Let's Make a Deal Pt. 12

"That's a little complicated to say, but not hard to understand, I think. In the first place, I have talked about it a few times, with some of my employees I mean, if they showed any interest or if it seemed appropriate to something else we were discussing. And you know that I try to be pretty upfront with everyone about my being a Christian. And there's a danger in that, too. I know I have to be extra careful to do what's right in dealing with you all. My behavior toward you two notwithstanding!

"But I have to be really careful not to do anything that would make anyone think that I require, or expect, them to become Christians as part of the job. Some people would resent that—I would, myself, if I were in an analogous position. Others might be inclined to pretend to believe, in the hopes that I'd treat them better or something. And, worse yet, some might actually try to believe, for the sake of pleasing the boss. And the one they need to be thinking of pleasing isn't me, but God.

"You can't become a Christian just by saying words, even when the words are all the right ones—the prayer Pastor Bob suggested this morning, say. But you can fool yourself into thinking you have. There are lots of people who have, for whatever reason, have responded to something like that, and it just doesn't seem to make any difference in their lives ever after. The Lord is the only one who really knows people's hearts, but as far as others can see they just went through the motions without understanding and believing.

"That's why I'm stressing so hard with you that I can help you understand, or try anyway, but that you have to decide whether you believe. I've known people who fell in love with a Christian, and eventually professed to believe in order to marry that person. In some cases, it sure looks like they really do believe, and praise God for that! But in several cases, I don't think they really did. And yet some of those were sincere, I think. I mean, I think they talked themselves into believing that they believed. I know firsthand how easy it is to do that kind of thing. I told you about one time I did something like that.

"So I try to offer an opportunity to anyone who wants to hear, without pushing. It's a fine line, and I probably fall on the side of being too low-key about it, but I'm really, really afraid of being on the other side of it."

"One more question! That prayer that Pastor Bob suggested, it was asking Jesus to 'come into my heart.' Nothing you said touches on that."

Scott sighed. "I'm going to have to bore you with some history, and some theology, and it's a little complicated. I'll try to keep it as simple as I can. I'll also toss in as being part of the same topic something else you heard Pastor Bob say, more than once in fact, namely about knowing Jesus as your 'personal savior.' Where should I start?"

Martha jumped in. "'Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end.'"

"'True, O King.' Or Queen, I suppose. But I was wondering where the beginning is."

61. You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him.

After a minute, he went on. "There are a lot of places in scripture that say this in various ways. Mostly in Paul's letters, but elsewhere as well. If you're really a Christian, it means not just that you believe, but that God has done something, too. You can't really and truly believe without that, though you may even think you're sincere. Doublethink and wishful thinking." He sighed.

"In one place, very well known, the term used is that you are 'born again.' In that place it doesn't really say a lot about what that means, but putting other places together, it means that God, in the person of the Holy Spirit, comes into you, living in you, and begins to change you into, well, a different kind of person, but for the most part gradually.

"At any rate, all through history, the history of these things, there's been a problem facing the church, namely people who claim—quite sincerely—to be Christians but really don't seem to be. The ones who aren't sincere are also a problem, but a different one. Anyway, these folks can recite whatever creed—that's a simple statement of what Christians believe—whatever specific creed is currently in vogue. They can correctly answer all the questions in their church's catechism—that's a method of teaching people by having them memorize answers to a list of questions. But none of this seems to make any difference to how they live their lives. They go on sinning the same sins, and it doesn't seem to matter to them." He sighed again. "For instance, they may sleep around with anyone handy, to pick an example not at random." He paused for a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply, trying to collect himself.

"What seems to be missing is this new birth, the actual presence of God in them. In their hearts, if you understand that historically the heart was thought of not only in terms of emotions, but also as the source of thoughts and will, of the decisions and choices we make. So one solution people have tried, at various times, is to make explicit that you're asking God to make this action in your life. Or, again, to distinguish a fairly abstract, intellectual statement along the lines of 'God created everything there is,' or 'Jesus is the Lord of the whole universe,' or even 'Jesus came to save us from our sins,' from something else: maybe 'Jesus is the Lord of my life, so I need to listen to him and obey,' or 'My own sins make me unfit to even come into God's presence, but Jesus died for me—not just for everyone in general, but for me, specifically and in particular.' During a big revival in the second half of the nineteenth century, that way of looking at this problem, and the idea of asking people whether Jesus is their personal Savior, and of having people ask him to come into your heart, became very common.

