I jumped up from the bench and started after him, catching up a few feet with every step. Finally I was close enough that I either had to pass him by again or speak. "Excuse me, Sir!" The words popped out of my lips before I knew for sure they were coming.

He stopped and turned towards me. "Yes." One syllable is not an accurate test, but the voice sounded close.

"This may sound funny, but you look like somebody I saw a few months ago on the coast in downtown San Luis Obispo. Any chance it was you?" His sunglasses stared back expressionless. If I could just see his eyes, I’d know for sure.

"As a matter of fact I was over there a few months ago, but only for a few days. Did we meet?"

"No, but someone who looked like you was downtown during a car show talking to a group of people out on the street."

"It could have been me." He shrugged his shoulders.

"This was an argument about religion. And if you’re the same man you stepped into the debate and spoke about Jesus and how much he really loved people. Does this make any sense?"

"Sure it does. I talk to people all of the time, especially those who are seeking spiritual things. It could have been me."

"My name is Jake Colsen." I stuck out my hand to shake his.

"Hi, Jake. I’m John," he responded offering his hand as well.

The next breath didn’t come easily nor the next few words. I felt like I’d lost my breath to a stomach punch. "Are you the same man who spoke to those people? It was a Saturday morning. Did you see me there?"

"I don’t specifically recall your being there, but it sounds like a conversation I might be in."

"Could we talk for a moment?" I glanced at my watch realizing I had only 30 minutes before I had an appointment back at the office. I motioned toward a bench not far away.

"I’d be delighted to." We walked over and sat down, staring off in the distance.

"This is going to sound strange," I finally spoke, "but I have been praying for the chance to meet you. Your words really touched me that day. You spoke about Jesus as if you had been with him personally. At one point I even wondered if you were John the Apostle."

He chuckled. "That would make me a bit old, wouldn’t it?"

"I know this sounds crazy, but as I was thinking that you stopped in mid-sentence, turned toward me and nodded as if you were agreeing with me. I tried to chase you down as you left the group, but I seemed to have lost you in the crowd."

"Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be then. At least we’re here now. What did you want to talk about?"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you John?"

"John, the disciple of Jesus?" He smiled obviously amused at the prospect. "Well you already know my name is John, and I do claim to be a disciple of his."

"But are you the John?"

"Why is that so important to you?"

"If you are, I’ve got some things I want to ask you?"

"And if I’m not?"

I didn’t know what to say. I had been deeply affected by his words whoever he was. He seemed to know some things about Jesus that had certainly escaped me. "I’d want to talk to you anyway, I guess."

"Why?"

"Your words in San Luis Obispo moved me deeply. You seem to know Jesus in a way I’d only hoped to. I’m a pastor, on staff at a big church in town—City Center Fellowship. Ever hear of it?"

"No, I don’t think so!" he shook his head.

His answer offended me a little. Why wouldn’t he know about us? "Do you live around here?"

"No. Actually this is the first time I have been to Kingston."

"Really? What brings you here?"

"Maybe your prayers," he said laughing. "I’m not really sure."

"Listen I’ve got to go in a few minutes. Could we meet again sometime?"

"I don’t know. I really don’t have the freedom to commit to an appointment. If we need to get together again, I’m sure we will. This happened without a schedule."

"Could you come over for dinner tonight? We could talk then."

"No, I’m sorry. I already have something tonight. What’s going on?"

Where to start? I had so much but only 20 minutes left before I had to rush back to the office, and even then I’d be late.

"I am really frustrated. It seems like everyone I’ve talked to lately is running on empty—even Christians I’ve known for decades. I met with one of our elders yesterday, who I’ve always thought to be a rock. Jim’s pretty disillusioned with it all these days. He told me he often wonders if God is even real or if this whole Christianity thing is just a crock."

"What did you tell him?"

"I tried to encourage him. I told him we couldn’t live by sight but by faith; that he’s done a lot of wonderful things for God and he’ll honor that someday. We just have to be faithful and not trust our feelings."

"So you told him he didn’t have the right to his feelings, or his questions?"

"No, that’s not what I said."

"Are you sure?" The question was gentle, not accusing.

Taken back, I replayed what I had said to him.

"Understand something, Jake, this life in Jesus is a real thing. It’s not a game. When people sense something’s wrong, you know what I’ve discovered? Something usually is."

"And I told him to ignore it," words spoken more to myself than John. I shook my head at the realization.

"Do you think you helped him?"

"I don’t know. I gave him a lot of encouragement, he seemed to be better."

John didn’t speak, letting me think it through.

"You’re right, I didn’t help him at all. I guess I just blamed him."

"Do you think he’ll come back to you next time he has those thoughts?"

I just shook my head, regretting just about everything I’d told him that morning. I’ll have to call him back and try again.

"But what about you, Jake. Is it working for you?"

"Is what working?"

"Your faith. Are you experiencing God’s life to the degree you desire it?"

"I get frustrated from time to time, just like today. But overall I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than what I’m doing right now"

John’s head didn’t move.

"I mean, I miss the money, and the free time I had, but this is far more worthwhile. We’re making a big impact on this city."

