Who You Say I Am (A Jai Courtney Fanfic)

Chapter 105-Jai

*****Author's Note:

I just just felt like sharing that this chapter is culminating to a precipice in the story.  This chapter is my reason for writing this story—my entire intention to write it.  I'm not completely sure why I felt like God put this on my heart but I've got an inclination.  There will be a few more chapters to this book after today's posting.  I'm honestly a handful of chapters away from completing the second book of the series as well so hopefully I'll wrap it up soon and start posting as I finish this one—possibly in a burst of several chapters to get the story going, so let me know if you, as my readers, would like that.  I hope you enjoy it!

Happy reading!

Sarah

*****

Hillsong—'New Wine'

Jai

I arrive at the car park to the beach area Noah said they were meeting up at. I step out. I think my parents brought me here as a kid since this place feels so familiar but it's been years. I walk out to the area he told me they'd be and I do see a large group. There are picnic tables under the shade in the grassy area with chairs, towels, and bags spread out on the beach. It looks like some people are preparing tucker and there's some barbies going.
I see Noah with some kids. He's laughing and smiling. For a moment I feel like I'm intruding but I see him nod and they run off to the water. He's alone now but a sheila approaches him. He points to the ankle biters and she nods walking off. He then looks around the crowd. His eyes stop on me and he waves, smiling at me. I wave and approach.
"Glad you could make it," he greets me with a handshake.
"Yeah," I nod. "I think I came here with my folks when I was about their age," I tell him motioning to the ankle biters.
He smiles. "Me, too."
He offers to take a walk but I figure here we're less likely to get stopped by my fans. We take a seat in the shade at one of the empty tables surrounded by the group. I get my list out and I feel like I'm seriously intruding on his good times.
"You know, this is what I do," he tells me as if reading my mind. "It's also what I love doing. Besides, my wife is keeping an eye on the kids. I'd rather chat with you than have to watch them out there," he grins.
I laugh lightly in surprise.
We start chatting a bit. I tell him what I've been reading and he whistles in surprise. "That's a lot of reading," he comments.
"Well, I read John like my mate recommended and it just kind of cut off," I explain. "It felt like there was more to the story."
"Yeah, usually people read them in order, like a once through and start again," he nods. "But for a starting point, John is a good one. It speaks on the divinity of Christ in the beginning."
I nod in understanding since I recall how that book opened up. I look to my list and have to ask, "Why did the religious leaders want to kill Jesus?"
He sighs. "Now that I think about it, I don't know if we're even told the definite why..." he says. "I guess I have certain facts I'm aware of and I have an opinion on it."
I nod in agreement to hear what he thinks.
"I know that Jesus kept contradicting their made up laws. There are lists of rules from God that the Jewish community had to obey. The laws were to set them apart from the society at the time and for their safety—things like that—but they made up their own like ritual hand washing and cleaning. Honoring the sabbath and not working was a law but if an animal or person fell in a ditch, it was acceptable to pull them out. The animal could have broken a leg, a person could get hurt... Good deeds were acceptable like healing but they didn't like that—they called it work, so it was unacceptable in their eyes. They picked wheat heads to eat on the sabbath, they called that work even though it was just enough to satisfy their hunger, not harvesting the entire field. So, I guess you could say it was perspective," he explains.
I nod in understanding as he continues.
"My opinion is that they were prioritizing things that didn't matter over God. Jesus called them out on it and it made them angry. They were doing underhanded things and their deeds were brought out in the open. They were always looked up to and they loved it, fed off of it. He was pointing out their flaws and instead of changing their attitude, they turned it back on him—like he was the problem that had to be eliminated. They thought if he was gone, their problems would disappear and things would go back to normal. This is me taking liberties, though. It doesn't say some of these things but it sort of alludes to it. It does add what they were thinking sometimes or states plots and whatnot."