"I myself would be happier if the focus were on really being aware of your own sinfulness, as an offense against God that you can never set right by yourself, and asking whether you truly believe that he is offering you forgiveness at the cost of Jesus' life. And you should notice that Pastor Bob talks about that, too. But the fact that it involves Jesus being there in your heart, if you truly believe, and beginning to break the power that patterns of sin hold over you—that's basic and necessary. Asking for this is certainly appropriate. I'd just rather see things put a little differently, myself.

"Does that make it clear? Or clearer, anyway?" They both nodded. "As I said, though, the real problem we all have to face is people who know all the answers but really don't believe. But only the Lord knows for sure where any one person stands."

He gave Lynda a hug and a quick kiss, then started her moving out of his lap so he could stand up. "I'm afraid I need a bathroom break, and I think I've said all I can think of right now, and if we're going to do anything else this afternoon we need to get on it."

Each of them made love to him before they ate supper, and it was all very good, for all of them, without a lot of fireworks but very comforting and pleasant. Scott thought that it was being able to say, 'I love you,' right out. Earlier, he'd done his best to make it good for them, and they'd done likewise for him, but the focus had been on sexual pleasure. He, at least, was basking in the opportunity to have that pleasure be an expression of something more.

At supper, they talked about Martha's sleep problems. They'd definitely established that ice would wake her quickly, and that was a very good thing to know. They'd been trying to coordinate it with her alarm's going off, not being able to be very consistent about it. They decided that they needed to test whether her alarm alone would now wake her quickly. They wanted someone there as an observer, but this wasn't really going to be easy. Lynda agreed to try to do it over the next few mornings. Martha complained that Lynda was enjoying tormenting her with ice, but Scott was pretty sure that she wasn't very serious—that neither enjoyed the process, so they made a game of it, with Lynda being creative in placing ice cubes, and Martha complaining about it.

Scott also raised the issue of Martha's job performance. He told her, "You've been doing so well with everything that I'm promoting Lynda." He thought that Martha saw where he was going, but clearly Lynda was baffled. "Lynda, during the normal day, you've been doing your normal job, and doing it so well that I've been hearing about it. But in the extra hours you've been putting in, you've taken care of things you normally wouldn't have to deal with. And then, you've been working with Martha as you've had time. And doing well on that. She could really use an assistant and backup, and we could really use a little more help in the front office, these days. So I want you to turn some of your regular time to helping Martha and learning her job better, too, and I'll start looking for somebody to take on the regular office work. When I find someone, you'll be the main one training her. Or him. On Martha's job, you're starting without the firsthand experience she had out back, but you've already learned some things."

They discussed some facets of this, but they were all happy with it. The biggest problem they could foresee was some possible grousing by a few people who might feel they should have gotten the promotion. But the likely ones were not people Scott would trust with the job, and he told the two women that if they got any static they should just refer the complainer to Scott, and tell him about it.

After they'd eaten, Scott kissed them goodbye and left. He told them, "Whatever happens, this weekend is one I'll treasure in my memory forever."

62. Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!

About a week later, Scott came down with a really awful cold, bad enough that he thought he needed to stay home. He called Martha to ask her to go in and make sure everything was set up for the day, and to generally take charge for a few days.

Two days later, when he was feeling a lot better but still awful, there was a knock on his door. He answered, expecting one of his neighbors, since he hadn't buzzed anyone in the front door. But it was Martha. He said, "Martha, what are you doing here? Do you really want to catch this cold too? Go away! And how did you get in anyway?"

She just pushed in past him. "I'll take my chances. Mostly I'm going to keep my distance, too. I've brought you some chicken soup and some other things, too. You just sit down right there while I get things ready." She pointed to his table, and then closed the door behind them. "Don't you do a thing. I can figure out what I need. Wait, here's a card from everyone." She handed an envelope to him.

