T(r)oy's Marbles

George

I’d like to give you a rough idea of the kind of person my uncle George is. For starters, he comes from Wisconsin. Wisconsin, it could be said, is like Israel in that it could be called the “land flowing with milk” since one of its major industries is dairy products. Now: my uncle George is from a small town in Wisconsin called Melrose. Nobody’s really ever heard of Melrose, because it’s quite small and it’s quite a distance away from Milwaukee, Wisconsin’s largest city. Anyway, you should also know that my uncle George is a mechanic, just like his father before him. In his earlier years, George was, in some ways, just an ordinary kind of guy: likable and intelligent. That’s to be expected I suppose, since he comes from a pretty normal family.

But about four years ago, my uncle George put down his tools and stopped being a mechanic. He did this because, he told me later, the man that everyone thought was his real father wasn’t really his real father. He told me that, actually, God was his real father. Like, for real.

So, he set out on a special mission. He started his mission by getting baptized and, after he fasted for forty days in the wilderness without camping supplies, he came back to Melrose. He was invited to preach that Sunday, so George got up and read something from the Bible that day that talked about how God would send a special messenger to earth to put everything right again. After he read that section, my uncle George looked up from the Bible and proceeded to tell everyone that he was “the special messenger” referred to in that text: in other words, he claimed to be God’s son. With that, he told us that he would be the answer to all our troubles if we would just decide to be his followers. Then, he simply closed the Bible and took his seat. It was the shortest sermon I have ever heard! Naturally, everyone had something to say about it: most people were polite and mean at the same time. They said things like, “Bless his heart, he’s out of his mind. If he’s God’s Son, how come he’s the spittin’ image of his father George senior, hmmmm?”

Well, they could talk all they wanted, but my uncle George proceeded to put some action to his words. For starters, he left his home in Melrose and just started living like a homeless person. Sometimes he’d spend the night in a hotel. Sometimes, he’d sleep at some friends’ houses. Other times, when he was in a town where he had no friends and when he had no money, he’d just pull up a rock and try to get some sleep that way.

But that isn’t the half of it. It’s what he did when he went on these road trips that’s really something to talk about. On one of his first trips he was teaching at church one Sunday when all of a sudden this guy in the church started yelling in this weird voice right in the middle of George’s sermon: “Georgie Porgie puddin’ and pie! Thinks he’s God’s Son and we all know why!” It was weird. Well, George didn’t miss a beat. He looked straight at the guy and said: “Be quiet, come out of him!” Now, we had no idea what George meant by “come out of him” but just as soon as he said that, the guy started shaking all over and shrieking, and then suddenly—he was as quiet as a spring breeze. We all figured he musta been possessed or something. It was amazing.

Well, after church that day we went to my wife’s mom’s house for Sunday dinner. She actually missed church ‘cause she was home sick, which also meant we didn’t have anything to eat when we got back from church. Well, George put that right straight away. He went to her bed, took her hand and helped her up. I kid you not: one second she was burning up with a really high fever, and the next she was making us a really fantastic spaghetti dinner.

As if that wasn’t enough for one day, that night I would say about 500 or 600 people showed up at mom’s house. At first, I figured they had heard about mom’s spaghetti dinner and they wanted something to eat. “How on earth are we gonna have enough pasta to feed all these people?!” I thought. But then I saw that every one of ‘em was sick. Well, of course, George knew what they were there for right away so he put every single one of ‘em right. Just like that. It was amazing.

(By the way, later I found out that the food thing I was worried about wasn’t an issue. Once, George fed more than 5,000 people with just 5 loaves of garlic bread and 3 pans of lasagna. Incredible!)

Well, naturally, word got round about George and in one town this guy with AIDS came running up to him. I was shaking in my boots. I kept thinking, “What if I catch it now?” Anyway, the guy said, “I have AIDS. I’m going to die. Will you help me?” George said, “I will.” And then I couldn’t believe what I saw next: George leaned over and kissed the guy! Oh, man! That freaked me out! Kissing a guy with AIDS! How could someone do that?! But he did. And guess what? It was the kiss that cured him. Amazing.

