One thing Michael and I never agreed upon was my faith. At first, I thought he was interested in learning about it. I mean, that’s what he said and all. Then I found out the God of the Old Testament, as he calls him, is a “bastard.” I had no reply.

King David was a … gosh, what did he say? … I can’t remember. All that killing, I think was Michael’s problem with David. Yet he was the apple of God’s eye, etc.

Thousands of people in the Old Testament times, wiped out, brutally killed - women, children, and all the like - because they didn’t believe in the God of the Bible. What’s that, he asked. I had no reply.

Where is the evidence, Michael asked me, that Jesus was really God’s son? Let one person answer that question, he said. (I gave him someone who could, but he was “too busy” to follow that up.) Yet I had no reply.

His questions at first led me to believe he was truly curious. But the questions became bitter statements of disbelief, and nicked my heart with tiny cuts that found a way to bleed through all of my “theological” understanding.

By the time Michael told me that Christianity is the “biggest cult” of them all, I knew this battle was far beyond the scope of little ol’ me. The battle for his soul goes much deeper then I knew.

Sometimes I’m glad I grew up in a home where there was no Jesus. In high school it was all the rage to be an atheist, since I hung out with kids destined for schools like University of Chicago medical school and M.I.T. and Rice and the like. So, yeah, since I didn’t know anything about this freak Jesus Christ, I just said screw it. Christians are mindless drones, idiots the same as all “cult members” are - easily deceived and easily led. “Religion is the opiate of the masses.”

For Michael, though, I felt the battle being waged, and I felt his scars. Growing up in the Southern Baptist church had to be a mess - they consider grace to be along the lines of justification and sanctification - something you “do.” You know, in the lines of the “do’s” and “don’ts” of that particular denom. Legalism at its best.

A conversation with someone close to Michael (who is best left unnamed) confirmed all my fears. A legalistic church upbringing would have most likely turned me into a bitter atheist/theist/agnostic whatever. He had attended church while growing up, memorizing all the Bible verses, doing all the do’s and not doing all the don’ts. How long, though, can that sustain you? Where was grace in this mess? No where to be found. Not as far as I can see.

The enemy had found all his achilles’ heels, as well, and burned him with each one. Between his neurotic ex-wife and another grave misfortune that occured in his early 20’s, I can imagine that his internal cry of “Where is God, that bastard?!?” sounds about as loud as mine usually does.

This is where the whole thing breaks down for me. I was an unbeliever until 1998, when somebody told me that Jesus loves me for me - which in my life is a most unusual concept, if not entirely unheard of. When God reached down and picked me up out of the slippery, stinky, shitty mess I’d made of my entire life at that point, I was so bruised and broken I had no hope at all.

However, for Michael it went the other way. He “learned” that he didn’t need a savior, because he was a “good person” on his own. Knowing him better now, I could argue against that, and not because I’m hurt, but because I just know more about him. (We’re all depraved, folks.)

But when you have all these questions, and it’s hard to get a straight answer, I can understand how frustrating the thought of Jesus might be.

So… this morning, I managed to haul my ass to church. Miracle - twice in two weeks. And the visiting pastor was awesome. He preached on Genesis 22, and it struck me, right there, in the middle of my nauseatingly affluent surroundings, that this was the answer I’d not been able to give Michael.

God tells Abraham all this wonderful stuff, right? You’ll have a baby, your descendants will number the stars in the sky, blah blah blah. Then he makes Abraham wait. And wait. Sarah laughed in God’s face about her being like 80 years old and supposedly having a baby. Then, in God’s timing (*sigh*), it happened, and she was ninety and pregnant with Isaac. But, damn. She waited over ten years for him to make good on his promise. I can tell you flat out I would have given up. I’m so utterly faithful. Not.

So, then, after Isaac’s - oh, I dunno - maybe 10 years old or so, God commands Abraham to take him up on a mountain and sacrifice him.

Whaaa??

The first time I read that, I was like, “no fucking way!” And even weirder was that Abraham did it. I mean, he took Isaac, the son he’d waited for all his life, up on the mountain and built an altar and all that crap. He bound his son and set him on the altar.

Damn, man.

Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and placed it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two of them went on together, Isaac spoke up and said to his father Abraham, “Father?”

“Yes, my son?” Abraham replied.

“The fire and wood are here,” Isaac said, “but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?”

Abraham answered, “God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.” And the two of them went on together.

When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. But the angel of the Lord called out to him from heaven, “Abraham! Abraham!”

“Here I am,” he replied.

“Do not lay a hand on the boy,” he said. “Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.”

