“To be honest Lord, I don’t want my whole life planned for me. I would like to be able to find out what talent and circumstance will produce for me on my own.”
Neil got in the car the following day to run some errands. Jesus hadn’t said when He would return to Neil’s passenger seat, and, in fact, He wasn’t in the car when Neil got in, but as he turned into traffic and looked in the passenger seat, Jesus was there, wearing a brown robe today, but otherwise looking the same as the day before. Neil snuck a look at His feet; Jesus was, in fact, wearing Crocs.
“I was thinking about something in the house.” Neil said.
“I’m doing fine, Neil, thank you for asking,” the Lord said. Neil looked and saw Jesus smiling at him; Neil smiled back.
“And to think the hours your parents spent trying to instill manners in you,“ Jesus said, pretending to be shocked at Neil’s appalling lack of civil courtesy.
That was true; Neil was more polite than most Americans, thanks to his parents. And Jesus was right, they would have been appalled at their son’s failure to inquire into how someone was doing at the first meeting of the day. Probably doubly so when that person was the Lamb of God.
“I issue a thousand apologies, Lord,” Neil said formally. If he hadn’t been driving he would have bowed.
“And how is the Son of Man, today?”
“I am well. Thank you. And you?”
“Rested. Broke, but rested. And content.”
Neil made his living as a sports official. In baseball season, he was a professional baseball umpire, currently assigned to the Pacific Coast League of Professional Baseball Clubs – one of two minor leagues immediately below the major leagues. As an umpire with the Pacific Coast League of Professional Baseball Clubs, Neil Foster made a monthly salary of approximately $3,200 for the five months out of the year he was umpiring baseball games for the Pacific Coast League of Professional Baseball Clubs. He did not earn this salary in the months when he was not umpiring baseball games for them.
This was not a lot of money on a per annum basis. Neil was not responsible for any of his expenses on the road, of course, though his meal money was a meager $25 a day, and he was lucky in that he was responsible only for himself and that he led a rather simple life. It also didn’t hurt that he lived in the house he grew up in, which was still owned by his folks, but they were retired and living where it was warm in the winter. Plus, he was able to save a good portion of his umpire’s salary, but he still scrambled financially in the off-season, picking up money officiating high school and some small college basketball. He got by.
“A common affliction. But remember, you may be broke, but you are not poor. There is a difference.”
Neil considered that for a moment and tended to agree. Poor was a state of mind and once you officially assigned yourself “poor” status, good luck getting out of it. Broke could be solved by merely earning more money and Neil was still young and preferred to spend his time doing things that were both important and pleasing to him, rather than things that were conducive to a large bank account.
Jesus sat quietly, the silence inviting Neil to bring up whatever happened to be on his mind in due course.
“It goes back to what we were talking about yesterday, Lord, when You had Your funny line.”
Jesus smiled at the memory of his funny line.
“Paths are different and who knows where your path will ultimately lead you?”
The classic Jesus pause.
“Well, I know, of course. I am all-knowing, after all.”
Sure, most of it had been in the timing, but still, a good line’s a good line. The religion racket seldom allowed for the Supreme Being to get off a funny and He had enjoyed the opportunity to make someone laugh, especially a guy like Neil, to whom the Holy Spirit had issued a substantial sense of humor.
“I remember, of course. We were talking about Me knowing where your path would ultimately lead.”
“Yes, we were.”
Neil accelerated from a stop sign.
“Well, I was wondering. Are we all predestined? Is there no self-determination?”
“A good question, Neil. A very good question.”
Neil smiled.
“Will the Resurrection and the Life be providing a very good answer?”
Neil could see Jesus damning him to hell for being flippant, or, worse, his dad scolding him, but he was enjoying his personal appointment with God.
“Perhaps. You would be disappointed if I merely rattled off an answer. My love for you is perfect, and I would prefer you figure these things out for yourself. What do you think?”
Neil sighed.
“About what? Letting me figure things out for myself, or whether I think my life has already been planned out?”
“Whichever you want.”
