2Believe
All content (c) 2003 Evan H, all rights reserved. May not be freely distributed.
Martin walked down the plain corridors of High Place Seminary with a long stride. He was a young man in his early twenties wearing a smart suit and tie, having just come back from a philosophy exam. He was only a few days from becoming an ordained priest in the Universal Christian Church. All his professors loved him, people continued to congratulate him on his sermons, and he was even beginning to believe that Bishop Stewart was beginning to like him.
Martin had always felt rejected by Bishop Stewart. Rumor had it that Stewart, the headmaster of High Place Seminary, thought Martin was too pious, too enthusiastic about God to be a real minister, and Martin hoped the rumors were true. He had grown up in the church attending events like "Acquire the Fire," reading magazines and websites about Christian teen life, and everybody told him not to care if people held low opinions of him because of Jesus. One of his favorite songs had always been "Jesus Freak," one of the first Christian rock songs from back in 1998. Even though the song was recorded when he was only two years old, he loved it anyway. All in all, the rumors were about to meet their moment of truth: Martin had been told to report to the bishop's office once he was through with his day's exams.
"Is the bishop in?" Martin asked the Bishop's secretary.
The secretary, a priest a few years older than Martin, nodded and showed Martin into Bishop Stewart's office.
The office was decorated almost as much as a cathedral's sanctuary. Small statuetts lined the walls, and every shelf held either a crucifix, Peter, or the virgin Mary. The bishop himself was dressed in the traditional outfit and was cleanly shaven.
"Ah, Martin, have a seat," Stewart said cordially. Martin did so. "I suppose you're wondering why you're here." Martin nodded. "Well, I have a few hypothetical questions to ask you. But first... I've heard a lot about you, Martin. People tell me you are a very religious person."
Martin blushed slightly. "I suppose so, sir," he said. "Although I prefer not to call it religion. It... doesn't capture the whole meaning of Jesus for me."
Stewart smiled and nodded. "And you've grown up in the church?"
"Yes, sir. I was saved when I was four and I haven't looked back since."
"But did you understand it then?"
"Maybe not... but there really isn't that much to understand. And even if I didn't then, I do now."
"And have you ever questioned you FaithÐ or have you ever tried to defend it?"
"I'm not saying what you believe is wrong," the teacher said pointedly. "I just have yet to hear you give a valid reason for believing what you believe."
Martin shrugged. "It's not really the kind of thing I can just say in class," he said. "It's every small thing that's worked out. It's every time I've been able to face an impossible situation and know I would get through it. And actually, I haven't found a good reason yet not to believe in God."
"Yes, sir," Martin said. "Every philosophy class I've been in has made me question God somewhat, but I always end up at the same conclusion."
Stewart tilted his head slightly to one side. "This isn't an exam, Martin," he said after a second. "I just want to get to know you."
Martin visibly relaxed. "Sorry."
"It's all right. Now, I do want to know, hypothetically, what would you do if you were having a discussion with someone and they said that God didn't exist?"
"Well, I'd say that they have a right to believe that. I disagree, but it's not something that I can prove to you intellectually."
"What about if this personÐ I'll be that personÐ said that God wasn't real because bad things were happening."
Martin smiled. "I would say that bad things don't happen because they're out of God's control, or because God wants them to happen. They happen because God uses them to build us up and develop our character. Otherwise we'd all be a group of spoiled brats andÐ"
Stewart held up his hand. "I get the picture. Are you going to do a sermon on this sometime?" he asked somewhat jokingly.
"Next week," Martin replied, completely serious.
Stewart sighed. "What if I said that the church was corrupt and all of Christianity was a sham."
"I'd say that just because a few people act like jerks while beating people over the head with a Bible isn't a reason to put down the whole Faith."
"But what about the church?"
"Well..." Martin shifted. "To be honest, sir, there are a few things about the church that bug me. Sometimes it seems like we rely too heavily on tradition and dogmas that have no basis in Scripture. But that doesn't mean that God isn't real. Personally I find it interesting that despite our impure intentions and the few people with corrupt motives God can still work through the church."
Stewart smiled. Martin definitely lived up to the rumors. "What if a bishop told you that the church was corrupt and that God didn't exist?"
Martin shifted again. This conversation was fast becoming uncomfortable. "Well... I would ask that bishop why he was a bishop if he didn't believe in God."
"What if I said God was dead?"
Martin swallowed hard. "I... sir... I would be shaken to say the least," Martin stammered. He tried to maintain a sense of humor, but something about the bishop's language told him that the bishop was serious. "And I would still wonder why you were a bishop," he said.
"Martin, I'm going to say something that isn't hypothetical, okay?"
Martin nodded slowly, hoping the bishop wouldn't say what Martin knew he was going to say.
"God is dead."
Martin could almost hear the glass walls of his reality shattering. This was a figure that symbolized everything the church stood for, and yet he didn't have Faith. If the ones talking about Faith didn't have it, how much of it was true...?
Stewart paused for a moment to let his words sink in, then he continued. "This whole church, this entire hierarchy, is one big business. Now before you go calling it a scam, let me explain. People want satisfaction, absolution, from all their problems and, for some people, pangs of guilt. It's our job to give it to them, and if they want to compensate us for our services, then so be it. It's that simple."
Martin stared into space for a second. "You... don't believe in God?"
Stewart sighed. "No, Martin, I don't."
"But... you're a bishop."
"Yes."
"And bishops are supposed to bring the Word of God to the people."
"Supposed to, yes."
"And you don't believe in God?"
"No."
"Then why are you a bishop?"
"Because I have to pay the bills."
