at Florida. But I decided to move. We had gone out for coffee that afternoon that we first saw each other, and exchanged numbers, and she asked me to call, but me moving here was a total surprise for her. It actually brought the hugest smile to her face that I’ve ever seen in my life.” He stopped to take another drink.

Before continuing, Bobby picked up his phone, still screen-down on the bar, and glanced at it. It was 6:45 and still no attempted contact from Lynnette. “But now I doubt I’ll ever see that smile again. I yelled at her. I called her things I don’t believe are true about her. I let the day I was having impact other areas of my life, and now I’m paying for it. I don’t want to lose her. But I know I hurt her.” He stopped. I’ve said too much already. Jay didn’t want to know any of that. He was thoroughly surprised with how much he had said, and how freely, to an almost total stranger.

Jay glanced around the room again (first towards the door), and looked at his phone (a flip-phone) before speaking. “I know how you feel, man. I know the pain inside of letting someone down, but I also know that there is some truth to a Taio Cruz song from like seven years ago. We can’t help but to break the heart of those we love the most. We all have moments where we are less than we want to be. We all don’t live up to our own standards.

“And I’ve done the same the past fourteen months regarding Sarah. Every day is a new chance to start anew, but not a day goes by where I don’t think I could have handled something better. It’s definitely gotten better in the last year, but the first five months of our friendship/dating relationship were slippery.

“There are things in my life that I am ashamed of, and while I’d be lying to say they never came back to mind with a decently strong pull, those first five months were not very strong at all. I had always thought to myself that when I found a girlfriend I’d never be drawn or attracted to another woman anywhere, but I daily have to fight the battle to guard my mind and my heart, especially since Sarah isn’t even mine to be attracted to yet.”

Jay kept speaking, but Bobby was distracted by that statement. Not his to be attracted to yet? Lynnette is all mine. What is he talking about? Bobby decided to ask when he had a chance. This guy isn’t normal.

“I’ll never forget my graduation a little over a year ago. Sarah was there and she was excited to be there for me. But leave it to stupid me. The first person I interacted with who was there specifically for me was my dad, and I had a huge yelling match with him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sarah. The look in her eyes while I treated my dad like garbage was a look of pure terror. We talked afterwards, and I knew I had hurt her, but I also learned that she wasn’t going anywhere.” He took a drink of beer and washed it down with water.

He pulled out his phone, said, “Excuse me,” sent a text message, and pocketed his phone. Then he took another drink of his beer before explaining, “I’m meeting a group of guys from Bolivar before too long. They should be here by now. I was just letting them know that I’ll be a couple more minutes, and that I’ll find them.”

Bobby was curious. “I can let you go if you want. I mean, let’s be real, you’ve given me tons to think about. And I’m very happy for it.”

“No, it’s cool,” Jay began. “The reason those guys are meeting me down here is exactly for this type of thing. Talking to people about the only hope that matters. If I left you right now, I’d have simply given you some positive-thinking principles. Those don’t help anyone.”

Bobby grew nervous. What is this? What did I get myself into? I don’t want to be rude, but is this guy one of those weirdos?  One of those Bible-thumpin’ crazies? That could explain his comment regarding his girlfriend, but then again, he’s drinking a beer. They don’t do that. His voice was quieter when he replied, “What do you guys do down here?”

“We come down here the first Friday of every month to talk to people about Jesus. We consider it a huge part of our faith to share it with others.”

He stopped, so Bobby interjected, completely forgetting his intended question regarding Jay’s statement about his girlfriend. “You’re one of those people?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound too accusatory. “Why are you drinking a beer? I thought that was against your religion.”

“Not exactly,” Jay said. “Christianity isn’t your typical,” he put up air-quotes for the word, “religion.” He took another drink. “Christianity is much closer to a relationship. Our discussion this evening would help elaborate that point. In a relationship two people try to figure out how to get along. They don’t always. Sometimes fights break out. Sometimes there’s yelling. Sometimes there’s even deeper pain caused. Sometimes people give each other the silent treatment.

“However the thing about Christianity is that God is the initiator of the relationship. And He, once you accept His proposal for the relationship, is not going anywhere. He’s there to talk to, there to vent to, there to guide you. He wants you to be close to Him. The more obedient you live to Him the closer the relationship is.” Jay took a drink of his ice water—finishing it—before continuing. “But I digress. The fact is that God doesn’t leave. This is why divorce is looked down on so strongly in true Christianity. Marriage relationships—which are prepared for in dating relationships—are the clearest symbol for the unbelieving world of what our God is like. He supersedes the wreckage of two peoples’ lives and enables them to live together the same way God lives with us. When a marriage breaks up, it shows people that God could leave them. This is the reason why God hates divorce so much. Marriage is for life, just like a relationship with God is for eternity.