“Oh. I like your plan. It’s good to figure things out for yourself. It’s how you grow. The burnt hand teaches best and all that.”
“Tolkein. That is from The Lord of the Rings.”
Neil nodded.
“So I approve of and appreciate You allowing me to figure these things out for myself,” Neil said. “And, honestly, if I am just going through the motions and You and the Father and the Holy Ghost have already laid everything out for me, then what’s the point to my existence? If everything’s already been laid out for me, then all I’m really doing is spinning my wheels and playing connect the dots. And what’s the point of that?”
“You tell Me, Neil.” Jesus wasn’t being sarcastic, He was merely issuing an invitation.
“All right,” Neil said. “Let me give it some thought.”
“Of course, Neil. I have time. I have forever, as a matter of fact,” Jesus said.
The classic Jesus pause.
“You don’t,” Jesus said, smiling charismatically. “But I do.”
Neil chuckled.
“Another funny,” Neil said, smiling. Then he went back to thinking. It took a minute or two.
“To be honest Lord, I don’t want my whole life planned for me. I would like to be able to find out what talent and circumstance will produce for me on my own.”
“That’s very reasonable, Neil.”
Neil sighed.
“I’m thirty-three, Lord. You would think these questions would have sorted themselves out by now.”
“Thirty-three is not a lot of years in the big picture, Neil. I spent 33 years on this planet and they passed quickly. Well, those last few hours on the cross kind of dragged, but you know.”
Neil laughed at another Jesus funny, and got the impression Jesus was enjoying letting his hair down.
“Some people, of course, never get it sorted out, Neil. Do not worry too much about still having questions at this stage of your life. You should have them at every stage of your life.”
Neil made a left turn.
“I’m prepared to go the distance, Lord,” Neil said. “But you can spend too much time thinking. You’ve got to get out and live sometimes. To test your theories if nothing else.”
Jesus sat quietly.
“On the other hand,” Neil said. “Blindly following any precept or religion is equally dangerous.”
“Perhaps,” Jesus said. “It would be nice to have everyone examine their life, but we’re content when people come to flock, no matter what journey brought them there.
“I disagree, Lord.”
Holy crap! I’m disagreeing with the Son of Man!
“I mean, sure, they’re a member of the flock. They’re part of the family, a family whose stated goal is a…’
Neil was searching for a word.
“…a decent, well-behaved, spiritual life. But what are they getting out of that life?”
Jesus resisted the urge to point out that from the Holy Trinity’s point of view, eternal life and salvation are nothing to sneeze at, but didn’t.
“Neil, many people find a satisfying life utilizing their talents within the context of the church”
“Yeah, but if that’s the only outlet for their talents…” Neil shrugged. “A better way to put it might be if that’s the only outlet they know.”
“By saying that, Neil, you are completely invalidating a believer’s personal experience with the church. That’s not fair to them, to Me, or, honestly, to you.”
Neil nodded as Jesus continued.
“Talents can be utilized many ways, Neil. They’re like flour, eggs and milk.”
“They are?”
“Sure. You have a lot of options with flour, milk and eggs. You can make pancakes, or biscuits or bread, depending on your circumstances and needs.”
Neil smiled. He liked that comparison.
“I can see why you attracted followers in your time, Jesus. That was a wonderfully simple metaphor.”
Jesus smiled modestly.
“Thank you. We all have Our talents, Neil.”
“Let’s get back to my original question. Is my existence predestined?”
“You were in the process of answering that for yourself.”
“I was, wasn’t I? Neil asked. “I have no clue, honestly. I mean, think of the logistics, Lord. Over six billion of us, with some leaving us and some joining us all the time, literally every second.”
“Give us some credit, Neil. The Holy Trinity does have some organizational skills.”
“But even granting Your omnipresence and omniscience and all the other omni’s, gee whiz, that’s a lot of people to plan for. The paperwork must be immense, especially since You rest on the Sabbath.”
