It's (Still) In the Basement

You come into the house after school and you pause to listen. You try to hear whether you're home alone, or if you can detect the quiet sound of your mother in the kitchen. You gently sniff the air for the aroma of fresh cookies or bars, or a pie or cake still cooling in the kitchen. You strain to hear the voice of Patsy Cline, Hank Williams or Jim Reeves emanating from the old Bakelite AM radio perched on the shelf above the washer in the basement. Your ears hope for the rhythmic swish-choog of the washer and your mother's alto harmonies to the country songs on the radio as she plugs away at the never-ending mountain of laundry. Nothing. You are home alone, alone with IT.

You are alone in a century-old house with a basement that smells of wet dirt, decaying potatoes, mildew and fuel oil. It’s a basement that surely harbors the graves of people who lived in this house right after the Civil War and probably died of wounds suffered in that war or at the hands of disgruntled Indians seeking to reclaim their land. You are alone in a house with a basement that contains a dirty, dark room once used to store coal. Who knows what gangster from the 1920s or 30s is hidden just behind the plastered walls of that room, the flesh long gone from bones still standing erect, hands and feet still bound from the day they walled him in alive for some breach of gangster etiquette.

Worst of all, as you realize just how alone you are in this house, is the thought which bursts unbidden into your brain: you are just inches above a creature that thrives on basement environments such as yours. All that separates you from IT are a few flimsy floorboards. You know, and IT knows. "IT" is the most unnerving of house monsters, because this one can actually be seen, heard, even touched (!), day or night. IT is the Furnace Monster.

How could your mother not be home when you got there? You count on her to be here doing mom things, because somehow, she keeps the monsters of the house at bay. Perhaps they fear discovery and banishment by a grown up, or maybe they simply can't fathom the full extent of her power, since monsters don't have mothers. Or maybe they DO have mothers, and it's out of respect or fear that they remain dormant in her presence. You know your mother couldn't beat anything more scary than an egg, but the monsters always stay away when she's home. Today, though, she is not. It's just you and IT.

Growing up during the 60s in Redwood Falls, Minnesota (pop. 4774), we really did live in an old house with an ancient basement, a fruit/root cellar, an old coal bin and an even more ancient furnace. Once a coal-burning unit, it had been converted by some mad scientist into a fuel-oil burning furnace, probably just after the discovery of oil. I would not be surprised to discover that this furnace was designed when man still lived in caves and dinosaurs had not yet decomposed into rich pools of petroleum under Texas and Kuwait.

Unlike today’s compact, ninety-nine percent efficient gas furnaces with whisper-quiet motors and plastic PVC-pipe exhaust chimneys, ours was a room-size behemoth with asbestos octopus tentacles for ductwork. There were spaces around the door on the front through which a small boy could catch glimpses of the fires of Hell. Surely this was a gateway to the Underworld, and I knew if I ever opened the door I would have been sucked inside and carried down the River Styx by a skeletal boatman. You could almost hear the howling hounds of Hell guarding the gates each time the furnace kicked on. Plus, IT was sentient. This was not just a piece of equipment, IT was alive.

Whenever I was home alone, the furnace knew. No matter where I was in the house, IT would cause the ductwork nearest to me to go "clunk," so I would know that IT knew I was alone. Sometimes IT would make a series of clunks around the house, causing my head to snap from side to side as I tried to keep IT from sneaking up on me from behind. That's the nature of house monsters, you know. They torment you like a cat with no appetite that has caught a mouse. It plays with its terrified prey, allowing it to almost escape, but always hooking it back at the last moment with a razor-sharp claw.

House monsters will drive you crazy by being everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You feel its malicious presence as you try to go through your normal routine, but are unable to because of the feeling of eyes boring through your back. IT knows you are alone. IT knows you are small, and IT knows you fear its awesome size and power.

IT inhabits that dark, hidden-away part of your house where sunlight never gains the upper hand. Disgusting, many-legged insects scurry when the lights are turned on, insects with so many legs they look as though they must have once been many insects all running in single file until a sudden stop compressed them together into a single organism. IT lives where people are loath to go, hidden in the dark corners where spiders set their traps, and flashlights can never fully illuminate.

Grown-ups usually deny the existence of the Furnace Monster, but if you could wipe clear the windowpane to their memories, and sift through the images inside, you'd find a dark corner where flames dance red and yellow, and tiny streaks of light escape through the gaps around the heavy metal door. It is there, forced back into a small, gloomy corner, perhaps, but still there: The Furnace Monster.

If you don't believe me, just ask a friend some time if he or she remembers the Furnace Monster. Watch their eyes. They remember. They know.

© 1996/2006 Mike Zimmerli All Rights Reserved

A Fairy Tale Life

To hear her tell it, she's had a pretty rough life. Saddled with the disadvantage of having a brother four years older than her, she would not be allowed the "luxuries" an only child is given, or the privileges the firstborn receives, especially a male heir. No, she would have to fight for everything she wanted. While everyone doted on "golden-boy", she would be Cinderella, forced by cruel fate to sleep in the ashes of the hearth with rags for clothes and kitchen vermin her only friends.

But that would be her story, though, not mine. She started out as a normal little girl, loving dolls, stuffed animals and all things pink. She had a short bout with colic as a baby, but by the time she was two, it was obvious that she was all girl. Which was a great relief to me, by the way.

When my wife was pregnant with our daughter, I had two main fears. One was that when she was born she would look like me, or worse, look like me in drag! When she was born, she did look like me, but my fears were unfounded. If she looks like I would look in drag, I'd look pretty good (minus the beard, of course).

My second greatest fear while my wife was pregnant with child number two was passing along my temperament. I am a less than jovial person on average. My Grandpa Zimmy was much the same way, a rather gruff old poop most of the time. After his funeral, Grandma Zimmy asked me if I thought he had been a good Grandpa. She had forgotten all the times he had chased us around when we were just little kids, trying to pinch us with his thick, workingman fingers. I guess he just enjoyed hearing us squeal. He could be very caring and soft, but that side was usually hidden away from public view. When he laughed, he laughed wholeheartedly. But usually he was just a gruff old poop. I told her he had been a terrific Grandpa.

On the drive home from his funeral, my wife began having contractions. This was early January, and our daughter was not due until March 17thApparently she felt left out over not getting to see her great-grandpa before he died, or maybe she felt the need to fill the Zimmerli-shaped void Grandpa had just created. Luckily, modern medical science, pharmacology and bed rest prevailed and she was denied early admittance. We should have been paying attention, because that was perhaps the first glimpse of her independent nature. The next came when she was due to be born. After trying to join us six-weeks early, she decided she wasn't coming out without a special invitation. When she was two weeks overdue, the doctor induced my wife and convinced our daughter to come out to play. My mother-in-law took one look at her first granddaughter, our new little bundle of joy, and said, “This is the one. This is the one who will pay you back.” Nice.