Abraham looked up and there in a thicket he saw a ram caught by its horns. He went over and took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place The Lord Will Provide. And to this day it is said, “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.”

In this one sermon, in this one chapter, I suddenly saw everything I’d been missing with Michael. All the things I didn’t know to say to him, and it’s horribly ironic (again, the enemy at work) that I can’t tell him any of this. I doubt Michael even knows the battle wages… or would believe it if I told him.

Is Jesus really God’s son?

Is the earth really round? Yes. How do I know? Because scientists have seen it, and they’ve said so. Did I see the roundness of the earth with my own eyes, from space? No. So how do I know? Well, I believe them.

Is Jesus really God’s son? God told Abraham that he would provide the sacrifice. Abraham believed, and God provided the sacrifice - a ram. Because God loves us so much, he provided the Ultimate Sacrifice. He spoke of it only hundreds or thousands of years earlier, through Abraham and Moses and the prophets and David and so many others.

Is Jesus really God’s son? Well, yes. How do I know? Because Jesus appeared in His resurrected body to over 500 witnesses, including Saul of Tarsus, who was converted from absolutely despising Jesus and killing and incarcerating Christians to being a selfless apostle of Jesus, suffering all forms of hardship on His behalf. (Many Christians were still violently fearful of Paul - formerly Saul - when he would visit them.)

Paul, in an authenticated letter, tells his readers that over 500 people saw Jesus after the resurrection, and this letter was only 30 years following the crucifixion. If this had been a lie, most of those witnesses would have been around to argue loudly and hostilely! Roman historical manuscripts would have reflected this type of outrage by the witnesses. Actually, they would have eaten it up and spread the word as quickly as they could! However, there is no evidence of any of the witnesses refuting Paul’s statement. Roman historians have long noted the crucifixion and resurrection as historical fact and not delusion.

Five hundred witnesses actually physically saw Jesus Christ after His death, in His resurrected body. The Pharisee of the Pharisees, Saul of Tarsus, did not suddenly “snap” and turn from violent Jew to benevolent Christian. All these documents the archaeologists keep finding and carbon-dating back to the era of 30 A.D. to 68 A.D. are not all frauds - as the documents are not all dated and proven by Christian archaeologists.

There exists no document from the ancient world, witnessed by so excellent a set of textual and historical testimonies . . . Skepticism regarding the historical credentials of Christianity is based upon an irrational bias.

–Clark Pinnock

Mcmaster University

Though Michael has read all this (except he never finished Faith on Trial which is one of the most unbiased, scientific, legal and historical books I’ve read on the matter) he …

Won’t believe.

Herein lies the great problem. A problem bigger than anything I know how to fix or address. A lack of faith. A refusal to believe.

When life hands you lemons, you can choose to make lemonade, or you can pucker up for all of eternity. I’ve lived the kind of life in the past four years where life has majorly, massively sucked. At times. And at times, I’ve been given some of the greatest blessings of my life. Yes, it could all be coincidence. Strangely packaged coincidences, strangely timed to be exactly what I need, exactly when I need it.

Is Jesus the son of God? You have two choices here. Yes, or no.

Is there absolute truth? Michael once said that if he actually believed “all this” - then his life would change in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine. This comment makes me believe that God has bigger plans for him. Most people do not understand what sort of decision they are making if they turn their life over to Jesus. Is it an easy life? Hell, no. People tell you that Jesus loves you, and will try to woo you with that - but they leave out the part that says “count the cost.” It is costly to love Jesus. It can cost you family members, relationships (*cough*), friendships, jobs, respect from others… The list goes on and on.

I told Michael in my particularly indelicate but heartfelt way that God doesn’t ask for you to believe everything with all your heart, soul, body and strength in order to take that first tentative step towards him. Faith as small as a mustard seed is delightful and makes the angels sing. “Um, I think you might be there, God” is a great start. Where you go from there is between you and God.

But if you have no faith, you’re in trouble - in your heart. Where is it? Do you believe in anything besides yourself? I’ve now up close and personally witnessed someone who could probably have the angel Gabriel appear in his bedroom and he would still say “Nope, won’t believe it.” Why is that? It’s not an inability to believe, it’s a hardening of the heart, an anger and hurt that exist to get in the way. How would you believe in someone you hate? Or someone who you think caused all these messes in the first place? Especially if you were not one to give out second chances?

I discovered a lot in church this morning. And I find that my heart breaks all the more for the man who lives the gospel in his life but refuses to open his heart and trust the only One who is trustworthy. He’s not alone, though. I find myself there more often than not as well. This faith stuff is hard.

*sigh*,

michelle