The Gate (18 page)

“Like I said, we've all been there, and we'll never totally control them, but we can control what they eat. Now pay attention, because this is important. Here's how it works: Feed the one and he'll grow strong; starve the other and he'll grow weak. The one we feed will always be bigger than the other, but we get to choose which one.”

“Listen, Al,” I said, “I know all about the ugly underbelly of evil. I've studied it in depth. It was even the subject of my thesis. I tried to integrate what the Bible says about good and evil and what psychologists know to be true about human behavior.”

“When the stuff of God becomes an academic exercise”—Al held up a finger in warning—“you're in trouble. Reading the Bible doesn't make you immune to temptation, and when you start to think that it does, that's when you're most vulnerable.

“One of the most effective cards in the Fallen One's deck is self-righteousness. When he can get us to busy our lives with the rituals of religion, then we've unknowingly joined the conspiracy. When he can get us to think of prayer, or Bible study, or giving as things to do on the holiness checklist, he has us where he wants us. And it won't be long before we start to think that we're special, better than everyone else. And believe me, that's a problem. Pride has pushed more than one person away from heaven's gate. God wants us to infect the world with his kingdom and kindness, not isolate ourselves from it. In fact, isolation is another one of the Fallen One's favorite tools.

“If we had the time, I'd take you to the edge of the great abyss. There, we could stand on the edge and look across at hell itself. No one is allowed to go across, but we can look across, and what we'd see is the torment of isolation. Everyone there is locked away in eternal solitary confinement. They're separated from God, from the people they love, and from everything that matters. There is no laughter to drown out the constant wail of loneliness, no gentle breeze to cool the sweltering sun, no music to soothe the troubled soul, no flowers to sweeten the foul air, and no food to satisfy the hunger for what might have been. There is nothing there but a sea of shadowy faces drowning in the eternal darkness of regret.

“If people really knew what waits there, they'd avoid it at all costs, but they don't understand. Christians talk about heaven, but we're squeamish when it comes to hell. We've bought into the lie that such uncomfortable subjects must be avoided, or at least sugarcoated, in the name of evangelism. Like I said, the Fallen One is good at this game. The black dog may rest, but he never sleeps, and he's always hungry. I know this makes you
uncomfortable, and it should. But remember, it happened to your friend, and it could happen to you too.”

“My friend?” I said, somewhat surprised that Al knew what had happened. James Harper had been a very prominent figure in the psychiatric community and the Christian community. The day before his wife discovered his affair, he had been speaking at a conference for Christian broadcasters. Everything had been kept hush-hush. As far as I knew, no one but James, his wife Kathy, and I knew anything about it. He dropped out of the public eye, and the two of them were trying, with my help, to put the pieces of their marriage back together again.

“You know who I'm talking about,” Al said. “He was your teacher, your confidant, someone you looked up to, respected, admired, even envied. Clearly, he was a tool in God's hand. Because of him, a lot of people have put their trust in Jesus. He soothed their worries, comforted their sorrows, taught them how to live godly lives, and extended God's grace when they didn't. Everyone who knew him would say that he was a good man, but secretly, in the kennel of his soul, he's been feeding the black dog.

Surprising as it might be, the world's natural drift is toward evil, not good.

“The Fallen One served his kibble one bit at a time, in an online chat room, as his computer screen dimly lit the darkness. And as he did, the black dog slowly grew. On the other side of the kennel, the white dog yelped out a warning, hoping that he'd be fed instead. But he was ignored. Like DL, and Sampson, and God only knows how many other good men, he fed his lust a little bit at a time. And each time he did, he told himself that he was still in control. He thought he could handle it, but of course, he couldn't. Typed words and temptations spilled into telephone calls, and eventually there was a clandestine rendezvous.

“That, of course, was later followed by guilt and pleas for grace, but the black dog was still hungry. There were more typed words,
more telephone calls, and more submission to temptation. As it always does, infidelity led to deceit, but even that would not curb the black dog's appetite. His hunger was not satisfied until it erupted in scandal, disappointment, and shame. And the point I'm trying to make is that nobody wakes up and says to himself, ‘I think I'm going to go out and ruin my life today.' But it happens.”

