Sharing Jesus (Seeing Jesus Book 3)

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

  Jesus stepped past that hesitation and put an arm around her shoulder. “That’s good enough for me.”

  Eyes like a startled cat looked up at Jesus’s face over her wire-rimmed glasses, as Marjorie grasped what she had just agreed to. Kayla knew it was going to be good, and she had already figured out that she could share this experience of hearing and seeing Jesus, without losing anything. She was already getting excited to hear about what would happen for Marjorie.

  “I guess we can go then,” Marjorie said, a question pinching her voice up half an octave.

  “Have a great time, Marjorie,” Kayla said, with grins and a pat on the shoulder. “How could you not?”

  Marjorie laughed, a layer of hesitation falling off, as that laughter changed from awkward to hopeful.

  Jesus maintained his hold on Marjorie, so that she had to decide whether to wrap one of her arms around his waist. She made a stab at it, but reconsidered and contented herself with walking as they had stood. She looked over her shoulder at Kayla and was concerned that she was taking something away from the young art teacher.

  Kayla sensed the strain, and reassured her. “Don’t worry. He can be with both of us at the same time.” Then she laughed again at the dizzying spin between what she used to know about Jesus and what she was discovering.

  Marjorie waved briefly and walked on, with an uncertain expression still stamped on her face.

  To Kayla, it looked like Jesus walked off with Marjorie, but, as soon as they got out of sight, past a couple of large vehicles, he was standing next to her, just out of her peripheral vision, as if he had snuck away from Marjorie and zipped around behind Kayla. But she knew that’s not what happened, a veteran now of more than twenty-four hours with a visible and touchable savior.

  Chapter 18

  Another History

  Jason attended two classes on Wednesdays, the second about an hour after the end of the first. Early Church History was interesting on many levels, for Jason. On the one hand, that ancient era connected the Bible to the experience of church as he knew it. It also elaborated some of the impact Jesus had made when he arrived the first time. Finally, as a writer, it offered him another look at how God writes a story.

  For this last class, Professor Charles Hobson had scheduled his usual lecture on writing history and the ability for the winners to publish their victories. He spoke of the strong possibility that the stories of history’s losers may become obscured and even lost. This idea fascinated the budding author sitting in the front row, more than all of the tired and busy students sitting behind him.

  Professor Hobson had been at the college for forty years, teaching in the graduate school for the last ten. His father had been a professor before him, and the President of the College, before he retired. Professor Hobson was from a sort of royal family in the school’s history. More important than all of that, for Jason and most of the other students, was the depth of conviction, and intellectual integrity, of Professor Hobson.

  Barely five foot seven, these days, Professor Hobson stood before the class expounding on examples in the history of Christianity, where the people who controlled the centers of influence had tried to shut down the insurgent fringes. Some of those fringes represented views, of God and the church, that are much more widely accepted today. Between, were the dark years, when those isolated from power in the church were nearly blotted from the collective memory of Christians around the world.

  The essence of his warning, to his somewhat inattentive students at that last lecture, was two-fold. First, not all of the history we read, even Church history, is necessarily true. The way an iron-fisted leadership characterizes rebels ought never to be accepted as objective or reliable, for example. Second, Professor Hobson was urging his students, future leaders and influencers on some level, to be sure to listen to the dissenters, to take care that voices of all sorts be considered and included, at least in the writing of histories, if not necessarily in one’s own statement of faith.

  Part of Jason’s fascination with this lecture came from the man seated at the table next to him. Tables seating two students lay in straight rows across the classroom. Jesus, of course, was Jason’s tablemate. What fascinated Jason about Jesus’s attention to the lecture was his constant nodding, and his look of admiration for the elder Professor.

  That Jesus could admire another human being would have seemed impossible to Jason; but the look on Jesus’s face was unmistakable, his bright eyes, unflappable attention and accepting smile, spoke volumes of affirmation for Jason’s oldest professor.

  In an effort to complete the material in that last class, Professor Hobson left little time for discussion or questions. However, he did wake the class with an impassioned plea at the end, which hinted of his younger days as a preacher. As part of his conclusion, he reminded his students about the nature of God and God’s relationship with human history.

  He said, “It’s important to remember that God sees through history, as if it’s three dimensional and transparent. God can see from the beginning to the end all at once, and can access our progress from any side or angle. And, in Jesus, we saw the best example of God’s penchant for getting right inside our world to make things right. Don’t lose sight of that, when reading histories written by people who only see the human actors in the story of God’s church.”

  The departure from a soothing drone, and an academically measured delivery, woke even the most distracted of the students. Jesus responded most vociferously, with a shouted “Amen!” that startled Jason, and, of course, no one else.

  When Professor Hobson pulled the class into its final parking place, with mundane instructions about handing in the final take-home exam in the next few days, Jason felt the sort of loss he experienced at the end of summer camp. No classes meeting on Friday, and his Thursday classes finished for the year, this was it. His graduate schooling was over, in terms of attending lectures.

  Jesus stood with Jason and offered a fitting conclusion to his education. “I would like to bless Professor Hobson. His hips are bothering him these days. You could heal that,” he said.