When our daughter first became mobile, I remember her crawling over to where her older brother was quietly watching television. “How cute,” I thought. “She's going to lie on the floor next to her brother and watch cartoons.” Not this child. She crawled over to his head, grabbed a handful of hair on either side and pulled upward. He howled in pain, but could do nothing about this sudden new threat to his safety. He had spent four years as master of his own domain, and suddenly there was this “thing” that crawled around the floor and ate lint and cat food, and it was attacking him. She had yanked on his hair just to hear him squeal. I immediately had flashbacks to Grandpa Zimmy, chasing us around the house, trying to pinch us, just to hear us squeal.

The knowledge that boys can't hit girls was very frustrating for her brother, as well as one of the things she exploited. This was brought home early one Saturday morning when she was about three. I had to be at work by six o'clock each morning, and played in a band on weekends. Sleeping in on Saturday morning was pretty special to me. On this particular Saturday morning I was roused from a deep slumber by the indignant cries of my daughter downstairs. I went to the top of the stairs and hollered down for an immediate cessation and explanation. She came to the bottom of the stairs in her pink bathrobe, her long, blonde hair framing her head like a halo, and, like a princess who has just been treated rudely by a vassal, announced, "He hit me back!"

I do believe she fancies herself a princess. Perhaps the King had to send her away for safekeeping from an evil stepmother and had his trusted servants (that would be us) raise her until he could safely bring her back home. I know someday in the not-too-distant future Prince Charming will come along and take her away. As the new Mr. and Mrs. Prince Charming depart for a long and happy life together, we’ll shed a tear or three. Then, when the happy couple is out of sight, we'll do a happy dance head and over to the King's castle to collect our bonus for raising the Princess!


© 1996-2006 Mike Zimmerli All Rights Reserved

Free Refills

Here's another of my favorites from ten years ago. -- MKZ

My son still has nightmares about it. Even though it happened years ago, the details of that day remain vivid in his memory. They lurk just below the surface of consciousness, waiting to be released by sleep or a well-turned phrase.

We were at a Bakers Square restaurant in Minneapolis, having a nice, normal meal during a weekend getaway to the Twin Cities. We had been to a Minnesota Twins baseball game, and had spent a day at the Minnesota Science Museum and the Omni Theater. I don't recall what was showing at the Omni, whether the Twins won or not or what hotel we stayed at. We had made this pilgrimage several times before, all good family outings, just like this one. We were at Bakers Square, filling the voids in our stomachs in anticipation of the trip home when it happened.

“The boy” (our affectionate term for him to this day) had been going through a growth spurt, meaning always hungry and always thirsty. The Bakers Square – “come for the food, stay for the pie” - offered free, bottomless refills on soft drinks.

It’s important to understand that restaurants did not always offer free soft drink refills. I think this was the first time we had encountered this marketing strategy.

“The boy” had his usual half-pound hamburger and a large Mountain Dew, his poison of choice because it’s chock full of caffeine chased with plenty of sugar. It’ll get you wired pretty quickly. He drank the first Dew before the food came and his second one during the ritual inhalation of his meal. He drank his third glass while we were finishing our meals. His eyes had begun to take on the golden hue of Mountain Dew when the waitress came back with yet another refill. We were having after-dinner conversation and coffee by then. This fourth large glass went down more slowly than the first several. He had just finished the last, slow drink of the sweet, stimulant-laden beverage when the waitress appeared again and asked if he'd like another.

His eyes began to dart back and forth, like the eyes of a chipmunk cornered by a cat. There was no exit. He was sitting in the inside part of the booth, nothing but wall and window to his right, his "stupid sister" to the left and a crazy woman standing there asking him if he wanted a fifth Mountain Dew. His parents were just sitting there, looking at him with no measure of reproach, no looks filled with subtle messages, no glares, no hidden clues, just sitting there, waiting for his answer. It wasn't costing us anything extra. It was his decision, an opportunity to drink as much as he wanted.

By now, though, the half-pound burger and the four previous glasses of Mountain Dew were getting friendly in his stomach, and the message had finally begun to get through to his brain that he had, in fact, just ingested a large meal. Fluorescent yellow-green letters the color of Mountain Dew began igniting in his brain. Messages were coming in fast and furious from various portions of his anatomy. A signpost up ahead told him he had just crossed over into the Twilight Zone.

He mumbled something about being full, and the waitress hesitated, and then asked if he was sure. It was free, she said. Bottomless. We told her to go ahead, bring him one more, and with a perky "OK" and a quick about-face, she was gone, returning in record-time with another large Mountain Dew. Total liquid volume if he drank all five: about a hundred ounces, nearly a gallon. He looked at the Dew for a moment, and then excused himself to go to the bathroom. He was gone for a long time. When he came back, he said he was ready to leave. The Dew went untouched. To this day, when we go to The Cities and ask where the kids want to eat, Bakers Square is, sadly, not on the list.

Jump ahead several years. Back in our hometown, “the boy” is now fifteen. It’s a Saturday night at a local pizza establishment. Partway through our meal, our waitress stops to check on things. Seeing his empty glass, she asks if he wants more Mountain Dew. Beads of sweat break out on his forehead, his breathing quickens, and his eyes start zipping from side to side, searching for exits. Struggling to regain control, he looks to me for a sign. I smile slowly, seeing the terror behind his eyes as the scene from several years earlier at Bakers Square replays itself on the movie screen in his brain. Finally I say, “I think he's probably had enough. We’re about ready to go.” Yes, I let him off the hook. Flashbacks can be a terrible thing to behold.

© 1996-2006 Mike Zimmerli All Rights Reserved

Once More Into the Breach

Author's note: I wrote this ten years ago, but stumbled across it again the other day. It still made me chuckle, and shudder a bit, as I remembered some of the trials of raising children. -- MKZ

Into The Breach

I tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. I told her it was too dangerous. No one could go into that place and come away unscathed. There were things too terrible to comprehend in there; this sort of thing was better left to trained professionals hardened to the type of atrocities those four walls contained. I tried, but my words fell on deaf ears. I insisted she tie a stout rope around her waist in case things got too rough and we needed to haul her out, and, reluctantly, she agreed. Giving my hand a quick squeeze, and my lips a brief, soft brush with hers, she turned away. Her face became a mask of determination as she edged closer to the threshold where mortals normally dare not go. A few steps more, and she was gone. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was to be our final parting. My wife had bravely gone into our daughter's bedroom, vowing not to emerge until it had been thoroughly cleaned. Our daughter, you see, is a pig.

No parent likes to admit a child of theirs is a slob, but our daughter is a bona fide pig. We have even toyed with giving her the nickname TOD, which stands for Trail Of Destruction. If we call her TOD, though, she simply rolls her eleven-year-old eyes back in her head and stomps off, something she is quite good at. Some may say she is best at whining or biting sarcasm, but her forte is definitely stomping. She's no slouch at door slamming and her hands have jammed down on her hips so many times she has permanent divots, but for pure perfection, that girl is a stomper. And, unfortunately, she is a pig.