A few days after that, George was talking in this really crowded auditorium. It was standing room only. Turns out this guy who had been in a motorcycle accident (and was paralyzed from the neck down) wanted to get in to hear George speak. His friends tried wheeling him in, but the place was so packed they couldn’t get in. Turns out one of ‘em was a carpenter, so he ran to his truck and got his electric saw. They climbed up on the roof and cut a hole in it. They lowered the paralyzed guy down first onto the catwalk in the auditorium and then they hoisted him down to the stage, right where George was speaking. We were all just like: “Ummm..okay. This is interesting.”

But George wasn’t ruffled. He just looked at the guy and said, “Don’t worry. I forgive everything you’ve ever done wrong.” Now, at that point, everyone in the auditorium was thinking something about what George just said. Personally, I was thinking: “Ummm…George, that ain’t really what this guy is here for, you know what I mean?” And just then George says: “Okay. You can walk now.” The guy got up and actually walked out in front of us all! It was amazing! Now: later, I found out why George said “I forgive you” to this guy. Turns out his body wasn’t the only thing that was broken: his spirit was too. George made ‘em both better.

It was around this time that George totally blew our minds away! He invited a guy who was part of the mafia to be one of his groupies! The mafia! I mean, this guy had strutted around town in Levi’s blackmailing the shopkeepers. He told them that if they didn’t give him their monthly dues, he “couldn’t guarantee their safety.” He called it “Levi’s security company.” It was nothing more than thievery is what it was. And George asked him to be his cohort! I couldn’t believe it! That night, we even had a party to celebrate Levi’s “new occupation”. Levi invited a bunch of his thugs and some hookers to the party. It was a classy affair, let me tell you. Around 2 in the morning, a pastor who lived next door showed up with a policeman. He was pretty upset. “What’s the meaning of this? You’re disturbing the peace. I’m trying to sleep. And, anyway, what’s a guy like you doing hanging out with this riff raff? This is sick.” George just said, “If this is sick, then I’m their doctor. Don’t worry officer, I’ll make everything better, okay?” And, wouldn’t ya know it: the policeman just let them carry on.

Well, there are lots more stories like that to tell about George. But let me skip ahead and get to the really good parts.

One day, we were just walking along when George asked, “Are you guys up on the news lately?” We said “yeah.” He said, “Has there been anything written about me this week?” We said, “Of course, you’re the talk of the town, Georgie. You’re always front page news.” He said, “Well, what are people sayin’ about me?” We said, “Well Newsweek says you must be some kind of prophet. Today’s newspaper says you must be someone like Sir Thomas More, come back to life. And, get this: The National Enquirer says you’re Satan incarnate.” He laughed at that one and said, “Well, what about you? Who do you say I am?” I said, “Well, I think you’re God’s Son. Ain’t that what you been tellin’ us all along?” He said, “You’re right. But now I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. Things aren’t going to turn out like you would expect, okay? You would expect, if I am indeed God’s Son, that I’m gonna be like the next chief secretary of the UN or something like that and that I would set everything right in the world that way. But nothing even remotely like that is going to happen. In fact, the exact opposite is going to happen. We’re gonna go to Milwaukee and there I’m gonna be killed.” I couldn’t believe it! In one breath he was telling us he was God and then in the next he was telling us he would be killed! That just didn’t make sense. God can’t be killed. Well, from then on things were pretty weird.

I guess the weirdness started when a really good friend of George’s died and his friend’s sister was really depressed. So was George. In fact, George was so upset that George decided he’d had enough. He went to the cemetery one day with a shovel and just started digging up his friend’s casket. We were all like: “Ummm…George. What are you doing? The guy’s been dead for days now!” But George didn’t listen to us. Once the casket was uncovered, George just stepped back and shouted at the casket: “Come out!” And his friend came back to life! Right there before our very eyes! It was incredible!

After that, we decided to head to Milwaukee. Now: word had gotten round about the resurrection of George’s friend so folks everywhere were anticipating big things from George. So, when the people in Milwaukee heard that George was coming to their town, they planned a big parade to welcome him. Now, George heard about the parade they were planning for him, so he decided to make a few preparations of his own for it. He called a couple of us aside and said to us: “I have a special job for you two. I want you to go on ahead of the rest of us. On the edge of town, just off highway 90, next to exit 54, you’ll find a lime green house. You can’t miss it. Next to that house, you’ll find a garage. Next to the garage, you’ll find a brand new yellow motor scooter. I’d like you to go there and get it for me. Oh, and by the way, if, while you’re there getting the brand new yellow motor scooter, a guy comes out of the house and says to you, ‘what the blank are you doing with my brand new yellow motor scooter?’ you should just say to him, ‘Well…George needs it.’ Don’t worry, he’ll just let you take it.” Now, at first, this was a little hard to believe, but guess what? It happened exactly like George described!