This is really what had mere mortal Neil Foster doubting everything was predestined. Even granting that God was all powerful, all knowing and all-everything else, several billion lives were a lot to plan out, especially when you consider, well, this was about where Neil got a headache and stopped thinking about the matter.
Jesus nodded and kept quiet.
“On the other hand, I can see where people find solace in believing in a Supreme Being who has a master plan. It more or less takes the work out of life.”
“There are believers who take comfort in that, though.”
Neil could tell by His tone that Jesus was stating a fact, not bragging.
“Yeah. I know people like that. Good people who presume the good and bad in life come from You.”
“Why do you think that is?”
Neil shrugged.
“Life’s tough. Or at least not easy. For some, it’s probably comforting to think your future’s already been laid out for you, especially when you realize your life isn’t turning out exactly how you expected it would.”
Neil and Jesus sat in silence while waiting for a light.
“We do have a master plan for everyone, Neil,” Jesus said as they got back underway.
“So we’re all just marching to the beat of a recorded drummer?”
“No, no, not at all, Neil. Our plan is not in the context of a year by year, day by day blueprint of who you are and where you are being determined when you were born.”
“How about FOX programming executives?”
“Good point,” Jesus said, nodding vigorously. “They do have a lot to answer for, especially when you see what they planned for next season.”
Neil smiled.
“Our plan is more along the lines of everyone being born with certain talents and everyone getting the most out of them.”
Neil nodded knowingly. That everyone could do something well was one of the earliest lessons Neil had learned in Lutheran school and he still remembered it. He could remember teachers pointing out that some kids were better at math than some, while others might be better at science. Others ran faster or drew better than the others and a particularly annoying few could do all those things well.
Neil recalled that he wasn’t particularly good at any of those things, though nobody in his class did their memory work as well as Neil did. He was always rather average at the other subjects, though.
“I like that about our species, Lord. Most everyone can do something well. I think we work best when we’re all using our talents together.”
“Which We don’t particularly think your species is doing right now. Really, all you do is bicker about the darndest things and try to accumulate as much stuff as you can.”
Neil nodded agreement.
“And good heavens, Neil, your people spend an average of five hours a day sitting in front of a box being entertained.”
Neil was pleased he couldn’t be counted in that human average because he hadn’t owned a television in ten years or so. He hadn’t particularly set the world on fire the past ten years, but it was no contest, Neil felt living without TV was exponentially better than living with it, especially since he had been unable to control his TV watching when he had one, and when he realized he had spent a couple of hours doing not bothering to watch any channel for longer than a few seconds, he decided he had had enough. The first two weeks were tough, but after that it was easy. It was his first step toward making his time serve him.
“Although, to your credit, early on in your existence you were mainly concerned with obtaining food and shelter, as you evolved you became capable of more…”
Neil Foster actually had the temerity to interrupt God while he was speaking.
“You used that word. The ‘E’ word. Evolution.”
“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?
“Well, that is the word for a theory of how we humans came about that does not include You, the Bible or creation at all. It seems a bit of a contradiction for you to use it, that’s all.”
“There is no contradiction, Neil. We put you on this planet and gave you the raw materials. You have progressed from there and evolving is a splendid way to describe your progress. Once finding out was on the other side of a river was a challenge and now you’ve now been to the Moon and back. ”
“Yeah, but human history only goes back a few thousand years. Our evidence shows that the Earth and Moon and whatnot go back millions of years.”
“Indeed it does.”
Neil waited for Jesus to elaborate.
“You’re waiting for me to elaborate,” Jesus said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, well, you know,” Neil said smiling.
“Well, the purpose of these chats is not to provide answers to your deepest questions, but I will offer two possible explanations. One, the seven days mentioned in the Bible is a metaphor for a much longer period of time. Or, since you aren’t perfect like Us, perhaps your methods are flawed.”
“What?” Neil asked, feigning astonishment. “Humans flawed?!”
“I find it as difficult to believe as you do, trust Me.”
“So which is it, Lord?”
Jesus shrugged his head dismissively.
“I’m not saying. It could be both,” Jesus said, fiddling with his robe a bit and crossing his legs.