Al continued. “You see, contrary to popular belief, the world is not inherently good. In fact, the opposite is true. The earth is the Fallen One's turf, and it has been for a very long time. Surprising as it might be, the world's natural drift is toward evil, not good, and theologians have been telling us that for years. Augustine called it original sin, Calvin coined the term total depravity, and in Galatians Paul said, ‘The sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other.'

We should try to infect the world with goodness whenever and wherever we can.

“What they're really saying is what I've been trying to tell you: humanity is all part of a corrupted gene pool. It's the poisoned fruit from Adam's tree. Left to our own devices, we'll persist in destructive behavior. We'll cheat on our taxes, we'll waste time at work, we'll lust after our co-workers, we'll snap at the people we love, and we'll question God's goodness and love. And every time we do, we feed that black dog, and the world gets a little darker. Like I said, life is all about choices. Some good, and some not so good, so be careful. Be careful what you choose to do.”

We pulled into the driveway, and Al put his hand on my shoulder. “That's what cancer taught me,” he said. “And this is what I have for you: Sometimes things happen that we don't understand. When they do, we can shake our fist at God or we can lay the blame at Satan's door. Do the latter. Feed the white dog. Repay evil with good. Infect the world with goodness, whenever and wherever you can. In the end, that's what really matters.”

He didn't say it, but I knew our conversation was over. I got out of the car and told him I missed him, and both of us got a little emotional. “Keep an eye on Ben,” he said. “He needs you now more than ever. And remember, if you want grace, you've got to give it.” Then he drove away.

Wisdom is a sacred communion.

Victor Hugo

I
woke up late the next morning. So late, in fact, that when I went downstairs, I found that I had missed breakfast.

“There is some Raisin Bran in the cupboard, and milk and fruit in the fridge,” Ahbee said as he went out the back door. “I've got some things to do with Rae today, but Josh will be waiting for you out front whenever you're ready.”

I ate a big bowl of cereal, some orange slices, and a banana, and after doing the dishes, I went out to find Josh.

“Late night?” Josh asked with a grin.

“Yeah, Al's an old friend, and we had a lot of catching up to do.”

“He's here partly because of you.”

“I don't think so,” I replied. “He was always a good man. One of the most honest men I ever met.”

“That's true, but for a while in his life, he almost gave up on us. And he might have done just that if it hadn't been for his mother's prayers and for you.”

“I'm sure it had more to do with her prayers than my words.”

“Who said anything about words? It was your life that impressed him—what you did and why. Character is hard to come
by, and he saw it in you. Come,” he said, motioning with his head. “Follow me. Let's walk and talk.”

The two of us walked along the shore for about a mile and then cut up along a path that chased a small stream. Josh was silent. Finally I couldn't stand the silence any longer, so I asked him a question. I really did want to know the answer, but I also just wanted to hear the sound of his voice again. It was like hearing your mother whisper that she loved you as you sat rocking on her lap as a child, or hearing your dad say that he was proud of you. I couldn't get enough of it, and so I asked.

There is an emptiness in our souls without God.

“Josh, there's something that's always bothered me. It's about your prayer, the Lord's Prayer. I pray it every night before I go to sleep and sometimes during the day when I'm frightened, or confused, or uncertain what to say. But tell me, why did you choose the words?”

There was a long pause before he spoke. “When I said, ‘Our Father which art in heaven,' it was simply a statement of fact. It's where Ahbee is. We wish it weren't so. We wish he were here with us, because when we aren't with him, we feel the void of his absence. There is an emptiness in our souls without him. As someone once said, ‘We're all born with a God-sized hole in our hearts,' and I am no exception. When I chose to step into time, I also chose to become one of you in every way. That meant that even though spiritually the Father and I were still one, I could now know the pain of physically being separated from him.”