She rummaged in his cupboards looking for a saucepan. He told her, "In the drawer under the oven." She took a quart container from the bag she was carrying, and put the jellied contents in the saucepan, put it on the stove at low heat, found a spoon, and started stirring. She took sandwiches from the bag and found a plate. She took out orange juice and poured him a glass, and put crackers on the table too.

During all this, she stirred the soup every few minutes. She spoke to him occasionally about things at work the past couple of days. He opened the card. It was a cutesy get-well card, addressed to a sick boss, signed by everyone. The drawing and text involved a lion tamer with a lot of lions and tigers running loose and wild, and suggested that whoever was now in charge wasn't skilled enough at cracking the whip. She said, "The card wasn't even my idea. A couple of guys out back started passing it around. I think maybe they don't like having a woman in charge and want you back or something, but it was all their idea."

Then she came over by his chair, knelt down, pulled his robe open at the bottom, and unbuttoned his pajama pants. He whispered, "What do you think you're doing?" She whispered, "What does it look like? Now shut up. You said your neighbors listen in." She licked and sucked on him until he was fully erect, then added her hand. It didn't take very long until she was all done. She got a glass of water and rinsed her mouth out, and washed her hands.

She turned the heat up under the soup, found a bowl, and hovered over the stove, stirring frequently until it was to a simmer. Then she turned off the heat, found a large ladle in his utensil drawer, and filled the bowl, and brought it over to him. She said, "If I leave the rest of that soup on the stove, can I count on you to either eat it or else get it in the fridge and eat it later, if it's too much?"

He assured her that he would do that. The soup was homemade chicken noodle, thick with onions, celery, and carrots as well as meat, and he couldn't remember having eaten any that tasted better. He said so. She told him, "Just a little soup, best you ever tasted, I made it myself," obviously expecting him to recognize it as an allusion. So he said, "I wish that I were twice as much as healthy!" and she laughed.

She added, "I've put another quart of soup and the rest of the orange juice in your fridge. You work on getting well! The guys in back aren't the only ones who want you to get well and come in."

He said, "You never did tell me how you got in the building." She told him, "I met one of your fellow tenants going out. He asked me what I was there for, and when I told him he held the door for me."

She did show enough sense not to kiss him goodbye. That left him feeling just a little strange, but he'd have pushed her away if she'd tried. She went out, closing the door behind him. The whole thing had taken less than half an hour. He had barely started eating the soup. He was hungry, so he got busy.

When he returned to work, a couple of days later, he called everyone together. He told them that he assumed they knew that "Dr. Martha" had brought chicken soup to make sure he got well. He tried not to get too choked up in thanking them for the card and their wishes, and for their help. There were applause and some cheers, and bawdy remarks from a couple of guys, and then they all went back to work. Scott was very much touched. A few of his employees he didn't feel he could trust too far, but even those seemed very sincerely glad to have him back.

When he got home that night, one of his neighbors stopped him in the hall, Sam, one of the elderly, retired men who passed their days digging into everyone's lives and gossiping about them. "You better marry that girl who came to see you," he told Scott. "I heard enough to know that she won't take no nonsense from you. You need someone like that to keep you in line, young fella." Scott laughed and thanked him, and went on in without saying that he only wished he could arrange it.

A few days later, when he was feeling mostly back to normal, he was with the women for dinner. He told them what Sam had said. They laughed. He chided Martha for the risk of getting sick herself just by coming over, while trying to make clear how grateful he was for it. When he raised the matter of the extra risk from the oral sex, he discovered that she hadn't told Lynda about this. Martha told him, "I did some research. If I'd kissed you, maybe even just hugged you, anything like that, it sounded like that would pose a pretty big risk, but this didn't sound like it added much risk, and I thought it would help you feel appreciated." Lynda said that she thought Martha had really been careless, but admitted that she probably would have done the same if she had been the one coming over and if she'd thought of it.

Continue to Part 13