Neil nodded. He understood that the purpose of Jesus’ visits were not to share the secrets of the universe with him, which Neil didn’t really want to know anyway because if he did he would probably be killed or not believed so why bother?
“So we do have a plan for everyone, Neil. It is in the context of a Christ-filled life in the church. We simply provide the raw materials.”
“Some people, not me, say that’s a cop-out, that with all the misery on this planet, a truly merciful God would step in and do something.”
“Some do say that, yes. We could, of course, but then what?”
Neil considered that a moment.
“Then we all live happily ever after?”
“You had that chance, Neil, in the Garden of Eden. You couldn’t hold on to it though.”
(Two)
Neil had pulled into a parking space at a high school.
“I’m here to officiate a high school basketball game. You coming in, Lord?”
Jesus considered the invitation for a second or two. He hadn’t planned on watching Neil, but now that he thought about it, an evening of interscholastic basketball didn’t sound half bad. .
“Yes, I think I will.”
They got out of the car. Neil opened the trunk and got out a gym bag that had his uniform in it. He then pulled out his wallet and fished out an orange card. He handed it to Jesus.
“Here. It’s a courtesy card and it gets you in free to any high school game in the state. Even the state championship.”
“Neil, I’m invisible to everyone but you,” Jesus said as if to a particularly slow child. “Nobody but you can see me. Besides, I’m God. I can get into any game I want. I get great seats, too.”
“Do you ever take advantage of that divine benefit?”
“Of course I do. I’m omnipresent,” He said, not without some trace of exasperation.
Neil entered the gym, with Jesus following. He was careful not to talk to an invisible person in a public gymnasium, but he did look back and almost imperceptibly cocked his head, an indication to follow him. They entered a locker room and found the coach’s office, where one of his two other partners was waiting for him. Soon the third joined them. Jesus stood in a corner. Neil had known these two officials for years, and while they had a brief pre-game discussion, mainly the BS’d and caught up before taking the floor.
Neil walked smartly on to the floor and saw Jesus sitting at one end, near the baseline at the other end of the stands, near the band. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded, like a coach in a tense game.
Jesus Christ is here to watch me officiate. Christ, I hope I brought my A game.
Neil’s pregame spot happened to be near the band director, a pretty girl he had known for years named Lily Emerson. Since Neil Foster was of the opinion Lily Emerson was really, really cute he often stopped to say hi, usually starting in on his lame conversation by complimenting her band.
“Hey, Lily,” Neil said, extending his hand.
“Oh, it’s Neil the referee,” Lily said as they shook hands.
“At your service,” Neil said bowing.
“How you been, Neil,” Lily was shouting because the band was playing a college fight song.
“Good, my dear. How’s your man situation?”
Lily had, over the years, shared her bad luck on the dating front.
“The usual. You men…” Lily smiled and let the sentence trail. “How about you?”
“I’ve actually been seeing someone the past couple-three months.”
“A couple-three months?” Lily asked, a tone of surprise in her voice. “That’s above average, isn’t it?”
“It’s well above average!” Neil said. “One and done, two and barbecue, that’s been my motto.”
I probably should not tell a high school band director my girlfriend is a high school senior.
Lily laughed.
“Hey, you in the big leagues yet?”
Lily Emerson was a big sports fan and knew Neil was a Triple-A baseball umpire.
“Not yet. I’ve only been in Triple-A for a couple of years. It would help if you knocked off a few people for me.”
Neil winked and reached out and patted Lily Emerson on the shoulder before turning to preside over the rest of warm-ups.
There were still about ten minutes before the game, and all he would be required to do before tip off was stand around and look important, enjoy the band and pre-game atmosphere. For Neil, this was one of the best parts of officiating. Three minutes before tip-off he would be required to stand at, and pretend to be interested in, the pre-game meeting with the captains conducted by the referee and then they would go shake hands with both head coaches and then it was time to go to work.
But mainly Neil just stood around and looked important.
“You know,” Jesus said, standing right behind Neil. “This is your only real talent, standing around and looking commanding.”