Josh continued explaining. “It's the first thing I noticed when I slipped on robes of human flesh: present with the body, absent from the Lord. Of course, someday that will be turned upside down. But for now, it's one of the things every human has to deal with. You see, like Adam, we all long to walk with Ahbee in the garden in the cool of the day. There are questions we'd
like to ask, words of encouragement we'd like to hear, a certain comfort that comes from knowing he's close. Prayer is a poor substitute for his presence, but for now it's the best we have, and I simply chose to acknowledge the pain of his absence every time I talked with him. I could have said, ‘I love you, I miss you, I'm incomplete without you,' but I chose to state it matter-of-factly instead.

“The other thing I wanted you to understand is that Ahbee is not just
my
Father, he's
our
Father, and he always wants what is best for each of his children. I know that's hard to understand sometimes. Particularly when he refuses to give you everything you want or when he imposes guidelines and limits on your life. But believe me, his law was not meant to restrict you but to protect you. It's what fathers do.

“The same could be said for ‘Hallowed be thy name.' He is holy, separate, different than anything on earth. To put it simply, he is holy, and humanity is not. So as close as I might have been with people, I would still always be separate and different. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I think so. I can't experience it, but maybe I can understand it.”

“Exactly,” said Josh. “And when I said, ‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,' I was expressing a hope of what might be, what should be, and what could be. You see, the
coming
and the
doing
were initiated by God, but it's continued by you, and each time it happens the conspiracy collapses a little. I wanted you to know that no matter how much danger you might be in, if you're doing his will and bringing about his kingdom, you are also safe in his arms. I also wanted the world to have a taste of what you've had these last few days—the absence of pain and evil, a sense of safety and purpose, and the confidence that only comes from being comfortable in your own skin.

“In God's kingdom there is no jealousy, no envy, and no coveting your neighbor's wife, his life, or anything else he might
have. There is unimaginable contentment whenever the kingdom comes. Everything and everyone realizes that they are loved by the Creator and that they were created with a purpose. That has always been the will of God, but humanity squandered the gift away for an apple in Eden.

In God's kingdom, everyone realizes that they are created for a purpose.

“Think about it. A salmon doesn't secretly wish to be a northern pike. An oak tree has no aspirations to become a maple. A beetle doesn't break into a butterfly's house in the middle of the night and try to steal its colorful wings. There is a sense of contentment in the animal kingdom that humanity can never know. The hippopotamus waddles down to the river each night to take his bath and says to himself, ‘What could be better than this?' The shark glides through the waters of the deep and thinks, ‘What more could anyone ever ask for?' The giraffe nibbles the sweet leaves at the very tops of the trees and says, ‘Surely, no one has a better life than I.' Only humans lay awake at night plotting how they might take what belongs to someone else.

“That's why I taught you to pray for
his
kingdom and
his
will to be reestablished once again. When it happens, then there will be no need to pray for anything else. It will be like finding an enormous treasure buried right under your nose, like discovering a pearl of great price.”

Then Josh said, “Let me ask you a question. Do you remember the Beatitudes?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Blessed are the poor, the peacemakers, the persecuted, and the pure of heart, as well as the meek, the merciful, and those who mourn.”

“But now,” said Josh, “did you ever stop to think that short of the kingdom coming, the only way any of them will ever be blessed is if the church does it? You see, I came to usher in the kingdom, but it was just a beginning. Unless those who come
after me continue what I started, the kingdom will be nothing more than conversation until I come again.”

Josh shook his head slowly, and after a long sigh, he continued talking. “People are forever asking, ‘What would Jesus do?' instead of simply going out and doing it. I don't want this to sound as harsh as it's going to, but what the church needs is less talk and more action.”

People are forever asking, “What would Jesus do?” instead of just doing it.

Part of me wanted to ask, “What about all the food drives, and the clothes and medical supplies that are donated, and the mission trips?” But I knew all too well that what we do is a trifling compared to what we could do. He was right. We talk a better game than we play.

As a little boy, my mother taught me to give a dime for every dollar I earned, and growing up, I thought that was what everybody did. I was shocked to hear that over 80 percent of the people who claim to follow Christ give significantly less than that. Once I was sitting in a committee meeting, and an elder of the church said that he wasn't happy with the way things were going, so he'd decided to give only a dollar a week. A dollar!

