“Why does he send people there?”
“The Father offers forgiveness to anyone willing to receive him. People choose continued separation from God. He respects what they choose.”
“But why doesn’t he just make everyone go to heaven? They’d be happier there.”
“Love doesn’t force relationship,” he said in a tone even softer than before. “If you had somehow forced Mattie to marry you, it wouldn’t have been love. God created people to be able to choose freely. He honors their choices.”
I thought about that for a moment. Somehow it just doesn’t seem ri—
“You live in a world turned upside down by humanity’s rebellion. Sometimes things don’t make sense. When you don’t let Sara play near the street, it doesn’t make sense to her. One day it will. God loves with a love greater than you can know. He doesn’t want anyone separated from him. But some will be. One day that will make sense.”
“I don’t find that answer entirely satisfying.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s okay.”
I took another drink and gathered my thoughts. “I suppose you’ll say that God allowing suffering is the same kind of thing.”
“What do you think?”
“Based on what you’ve said, humanity suffers because it separated itself from God.”
“Yes.”
“So why doesn’t he just make things right, right now? Why wait for some day in the future?”
He drank some coffee. “That’s difficult to answer, because you can’t see things from God’s perspective right now. But there is a purpose to the present time. And one day everything will be made right.”
“That doesn’t quite seem fair, for God to work out his plan while we suffer.”
“You’re forgetting something. God didn’t leave you to suffer alone. He suffered more than anyone.”
I looked down at my cappuccino for a few moments. The foam had flattened out, and it was only lukewarm. I took a couple of sips, lost in my thoughts. Finally he spoke.
“You’re angry about your dad.”
“God took him away when I was sixteen. I’d say that’s worth being mad about. Or was that just part of God’s plan?” My voice was rising, and I glanced around to see if anyone had overheard me. Oh, who cares? I turned back to Jesus.
He sat silently, his eyes held on mine. “You loved your dad very much.”
I glanced back at my cup and eventually spoke toward it. “We used to do a lot together—go fishing, go to Cub games, Blackhawk games. He had played some semipro hockey for a while, and he coached all my hockey teams. After Mother divorced him and we moved across town, he stopped coaching me…I probably could have played college.”
“You still saw him, though.”
I figured that was a statement, not a question. I answered anyway. “Yeah. Every other weekend. But it wasn’t the same.”
“He missed you too.” That was definitely a statement.
I finally looked up. “I know.”
“You don’t know how brokenhearted he was about you. It almost killed him to lose you.”
“Well, he didn’t live much longer anyway, did he?” I didn’t even bother trying to hide my anger this time.
“No.” He spoke quietly. “He didn’t.”
I drank the last of my cappuccino.
“This won’t seem true to you,” he said, “but I was heartbroken for both of you.”
I put my cup down and stared across the table, not feeling anger so much as lifelessness. “You’re right; that doesn’t seem true.”
We sat in silence.
“So,” I finally said, “you never answered my question. Was my parents’ divorce and my dad’s death part of God’s plan?”
He took a moment to reply. “You know the story of the prodigal son.”
“Yeah.” Great. Another Sunday school lesson.
“What did it take for the son to return to the father, who loved him?”
I answered in a monotone, listless voice. “For life to get really bad, in the pigpen. So what?”
“Sometimes…it takes deep hurts for people to feel their need for God.”
“And that’s God’s plan?”
“That’s what God is willing to use in a broken world. Your dad’s pain drove him to me. And without that wound in your heart, Nick, you wouldn’t be sitting here talking with me, either.”
I leaned back, folded my arms, and sighed. “I wish I could say it all makes sense now.” I looked aside momentarily, then back at him. “I wish I could say that.”
9
THE RESTAURANT HAD emptied. I glanced around to where the table of six had laughed the evening away. It was reset for tomorrow’s lunch. The young couple had long since left. Even a middle-aged pair in the corner who had entered during our entrée had departed. Have we been talking that long?
The place had the eerie quiet that comes when your party closes down a restaurant for the night. I could hear the clink of someone sorting utensils. Our waiter approached our table.
“Another cappuccino, sir?” he asked me.
“No, this was fine.”
He looked toward Jesus. “And you, sir? More coffee?”
“No, thank you. We’re ready for the bill.”
“Yes, sir.”
My eyes followed as he stepped toward the front of the restaurant. Turning back to the table, I saw Jesus loosening his tie for the first time.
“Even I don’t like these things,” he said.
God doesn’t like neckties. Note that for future reference.
The waiter reappeared with a black leather bill holder and placed it on the table between us. He then turned to Jesus, held out a blank piece of paper and a pen, and in a hushed voice said, “Can I have your autograph, sir? Just in case.”
Jesus smiled and took the pen and paper. “Of course.” He wrote more than his name (I couldn’t tell what) and handed it back to the waiter. I wonder how much that’ll go for on eBay.
