Man of No Reputation
by Jenni
Andrew sat anxiously in a booth inside
a small cafe. A bell chimed each time someone entered
and Andrew briefly glanced up only to look away and back to his
newspaper. A strange noise, something akin to a horse's
neighing, caused Andrew to look up even though the bell had not
sounded. He smiled at the scene in front of the
window.
A man in his mid-thirties was galloping
back and forth on the side walk, a small boy hung onto his back
and several other gleeful children scampered behind them.
The man neighed again, threw back his head and mimicked shaking
his mane and then knelt so the little boy could climb off
safely.
"My turn! My turn!" came the chorus
of small voices.
"Everyone's had a turn. Right now I
need to meet with a friend but I'll see all of you later, I
promise." The man smiled reassuringly at each of them.
The children sighed with disappointment
but quickly set off in search of a new adventure until their
friend would again be able to join them. After ensuring
they had safely crossed the street, the man turned into the
cafe. He waved hello to the waitress and then approached
Andrew.
"Hello, Andrew! Dad* said you were
headed here. Great to see you!" The man shook
Andrew's hand and then pulled him into a hug.
"Joshua," Andrew began, careful to use
the man's least conspicuous name, "I'm really glad to see you."
Joshua noticed a slight tremor in
Andrew's voice and indicated for him to sit down. "Andrew,
what is it?"
Andrew shrugged. "Maybe it's
stupid..." He began stirring the cup of coffee that was in
front of him.
"Andrew, if it's important to you then
you know it's not stupid to me. Please tell me."
Andrew set down his spoon and looked up
at Joshua. As usual, his warm brown eyes reassured
him. "Does it ever get to you when people say or write
untrue things about you?"
Joshua slumped against the booth
cushion. "Sure. It hurts me when people say I hate a
certain group or that I want people to suffer. Because I
know those words hurt my people, people I love."
Andrew reddened slightly. "Now I
really feel stupid. Because that's really something
to be upset about. But I meant things more like...
relationships."
"Andrew, don't feel stupid. I
happen to know you weren't created stupid." Joshua smiled
knowingly. "But what do you mean relationships?"
"Uh, romantic ones." Andrew's face
turned a shade darker.
"Oh you mean like people writing that you
fathered children with one of your followers and a vast
murderous conspiracy resulted?" Joshua spoke in a hushed tone
and winked at Andrew.
Despite his discomfort, Andrew
laughed. "Something like that. It's just that lately
I've noticed people writing stories about Monica and me and,
umm... It just makes me feel weird."
Just then the waitress came by with a
glass of grape juice and placed it in front of Joshua with a
smile.
"You remembered! Thanks, Sally!"
Joshua beamed at her.
Sally laughed. "It's easy.
You're the only grown man that comes in here and orders grape
juice, Joshua. Can I get you gentlemen anything else?"
Both shook their heads and thanked her
before returning to their conversation.
"Grape juice?" Andrew asked with a raised
eye brow.
"I'm feeling nostalgic. And they
don't sell Nazarene wine in Massachusetts." Joshua
whispered and then took an appreciative sip. "But you were
saying you felt weird about those stories. Please, go on."
"I just don't understand why people write
those things. I've always made it clear that God's love is
the most important love to me. I have my friends I love
but... not like that! Why can't more people understand
that?" Andrew bowed his head then. "Maybe I wouldn't
care as much if I was the only one upset..."
Joshua nodded. "I know what you
mean. When those 'theories' came out, Mary was upset about
it. She was there when I..." Glancing up Joshua
remembered how crowded the cafe was and simply ran his thumb
over one of his wrists. "Having stories floating
around in which that didn't happen and she'd had a child wasn't
easy for her. I know that your friends in Dyeland aren't
happy with some of those stories about you, either."
Andrew shook his head. "Some of
them even quote you when they speak against them. Which is
why..." Andrew shuffled uncomfortably. "One of them
told me about this new story that showed up on one of the web
sites. A few were very upset by it. I, um,
wasn't sure if you knew." Andrew shoved a few papers
across the table to Joshua and then drew away his hand as if the
papers were toxic.
Joshua raised an eye brow then picked the
papers up.
Andrew ran his hand through his hair as
Joshua read. He tried to prepare himself for what Joshua
might say but no matter how long he'd thought about it, Andrew
would never have come up with the man's reaction.
First there was a twinge of a
smile. Then a chuckle. "All I can say is fake me
really gets around!" Joshua rolled up the papers and
crammed them into his pocket.
Andrew was so taken aback by the
light-hearted reaction that he would have sent coffee spewing
out across the table and onto Joshua if not for the latter's
touch to his arm. He immediately felt his throat untense
and swallowed.
"Come on, let's get you some fresh
air." Joshua chugged his grape juice, stood up, set down
enough money to cover his juice and Andrew's coffee and a
generous tip for Sally, and looked expectantly at Andrew.
Smiling sheepishly, the angel of death
followed. Joshua walked down the street and into a nearby
walking and bike trail. As it was only 2 PM and a
workday, the trail was mostly deserted.
"I guess I thought you might be upset
about that story. But I'm glad you weren't," Andrew began.
Joshua shrugged. "Not for myself
but I don't like that your friends and others were upset by
it. And I'm a little saddened that someone would choose to
write a story in which I contradict myself. I'm
resurrected, Monica's an angel. It doesn't exactly flow
with 'When the dead rise, they will neither marry nor be given
in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven.' Does
it?"
"No," Andrew responded, a bitter cast to
his tone. "Those stories just make me feel so
misunderstood and disrespected. And now you're being
written about and..."
Joshua stopped walking and turned to
Andrew, putting a hand on the angel's shoulder. "The thing
is these stories come from a very small group of people.
So many, many more people recognize us for who we are and our
love for what it is: something greater than any romance or
marriage. The Father's love! One day maybe the
others will recognize that, too. In the meantime, just
keep doing what you've always done so well, Andrew. Tell
them about My love. Tell them I'll always love
them." Joshua's eyes were gentle yet brimming with
determination and passion.
Andrew nodded and began to brush at the
tears that were rolling down his cheeks. "I know, Joshua,
I know. But sometimes I think maybe I'm not doing a good
enough job if people are still confused enough to write
untruthful things."
"You're an angel, Andrew. You bring
the truth to people but you can't make them believe it.
And you're like me now, in a way. You've entered
the culture and people who never met you will think they know
you. Usually that's a beautiful thing but then there are
also these problems. There will be times when you will be
misunderstood, taken for granted, disrespected, and even
hated. No matter what remember who you are. And
there's something you need to always remember: I know who you
really are and I love you. I smiled when you were born,
Andrew."
As Joshua spoke, Andrew's mind traveled
back through centuries and then millennia. And in his
mind's eye, he saw that smile as clearly as he had on the day he
was born. The angel smiled and opened his
eyes. Joshua was no longer standing in front of him so the
angel lifted his eyes to the heavens and whispered
"Thank you. I love you, too."
A slight rustling drew
Andrew's gaze away from the sky and to the ground.
Where Joshua had stood was only a small stack of paper.
The story. As Andrew watched, the uppermost
sheet metamorphosed into a dove and those below it into a
dozen white butterflies, reminding him that God's love is all
around and that even from painful things can come
beauty.
The End
*My translation of "Abba." I'd been
told that to translate it as "Father" is actually more formal
than the original Aramaic would have been.
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