  “I could heal that,” Jason thought. “You sound pretty confident.” He directed this silently to his invisible friend.

  “Oh, I know how to do things like this,” Jesus said, with an ironic glare from his smiling eyes.

  “Show me,” Jason said, under his breath. The shuffle of students toward the door, or up to the front to thank Professor Hobson, covered his covert comment.

  Waiting for the classroom to clear, Jason packed up his laptop and notebook slowly. When only two or three students remained, he headed for the front of the room. He knew, from the two classes he had taken with Professor Hobson, that the professor came from a Christian tradition that wasn’t actively engaged in anything like a healing ministry. But he also knew that Professor Hobson had served as a missionary, in West Africa, and had seen some supernatural intervention in that work far away from home.

  Jason tried not to allow those facts to dictate what he did next, determined to give Jesus a chance to show him the way. When one of the remaining students began hovering just behind him, however, Jason grew anxious about how it would look for him to offer healing to his professor.

  “Never think about that,” Jesus said. “It’s like not looking down when you’re high off the ground.”

  Already clearly next in line, Jason had to do something—either make up a fond farewell, or follow Jesus’s lead.

  “Ask him how his hips are feeling today,” Jesus said.

  Still caught in the middle of the fork in the road that he was fast approaching, Jason stumbled.

  “Uh, Professor Hobson, uh, I wanted to know, to ask, how…” Jason nearly gave up and retreated out the door. But Professor Hobson seemed intrigued, even by that rough beginning. Jason tried to cough up the rest of it. “Your hips, how are your hips feeling?”

  The professor adjusted his old bearded face from its usual hunched forward position to more u
pright, a slight recoiling in surprise. “My hips? Well, they hurt me most days. This isn’t one of my worst.”

  Jason could see George Tyler, the other remaining student, edging closer, trying to hear their conversation. This annoyed Jason, but Jesus intervened. “George will help you, don’t resent his presence.”

  This caused Jason to turn and look at George, even as he began to address Professor Hobson. “I wonder if George and I could pray for some healing for you?”

  George grinned. He looked as if he suspected that something like this was coming, though he was surprised to hear it coming from Jason, who seemed always focused on the intellectual side of things, in the few classes they had shared. George was from a church where healing was preached and practiced. He was definitely game to join in this experiment. He was feeling an unusual level of faith for this particular healing, with no explanation as to why.

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” George said, running a hand over his short Afro, in a nervous way. Just because he believed in this stuff, didn’t mean he was comfortable trying it on one of his professors.

  Professor Hobson seemed to weigh the two young men in front of him. His religious fanatic meter wasn’t picking up much from what he recalled of Jason and George. And his hips were really bothering him these days. He had been avoiding going to the doctor, not wanting to hear what she would say.

  Jesus continued instructing. “You don’t even need to touch him, like you did Leonard. Just speak to his hips like they were disobedient children. Say, ‘hips be healed.’”

  Jason harbored a doubt or two, but gave it a try anyway. “Okay, then I say, hips be healed.”

  Both George and Professor Hobson reacted to this approach, each expecting something different, though not the same different. Professor Hobson was expecting a formal prayer directed at God in heaven. George was used to an “in Jesus name” tagged onto any such healing words.

  To Jason, it seemed that what he said made an impression, he just couldn’t tell what kind.

  “Have him move around to see if it’s improved,” Jesus said.

  Jason suggested this, and the professor complied with only a minor hesitation.

  “It may feel a bit better. Still hurts, but maybe improved a bit.”

  “The problem starts in his lower back,” Jesus said. “So you’ll have to do the same for his lower back.” Jason looked at Jesus for a second, forgetting how that might appear to the fully visible people in the room. If the problem started in the lower back, why not tell him to address that first?

  Jesus answered briefly. “This way will make more sense to him.”

  Jason stopped staring into space and spoke up. “I think the problem actually starts in your lower back, so we should address that.”

  Professor Hobson tipped his head. “That makes sense. I do have a curved spine.”

  George looked impressed, when Jason checked with him. And something occurred to Jason.

  “You wanna address that?” he said to George.

  George, who had lifted his hand toward the professor during the first round, looked glad to take a more active role, his head bobbing enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Lower back, you be healed right now, in the name of Jesus.”

  Professor Hobson seemed to stand up straighter, as if stretching his back, and they all three heard a series of small cracking sounds.

  “Oh, ah, whoa,” said the professor. This sounded funny to the two students, who knew Professor Hobson mostly through his articulate and profound lectures. He began twisting his back and standing still straighter. Another pair of cracking sounds followed.

  “It usually doesn’t make all that noise when I stretch,” the professor said, a little uncertainty shading his voice.

  “How does it feel?” Jason said.

  “It feels pretty good, my back especially.” When he stopped twisting and stretching, George and Jason both noticed that he seemed a bit taller. They stared for a moment, nonplused.

  “Now, ask if you can put your hands on his shoulders to finish healing the hips,” Jesus said, laughing, apparently amused by their bemusement.