It’s as though she thinks the whole house is her personal trashcan. Things are dropped wherever she happens to be. Her grandmother, after a weeklong visit with us told me, "She just doesn't look behind her." I had turned to my mother-in-law for advice, or, at the very least, support and empathy. I knew she had raised at least one daughter (NOT my wife, to be clear) who had kept a, shall we say, “less than perfectly-ordered” bedroom.

"Less than perfect?" MIL hooted. "We didn't see her carpet for two years! One time we got out the garden rake to drag things out from under her bed. We found Jimmy Hoffa!"

Okay, I made up the part about Jimmy Hoffa, but she did concede that one of their two youngest girls had been a bit slovenly in the room upkeep department. In her defense, though, she turned out all right, once she was on her own and Mom was not there to pick up after her. In truth, she came up against roommates who were her slobbish equals. One day, the light came on for her, and she suddenly began to keep things picked up better. Not perfect, but better.

There was a plaque in my parents’ house when I was growing up which read: “Our House Is Clean Enough To Be Healthy, And Dirty Enough To Be Happy.” I point to this as way of explaining that I do not go around with a white glove and petri dishes to check for pathogens. I just knew my daughter's room couldn't pass an inspection by even a blind health department official. If dirty was synonymous with happy, she must have been the happiest person in the world. Her happiness was not shared by my wife, though, who had reached her breaking point. So when our daughter was away for the weekend on a church youth retreat, my wife grabbed an extra large garbage bag, gritted her teeth and said, "I'm going in." My son and I looked at each other and were sore afraid.

Five hours later, my wife emerged from Becca's room, and announced, "It is finished."

During her ordeal, we kept track of everything removed, discarded, uncovered or retrieved from the abyss. Here is the accounting: My wife filled two extra-large garbage bags, found sixteen pencils, eighteen cassette tapes, nineteen pens, thirty-five socks, two dirty bowls and several spoons. She found a book the library had called about six months earlier, and unearthed over a hundred Q-tips that had been pressed into service as paintbrushes. Two giant bottles of glue were discovered, two unused rolls of masking tape, a used, empty tape dispenser, and a partially used roll of electrical tape. She located my fishing light, the one that clips to the bill of a cap, and a spool of fishing line. Also in the tally were untold numbers of Halloween candy wrappers, five pair of scissors, two unopened bags of fruit snacks and a can of soda in her nightstand, a cookie on her dresser, several wrappers from individual cheese slices and a couple snack cracker wrappers.

My wife told me she thought she heard a strange, mechanical whimper as she was bringing the vacuum cleaner to finish cleaning the room, and said that whenever she would stop vacuuming for a moment the vacuum cleaner would try to make a break for the door. Who could blame it?

When our daughter came home the next afternoon, she screeched at the sight of all that cleanliness and order where disarray and filth had once been her happy bunkmates. To her credit, though, she did not accuse us of violating her privacy. Personally, I think she was glad she had not been forced to do it herself, because she knew it would have taken her days to get it this clean. She did, however, inform us that she was never leaving again. Ever.

Through it all, my son kept a silent vigil outside his sister's room. He watched wordlessly, eyes open wide, as his mother waded through the piles of trash threatening to escape the confines of the bedroom and spill out and take over the entire house. He watched quietly, holding onto that rope tied to his mother's waist, and prayed. Prayed that she wouldn't finish and move on to HIS room.

© 1996-2006 Mike Zimmerli All Rights Reserved

A Promise of Strength

Isaiah 40:27-31 from The Message ...

"Why would you ever complain, O Jacob,
or, whine, Israel, saying,
"God has lost track of me.
He doesn't care what happens to me"?
Don't you know anything? Haven't you been listening?
God doesn't come and go. God lasts.
He's Creator of all you can see or imagine.
He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch His breath.
And He knows everything, inside and out.
He energizes those who get tired,
gives fresh strength to dropouts.
For even young people tire and drop out,
young folk in their prime stumble and fall.
But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don't get tired,
they walk and don't lag behind."

A friend of mine emailed me the other day after finding out he will need to have a couple of stents - at least - and possibly bypass surgery if the blockages are too extensive. He was one of my first Christian friends after I accepted Jesus' gift of salvation over 30 years ago. Now he lives just south of here in Florida. He admitted that, though he had emailed earlier and said how everyone's prayers had given him a sense of peace, he was actually quite frightened and upset.

I told him that it is normal to be anxious and scared when faced with our own mortality. Even though we have the promise of eternal life, there is still plenty of fear to go around when it comes down to brass tacks about death and dying - more the dying part than anything else, I think.

While I was on my morning walk today, talking to God and trying to listen for His still, small replies, I got to praying and talking with God about my friend's situation and being "ready to die." And very clearly in my head I heard, "You're ready to die, but are you ready to live?"

Most of us don't have a deathbed conversion; many of us receive salvation as teens. There's a lot of living to be done in between when we take His hand in acceptance and when He takes our hand to welcome us home. It's more than being in a club and getting jackets with our names on them. Are we ready and willing to follow Him despite what lies ahead?

When the teacup tips whatever is inside spills out. What comes out when you get tipped? Fill my cup, Lord!

Habbakuk 3:19 (HCSB) Yahweh my Lord is my strength; He makes my feet like those of a deer and enables me to walk on mountain heights!

Have A Nice Day

We all have heard the verse - and read the devotional and Sunday School lesson and heard the sermon! - which says we should not be anxious about anything. Philippians 4:6 NASB "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." Maybe the Apostle Paul was able to put this into practice, but in my case it's definitely "Do as I say, not as I do." Don't follow my example!

Monday I made my first appearance ever in traffic court. Suffice it to say: Whatever state you live in, do a google-search for the state statute regarding yielding to a funeral procession. I can tell you that it is NOT printed anywhere in the Minnesota or Georgia driver manuals.

Back in March I encountered a funeral procession, my first one since moving to Georgia two years ago. I followed the lead of the half-dozen other cards around me and pulled over as it first approached and passed us (going in the opposite direction we were headed). After a bit, the drivers around me pulled back into traffic and drove very slowly as the funeral procession continued in the opposite direction. The funeral procession eventually began to thin out, and a few drivers made right-hand turns off the road while others continued on. I noticed that there were about 3-4 car lengths until the next vehicle, and old pickup, and it was not operating headlights or flashers or carrying a funeral procession pennant, so I turned left - across the road - and continued on my way. About a mile down the road, I looked up and saw the blue and white lights filling my rear-view mirror. I pulled over and was informed that I had illegally cut through a funeral procession. The statute calls it failure to yield to a funeral procession.

The police officer was gone for a long time with my license, and when he came back I asked him how I am supposed to know that the procession is over. He replied that there would be a police car at the front and the end. He also told me, "We take respect very seriously down here," an apparent reference to my main driving record being from Minnesota - a Yankee state (where we don't take respect seriously at all, right?). He also said he didn't know how much the fine would be.