"But why not be a speechwriter for the governor or someone? Why do you have to... lie to people?"
"Lying is a strong word. They want God, we give them a god."
"Why? Isn't it better to tell them the truth?"
Stewart laughed. "Yes, that is what we tell you, isn't it? No, Martin, it is better to keep them happy, keep them satisfied, keep them in their idealistic dream world than wake them up to the harsh realities of real life."
Martin stared at the ground. "Is everyone like this?" he said quietly.
Stewart nodded. "All of the upper-class faculty here, yes. Actually, pretty much everyone from bishop up knows."
"So... why are you telling me this? Why not just let me sit in my 'idealistic dream world'?" Martin asked with more than a hint of irony.
"Now, now, don't take it personally. I'm telling you because you're a bright young man. I don't want you stuck in the lower levels of the hierarchy simply because you're doing the apparent right thing. Here, you've seen the people at graduation that are 'ordained with honors,' right?"
"Let me guess," Martin said, not bothering to hide his growing sarcasm, "those are people like me who have had their idealistic bubbles popped, right?"
"Calm down; some day you'll thank me for telling you this. Yes, those are people that know the truth about the church. Yes, you are going to be ordained with honors. And I happen to know a cushy desk job at a church not far from here that will suit you nicely."
"But what do I say to people? I can't..." Martin trailed off.
"Don't say anything. Send them to someone who actually believes. Don't tell anyone about what we've been talking about; it can only hurt you."
Partly because he felt like the conversation was over, and partly because he didn't want to hear any more, Martin got up to leave, muttering, "Thank you so much for that enlightening conversation. Unfortunately, I happened to like my dream world."
"Are you ready to stand up for God?" the speaker yelled to the crowd.
The crowd of five thousand teenagers yelled back enthusiastically.
"Do you believe that Jesus is the only way to Heaven?"
"Yes!"
"Do you feel the presence of God here tonight?"
"Yes!"
"Are you ready to Acquire the Fire?"
"Yes!"
Martin still couldn't believe what his ears had heard. No one in the church believed in God... all the people he had been getting instruction from, getting advice from, had been lying.
What about Acquire the Fire? They always promoted themselves as independent, not aligned with any particular church. Maybe they... no. One of the first things Martin had found out once he came to seminary was that the head of the organization that ran Acquire the Fire was on the seminary's board of directors. However, he wasn't the first person to start Acquire the Fire; in fact, he hadn't taken over until two years before Martin went for the first time. So every experience Martin had had in the church was a sham.
Martin walked into his dorm room and slammed the door shut. Being a final-year graduate student, he had his own bedroom that shared a common bathroom and kitchen. On the desk in his room lay his Holy Bible: Universal Modern Edition, the only translation recommended by the Universal Christian Church. Another fraud.
In a final attempt to put an end to his downward spiral, he turned to a random passage in red and read it. Subconsciously, he knew it was in John, chapter 8, around verse... 31. "Those who hold to my teachings perfectly are my disciples and know the Truth."
"That's a lot of comfort," Martin said out loud as he collapsed on his bed. "No one's perfect." Everything he believed in came crashing down around him, and it was all he could do to shut his eyes and pray that he wouldn't be hurt. But wait... God's not real, so praying won't help.
"What am I holding on to?" Martin wrote through his tear-flooded eyes. "Nobody who matters cares about me. If I died tonight, no one would care. I have no purpose in life. What is my purpose?" He vigorously underlined the last question.
As he sat at his desk, the light from his only desk lamp not penetrating the nighttime gloom outside his window, the words to an old church song came to him. "Friends have failed me... foes assail me... Jesus my Savior makes me whole."
Martin turned the paper over and wrote, "God has a purpose for me. I don't know what it is, but whatever it is is worth living for."
He looked at the first side of the paper and read his first question. In response, he wrote, "Jesus."
"Friends may fail me," Martin sang softly to himself, a slow, melancholy cry for help, "foes assail me, He my Savior makes me whole."
Slowly Martin picked himself back up, determined to prove the bishop wrong. So the highest clergy didn't believe in God; so what? The first Christians were thrown to the lions in the Roman Coliseum, so Martin couldn't face a fate much worse. If God was real, he would die a martyr's death. If God wasn't real, he had no reason to live anyway.
He opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a small Compact Text Bible: New King James Version. This version was made in the late 1980s, and Martin liked to return to it every so often for clarification. It was like his taste in music: somewhat dated. Turning to the same passage as before, he found, "If you abide in My word, you are my disciples indeed. And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."
Martin slammed his Universal Modern Edition shut. "That says nothing about being perfect you piece of trash!" he yelled at it. "The whole point of Jesus was that we didn't have to be perfect. All we have to do is follow him."
Out of pure curiosity, he searched for another well-known passage. This time it was Hebrews 4:12. The UME said, "The Word of God is relevant and pure, never-changing, able to combat most evils."
"That cannot be right," Martin nearly yelled. His excitement was so great he forced himself to turn slowly so he wouldn't rip the thin pages of his NKJV bible:
"For the Word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart."
Martin's breathing grew heavier with his excitement. This was proof enough for him: the modern church was covering up the Truth that the earlier church had found. Besides, Martin thought, would Christians really have had the strength to throw themselves to the lions if their God wasn't real? For a second he began to wonder if all the martyr stories were just made up as well, but he quickly reminded himself that just about everyone took it as historical fact that they happened.
If the farther from Jesus' time the church got, the farther from the truth they strayed, Martin decided he needed to go to the source. "David," he said out loud, "David has a Greek Bible. I wonder where I can get one of those..."
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