“Thank you very much, sir.”
“Thank you, Eduardo,” he replied.
Their eyes stayed on one another as they held the paper between them, then Eduardo took it, paused, and walked away.
For the first time since the meal began, I regarded my host. His features remained the same—the dark hair, the olive complexion, the almost black eyes, the toned muscles—but somehow his look had changed. He seemed at the same time softer and yet more authoritative. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with him, yet I was strangely drawn to him.
Jesus turned back to me. “I like Eduardo. He’s a humble man.”
The longer we’d talked, the more questions had popped into my mind. What was the universe like before the Big Bang? Is there intelligent life on other planets? What really happened to the dinosaurs? But with the bill on the table, one question overshadowed the others.
“You keep telling me that God offers me this free gift, eternal life. So what’s heaven like?”
He smiled as if I had asked about his hometown. “Heaven is a cool place. Humanity’s senses have been so dulled by living in this broken world, you wouldn’t believe all the sights, sounds, smells. Colors you’ve never seen. Music you’ve never heard. Lots of activity, yet overwhelming peacefulness. Remember how you felt when you stood at the Grand Canyon—too awestruck to take it all in?”
“Yeah.”
“Heaven is like that, only infinitely more.”
“I feel stupid asking this, but are the streets really made of gold?”
He laughed. “Describing heaven isn’t exactly easy. It’s like explaining snow to a tribal native from the Amazon. He doesn’t have a point of reference for it. What’s written in the Bible is true, but in a way greater than you can imagine.”
“And you’re saying I don’t have to do anything to get there?”
“You have to receive the gift of eternal life,” he answered. “You can’t trust in your own goodness. You have to put your faith in me.” He shifted to the side and took a
long drink of water, then put the glass down. “But you’re confusing heaven and eternal life.”
My mind was still partly on what heaven might look like, so I didn’t quite take in his last statement. “What? I’m sorry.”
“You’re confusing heaven and eternal life.”
“I thought they were the same thing.”
“No.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Eternal life isn’t a place,” he responded. “And it’s not primarily length of existence. I am eternal life. The Father is eternal life.”
“I’m not sure I’m getting what you’re saying.”
“Just as God is the source of all physical life, he is also the source of all spiritual life. Think of it this way. God created your body to need food, air, and water. What happens when you remove those things?”
“You die.”
“The same thing holds true for your spirit. God created your spirit to be joined with him. Without him, it’s dead. It has no life. God is spirit, and he is life. The only way for you to have eternal life is to have him.”
I still wasn’t sure I was connecting all the dots. “So when you say God offers eternal life…”
“He is offering you himself. God comes to live within you forever. When you have me, you have Life itself. With a capital L.”
I leaned back and thought that over for a moment. “So what is heaven?”
“Heaven is simply a place where I am.”
“But people don’t go to heaven until they die.”
“True. But you can have eternal life right now.”
I must have had a confused look on my face again.
“Eternal life isn’t something that starts when you die,” he continued. “It’s something that starts the minute you receive me. When you put your trust in me, you are not only completely forgiven, but I also join myself to your spirit. I come to live within you.”
“You? Sitting right there?”
“The Holy Spirit, if you wish. He and the Father and I are one.”
“You know, I never really understood that whole Trinity thing. Father, Son, Holy Spirit…”
He smiled. “Join the crowd. You aren’t meant to understand it.”
“Are you saying I’m incapable of understanding it?”
“Yes.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“God wouldn’t be much of a God,” he said, “if you could fully understand his nature. Humanity still hasn’t figured out most of creation. The Creator is far greater than that.”
The significance of what he’d been saying was slowly dawning on me. I didn’t fully comprehend it, but I got the gist of it. I just wasn’t sure about the implications. “I’m still not entirely comfortable with God coming to live in me. I like the forgiveness part. But this other—”
“Is the best part. You need someone to love you and accept you and want to be with you, even when you feel bad about yourself. Someone who will always be with you. Everyone needs that. God made you that way.”
“Sara wants to be around me,” I half joked.
“Wait till she’s fifteen.”
That seems ages away.
“And,” he said, “to tell you the truth, you need someone to put some adventure back in your life. Remember the kid who used to go dirt biking on Highback Ridge?”
I felt a spark of energy at the mention of the place. “Several times I almost didn’t make it off there.”
“I know.” A smile edged onto his face. “You were quite a daredevil.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You’re bored, Nick. You were made for more than this. You’re worried about God stealing your fun, but you’ve got it backward. You’re like a kid who doesn’t want to leave for Disney World because he’s having fun making mud pies by the curb. He doesn’t realize that what’s being offered is so much better. There’s no adventure like being joined to the Creator of the universe.” He leaned back from the table. “And your first mission would be to let him guide you out of the mess you’re in at work.”