It turned out to be $250!! So I checked the online version of the statute (my wife made the initial discovery), and it said the fine should not exceed $100. Now I was starting to get suspicious. A check at the local clerk of court showed that the patrol car at the beginning and end is not actually part of the local ordinance or the state statute; it's a local preference. I decided not to pay the fine.

Monday morning, my wife and I arrived for our "educational field trip," as she called it, at 9 a.m., having been warned to get there early. The clerk at the city office said they start taking names at 9:15 and just go on down the list in the order they come in. We were not first in line - we were about 20th - for 10 a.m. traffic court. Eventually they crammed about 90 of us into the courtroom with about 65 mis-matched chairs. What a great place to people watch! And all cross-sections of life. People from all walks break traffic laws.

When my turn came, I pleaded No Contest, and the judge asked me to tell what had happened that day. I told him what I told you - minus the "respect down here" comment, which I was saving for later.

I also told my wife to be prepared to launch into a song from our upcoming Vacation Bible School, complete with hand motions, if it looked like things were going badly for me!

The judge heard me out and then said, "Have a nice day, Mr. Zimmerli. Case dismissed." Keep in mind: I was guilty. I had cut through a funeral procession. The judge showed mercy because of my driving record and because there is no way to know the exact law unless you break it once. No fine needed to be paid. In our case with God, Jesus paid the fine already, so the verdict will be the same: Case dismissed. What a relief.

Don't be anxious for anything. God is in control. Shape your worry into a prayer, sandwiched between praises and give it to God and leave it there.

I love how fresh that Scripture is from The Message: Philippians 4:4-7 ...
"4-5 Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in Him! Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you're on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute!

6-7 Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life."

I'm trying, and each victory makes me trust Him more, but "Do as I say, not as I do ... most of the time!"


Postscript: Driving to work today (Wednesday, 2 days after traffic court) I came upon a funeral procession just leaving the funeral home. I had to wait for the entire procession to pass, but at least there was no question when it was done, since there was a police officer blocking the road for traffic coming toward the funeral procession. I found it funny to be stuck there, and thanked God for His sense of humor and for reminding me that I received mercy instead of judgment when He forgave me in my sin and continues to forgive me and lead me daily. -- MKZ

© 2006 Mike Zimmerli All Rights Reserved

The Conversation - Pt. VII (Superman)

"So how do I become God's friend?"

He wants to be your friend and a father to you, someone you can tell anything to, and someone who will help you through every situation that life throws at you. He's been waiting your whole life for you to ask Him to be your friend.

Have you ever heard the expression, "A picture is worth a thousand words?" I have something here I'd like to show you ...

Take a look at this picture. Here's a cross and we're looking at it from behind. We can see the feet a little bit on the other side, so we know that someone is on it. That's Jesus. Notice the people gathered around the cross, looking up at Jesus. What do you notice about them?

"Well, they look sad; some of them look pretty shaken up, but they all look sad."

And did you notice that some are holding hammers, and there are big spikes on the ground?

"Yeah. I see those. These people must have nailed Jesus to the cross."

Look at their clothes. They're not from Jesus' time. They're not Roman soldiers. They're dressed in modern clothes. This picture reminds me that Jesus didn't die for just the people who were alive in His time. He died for me - and you! - knowing about our sins even back then. And see this guy right here, with the hammer? I identify with him. It's as though it was my hand pounding the nails in. It could just have easily have been me. Who among us wouldn't have done it to escape that same fate? If we had been told we were to be crucified - and we deserved it - but then some guy said he would die in our place, we would change places with him in an instant, even if the soldiers told us we had to drive the nails into his hands and feet. We would do anything to not have to die.

Jesus felt that same thing. He prayed to God to take away the need for Him to die if it was at all possible. He knew what was coming, and because He was truly fully human, He did not want to go through with it if it wasn't necessary. But the only way to save the world was through His sacrifice. Some have said it wasn't nails that held Him to the cross: it was LOVE. He could have called ten thousand angels to take Him down and whisk Him away. He could have asked God to kill everyone there for having the audacity to hurt Him. But He didn't. He took it all.

He took the pain and agony, but not only physical torture. He bore our sins and the penalty for our sins - death - on top of it all. And God couldn't look at it. When Jesus took all our sins - the sins of everyone for all time, the sins of billions of people! - He could no longer commune with God. God and sin cannot co-exist. Jesus had to bear it alone. He cried out from that separation. It was the first time in His life that He had ever been cut off from God. He became like us more than ever. He was alone, without God, the way we are until we accept His sacrifice in our place.

You see, even though Jesus died for our sins, it's not automatic. It's like there is a present in a room for me, with my name on it, but I never unwrap it. I never claim it for my own. I never thank the giver of the gift. That's all that separates us from God and Heaven now: our own mouths and hearts.

Remember the verse from Romans 10:9? - "If we confess with our mouth that Jesus is Lord" - that He died for us and we want Him to take over and guide our life - "and believe in our heart that God raised Him from the dead, we will be saved."

"But I don't deserve it. I haven't done enough good things ..."

None of us deserve it, but Jesus gave us this present anyway. Paul told the Ephesians "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast." It's all God! It's not by anything we can do. If it was, we'd be walking around bragging about how we saved ourselves.

"So ... what do I have to do?"

It's as simple and easy as the A, B, C's. A - admit you are a sinner. B - believe Jesus died for you and that He died and was raised again by God. C - confess with your mouth that you want Jesus to live in your heart. You just have to say a little prayer from your heart and mean it. If you'd like, I can lead you and you just have to repeat what I say.

"I've never been very good at praying, so if you want to do it, that would be good."

Ok, just repeat after me:

Dear Jesus, I know I am a sinner and have displeased You in many ways.

"Dear Jesus, I know I am a sinner and have displeased You in many ways.

I believe You died for my sin ...

"I believe You died for my sin ..."

and only through believing in Your death and resurrection can I be forgiven.

"and only through believing in Your death and resurrection can I be forgiven."

I want to turn from my sin ...

"I want to turn from my sin ..."

and ask You to come into my life as my Savior and Lord.

"and ask You to come into my life as my Savior and Lord."

From this day on ...

"From this day on ..."

I will follow You by living a life that pleases You.

"I will follow You by living a life that pleases You."

Thank You, Lord Jesus, for saving me. Amen.

"Thank You, Lord Jesus, for saving me. Amen."

That's all it takes. You are a superman! When you prayed with me just now, Jesus filled up that hole in your heart and sent the Holy Spirit to live inside you and guide you and help you. You have joined your heart to His and now you are a new creation. You have access to God because when He looks at you now, He sees His Son in you! This is a great day, man. You'll want to write this down so you can always remember when it happened. Not only that, but I can call you brother.

"Brother, huh? I always wanted a brother."