Statistically, 20 percent of the people give 80 percent of the money.

What was even worse was that he'd get up at our quarterly congregational meetings and spout off about how we spent the money we collected. He was well respected in the community and he talked a good game of Christianity, so I'm sure most people thought he was a generous giver and had every right to voice his opinion. The problem was, I knew better, and it ate away at my soul.

Finally, before one of our meetings, I caught up with him in the hallway and told him that if he complained, I was personally going to give back his fifty-two dollars and tell him to sit down. He turned red as a tomato, but he never said a word.

After that, I always wished someone would start the church of the tither. If you don't give, you can't come. Of course, no one ever did. I guess it just sounds too un-Christian. Forgetting that he knows our every thought, I was surprised when Josh responded to mine. “It's un-Christian to expect any less,” Josh said with a smile, and I knew he was right.

Suddenly I realized that we had walked our way back to the cottage, and there in the driveway was Carol's Volkswagen.

“What's up with that?” I asked.

“You're going home after supper,” Josh said, and a profound sadness welled up in my spirit.

“So soon?” I asked. “But there's still so much I want to ask you. I have so many questions.”

Whether we know it or not, we're all homesick for heaven.

“No one ever gets all their questions answered,” he said. “That would take an eternity; in fact, that's what eternity is all about. For now, you must learn to live with uncertainty. Life is about trusting that Ahbee has the answers even when you do not. Can you do that, Scout?”

“I can try.”

“That's all we ask,” Josh replied. “That's all we've ever asked. Now before we go inside, there's one more thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Josh said. “And really, it's the reason we wanted you to come.”

We sat down on the back steps. For a moment neither of us said a word. Then, after a heavy sigh, Josh tilted his head slightly and said, “Sky, what I need to talk to you about is the Christian conspiracy.”

“I wondered when we'd get around to that,” I said. “Whenever it came up, I'd hear little bits and pieces, and then you'd quickly change the subject. It's about time somebody tells me what's really going on with all this.”

“You know more than you think,” he said, “and to be honest, at times you've been a part of it.”

“How can I be a part of it when I don't even know what it is?”

“Simple,” Josh answered. “You've helped perpetuate the myth that Christianity is about a moment of conversion, a solitary act of commitment, a time when you give up your old life and give your heart to Ahbee.”

“Isn't it?”

“That's part of it, but that's like saying that running a marathon is about buying a pair of running shoes. That's just the beginning. There's years of training, sacrifice, and endurance, and then there's the race itself to be run. And yes, those who finish well will be rewarded. Everyone who dedicates their life to making my kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven, will get heaven thrown in.

“But the idea that Christianity is only about getting to heaven is at the core of the conspiracy. The Fallen One wants you to believe that it's about escaping from this world and getting to the next. But Christianity isn't about escaping the world—it's about changing it.

Your job is not to bring people on earth to heaven; your job is to bring heaven to the people on earth.

“He wants you to believe that this is a transaction, that it's like putting a check in the box, that you can just give your heart to Ahbee one minute and then go back to business as usual the next. But when you truly give your heart to Ahbee, you'll never be able to go back to business as usual again. Instead you'll be about your Father's business. Does that make sense to you? Are you getting this down? You need to get out ahead of the rest on this one, Scout. I'm counting on you to show them the way.”

I looked down, a little ashamed to look Josh in the eye, and sensing my discomfort, he paused for a few moments as I tried to absorb the weight of his words. Then, as I lifted my eyes and looked into his, he smiled and continued. “As a Christian your
job is not to bring people on earth to heaven. That is my job. That's what the cross is all about. Your job is to bring heaven to the people on earth. To feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to care for the sick and the crying and the dying. When you do that, people will start asking, ‘Why? What's your motivation? What possible reason would you have for making that kind of a sacrifice for me?' And when they start asking questions like that, then sharing your faith will be easy, then lives will be changed. It's simple, really. Do that, and you'll change the world. Don't do that, and nothing will change. Like I said before,
what you've done to the least of these, you've done to me.
”