"How could someone be so self-absorbed that they'd really want to off someone who stood in their way? It seemed like he was a good bloke." I ask confused.
"I think power and authority can get to people sometimes. They lose sight of what really matters," he tells me.
"What really matters?" I ask him.
"Well, Christians nowadays and Jews at the time followed the moral law—the Ten Commandments. Love God above all else, don't worship idols, don't take the name of God in vain, honor the sabbath, honor your parents, don't murder, don't covet, don't steal, don't bear false witness... What am I missing?" he says holding up nine fingers.
"Adultery," someone nearby at the barbie chimes in.
"Don't commit adultery," he nods. "That wasn't intentional by the way. I really have never been able to say them in order."
"You'd think as a children's pastor..." the same bloke from the barbie teases.
I laugh in response since that's probably something they often teach.
"Jesus instructs that we ought to love God with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength. And then to love our neighbor as ourselves. That all of the laws are summed up in that," he says. I nod remembering that. "That's what's most important. The Pharisees lost sight of that."
"I get it," I respond.
"What else have you got for me?" he asks excitedly.
"This one might offend," I say.
"I can take it," he smiles.
"Was Jesus even really dead?" I ask.
"This has been asked before," he nods. "It's popular within the Muslim community. They think Jesus was just a prophet. They don't believe he was God incarnate. He himself said it repeatedly. If you know the Greek and Hebrew like the scholars do—me included—you'd see when he was asked if he was the Son of God. His response was I AM. In the Old Testament, that is how God spoke to the Isrealites. His name is YHWH, or Yahweh. It means I am. That is why they called it blasphemy, because he admitted it and they didn't believe him. He also told several people he was the Son of God. So, either he's a liar or a crazy person or... he actually was who he said he was," he tells me. I don't think he lied. I also don't believe he was crazy.
"You're off on a different tangent," the barbie bloke teases. I chuckle, too.
"Am I?" he laughs. "Right. Was Jesus actually dead? You're familiar with Roman soldiers of the time period, correct?" he asks.
I nod.
"Do you think that if the soldiers habitually messed up and let go of prisoners who were put to death before they were actually dead, that they would still be allowed to live?" he asks me.
"You're right. They'd probably be executed themselves for making that kind of mistake," I nod—even once or on the suspicion of it.
"But it's not just that. They were in the business of murder. That was their job. They were good at it and familiar with it. The centurions broke the two other blokes legs so they'd sort of drown in the water filling in their lungs from asphyxiation. They were lifting their bodies up to slow the process. They were trying to kill them quickly and be done with it. Jesus just let it happen because it was predicted that none of his bones would ever be broken. He was already dead at that point. His side was pierced by the soldiers to see the liquid coming out of his lungs. They knew he was dead. He didn't just pass out. They made absolutely sure he was dead because their lives were on the line," he tells me.
"That would be one serious mistake," I agree.
I look to my list and decide to mention the next thing about good things I've done. Do they count?
"What about good deeds?" I ask.
"You mean, like does a good deed cancel out a bad one?" he asks.
I nod.
"No," he shakes his head.
"How can that be? All of those Christians do good deeds, like in Jamaica," I say confused.
"Ah, I get it," he nods. "This is perspective as well. We do good deeds not to make it to Heaven. We do them because God loves us and it's what he wants us to do. We do it out of thanksgiving to him. We do it in honor of him. We do it out love and compassion. We don't use it as a bargaining chip for salvation."
"So, you're saying Megan giving a person food looks different than me giving a person food," I ask.
He sighs. "I know you don't understand this so let me go back to the Hebrew. And yes this nasty. In the Bible, our attempt at righteousness to God looks as dirty as a lady's menses rag," he says.
"That is nasty," I wince.