Well, now you've got a whole lot of them. This is just the beginning of a wonderful adventure with God.

Since you have asked Jesus for forgiveness, you have become a Christian and have eternal life. You are now God's child. You are also a member of God'’s family. Your feelings may change, but God'’s Word never changes. By faith, believe what God has said.

In I John 5:12 the Bible says, "He who has the Son has life. These things have I written to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, that you may know that you have eternal life, and that you may continue to believe in the name of the Son of God." God wants you to believe Him. He wrote the Bible to assure you of His love and forgiveness.

Your new spiritual life needs care just like your physical life. Just like a new baby in a family, you may need help in beginning your Christian life. I know you were concerned about going to church and all, but you may find that your attitude about that has changed, too. The good thing about going to church - well, just one of the good things - is that you will be with others who have done what you just did: ask Jesus into your heart. And there is strength in numbers. They have gone through the process of following God and can help you. And I'll be there, too.

I know your wife will be happy to hear that you have accepted Christ. Why don't we go tell her together?

"Yeah. That'd be ok, I guess."

Telling someone helps to "seal the deal," if you know what I mean. It makes you accountable, and more importantly, it says that you are not ashamed of Jesus. Before we tell your wife, let me show you another verse in the Bible. In Matthew 10:32-33 Jesus said, "If anyone acknowledges Me publicly here on earth, I will openly acknowledge that person before My Father in heaven. But if anyone denies Me here on earth, I will deny that person before My Father in heaven." That's pretty serious. He said almost the same thing in Mark 8:38: "If a person is ashamed of Me and My message in these adulterous and sinful days, I, the Son of Man, will be ashamed of that person when I return in the glory of my Father with the holy angels." If He is ashamed of us, that means that we are going to be lost.

But do you know what the angels in heaven are doing right now? They're singing and dancing and rejoicing over you! In Luke 15:10 Jesus says, "there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents." When you prayed with me to receive Jesus, the angels started a big party!

"Well, let's go tell my wife, then. Maybe she's got some cake for our party."

(Together) Angel food cake!!

The Conversation - Pt. VI (Coming out of the Desert)

If you've been paying attention to the letters, you probably have a good idea what the word is we've been spelling out on your fingers. F-A-I-T and now H, which stands for Heaven and Hereafter.

If you remember when we talked about 'F is for forgiveness,' the verse I mentioned was from Ephesians, Paul's letter to the church he had visited in the Greek town of Ephesus. A little later in his letter, Paul told the Ephesians about FAITH:

"For by grace are you saved through faith; and not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works (performance), lest any man should boast." Ephesians 2:8 & 9

So the answer to the original question - how can a person get to heaven - is by faith.

"Well, that sounds good, but I have a feeling this involves going to church several times a week, wearing a tie, and actually staying awake during the sermon."

Before I respond to that, I just have one more question for you: if you were to die tonight, where would you end up?

(long pause)

"I'm not really sure. I'd like to think that I would go to Heaven, but I just really don't know for sure. Can anyone REALLY be sure? I mean, don't we all have self-doubts? Don't we all wonder if we've done enough or if we've really ticked off God so much or ... something like that?"

When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Your reflection, of course. After a person trusts in Christ as their Savior, do you know what God sees when He looks at them? His Son. He sees Jesus when He looks at us. He no longer sees our sin, which He can't bear to look at. Remember how I said it is impossible for God to allow sin into heaven, and we're sinful, so how can sinful man go to Heaven where God allows no sin? That's how we can get there. We go in with Jesus, and when God asks if He has a guest, He will say, no - a brother! A joint-heir with Jesus. In Galatians Paul told the church that "If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise." And he also said to them, "Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, "Abba, Father.'"

This is why Christians are different: they have the Spirit of God - the Spirit of Jesus! - in their hearts, filling that God-shaped space. His spirit joins with our spirit - our soul - and together we make a new creature, a super-man. Our new spirit calls out "Abba, Father," which means daddy or papa. If you go to Israel, you will hear little children calling out to their daddies, "Abba! Abba!" Daddy! Daddy! God sees a new creature who is a child of God - one of His own. What daddy doesn't welcome his own children when they come to him?

"It just sounds too simple. I've always heard people talking about working to get into Heaven, and getting their reward. Reward for what? I assume it's a reward for doing good."

And do you think you could ever repay Jesus for what He did for you? Do you think you could ever do enough good works - feed the poor, clothe and shelter the homeless, care for the sick - to make God say, "Hmmm. This guy has done so much, it doesn't matter that Jesus died in his place. He doesn't need Jesus to get to Heaven."

"I don't know. Isn't it possible?"

What could you or I possibly offer the God of the Universe who spoke the our world into being? I don't think He needs something from us like a lawn mowed or groceries delivered? And what could you or I do to make up for the life given by His Son?

"Hey, man. I've read the book and seen the movie. It was the Jews who killed Jesus and they're supposed to be God's chosen people. What's up with that, anyway?"

It was a combined effort, Jews and non-Jews alike, because Jesus died for everyone, regardless of race, color or religion. The Law of Works was made impossible intentionally so we would have nowhere else to turn for salvation except Jesus. He said, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except by Me." He told this to His disciples on the night before He was arrested and taken away to be crucified.

"So, if God doesn't need us for anything, why does He keep us around? Why is it important for us to believe in Him? Why did He send His Son down to live with us if we were just going to kill Him?"

God made us to be His friends. Back in Genesis, He used to walk through the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. Someday, we'll walk with Him again and enjoy being in His direct presence. He loves us as friends and children, even though we turned our backs on Him and disobeyed Him. The only way to fix that was with blood - our blood. We had to die for what we did. Jesus stepped in and took our punishment for us. When He hung on that cross and said, "It is finished!" what He was saying was that the price had been paid in full. It is completed. It - the separation of God and man - was over. Christ stretched out His arms on that cross and made a bridge for us to be able to get together with God again. It was all part of the plan to bring us back into fellowship and friendship with God again.

"I've always had a kind of mental picture of God with white hair, robes and sandals and angry. You know, lightning bolts in each hand and really ticked off, watching from a cloud, ready to spank us or squash us or something bad like that. You're saying God wants me to be His friend?"

Amazing, isn't it, and kind of hard to grasp. But let me try and explain a bit to see if I can make it a little clearer. You love your kids, but sometimes they need discipline, whether to teach them something important or because they did something you told them not to. God is our spiritual Father, but just like our earthly father - and just like us in our role as fathers - sometimes we need to be thumped on the head or put in timeout or firmly told to get back on the right path. When you punish or discipline your children, you don't stop loving them, do you? Of course not, and neither does God stop loving us when we disobey Him or go off on our own instead of following His instructions.