So, perched atop this brand new yellow motor scooter, George puttered into Milwaukee. As he came to the main part of town, people were lined up on both sides of the street cheering him on. There were thousands of people there. Some of ‘em had signs that said “George saves the day.” Others had signs that said, “Hooray for George.” Still others said: “George for President.” I was lovin’ it. I figured George’d get elected to office and I’d be one of his cabinet members or something like that.

Next day we visited the largest megachurch in Wisconsin. I thought, “All right. Now we’re talkin’. George is really gonna make his mark now.” But George didn’t “make his mark” in the way I thought he was gonna. Basically, he walked around the church and, to put not too fine a point on it, he didn’t like what he saw at all. He went to the gym (‘cause, yes, this church had its own gym) and headed for the supply closet. He went inside and grabbed a baseball bat. He proceeded straight to the church’s gift shop (‘cause, yes, this church had its own gift shop) and he just started smashing stuff to pieces. Smash! went the strategy books on church growth. Smash! went the cash register. Smash! went a whole shelf of coffee mugs that said “What Would George Do?” on them. He went into the sanctuary. He went straight for the platform. The pastor spoke from a new clear, glass-looking pulpit. George took one look at it and said, “What kind of message are you preaching here, buddy! You’re turning a profit when you should be turning to God.” Smash! went the pulpit. I thought, “George, are you out of your mind?!”

Well, we got out of that place, which I was happy for, and we went out to the countryside. Now, we were hungry ‘cause we hadn’t eaten anything all day. As we were walking along, though, we spotted what looked like an apple tree up ahead. As we got closer we discovered that, yes, it was indeed an apple tree, but when we went to pick an apple to eat—

Well…it was the strangest thing. It was harvest time, but this tree didn’t have any apples on it. George had had it. He took one look at the tree and said, “What is going on here? This is messed up! You are just like that church! You look alive on the outside, but you’re not yielding any real lasting fruit. You’re not feeding anybody. I really wish things would stop being this way!” Just then, the tree fell over. It was rotten to the core.

Yes, things were definitely getting crazy. Later that week, we ended up sleeping in a cow pasture. Actually, I should say, we slept and George prayed. Something was really troubling him. He told us to wake up a couple of times, but we kept falling back to sleep. The last time he woke us up he told us that it was the end. We looked up and there were the police. Several churches in Milwaukee had called them and pressed charges. It turns out these policemen were members of the megachurch that George had paid a visit to earlier in the week. And they were not happy at all. They handcuffed him roughly. And then George said, “What is this? Am I some kind of a danger? Some kind of threat to society? Have I been leading a rebellion that you have to handcuff me like this?” I thought, “Um…yeah.” And I ran like a maniac. The police put George in the car and drove off. I got on the motor scooter and followed them.

The strangest thing: they didn’t take him to the police station first. Instead, they took him to the megachurch. There, they beat him up pretty badly and asked him all kinds of questions, but it was obvious they weren’t interested in the truth. They just wanted him dead.

The sad thing is: I guess I sort of did, too. See, while George was in the church taking the beating of a lifetime I was hanging out in the lobby sipping a cup of coffee. While I was there, someone came up to me and said, “Hey, aren’t you with George?” I said, “Me? No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I didn’t want to get caught, so I went outside to hide. But I didn’t want to leave because I still wanted to see what was gonna happen. While I was waiting outside, some lady came up to me and said, “Hey, I recognize you. You’re one of George’s gang, aren’t you?” I said, “No, you must be mistaking me for someone else. I don’t know George.” Then someone else said, “Don’t lie.” I said, “I’M NOT LYING, DAMNIT! I DO NOT KNOW THE MAN, OKAY?!”

I couldn’t believe I said that. After all we’d been through together. After all I’d seen him do for others. For me. I couldn’t believe I said…

I ran away and wept.

They ended up torturing George to the point of death. When he told them he was God’s Son that just made them madder. They hit him, they beat him with a baseball bat, they kicked him, they spit on him, and they mocked him. They took some rusty barbed wire and formed it into a circle so it looked sort of like a crown. They said, “You want to be our king. Okay. Here you go, Georgie.” They crammed it into his skull.