"But the Bible really says that. In English, they try to clean it up a bit and say filthy rag. But that's not what it says. It depends on the translation," he tells me. "Our attempt at righteousness is worthless and dirty. We've all sinned. I've sinned. You've sinned. They've all sinned," he waves a hand at everyone. "The only thing that makes us presentable to God is faith. Belief. You probably haven't read about Abraham but the Bible tells us that even before Jesus came, Abraham believed what God told him and it was counted as righteousness. The poor lady with the decade of bleeding believed that if she just touched the hem of Jesus's garment, she would be healed. And she was. He said your faith has made you well."
He pauses and looks to me.
"You know, the penalty for sin is death," he tells me. "We all deserve it when you actually look inside. God can see the filth. Jesus was perfect. He didn't fall into temptation. He never did wrong. He loved. He healed. He forgave. He was the perfect sacrifice for us. He could have got out of it if he wanted to. But he didn't. Not my will but yours be done."
As he says this, I see that painting in the museum. Jesus was pleading for his life, but he said God's Will was more important.
I look back to Noah and he continues, "I believe that Jesus willingly gave up his life. He escaped the grip of people who wanted to stone him. He healed people. He performed miracles. He could've called legions of angels to protect him but he didn't. For the joy set before him he endured the cross. He died a gruesome sinner's death so that you could go to Heaven."
"That can't be right," I say shaking my head.
"But it's true. He died for you because he loves you that much. He died the same death for me, for my children, for my wife. For our entire church, all of Sydney, Australia, and the world. He died to make the way for sinners. All you have to do is believe," he tells me.
I take a deep, shaky breath.
"It can't be that simple," I say disbelievingly.
"Do you want me to help you with the words? We can say the prayer but I honestly can see it on your face. You believe, Jai," he tells me.
And I do. I laugh in disbelief. "This is crazy," I say.
"It feels like it, doesn't it?" he replies. "Would you believe that we really have no reason to be here other than God telling us to have a party today?"
"What?" I chuckle.
"We should baptize you. The water looks nice," he says.
"I do believe," I admit frowning.
"How about I pray over you? If you agree, just say it along in your head," he offers.
I nod in assent.
He holds my hands and bows his head, closing his eyes. I do the same. "Father God, we ask you to forgive Jai for all his sins and we ask you to wash him clean as snow. We ask for your help in his life and to walk in your ways for the rest of his days," he says.
He releases my hand and pats me on back.
"You know, there is a party going on in Heaven this very moment in your name," he tells me.
I feel inside my heart, the door has been opened and light is shining on me. It was real.
"So... we handled the repentance part. Baptism is the next step," he says motioning to the ocean.
I nod in agreement and we get our bathers on. He walks with me out to the water.
"Have you ever seen this done?" he asks.
"No," I shake my head.
"Don't suck the water up your nose. I'm gonna dunk ya," he tells me and I laugh.
"Just plug your nose," a boy says beside us. "Dad did that last month with me."
"This is my son, Jack," Noah tells me.
"Hey, how are ya?" I ask.
"Good," he smiles.
We get about waist deep and he stops. There's a crowd around us from their group. I see some of the worship team here and the pastor that spoke the other day. I actually feel like this is my new family.
He stands behind me and I plug my nose.
"Jai, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," he says as he leans me back. I feel the water cascade over me and it does feel like a washing. I feel renewed and whole and complete. He pulls me back up. I smile in euphoria at the sensation I have this very moment. I hear cheers, shouts, and clapping. Noah gives me a hug and I hug him back. We step out of the water and sit at the bench. A plate is given to me and I share the meal with his rellies and mates. I feel so welcome but the strongest feeling I have is for God. I see why Megan told me what she did. She loved me, but it was only a fraction in comparison. I finally get it. And I recall, I can go back to her now. I rise.
"Finish you tucker. That's a long flight to America," Noah tells me pushing me back down to my seat.
I laugh and listen to him.
"How did you know?" I ask.
"You think you're the only bloke a sheila ever brought to church?" he says and he motions to his wife. She gives me a bashful smile and looks at her hubby longingly.
"I guess not," I reply.