“I saw this clearly after Sarah witnessed my argument with my dad. We talked afterwards, and I promised her that I was working on that relationship and that the look in her eyes told me, ‘What if he treats me that way?’. I realized that even in that situation my prayer for God to help me love her more was being answered, because anger, frustration, and yelling at anyone does not show them love. If I wanted to really love her, I would need to ask God to help me root out the sources of those things in my life. I can thankfully say that to this day anger has not come out again in that way towards another person. Her response to me gave me a visible picture of how God responds to us when we confess our wrongs.”

He stopped. Then asked, “Does all this make sense?”

Bobby didn’t know where to start. That was a sermon if he’d ever heard one, but there was something about Jay’s openness and willingness to implicate himself in order to explain something that he considered important to an almost total stranger that gave Bobby pause. He realized Jay hadn’t answered his question, but he decided to let it slide for the time being. “Yeah. That all makes a lot of sense.” He took a drink before checking his phone again. “I hope Lynnette reacts to me as well as Sarah did to you.”

Jay held up a hand as if to say, “Slow down.” Then he spoke. “I hope so too, but you do need to know that it wasn’t like it was just swept under the rug. I’ve had to show her each and every day that anger and frustration are not part of the person I am. Actions have consequences. And Sarah has a vibrant, living, breathing relationship with Jesus. That’s the reason I picked her to pursue in the first place. I knew that she could help me along in my faith, and I pray daily that I can somehow help her along in a small way myself. If Lynnette doesn’t respond perfectly, it could be that she’s scared, which is expected; it could be that you ruined your chances, but I’ll pray against that; but ultimately it is because you haven’t placed your faith in Jesus and perhaps she hasn’t either. Even if you both do, her response won’t be perfect, and your future may not work out together, but you can know that God has your best interests in mind.

“Sorry for rambling. My point in all that is that the consequences were numbed because Sarah understands something of the grace of Jesus; there were consequences, but they weren’t what they could have been because of Jesus. She’s felt His grace in her life and can express it to others she interacts with, including me. And believe me, I need it. And the crazy part is that when she shows me grace I have a picture of what it looks like for God to show me grace.

“My sins pinned Jesus to the cross. I deserve hell. I’m sorry to say it, but it must be said: you deserve hell too, Bobby.” Jay took a drink from his beer.

Not this. Bobby decided this would be a good time to drill Jay about avoiding his initial question about the beer, so he said, “Isn’t that drink something that helps you deserve hell? I thought you guys were teetotalers.”

Jay put his beer down, swished it around in his mouth, swallowed, and spoke. “Oh yeah. That was what you had asked originally. I’m sorry.” He paused to recollect himself, and then explained, “If you would point out one verse in this book,” he paused, as he stood to pull a burgundy-colored Bible out of his backpack that was apparently hanging under his jacket, and then sat back down and continued,  “that says not to drink beer at all, I would agree. Maybe it was not smart for me to order it in public; that is possible; my normal drink is black coffee with 3 tablespoons of two-percent and 3 teaspoons of sugar. So maybe I excused myself by saying, ‘Today left me with unexpected news, so one beer won’t hurt.’ All I know is that I’ve read this book cover to cover several different times, and I’ve never seen a verse that says, ‘Don’t drink a beer or a glass of wine, ever.’ There are a lot that say, ‘Don’t get drunk,’ though, so I always limit myself to one if I drink at all.

“It’s the same with relationships in the Bible. There’s no verse that says, ‘Do not date,’ but there are plenty that help define what dating should look like: ‘Do not commit sexual immorality’ is a prime example.”

Ouch. This was why Bobby didn’t like these types. They always wanted to close shop on his fun. Jay might not be a crazy when it comes to drinking, but obviously with sex he’s old-fashioned. “So you’re telling me that you’ve never messed around with a girl?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jay said. He drank the rest of the beer and set the bottle down on the bar. “I have zero room to talk if Christianity is a matter of being perfect, especially in that area. But messing around with a girl is really just messing with a girl, even if she wants to you to mess around with her. The scars are deep; the regret will last; even if you or her don’t feel it now, they will hit you.