And have you noticed that "discipline?" We get the word "disciple" from the same root word. God needs to correct us to disciple us. That's part of where we get the "angry God" image. And, truth be told, He was angry sometimes in the Old Testament when His chosen people just couldn't get it through their heads what He was telling them. Or they were dissatisfied with what He gave them. Starving in the wilderness, He sends them bread from the sky - manna - every day. Give us our daily bread ... But they said, "Where's our meat and veggies? We want something else!"

"I understand why He got angry. My kids are the same way sometimes. (Pause) So how do I become God's friend?"

He wants to be your friend and a father to you, someone you can tell anything to, and someone who will help you through every situation that life throws at you. He's been waiting your whole life for you to ask Him to be your friend.

Have you ever heard the expression, "A picture is worth a thousand words?" I have something here I'd like to show you ...

The Conversation - Pt. V (A Forked Road)

If you've been paying attention to the letters, you probably have a good idea what the word is we've been spelling out on your fingers. F-A-I-T and now H, which stands for Heaven and Hereafter.

If you remember when we talked about 'F is for forgiveness,' the verse I mentioned was from Ephesians, Paul's letter to the church he had visited in the Greek town of Ephesus. A little later in his letter, Paul told the Ephesians about FAITH:

"For by grace are you saved through faith; and not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works (performance), lest any man should boast." Ephesians 2:8 & 9

So the answer to the original question - how can a person get to heaven - is by faith.

"There seem to be an awful lot of assumptions involved in this plan of yours."

It's not MY plan, and those assumptions, as you call them, are simply acts of faith. Hebrews 11:1 tells us, "What is faith? It is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see."

A different paraphrase of that verse says, "The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see." Let me ask you another question: do you believe that I exist?

"Duh! I can see you, touch you, smell your aftershave, shake your hand, throw you out of my house if I get tired of you. Do I believe you exist? That's a no-brainer."

That's because it takes absolutely no faith to believe in me; I am physical and visible. God and Heaven are not nearly so easy, though. And yet, people can and do believe in God and Heaven and Jesus and the Holy Spirit and in the devil, too.

"Old mister red suit with the pitchfork and forked tail and horns and goat feet? Old Scratch? Sign your name in blood on the contract and sell your soul for your heart's desire?"

Oh, he does like people who view him like that. He's not so scary like that, and people always are able to outwit him, right?

"Yeah, he does make a lot of bad decisions, but hey ... everybody does."

Do you know what the Bible says about him? He's like a hungry lion, roaring and prowling around looking for someone to tear to shred. He would like nothing better than to catch you napping. Actually, that's not quite true. He would love even more to have you believe in the red guy story, and that God is like Santa Claus and that everyone is going to heaven. He would like nothing more than for you to do nothing. To believe in nothing at all. He wants you to believe that Jesus was a good man. And so were Moses and Mohammed and Buddha and Socrates and Plato and Gandhi and more. He wants you to believe God sits on a cloud and watches the world go by, never getting involved except for special cases. He wants you to believe in movie demons. He wants you to believe the Bible is a history book written by men and that you can pick and choose which parts you want to believe. He wants you to do nothing about heaven except go on exactly as you are now.

"Is there a problem with how I'm living now?"

Is it like paradise? Don't you ever ask yourself, "Is this all there is?"

"It's a far cry from paradise, I'll tell you that. But it's all we have, right? That's why Heaven is so special, I thought. Other than sitting around on a cloud and playing the harp ..."

Jesus said He came to earth to give us a more abundant, full, rich life while we're here. When you choose to turn away from sin and self and trust in Jesus, you automatically place one foot in Heaven, the Hereafter. This is not to say that life will suddenly be a bed of roses, although maybe you could say it is, complete with thorns!

"Well, that wouldn't be so different from my life now, 'cuz I've certainly got thorns sticking me all the time."

Do you wish you had someone to help you through those painful times when you're being stuck? I mean someone besides your wife. And someone to celebrate the good times with, too?

"I suppose you're going to tell me that God wants to take care of all my problems. You told me He's not like Santa Claus. You even said He wants to chop me down but Jesus wants Him to give me another year."

Here's what Jesus said about problems: "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."

"I'm sorry. What does that mean?"

Here's the same verse from the Bible, put into today's terminology: "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to Me. Get away with Me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with Me and work with Me - watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with Me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

"Well, that sounds good, but I have a feeling this involves going to church several times a week, wearing a tie, and actually staying awake during the sermon."

Before I respond to that, I just have one more question for you: if you were to die tonight, where would you end up?

The Conversation - Pt. IV (Brass Tacks)

Since it is impossible for God to allow man into Heaven - since man is by his very nature sinful and God and sin cannot exist in the same place - that means something has to be changed somewhere.

"Well, since God can do anything, I guess He can change the rules if He wants to, and then we can all get in. Hmm?"

By that line of reasoning, God could then just change the rules and not be bothered by sin. But then He wouldn't be God.

"Man, I don't know where you get some of this stuff. Of course God would be God. I may not go to church very often, and I know I don't pray unless I really need a favor - and that's not counting when I'm looking down the bowling lane at a 7-10 split - but I do know that God is God and has always been and I guess He always will be."

So if God is unchangeable, I guess we could change, right? I mean, if there's one thing we humans do well is adapt. We are constantly changing based on the situations around us and what's happening in our lives.

"Well, I like to think I can figure out most problems pretty well, but I don't think I can change my DNA, and I'm not just saying that because I slept through most of my high school biology class. If I'm following you right, I would have to become something other than, what, human?"

Maybe you would have to become a superhuman.

"Like Superman? I can guarantee you that I am no man of steel. My six-pack has turned into a whole keg, in case you hadn't noticed."

If you are traveling east and need to be traveling west, what do you need to do?

"Turn around and head the other way, I guess. Why?"

In the Bible, to "turn" means to "repent," and the next letter on your fingers is "T" which stands for Turn.

Jesus talked to lots of people while He was on earth, and one time He told them - this is in Luke, Chapter 13, verse 3 - "... unless you repent (turn) you will all likewise perish." In today's language we would say "Unless you turn to God, you, too, will die." And then He told them a story about a tree.

Here it is ... this is from The Message version of the Bible:

"A man had an apple tree planted in his front yard. He came to it expecting to find apples, but there weren't any. He said to his gardener, 'What's going on here? For three years now I've come to this tree expecting apples and not one apple have I found. Chop it down! Why waste good ground with it any longer?'

"The gardener said, 'Let's give it another year. I'll dig around it and fertilize, and maybe it will produce next year; if it doesn't, then chop it down.'"

"I may not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but I'm confused now."

For centuries God has been trying to get man to produce the fruit He created him for, but man has always resisted. Jesus is the gardener, pleading our case, putting His job on the line for us, so to speak, asking for one more year to get us to produce. "Unless you repent ..." - turn away from the sin you were born with and try something different - "... you will all perish." You see, it's not enough to just turn away from our sinful nature, because we will simply go in a circle and come right back to it. Alone, we can't change course, we can't change our spots. We need to turn away from our selfish sinful nature and turn to something else. You always hear about people trying to "find themselves." They're really trying to find the piece that fits in the God-shaped hole in their heart. They're trying to find out how to produce fruit before the gardener chops down the tree.