Again he sat silently. I didn’t know what else to say, but before I knew it tears began to well up in my eyes and I found myself gasping for breath. Suddenly I felt incredibly alone.

John’s head finally turned my way. "I’m not talking about what you’re doing. Are you filled with the love of Jesus like you were the first day you believed in him?" The words worked their way down into my soul and I felt my insides melting like a pat of butter in a hot pan.

"N… N… N… No!" I couldn’t seem to get it out, my voice jerking with small intakes of air. When it finally came out it did so with a long guttural sigh. "That hasn’t worked in years. It seems like the more I try to do for God the further he gets away from me."

"Or, perhaps the further you get from him."

"What?" Whoever he was he certainly looked at everything from a different angle.

"Do you know why you feel so empty?"

"I haven’t really thought about it, John. I’ve been busy and it seems like he’s using me to touch people. I just figured this is the way it was supposed to be. I don’t let myself think about it too much. It’s too discouraging. I mean I have a lot to be thankful for, wonderful children, a nice home and I’m serving God with everything I have. But it’s hollow in here." I punched my fist against my chest as my eyes moistened even more.

"Jim scared you didn’t he?"

"Huh?" For the second time, I was thrown off track.

"Maybe you feel just as empty as he does but won’t slow down enough to admit. Maybe the words you gave him were really directed at yourself."

"I would never have thought of that, but I do remember how uncomfortable I felt when he was talking. He was asking questions I didn’t want to answer."

"You know what this whole thing is about, Jake? John sat back on the bench, crossed his arms over his chest and looked out across the playground. It’s about life—God’s real life filling your own. The life of God is not some theological abstraction. It is fullness, freedom, joy and peace of living in him that endures in the face of your worst circumstances. That life was in the Son and he came to share it with anyone who would put his or her trust in him.

"It’s not about working hard, big ministries or new buildings. It’s about life that you can see, taste and touch; something you can frolic in every day that you live. I know my words fail to describe it adequately, but you know what I’m talking about. You’ve had moments like that, haven’t you?"

"Yes. Yes I have, but they were always so fleeting. I remember how much like that it was in the early days, but I’m a long ways from that now. What’s wrong with me? How can I be a Christian for so long, be so active in the church, and still not get it? How do I lose touch with that life, I’m certainly not trying to."

"I’ve watched it happen over and over again. It is epidemic today. Somehow our spiritual experience makes the wrong things important and we end up distracted from his true life. It happened in the early church too. Do you remember what happened in Ephesus and what Jesus said to them in his Revelation letter? Their theology was impeccable. They knew the truth so well they could spot error like a gnat in a bowl of soup at a hundred paces. They were not afraid to confront those who put themselves forward in ministry to find out who was telling the truth and who was fabricating a message just to build a name for themselves. Their endurance in times of suffering was second to none in all Christendom. Suffering seemed to make them stronger the longer they faced it and they never complained when assailed by others. But for all that was Jesus pleased with them?"

I had recently taught that passage, so I knew what John was talking about. "No, he chided them for having left their first love."

"That’s right. Amazing isn’t it? What they lacked created such a vacuum that any good they might have accomplished was swallowed up by it. They had left the ravishing love they had for Jesus in the beginning. Without it their service was meaningless. You can get so busy working for him that you lose sight of knowing him. Not one bit of it was motivated in their love for him or his for them. That made everything else they did not just worthless, but destructive actually."

"That’s me! I said. You are talking about me."

"It’s an old story, Jake. It’s been rerun a million times under a million different names. Do you remember the day the love of Jesus first captured your heart?"

The memories came flooding back. "Yes. I was in junior high school, only twelve or thirteen at the time, but I knew something was up. My parents were in the other room with thirty or so other people praying. They’d been at it for four hours with no sign of letting up. What’s more they were having fun. It was the same thing every Friday night. They couldn’t wait to get together and pray. Sometimes they sang, sometimes they laughed and sometimes they even cried. They rarely broke up before 11:00 and often went far longer."

"This was quite a change for my parents, who like us had grown up in church. We were third generation Baptist on my father’s side and Presbyterian on my mother’s. My parents had settled in as active members of the Baptist church—attending regularly and serving on a multitude of committees. But they never seemed to enjoy church. Some mornings we could even talk them out of going.

"But this was different. We couldn’t drag them away with a tow truck. They had moved from being church attendees, to people passionate about their walk with God. In the process, God was changing their lives. Old habits fell away, God’s presence was stronger than their needs and they were reading the Bible at every opportunity. I remember them praying about everything. They were joyful, free and alive in their faith for the first time. It made us kids hungry for it as well. They prayed for us and that’s the first time I remember touching the life of God. I even remember hearing God’s voice for the first time."

"What happened to that?"

"For a few years it grew, and they wanted their church to embrace it as well. But suspicions abounded and accusations flew. When the dust settled some months later it was clear that they were no longer welcome at the church. Many of them resigned their membership, but it didn’t dampen their zeal. They just saw it as persecution.

"Since they were no longer welcome at their church, they decided to start a new one together. The first gathering brought more than 80 people crammed into a small house. The atmosphere was electric. They decided to get organized, rent a building and hire a pastor."