“But the great thing about Jesus is that He wants to patch up the holes in our life. The thing we do best is make holes in our lives. The thing Jesus died on the cross and rose again to do was to patch up those holes. Jesus offers a purity for our lives that we could never achieve on our own, and all we have to do is believe Him when He says, ‘Trust Me.’ It took me so long to realize this in my life. I thought wrongly for the longest time that my standing before God was somehow based on how well I kept myself pure, but every time I fell into that thinking I would come to see just how impure I was somehow or another. The more I leaned on the purity of Christ, the easier it was to not be led back to impurity.”

Bobby was distracted when he noticed Jay’s eyes glance towards the door to Harbell’s when it opened. A young guy with dreadlocks and a light blue beanie covering his head walked in. His pants were of the skinny variety, but not too crazy, and when he noticed Jay, both of his hands flew up in the air and he shouted, “Jay!”

Jay excused himself from Bobby and ran over to the newcomer.

Bobby’s thoughts flew back to the conversation he had just had. Chris certainly knew what he was talking about. This guy really is helping, though I really don’t know what to think about this Jesus stuff. Bobby had grown up in a large church in Florida where the emphasis was on “pray this prayer and join the club.” He’d done it; he wasn’t in any danger of hell; but when his life moved away from his family, his faith dissolved as well. Church had been their thing; he didn’t need any of it for himself. And then, following Lynnette out to Missouri was a dream come true. But something was different about this Jay dude. Why am I wanting to believe him? If I do, I have to find a new place to live though. The thought changed his mind.

Just then Jay walked back to his seat. The dreadlocks dude followed him. As Jay stood behind his barstool, he introduced Bobby to the newcomer, whose name was Connor. Jay sat back down, and Connor sat in the open chair on the other side of Bobby. It was then that Bobby realized how empty the place had become. He picked up his phone and saw that the time was already 7:15. I should really be getting back now, he thought.

Just then Connor spoke to him. “Hey dude, can I pray for you?”

How much more random can this day get? But he didn’t know what to say. First, a random stranger decides to start talking to me about his life, my life, relationships, drinking, and Jesus. He tells me I’m a bad person for my situation with Lynnette. And now, another random guy who’s hardly introduced himself to me wants to pray for me. He didn’t want to look rude, so he said, “Sure.” He instinctively bowed his head and closed his eyes.

Connor began, “Dear God, I thank you for the opportunity to meet this guy named Bobby. I don’t know what he’s going through in his life, but I pray that You would meet him here. I pray that whatever Jay has been sharing with him would convict his heart and draw him to You. You want . . .”

Bobby opened his eyes. This prayer was nothing like he was used to. This guy was praying like he knew God personally. It reminded him of everything Jay had been telling him about how Christianity was not so much about religion as it was about a relationship with God. He glanced over at Jay to see him hand something across the bar to Chris, who then walked away; Jay noticed him looking, so he bowed his head. Bobby followed suit, and kept listening to Connor.

“We trust that You are in control of even seemingly random meetings between people all over the world, and we pray that this one would lead to Bobby’s salvation. Thank You for letting our paths cross, and guide him through life. Help him to know that You are in control and You are good. In Jesus’ name, amen.” He looked up, and his eyes met Bobby’s. “It was good meeting you, Bobby. I hope you have a great evening. Thanks for letting me pray for you.”

He turned to Jay and said, “If you need a few more minutes in here, that’s fine; I’m gonna go out and see if the other guys have found anyone to talk to. We’ll be at Hurts if not. Given the weather, I won’t be surprised if no one is out, but I’ll probably find a homeless person or two to talk to.” He smiled.

“Sounds good, bro,” Jay said. “I’ll be praying it goes well. And I’ll probably be out in about five minutes. I already paid and everything.”

“Sick. See you in a bit.” And with that, Connor walked out of the establishment.

Bobby turned back to Jay. “You guys really are serious about all of this, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are.” Jay turned very serious. “And I would encourage and plead with you to be serious about it too. If we’re misguided, the worst thing that happens is we miss out on so-called fun before laying in the ground forever, but if we’re right, then anyone who doesn’t follow Jesus is headed for a miserable eternity. This is why I have to ask you: Do you believe what I’ve told you?”

Bobby was still for a good minute. It sounds so right. But it also sounds so hard. I don’t want to lose Lynnette. He finished the last of his beer before saying, “I want to, but I really like my life a lot right now.”

Jay spoke. “I don’t want to press a sore spot, but that’s not at all what you were saying when we first started talking this evening.”

Bobby wanted to get mad at him, but he also knew he was right. Lynnette might never speak to me again, let alone do anything else with me ever again. He was about to speak, but then he hesitated. He really didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t want to be rude.