"I don't know what to say. I can identify with that feeling of wanting to find yourself, but I just don't know that the churchy-life is for me."

You can look the whole world over and try every religion known to man - even make up your own! - and you'll still be just as lost. The only thing that will fit in that God-shaped hole is God.

"So which is it? God or Jesus?"

That's really simple and unbelievably complicated at the same time. On a really simplistic level we could just say that Jesus and God are the same mind in different bodies. When Jesus' disciples asked Him that same thing, He told them "Anyone who has seen Me has seen the Father." Jesus is the physical puzzle piece that fits in the hole that is our need for God. Is that fairly clear?

"I think I get it."

In the Apostle Paul's first letter to the church at Corinth he wrote: "I passed on to you what was most important and what had also been passed on to me--that Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said. He was buried, and He was raised from the dead on the third day, as the Scriptures said." By "the Scriptures" Paul means the Old Testament prophecies. Jesus fulfilled the prophecies that the Jewish people had been waiting on for hundreds of years. The most important part of that is - just as Paul said - "that Christ died for our sins." That's why we say that a person needs to turn away from themselves and their sin and trust in Jesus - because He paid the penalty for our, my and your sin. Even while we were still sinners, Christ died in our place so we could go to Heaven. And the way that we accept that gift - and get God's forgiveness - is this verse from Romans 10:9 "For if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."

The Message says it like this: "Say the welcoming word to God - "Jesus is my Master" - embracing, body and soul, God's work of doing in us what He did in raising Jesus from the dead. That's it. You're not "doing" anything; you're simply calling out to God, trusting Him to do it for you. That's salvation. With your whole being you embrace God setting things right, and then you say it, right out loud: "God has set everything right between Him and me!""

"Jesus came to fix things up between me and God so I can go to heaven? I thought He came to teach us how to do good things for poor people and to start a bunch of churches and stuff."

He came to make sure that YOU have a way to get into Heaven, which is where God wants you to live in the hereafter. Heaven and Hereafter both start with "H," which is our next letter. Your next - and last - finger, please.

The Conversation - Pt. III (The Conundrum)

"I" is for impossible. It's impossible to put hot water together with cold water without getting warm water. It's impossible for light and dark to exist together. And it is impossible for God to allow sin into Heaven. And that's why God's forgiveness - the letter "F", the first letter we talked about - is available - the letter "A", our second letter - but not automatic. We are sinful and God can't let sin into Heaven.

"Now you're just messing with me. Either that, or this way into Heaven you're proposing is more complicated than you were letting on."

Why?

"Because. You said all we need to get to Heaven is God's forgiveness. But now you're saying it's impossible for us to get IN once we get there because we're sinful and God doesn't allow "our kind" into Heaven. I guess it's going to be a pretty quiet, empty place."

OK. Let's back up. In John 3:16 the Bible says God is loving, remember? "This is how much God loved the world: He gave His Son, His one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in Him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life." You with me?

"So far, so good."

But God is not Santa Claus, carrying around a bag of gifts and that's the only reason we need Him around: for what we can get OUT of Him. The Bible tells us that God is loving, but "His judgment is without mercy." That means that even though it breaks His heart, He will send people to hell. And I don't know how you feel about it, but hell is a real place.

"I guess I've never given it a whole lot of thought ..."

Most people don't, because most people believe they are "basically good at heart" and they think that should be good enough to get to Heaven. But we're not basically good. We are basically evil. You have kids, right?

"Yeah. Two boys and girl."

When they were little, did you have to teach them how to be bad?

"Heck, no! They just naturally took to doing bad things, even my sweet little girl! She's the apple of my eye, but when she decides she wants something, get out of her way. And it doesn't matter if it's good for her or not. She follows her own heart. I try to bring them up to be independent, but sometimes ... y'know? And I hate to punish them, but it's for their own good. They have to learn the rules so they can get along in life."

You said they "naturally took to doing bad things." Does that sound like we're basically good at heart? We have to be taught to do what is right and good. And I'll tell you why: Adam and Eve and DNA.

"Say what?"

Adam and Eve committed the first sin and, ever since, it's been ingrained in us, like a part of our DNA, our genetic makeup. The Bible tells us in Romans 3:23 that each and every one of us has sinned. From the Pope on down. Me, my mom and dad, my sweet old grandmother, the deacons at church, your Aunt Betty, even Jesus' disciples. Ever since Adam and Eve we have been sinful creatures. We are born with sin in our hearts. That sweet little baby you held was born with sin in her heart. We can't get away from it. But there is no sin in God. Sin and God cannot coexist. And that's why it's impossible for forgiveness and heaven to be automatic. God just can't coexist with us because we are sinful creatures at heart. Heaven is His home, and it's been promised to us as our eternal home, too, but we have to get over this sin in our DNA first.

"Hello?? Haven't you ever heard the expression 'A leopard can't change his spots?' I can't change my DNA, and neither can you. So I guess neither one of us is going to get there."

Sometimes a leopard CAN change his spots. Let's go on to the next letter ...

The Conversation - Pt. II (It's For You)

"F" stands for forgiveness, which is something we need to have eternal life in Heaven with God. We need God's forgiveness in order to get to Heaven. Luckily that forgiveness is available, which brings us to the nexxt letter. "A" stands for available. God's forgiveness is freely Available for All.

"For everyone, regardless of crimes, beliefs, social status, the amount they give to their church or even if they go to church?"

You ever watched a football game on TV or gone to one?

"I'm a man, aren't I? Of course I watch football. And I've been a season ticket holder for years to the ____ (team name withheld to avoid embarrassment to the speaker). Tailgating, too. What has that got to with forgiveness?"

Have you ever seen someone holding up a sign that says "John 3:16?"

"Yeah, lots of times. But it's not nearly as good as lots of other signs. Especially when they make up like a poem or something and then they highlight certain letters to spell out the team name or ABC or FOX or CBS, whatever network is broadcasting the game. Or they write signs to John Madden or Al Michaels. That's cool."

John 3:16 stands for the Gospel of John, chapter three, verse sixteen. It says "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him would not perish but have eternal life."

"So?"

Put your name in where it says "the world."

"For God so loved me ...?"

God loved you so much that He was not only willing to send His only Son, He DID send His only Son to die the most humiliating, painful death imaginable.

"Yeah ... I've heard that stuff before. My wife is always saying things like that when she comes home from church. And I've got my own theory."

Which is ...?

"Jesus was able to do all those things and die and everything without worrying about it because He knew He wouldn't be dead when it was over. Like a magician's trick, y'know? It's one thing to do something without knowing what's going to happen, but when you know that it's all going to be fine in the end, it's not so bad."

