Wednesdays With Jesus

This afternoon, there was a knock on my door, which I found irritating in itself, because really, when is that not an inconvenience? This time, I happened to be playing "Modern Warfare 2," and I was playing very well; better than I ever have, as a matter of fact. So interruption was even less welcome than usual. Adding to this, my roommate had already had a run-in with our downstairs neighbors about noise from our apartment the night before. As I walked toward the door, I began readying a list of excuses and/or apologies for whatever slight may have been committed.

Upon answering the door, however, I found not a neighbor, but two young women in skirts, button down shirts, sweaters and, alarmingly, name tags. They introduced themselves:

"Hi, I'm so-and-so." (I can't remember her name, but it was very stupid-sounding)

"And my name is something else stupid-sounding," said the other.

It wasn't until I shook hands with each of them that I noticed they each held a bible. I stared at them, silent. A moment passed before one of them uncomfortably asked.

"What's your name?"

I don't know why I didn't just volunteer that information.

"I'm Nick. What can I do for you?"

I already knew.

"We're representatives of Jesus Christ."

"Wow, that sounds like a lot of responsibility," I replied. "How's it going?"

"We were wondering if there was anything you needed help with?"

I stared again, silent.

"Any dishes that you need washed? Trash taken out?"

Hey, as long as they're offering...

"My car could use a wash," I told her.

She looked genuinely surprised, as if no one had taken her seriously yet. Before she could respond, the other girl jumped in.

"Do you believe in Jesus Christ?" she asked.

In that instant, I found myself faced with an extremely difficult decision. On the one hand, I love theological debates. Love 'em. I am an outspoken (and smug) atheist. I've read hundreds of essays, books, and articles, watched countless hours of debates, and over the last several years, I've crafted dozens of bullet proof arguments. I absolutely love these debates.

On the other hand, I've found that these debates are only worth having with people who haven't been fully indoctrinated into a religion. These girls had clearly drank the Kool-Aid. As tempted as I felt to engage them, I knew I wasn't going to change any minds. So I thought I'd have a little fun instead.

"Believe in him how? Like, do I believe that he existed? Or do I believe that he'd come through in the clutch?"

She appeared very confused. "Umm..."

"I mean, if Jesus Christ is up in the bottom of the 9th, full count, down by one, with a runner on, do I believe that he'd put it over the fence?"

"No, I mean..."

"Because I just don't know enough about his bat to make that kind of judgment. Plus, the guy's got a serious history of injuries. Dude had holes in his hands AND feet."

One of them seemed quietly amused; the other did not. "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?" she asked.

I paused. She really wanted to get an answer out of me.

"Who's pitching? Is it Pontius Pilate?"

She appeared to be very agitated at this point. "Please, this is a serious question. Do you have Jesus' love in your life?"

"Here's the thing - I just don't know if I want to have this conversation with you," I said, a little uneasy.

"Why not? Have you sinned?"

"Yeah, probably. But that's not it."

"Then what is it? We can help you."

"I just... I mean, from what I know about Jesus, he was a really scrawny guy, so if he's gonna put one out, he'd have to be dead pull hitter. I don't know what the dimensions of Nazareth's ball park are, and they're probably only gonna pitch him breaking stuff away."

Visibly irritated, the girl let out an audible, exaggerated sigh. "Thank you for your time," she said, and the two walked off.

I stepped out, into the hallway and continued. "What direction is the wind blowing? Who's batting behind Jesus? If it's someone like Luke, I feel like they'd pitch around Jesus to get to him."

The girls were already knocking on the door at the next apartment.

"How many apostles do I have on the bench? Could I pinch hit for him?"

My neighbor answered his door, and the girls began their routine again, so I stepped back inside and shut my door.