A God Fearing Man

Posted By:	The Boneman
Posted On:	Thu Aug 2nd, 2007

From the time I was 10 years old I've been afraid of Jesus. I say this for two reasons. First of all, from a journalistic standpoint, it's one of those great "attention grabbing" openers that I probably would've learned all about had I studied journalism. You'll note about now that you're still reading this so it must have worked. In the unlikely event that you're not still reading this, what a perfect opportunity for me to point out how funny you smell and that you've got the attention span of Paris Hilton on diet pills and Red Bull. But seriously, how lucky is the world to have those of you who are reading these very words. Sitting there with that cool way you have of just effortlessly oozing confidence, smarts - that natural charm and charisma. Pretty much the envy of everyone fortunate enough to fall within the sphere of your overall wonderfulness. I'm sorry but you're just the coolest and what's more, you can read.

The other reason I made that shocking revelation at the top is that in a weird sort of way it's true – I find Jesus to be a little bit scary. You see, when I was an impressionable young lad of 10, I had kind of a nutty Sunday school teacher whose obsession with the Second Coming was so all-consuming that it's all he ever taught us about. He never so much as made a passing mention of the forgiving, kind and gentle Jesus who wanted me for a Sunbeem. The Jesus this guy envisioned was more like some sort of cross between Superman and Godzilla, and He was on his way back to put the smack down on the wicked. It was awesome. There's nothing a 10-year-old loves more than monster movies, ghost stories, comic books, superheroes and since our class was pretty much entirely comprised of the "non-wicked," we ate it up. Week after week we'd come - fished-in by our natural morbid curiosity, the man played to a packed classroom every Sunday. "Please tell us more about the bottomless pit of hell, Mr. Smith."

We ended up getting so passionate about it that we started a club – the Millenium Squad. We drew up a house-by-house map of our neighborhood and placed a red mark on the families that we suspected of possible wickedness. That way we'd know which houses to steer clear of in case the moon turned to blood. We checked for that every night, of course. The funniest thing must've been seeing a handful of 10 year olds sitting in a treehouse in a heated debate over the identity of the anti-Christ. I hate to give away my age, but we had it narrowed down to either Charles Manson or Richard Nixon.

No good thing lasts forever, of course, and it all came crashing down when a new kid moved into our Ward. We liked him okay and even considered letting him join the squad because he'd caught the "Millenium bug" big time. He was on fire with it - conducting independent research, asking insightful questions like: "If the Devil already knows he's going to lose in the end, why does he even bother?" Whoa! "Because he wants your soul, my young friend" the teacher fired back with an accusing point of his finger. "And your soul, and your soul and yours and yours" his finger poking the hushed air. This was like the funnest Sunday School class ever. But again, all things must pass. It wasn't long before the new kid showed up at church with a bit of artwork that he'd brought in to share with our class. Sadly, before he could get it to us, it fell into the wrong hands. It turns out the new kid's new Mom let him bring his painting to church so she could intercept it and show it to the Bishopric. It seems that she'd become a tad concerned about exactly what was going on in this strange new Ward.

We weren't allowed to see the artwork until one by one we were marched into the Bishop's office for questioning. I figured if we all played it cool the whole thing would blow over, but that was before I saw it. I must say the kid had talent. It was certainly a striking piece of work. Turns out he'd painted a rather vivid tableau in which a red moon was dripping blood. Had he stopped there, we might've wiggled out of it. But the blood coming from the moon dropped to earth in great flaming puddles where people ran helter skelter screaming with their heads on fire. Yikes. The jig was up and deep down we weren't terribly surprised to find a new teacher standing at the board the following Sunday. A lady. An old lady. It was back to the lesson book and stories of the First Coming. Rats – crazy new kid.

One of the funniest things I remember from my childhood came a couple weeks later. At this point the poor new kid (who'd only wanted to be accepted by using his artistic talent to win our friendship and who had become infamous in our ward as a result) had all but been ostracized by the whole class. As we listened to the new teacher drone on about the many miracles that Jesus performed during His ministry, the new kid sat in the back corner holding his sourpuss in his hand. In an ill-inspired attempt to draw the new kid out of his funk, she asked him to tell the class what he knew about the miracle of the loaves and the fishes. The new kid remained mute, folded his arms and leaned back defiantly on his chair and closed his eyes. Finally the teacher said something like, "we can stay here the rest of the day as far as I'm concerned, young man?" With that the kid let his chair fall back on four legs, cleared his throat and said "He took some bread and a fish and made everybody sandwiches, okay?" The new kid and I are friends to this day.

It seems in the blink of an eye that I would grow into my teenage years and on into adulthood and, as we all do to some degree, I became less un-wicked, and more nervous about the whole Second Coming thing. Then again as I see things like the wildly popular "Left Behind" series it's obvious that I'm not alone with these thoughts. These books start with an event known as "the Rapture," and though the religion I belong to does not include this Event as part of their Latter Day doctrine, I enjoyed reading the series. I can't deny that the decades dampen some of the innocent thrill of those bygone wonder years, but the books served to re-awaken some of the intrigue felt by the tree dwellers of the Millenium Squad - dutifully engaged in the Lord's work all of 11 steps closer to heaven.

For those not familiar with the Rapture, it's quite a doozy and I believe it's the event that signals the beginning of the end. Basically all the "good people" – those who have accepted Christ as their savior, lived the commandments and are basically in good standing with their maker, are instantly transported out of their clothes and right out of this world. Bam, you vanish. You can't take it with you, that's for sure – from your purse and wallet, your jewelry and dental work, right down to your pacemaker and your no-good cheatin' husband. I can't remember exactly where you go, but wherever you end up, you arrive butt naked wishing you hadn't let that Pilates video get all dusty.

For a comic (or whatever I am) the Rapture offers no end of good material. I could envision big public service billboards that proclaim "The Rapture is Coming – Let the Sinners Drive" © Perhaps we'll see the day when the Highway Patrol ammends it's current slogan to read "Click it or Ticket, and Make Sure the Driver is Wicked." Quite honestly, as nasty as the world has become, if the Rapture does take place, like so many believe that it will, I doubt it will put a noticeable dent in the population. I suppose Utah might well lose a fair share of its population if it goes down like that, and to be honest, it's the only scenario I can foresee that would make it possible for me to afford a home in St. George.

As I mentioned above, the LDS church does not recognize the Rapture as part of its doctrine concerning Christ's second coming. Beyond the obvious hazards associated with vanishing motorists, I really don't know what the official reason is. As acquainted as I've become with the Mormon mindset, however, I think a safe guess is that they left the Rapture behind because the last thing they want is a bunch of Jack-Mormons trying to run the show. Myself, I just think it would be so totally cool to disappear. Say you're a righteous dude who wants to go out with a laugh, so you finally accept your buddy's invitation to go have a drink. There you are at the bar with your friend enjoying your soda - maybe buy him a beer and just as he goes to clink bottles in a toast . . . Poof! You're gone – vanished into thin air. Your Sprite smashes on the floor, your clothes fall in a heap. Then the topper is to somehow program your cell phone to wait about 10 seconds after impact and then play a recording of yourself saying, "hey, get your hands off my wallet - flippin' looter!" That would so rock. Plus I guess you go to heaven - sans dying. It's a nice fantasy, but I figure I'll stick around, I'm cool to drive.