So you think Jesus didn't experience pain when they whipped Him, tearing out chunks of flesh from all over His body until He was barely recognizable as a man, whipped to within an inch of His life? Roman whips had pieces of glass, nails or jagged sheep bones embedded in lead tips that were at least acorn sized. He lost so much blood He couldn't carry His own cross. He was nailed to that cross through His hands and feet. Many people don't know this, but many times when the Romans crucified a criminal, they also held him to the cross by nailing through his penis and/or pelvis. There is no mention of that in the Scriptures about Jesus, but it is a historical fact. The Romans were without equal in their ability to apply excruciating, humiliating pain. Most of the time when someone was crucified, it took days for them to die. Jesus died in about six hours, hanging on the cross from about nine o'clock in the morning until about three o'clock in the afternoon. The Roman soldiers usually broke the legs of the condemned to speed things along, but Jesus was already dead. They even jabbed a spear through His side to make sure He was dead.

"Whoa. Back off. I said it was just a theory. It may have happened a little differently."

Sorry. I didn't mean to go off like that. It's just that ... it was no parlor trick. No smoke and mirrors, sleight of hand and nothing up His sleeve. We are so jaded in today's age that we believe there is a simple, easily understandable solution to everything, and it's usually a special effect dreamed up in some movie studio. Jesus died. Period. He died alone on the cross for me and for you. He died to make God's forgiveness available for all.

"OK. Problem solved. Everybody is forgiven. I don't see what all the fuss is about ..."

Even though it IS available to all, it is NOT automatic. Jesus said "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of Heaven."

"Wait. What was that last thing? Not everyone who says, 'Lord, Lord, will get to heaven?' What does that mean?"

Have you heard the expression "Talk the talk and walk the walk?"

"Yeah. It means when someone is genuine. They don't just talk, they live what they're talking about."

Exactly. Jesus was saying that He needed people who would 'walk the walk,' not just talk the talk - give Him lip service. Not everyone who says 'Hey, Jesus! You're my man! I'm on your team!' is going to make it, because some of them are just saying it to try and impress others. They're still following their own leading instead of doing what God wants.

"Wait, wait, wait. If Jesus died for everybody - you said that John 3:16 thing - then it's for everybody. Are you changing the meaning of everybody? It's either for everyone or it's not."

It's available for everyone. But just because something is available for everyone doesn't mean everyone will take advantage of the offer. But it's more than that. It simply can't be automatic. I'll tell you why, too, if you'll hold out your next finger for the next letter.

The Conversation - Pt. I (The Question)

In your personal opinion, what do you understand it takes for a person to get to Heaven?

Heaven? Well, if there is such a place - and I hope there is, y'know - you gotta try and be good, and not, y'know, kill anybody ... and go to church, I guess, and ... I don't know. Just not screw anybody over, if you'll pardon my French. Why? What do you think it takes?"

It only takes one word and you've got the whole thing in the palm of your hand. Hold out your thumb. That's "F", and "F" is for forgiveness. We cannot have eternal life and heaven without God's forgiveness.

"Forgiveness? Ha! What do I need to be forgiven for? I live my life the way I want to, by my rules, and I'm pretty good. I've never asked for anything from God and that's what I've gotten."

You sound like a lot of people who are convinced they are self-made and self-contained. But inside, every person has a hole in their heart that can only be filled by God - a God-shaped hole, if you will. We are born with the inherent knowledge that there is something larger than us, something grander than us, something else besides us and some place else besides this world. People spend their whole life looking for the piece that fits in that space. We try to fill that hole with anything we can get our hands on, but only God will fit.

"God doesn't fit in my life, what with all His rules and "thou shalt not's."

Rules like "Love your neighbor?" Like "Heal the sick, feed the hungry and care for the poor?"

"No, rules like no drinking and no having fun; no running around with your buddies. You can't lie, you can't even look at a pretty woman! There's no sex and you have to go to church all the time. They're always trying to make you feel guilty."

I think you're confusing God with your parents. Jesus said, "I have come to the earth so you could have a fuller, more joyful, fulfilling life." And tell the truth: does excess alcohol really bring out the best in you? And nowhere in the Bible does it say you are can't have fun. And here's a heads up: God created sex.

"How about football and baseball games and fishing and hunting? And tailgate parties? And golf?"

They're not mentioned in the Bible as recreations. What the Bible does say - in my own words - is, "I am God. I am the only God. Don't put anything ahead of Me. Not football, baseball, golf, fishing, hunting or your desire for a new car or big screen plasma TV."

"See! Rules, rules and more rules and no fun!"

God doesn't say you can't have any of those things. He says don't make them your god. Don't put your desire to have the coolest stereo system on your block above Him.

"Well, that may be, but it still doesn't tell me why I need forgiveness. I'm no axe murdering serial killer, and I don't run around on my wife, and I don't look at porn on the internet - on purpose - and I don't do crack or meth or heroin or bet on the horses and I'm not a drunk ... at least not on a regular basis."

Sounds like you follow a set of rules. Maybe some of these sound familiar: Don't commit murder. Don't lie, cheat and steal. Honor your father and mother. Don't covet ...

"Yeah! That's one of those things: coveting! What the he ... heck is that, anyway?"

Remember when your neighbor, Bob, got his 50-inch plasma TV? Were you happy for him, or did you say to yourself, "That should be mine! I work harder than he does, and I've had to put up with a lot more crap at work, and I've had to work for everything I've ever gotten while he gets everything practically given to him! I deserve it more than he does." And Frank's wife, Marion...?

"Oh, yeah ... she's hot!"

Wanting what is not yours, whether you deserve it or not, is coveting.

"OK. So I have broken a few of "the rules," but does that make me such a terrible person? I mean, I've never acted on most of those impulses. Besides, nobody could keep all those rules. So I guess no one can get to Heaven. Or maybe we're all getting in!"

"Through Him (meaning Jesus) ... through Jesus we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sin." That's in the Bible, Ephesians chapter one, verse seven. You see, Jesus kept all those rules. He was the only one who ever did, and so He fulfilled The Law - which is what the Jews called the Ten Commandments. Jesus paid our tickets for breaking the rules, so now all we have to do is ask for forgiveness.

"I still don't think I've done anything so bad that God should be mad at me."

You already said you've broken a "few of the rules," so that means you have sinned. God said, "Keep these rules or forget about Heaven." In effect, your breaking of those rules means the sins were more important to you than God and eternal life. And, He's not mad at you. As a matter of fact, it breaks His heart.

"Breaks His heart? I'll bet He doesn't even know I exist!"

He formed you in your mother's belly. He mixed the DNA just so, just the way He wanted. He has numbered the hairs on your head - He doesn't just know how "many" hairs you have, He knows which one is which! Oh, yeah. He knows you exist.

"OK. So if Jesus paid for my tickets, then maybe I can buy into this forgiveness thing, since there's nothing major I have to do. What else you got?"

Well ... that brings us to the next letter. Hold out your first finger. Yeah, your "pointer" finger. This one is "A."