But George bore up under the torture. Amazingly, I found out that George said these words even while he was being tortured, “Father, forgive them. They have no idea what they are doing.” When I heard that he said that, I couldn’t believe it. Forgive them?! NO WAY! WHY? Why should he forgive them for what they were doing to him? They were killing him. And he says “forgive them”? No way! NO. WAY.

Well, sure enough, they killed him and his body was sent to the coroner. Now there was this rich guy named Joseph who had a special tomb prepared for his own burial. It was one of those special above-ground jobbies, you know? Anyway, Joseph decided he wanted George to be buried in it instead. So, Joseph went to the coroner and asked if he could have George’s body. The coroner wondered why someone would care at all about burying this good-for-nothing, but “what do I care what happens to him?” “So, go ahead. Take him.” So Joseph took George and lovingly laid him in his tomb. Then, he shut the door to the tomb and locked it.

At that time, the church leaders heard a rumor that George said he would come back to life. They told the police about it, so the police stationed a couple of guards there and put some police tape around the tomb and confiscated Joseph’s key. The tomb was a secure area.

On Saturday, nothing happened really. We were all in hiding, afraid that the police were going to round us up and kill us too. But on Sunday morning, George’s mom and a lady named Mary who had been a hooker went to bring some flowers to George’s grave. They decided they’d had enough hiding. If they got rounded up by the police, they got rounded up. So be it. Well, on their way to the tomb, they were wondering if the police would let them go across the police line to place their flowers right next to the door, but when they got there the police were gone, the police tape was broken and the door was open! The two ladies looked inside the tomb and the only thing in there was the suit they had put on George. Strangely, it had been folded up neatly as if someone had just dry-cleaned it. And the lily they had laid in his hands was gone. It was strange, but the biggest mystery of all was: Where had George’s body gone?!

I found out later. I was fishing ‘cause I didn’t have anything to eat. I was in pretty low spirits, let me tell you. I had denied knowing him. How could I do that? What was wrong with me? What was wrong with the world? Why did things have to turn out this way? I felt like killing myself. What was there to live for: fishing? I couldn’t even catch one wormy perch to feed myself! What a loser I am! Just then, I heard a voice from the shore: “Are you catching anything?” I couldn’t see who it was, and quite frankly, I was annoyed at the guy for disturbing what little peace I had. I shouted back, “No!” and thought, “Thanks for rubbing it in, guy.” He shouted back, “Why don’t you try casting on the other side of the boat? I heard it’s better over there.” I thought, “This guy is crazy. He obviously knows nothing about fishing. But, I suppose I’d better do it, otherwise he’ll never leave me alone.” I cast my line on the other side, and wouldn’t ya know it, I reeled in the biggest fish ever caught in Wisconsin state history! For real!

That’s when I looked over at the shore. “Who is this guy?”

“George?”

We hugged and laughed and cried. Then he said, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s fry up your trophy.” Naturally, he’d already had a fire built. I’ll never forget that meal. I’ll never forget what George said to me: He told me he had a special job for me. He wanted me to tell people his story, how he lived and died and forgave and how he rose again. He wanted me to take care of people who believed his story and wanted to follow him. I couldn’t believe it! After I had denied him, he still wanted me, he still loved me, he still wanted to be my friend!

And today, I’m here to tell you: He still wants you. He loves you and he forgives you. No matter what you’ve done, he wants to be your friend. And he has a very special job for you to do. He wants you to tell other people his story. How he lived. What he did. How he died. How he forgives and heals and restores. And how he rose again.

You know, it’s amazing, really, that he still wants us. After all that we’ve done, he still wants us and loves us. It’s surprising, really.

But, you know, that’s just the kind of person George is. He’s God’s Son. Would you expect anything less than a surprise? Would you expect anything less than forgiveness and healing? Would you expect anything less than gentleness and laughter and provision and courage and joy and humility and love and perfection? Would you expect anything less than freedom and victory? Anything less than resurrection? Anything less than life itself?

So, now I’d like to ask you: Should he expect anything less than just the smallest seed of belief? The smallest bit of simple childlike faith and trust? Really, should he expect anything less than wholehearted devotion? Should he expect us to call him anything else but our loving Lord and King, the one we will gladly follow? That much is reasonable to expect, I think. After all, He is amazing.