My expression froze, and my eyes locked on his. Two months earlier I had discovered that the company was fabricating data on its environmental testing results. I wasn’t involved, but I knew enough to jeopardize my career if we were caught. And he knows.
“You want out,” he said. “Why don’t you leave?”
“But I can’t quit. There aren’t any jobs like mine in this area, and Mattie would kill me if we have to move again. She just got her graphics business back to where it was in Chicago.”
“You know it cheats Mattie and Sara to have you working at Pruitt. Not only are you risking your career, it’s draining you. You’re not there for them.”
I stared across the table at him. Just talking about this drained me. He’s right. But…
“I just can’t do that, not now.”
“You need someone to give you strength to make that decision. Because it really will work out okay. I know it doesn’t seem like it.”
“That’s the truth. Mattie would be furious. And then I’d be mad at her for reacting that way. And then…” And then things would go downhill from there. For months. This whole scenario was getting darker by the minute.
“What if someone lived in you who could love Mattie even when she’s upset at you?”
That seems utterly impossible.
“It’s not with God,” he said.
“What?”
“Impossible. I can love her through you even when it’s hardest for you. And in the day-to-day routine as well. She needs that.”
I looked down to avoid his eyes. Talking about my work mess was bad enough; I certainly wasn’t used to talking about this kind of stuff, especially with a guy. Even if he was Jesus. “I don’t think God is exactly doing backflips over me.”
He laughed, leaned back, and folded his hands behind his head. “You know one of the people I liked to hang around most when I was here before?”
I shook my head.
“I liked Nicodemus. He used to come and ask me questions. My answers always confounded him. But I liked seeing his eyes open to what we were talking about. He was a good man, but he held a seat on the ruling council, and they were dishonest with the people.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy,” I mumbled.
“You and he have more in common than just a name. In a good way, mostly.”
He paused, glanced at the bill holder, then took a sip of water. As he did, I reached toward the bill. “Here, let me get this,” I said. “I owe you one.”
My hand grabbed the leather holder, but before I could move it, his hand landed on my wrist. I looked over at him.
“Nick, it’s a gift.”
I relaxed my grip on the leather and looked down toward his hand. Both his shirt and his suit jacket had slid slightly up his arm. My eyes locked on a large puncture scar on his wrist.
I stayed silent for a moment. “I thought they went through your hands.”
He followed my eyes to the scar. “Most people think that. The stakes were nailed through the wrist to support the weight of my body. Hand tissue would tear apart if it had to hold the body up.”
I let him have the check. He pulled two bills out of his front pocket, slid them inside the holder, and looked up at me.
“Are you ready?”
10
WE WALKED TOWARD the front of the restaurant, past the lattice. Funny, I almost bolted out this way awhile ago. Now I don’t even want to leave. I fell a pace or two behind, lost in my thoughts.
Did I really just have dinner with…Why me?…Does he do this all the time?…What am I going to tell Mattie?…When I wake up tomorrow…What do I do now?
I looked up and watched as Jesus conversed briefly with Carlo, who’d been sweeping the foyer. They hugged before Carlo opened the door for him. I followed. We paused under the awning.
“You and Carlo act like old friends.”
“We are.”
“How long h
ave you been coming to Milano’s?”
“This is my first time.”
He took a step toward my car. We walked in silence across the parking lot. I should have guessed he would know which car was mine, but I wasn’t yet accustomed to being with someone who knew everything. We stopped at the Explorer.
“Which car is yours?” I was curious to know which one God preferred.
“Oh, I didn’t drive.”
I let that one hang.
It felt a little uncomfortable at my car. How do you say good-bye to Jesus? He didn’t seem uneasy, though.
“Thanks for dinner,” I finally said. Suddenly an earlier question popped back into my mind. “You never told me who sent the invitation.”
He chuckled a little but didn’t respond.
“I suppose this was your idea from the start.”
“Actually, it was yours, Nick. Do you remember when your dad left, and you asked God to come and tell you why?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I remembered. I’ve been planning this dinner for a long time.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I fumbled in my pocket for my keys, pulled them out, and unlocked the car. I wanted to tell him how glad I was that I had stayed and how the evening had turned out so differently than I had expected. He knew, I suppose, but I wanted to say it anyway. All that came out, though, was, “Will we get together for dinner again?”
He smiled gently. “That’s up to you.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“Yes, you are. Hand me your other business card.”
I pulled out my billfold and gave him my last one. He pulled his pen out of his coat pocket, wrote something on the back of the card, then slid it inside my shirt pocket.
“That’ll tell you how to reach me.”
He grasped the door handle and opened it. “Mattie is already asleep. You’d better get home.”
I still had a thousand questions. But he was right. I climbed in the car, turned the key, and rolled my window down. Probably sensing my uncertainty, he initiated the farewell. “I’m glad you showed up, Nick. I’ve enjoyed our time.”
Dinner with a Perfect Stranger Page 6