Then for the first time I saw it so clearly. "And it slowly died. They were so distracted by all the work that they soon lost that joy of simply loving Jesus."

"Strange isn’t it, that forming something into what they thought was a church could do what persecution couldn’t? There is nothing the Father desires for you more than that you fall squarely in the lap of his love and never move from that place for the rest of your life. God’s plan of redemption from the days of creation to the day of the Second Coming was designed to bring people into the relationship of love that the Father, Son and Spirit have shared for eternity. He wants nothing less—or nothing else!

"This is no distant God who sent his Son with a list of rules to follow or rituals to practice. His mission was to invite us into his love—into a relationship with his Father that he described as friendship. But what do we do? We are so quickly captured by a work-driven religious culture that devours the very love it thinks it sustains.

"In Ephesus it was ferreting out false teachers. In Galatia it was getting everyone to observe the Old Testament rituals. Today it’s to get them to cooperate with the church program. It doesn’t matter what leads people away from God’s life, just so it preoccupies them enough to act like an adequate substitute for it. It’s easier to see the problem when the standard is circumcision in Ephesus than when it is Sunday morning attendance in Kingston. But both can lead to the same place—bored and disillusioned believers, no longer embracing Father’s life."

I didn’t know what to say. I’m not even sure I agreed with him. How could church attendance be like circumcision?

"Let me ask you a question, Jake. How many ceiling tiles are there over your sanctuary?"

I didn’t even have to think. "312, complete ones; 98 partials."

"And how do you know that?"

"I count them when I get bored."

"You must get bored a lot. Do you know how many others have, too? I met a guy once who even added up the hymn numbers on the tote board to see if they ever totaled 666. Don’t you think people sharing God’s life together wouldn’t be so good at such things? Might it be a sign that something is wrong?"

Well, he might be right.

"What was your last thought as you arrived last Sunday morning?"

That required a bit more thought. "I was reviewing my notes, trying to think of an illustration I hadn’t nailed down yet."

"Yes but what did you say to yourself as you parked your car at the building?"

It took me a moment to fish it out of memory. "‘I’ll be glad when this is over and I can get back home.’" I chuckled at the thought. "How did you know?"

"I didn’t, but it doesn’t surprise me. You know how many people think that way, even those paid to be there like you? The routine eventually withers the life, no matter how good it is."

"So Jim’s disillusionment is a good thing?" I asked incredulously.

"As is yours. When you realize that the routine you’ve stumbled into is not substantially contributing to your desire to know God better, some incredible things can happen. Sitting through the same program week after week wears thin. Aren’t you tired of finding yourself year after year falling to the same temptations, praying the same unanswered prayers and seeing no evidence that you are growing to discern God’s voice with any greater clarity?"

"Yes, I do." Even I was surprised at how fast the answer had come from my lips and the frustration that came with them. "So why do we do it?"

"The answer to that, Jake, will tell you more about yourself than it will about the church. For now, let yourself be honest about your own boredom and disillusionment. This Father has never given up his desire to share the friendship with him that you did when you were thirteen."

"There have been other times since."

"Of course, but they did not endure long, did they? If they had you wouldn’t have needed to cover-up people like Jim and bolster his spirit with soothing though empty platitudes. People like him shouldn’t be silenced as those who lack faith. Rather applaud them for their courage to treat their spiritual life as something real. If the truth be told, Jim’s honesty demonstrates more faith than your discomfort with it."

"What do I do, John? I want the life that you speak of."

"It won’t take much from you, Jake. Just be real with Father and resist the urges to crawl back into your shell and silently endure lifelessness. Your struggle stems from the call of God’s spirit to your own. Ask him to forgive you for substituting anything for the power of his love and invite him to show you how your diligent efforts at good works for him may be obscuring his love for you. Let God do the rest. He will draw you to himself."

I looked at my watch and knew I had to leave. "I’m sorry, I have to run. It’s been a long time, John, but I’m going to give it a try!"

"Good. Won’t it be a joy again to wake up loved by God every day, without having to earn it by any act of righteousness on your part? That is the secret to first love. Don’t try to earn it. Know that you are accepted and loved, not for what you can do for God, but because he chose you in Christ by his incredible mercy."

I stood up to leave and grabbed for John’s hand. He squeezed mine and held it a moment. "This is not difficult, Jake. In this kingdom you really do get what you seek. That is the point of the whole thing. If you are looking for a relationship with God you will find it."

"Then why don’t I have it? I thought that’s what I had been seeking all along."

"No doubt, it might have been at first. But this works the other way around as well. If you look at what you’ve ended up with, then you’ll know what you’ve really been seeking!" He let go of my hand.

His words ended with such finality and I was so pressed to get back for my appointment that I simply nodded. I had no idea at the time what he meant.

"I hope I get to see you again."

"Oh, I think you will… in good time."

I thanked him, waved good-bye and now late for my appointment took off running across the park. It has always amazed me that the greatest journeys of our lives always begin so simply, that we don’t even know we’ve embarked on one until we’re well down the road looking back. So it would be for me.