Jay spoke again first. “Jesus said in the gospel of Luke, ‘If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his own father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, and even his own life—he cannot be My disciple.’ I don’t know what it is that is keeping you from believing, but Jesus wants to be your one and only. I urge you to trust Him.”

“I don’t know,” Bobby answered. “I really think I need some time to think about it. Please know that I do appreciate your sharing with me, but I’m just not ready to make a decision right now.” He glanced at his phone. Lynnette still hadn’t tried to contact him.

Jay took a pen out of his pocket and started writing on a napkin. Before finishing, he said, “You told me that you up and moved here from Florida because of a beautiful girl. That doesn’t make me see you as a guy who needs a lot of time to think.”

Bobby looked down at his feet. It was true. How does he do that? He stayed quiet though.

Jay continued. He pocketed the pen and pushed the napkin towards Bobby. “Don’t take too much time to think. Seriously, this is a very important matter. You need to know where you stand with Jesus. Don’t say that you will think about it later. You don’t know how much more time you have.” He paused. “This is my number. Please feel free to give me a call if you ever need to talk or have any other questions. Jesus is calling your name. He died so you could be saved. Please trust Him.” Jay stood and started putting his jacket and beanie back on. “I need to go join those guys with Connor, but thanks for talking with me. I hope it was helpful.”

Bobby shook hands with Jay and said, “It was. It really was.” Inside he was a confused mess. It had gotten more confusing since Connor left. “I’ll call you if I have anything you can help with.”

“Sounds good. See you at work Tuesday afternoon.” Jay smiled, and walked out the door, leaving Bobby to his thoughts.

Bobby did not know what he was supposed to do. Everything that Jay had told him made sense. Connor’s prayer was a sign that Jay was right in what he had been saying, even though Jay hadn’t actually prayed himself. Bobby knew Jay was right; he wanted to trust Jesus, and he didn’t know how much time he had. Especially with how weird today was, nothing would surprise me. But every time he was almost convinced, the thought would return, You can’t live with Lynnette and follow Jesus too. I love Lynnette. I don’t want to lose her. He didn’t know what to choose. I don’t even know if she’ll let me back in after my actions today, though. If she doesn’t, Jesus is always there. He kicked himself as he sat at the boor for thinking that; Jay had been very clear that Jesus was to be number one.

Chris came over to the bar where Bobby was sitting, and picked up the empty beer cans and Jay’s water glass. He left the napkin with writing on it where it lay. As he started wiping down the counter, Bobby asked, “Can I get my bill?” He had things to take care of, and wanted to get out of Harbell’s before spending more money that he didn’t have.

Chris stopped wiping, and looked at him with his head tipped to one side. “Didn’t Jay tell you? He paid for your stuff.” He paused as he started wiping again. “I told you that guy is a rare one.”

If Chris said anything else, Bobby didn’t hear it. He paid for my drinks? He has just as much of a job as me and he paid my bill? No way! Things started clicking in his mind. Christianity isn’t something to just talk about. It is something to live out. I haven’t been living it out. The reason he can be so happy has got to be Jesus in him. That’s what I want.

He stood up to leave, pocketing the napkin Jay had written on, and told Chris to have a good night. Chris returned the wish, and Bobby walked out of Harbell’s.

The cold and the ice hit him as he walked out the door, and it caused him to shiver. He walked slowly to avoid slipping, and he pulled his phone and the napkin out of his pocket. He punched in Jay’s number, decided to send a text message, and typed a message that read,

Thx 4 payin my bill. U have no idea how much that means 2 me. I would love 2 meet again sometime. I think u got something I want.

He pressed “Send.”

Then he pulled up Lynnette’s name and number and dialed her phone. It rang, with no answer, and her voicemail answered. When her intro was done, he left a message. “Hi, Lynnette. It’s Bobby. I just want to say I’m sorry about today. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m sorry for my hurtful words. I’m sorry for not wanting to hear what you have to say. I hope you can forgive me. I won’t be home tonight, but I really hope you’ll be willing to talk to me sometime tomorrow. This evening got better than I ever could have imagined, and I want to tell you about it.” He hung up.

A text message was waiting for him. It was from Jay.

You’re very welcome. Jesus paid your bill too, and it was worth way more than your beers and burger. Please trust Him so His payment can be added to your eternity. Just let me know how I can help you or when you can talk.

Bobby replied immediately.

Sounds gr8. Hey, this might sound crazy, but do u have a place I can crash 2nite?

Jay replied:

Absolutely. We’re over on the square. I’ll give you a ride home if you find us in the next fifteen minutes.

Bobby headed in that direction.