Jesus had a point. Neil was average height, but he had a full head of hair, walked tall, had the muscular build of someone who lifted weights regularly and generally had the bearing of someone accustomed to being in charge. Which he was.
To avoid looking like he was turning around to talk to an invisible person, Neil turned around, scratched his nose with an index finger and scanned the stands, as if looking for someone.
“Just wait till you see me work. It will make you ill.”
The game started and from time to time Neil would glance over at The Good Shepherd. Jesus seemed to be enjoying himself. The Son of Man was, of course, beyond partisan rooting, but it was plain He took pleasure in the players working hard and putting their talents to good use.
The Son of Man took less pleasure in the work of the officials. In the second quarter Neil was on the baseline preparing to pass judgment on a player going in for a lay-up with a defender in his way. The player went up for the shot, made the lay-up, and ran into the defender. Neil decided he had a foul on the defender, who had blocked his path, instead of guarding him.
Neil blew his whistle, raised his hand to indicate he had a foul and was bringing his hand down to signal the basket counted when he saw Jesus out of the corner of his eye standing with his arms crossed and his lips pursed, shaking his head. Evidently the Son of Man disagreed with Neil’s call.
He wasn’t the only one; the fans of the defensive team were also expressing disagreement, including some who expressed their displeasure by violating the terms of the Second Commandment, which, according to the tablets promulgated by Jesus on Mount Sinai, proscribed the taking of the Lord’s name in vain. Neil wasn’t altogether pleased that God disagreed with his call, but what were you going to do? Neil had officiated several sports over the years, including one professionally, and he had yet to receive complete consensus for one of his calls.
Especially in basketball, which was, in his experience, the toughest sport to officiate. Basketball had evolved so much over the years and what was once a team game was now a game that mainly showcased individual skills. Neil thought that proof of this could be found that no one could make a goddamn free throw anymore, or knew how to box out or pass and pick away.
Football was the easiest sport to do because every official had a specific area of responsibility. Plus, unlike basketball, where calls were made the instant they happened, a football official generally had a couple of seconds to decide whether or not a certain action was or was not legal and whether or not throw a penalty flag.
Baseball was, in Neil’s view, actually pretty easy. Sure, sometimes working home plate was a challenge, but Neil found that if you stuck to the fundamentals he had been taught at the Harry Wendelstedt School for Umpires, and you maintained a consistent zone, you generally had a pleasant days work.
Neil raised his right hand again, this time raising an index finger, signaling one foul shot was coming up when he again saw Jesus – still pursing his lips and shaking his head – hopping on one foot with His right hand behind His head and His left hand stuck out pointing forward, more or less the signal for a foul by a member of the offense in possession of the ball.
Neil went to the scorer’s table and reported the foul. Jesus was right behind him, shaking his head still with his right hand behind his head.
“You’re blowing this, Neil,” Jesus whispered in his ear as Neil reported the foul to the scorekeeper. Neil, who still differed with the Son of Man’s thoughts on the matter, managed not to laugh.
Driving home after the game, Jesus brought up the call.
“What are you talking about?” Neil asked the All Knowing Master of Time and Space. “I nailed that call!”
“Neil, you most certainly did not. It was clearly a charge.”
“Not. A legal guarding position had not been established.”
“Perhaps, presuming your idea of a legal guarding position does not include the defender having both feet on the floor with his torso facing his opponent.
Neil looked at Jesus. That was, almost verbatim, the definition of a legal guarding position in Rule 4, Section 23, Articles A and B of the high school rule book.
“How’d you know that?”
“You forget I know everything, Neil.”
“And you wonder why people wanted you crucified? I’m just curious.”
“You blew it. It’s okay to admit it. I’m prepared to issue forgiveness. It’s who I am, it’s what I do.”
“I’ve been officiating since I was twelve,” Neil said, trying to sound both dignified and British. “I know a block when I see one. A legal guarding position had not been established.”
“Neil, look who you’re arguing with. Be sensible.”
Neil laughed. God had a point.