  “Uh, okay. It looks like your back has changed, right?” Jason couldn’t bring himself to be the first one to say “healed.” He pushed forward. “So, let’s go for the hips again. Can we put a hand on your shoulders?”

  Professor Hobson smiled his usual three-quarters grin, with closed lips; but his eyes danced. He seemed more than amused by the proceedings. “Do what you think best. It’s working so far.”

  Jason stepped to the side, so he could reach the professor’s right shoulder and George the left.

  “Speak to the hips again,” Jesus said.

  “Okay. Hips I command you to be healed now, in the name of Jesus.” Jason added that last part, because it sounded good coming from George, and it felt more comfortable to him too. Apparently, Jesus didn’t object to the deviation.

  The professor straightened up again. This time the sounds were deeper, hollow popping sounds, coming from his hips.

  “Oh, well. Oh, my! Oooohh,” he said. If the prospect of a total healing had not captivated the two students, they would have found these noises even more laughable. But they were both getting caught up in hope and awe. Each stood with his mouth open, waiting for the finale.

  They weren’t disappointed. One last crunching sound settled the professor into a still taller stature and a straighter stance. They could feel most of this, communicated through his skeleton, all the way up to where they were touching his shoulders. It was fascinating and a little scary.

  “Umhmm,” the professor said, with finality in his deep baritone. “Wonderful. Praise God!”

  He looked at George and Jason, still staring with their mouths open, and began to laugh. For Jason, Jesus joined in the laughter.

  “You’re healed?” George said, not satisfied with the mute positive signs they were seeing.

  As the two students removed their hands from his shoulders, Professor Hobson stopped laughing long enough to pronounce the verdict. “I feel much better. Better than I have in years!” His voice boomed as he began to march in place, to flex his back and twist side to side. He started to laugh again, a resonating stream of “Ha, ha, ha,” coming from his open mouth. A man who never showed his teeth when he smiled, now the professor seemed ecstatic.

  The reverie stuttered when students began entering the room for the next class. Self-consciousness adjusted all three of the men at the front of the room, who were left giving each other knowing glances and gathering their bags and papers, to relinquish the room. Professor Hobson seemed somewhat subdued, but not truly embarrassed, which allowed the younger men to follow suit.

  Still chuckling and smiling, they headed out of the room, Jesus walking next to Jason with his hand on his upper back, like a proud coach accompanying his prize player off the field of victory.

  Professor Hobson was looking down at his feet, and swaggering a bit every third step. “I think I need to learn how to walk all over again,” he said. He seemed to be speaking primarily to himself.

  George spoke to Jason, as soon as they reached the hallway, which was streaming with students and faculty. “I didn’t know you did that kinda thing. What church do you go to?”

  Jason shrugged apologetically, his mouth twisted into a joker’s grin. “I usually don’t do that kinda thing, and neither does my church. But I…” Here he had to choose an off-ramp from the experience of the healing and past his explanation of how it happened. Of course, they all assumed that God provided the healing, but why now? And why Jason?

  A glance at Jesus revealed a look of expectation, but no words accompanied his raised eyebrows and tight grin. As usual, Jason felt that he was allowed to choose, and that Jesus, nevertheless, had a clear preference. A look at Professor Hobson and George Tyler revealed their lack of expectation, as if “unexplainable” was sufficient explanation.

  “Well, I thank you for taking the chance,” Professor Hobson said, reach
ing out for a handshake. “I really feel good. And I’m very grateful for that.”

  Jason made a joke. “Does this mean I get an ‘A’ in the class?”

  The professor laughed heartily, even wiping a small tear from the corner of his eye. He didn’t even answer that teasing question, just laughed and strode back toward his office. He twisted around for a second, waved, and said, “Thanks again. And have a good summer.”

  George and Jason responded in kind.

  Then George took another long look at Jason. “So, is this the start of something new, or was this just a one off, for you?”

  Jason checked with Jesus, to see if he could discern whether his invisible friend had fed George that question. Again, Jesus was not telling, just smiling.

  “I don’t know,” Jason said, assessing the other student’s oval face, wondering what George would do in his place. “It’s all a new experience for me. I guess I don’t know what to make of it.”

  They headed toward the stairway and the exit, by silent mutual consent, getting a bit more of each other’s backstory, as they wound their way out of the building. Jesus trailed behind and between them. By the time they had reached the sunshine on the big porch of the graduate school, Jason was growing bolder. George seemed so sincere and open.

  Jesus smiled and gave Jason a nod. But, before Jason could share his secret, George asked a question.

  “Has something happened lately to bring on this change?”

  A belly laugh released some of Jason’s fear of looking crazy. He could tell that someone was being set up here. Was it him or George? Or maybe both?

  Jason stopped laughing and listened to a bit of his self-consciousness, gesturing over to the side, putting one of the giant pillars between them and the front doors.

  “I have, in fact, had a really wild experience lately, just the last couple of days.” He paused and made a confession. “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

  George spoke up. “I just watched you heal our professor of some major hip pain. What could be crazier than that?”