There Must Be Something More

100 | The Morning Before

I tried to keep my eyes open, staring at my laptop screen. My hands were tired from typing all night. It was almost midnight. A blue jay landed on the windowsill in front of me. I didn't have the energy to shoo it away and I decided to just let it be, not caring if it chose to poop on my bed or something.

I stared at the big, bold letters I had typed on Microsoft PowerPoint: WHY 66 BOOKS? THE RELIABILITY OF THE BIBLICAL CANON. I let out a heavy sigh and wondered if it was good enough to convince at least a hundred people. From what I heard many more students had decided to attend our next lecture due to the fact that we had converted one of the strongest atheists (besides Principal Powell) to Christianity. I shivered at the actual fact that the student body was expecting something from us now. They had a standard. And I doubted if we'd be able to exceed or at least live up to their expectations.

I grabbed my loose-leaf notepad and stared at the numerous scribbles I had done over the past several weeks researching about the Biblical canon and its reliability. I wondered if it was good enough. I wondered if it was enough. 

For the past several weeks, I was out with Trey and Meredith just researching and interviewing Biblical scholars about the reliability of manuscripts included in the Biblical canon. If you didn't know, the Biblical canon or canon of scripture is a set of texts  (or "books") which a particular religious community regards as authoritative scripture. I spent most of my time just thinking up of ways on how to present it in the actual lecture which was actually tomorrow.

I barely had time to think about my struggles anymore. Like the fact that I still hadn't decided whether to get Michael's room cleaned up to become a guest room or not. In all honesty I didn't want to. I knew I wasn't ready. Or at least I think I wasn't. I wasn't sure. And I didn't wanna face the music. 

Besides there were more important things to focus on--like this lecture I had been working on for quite a long time. I wondered if this was enough to convince at least one soul and save some. I leaned back on my swivel chair and tapped my pen on my chin. I thought hard. I envisioned somebody getting saved through this kind of information. And then I imagined people's reactions--Amanda, Calum, Principal Powell, even Coach Anderson--they're going to be astounded. And then they might get saved in the process!

I was pumped, I could admit that. But there was still that tugging fact that this might all go down the toilet. And then I'd get expelled. Then my parents will hate me. They'll most likely disown me as their own son. My baseball scholarship is gone. My reputation is dead.

It'll be an all-time low.

I scoffed. I'm taking a great risk again, I thought. I scoffed again. Whatever. I've always taken great risks for God. This one doesn't make it different. And the Lord's been faithful through it all.

But even if He won't be, I choose to still praise Him.

I glanced at the clock and realized the hour and the minute hand had struck twelve. It was midnight already. I yawned and decided to already get to bed. We were still going to hand out sticky notes tomorrow morning, and then do the grand lecture in the afternoon. I wondered if something different was going to happen tomorrow.

I hope so, I thought as I pulled the covers to my chin. I breathed a silent prayer and closed my eyes to fall asleep.

***

"You look terrible," Trey said as soon as I got to my locker. He had been waiting there, I realized.

I frowned at him, opened my locker and glanced at the mirror taped poorly on the blue metal door. My brown eyes, which said I had a few sleep the night before, were watery and carried dark circles under them. My wavy brown hair, though combed neatly to the side with a little pomade, still looked worn out and seemed as if I had just gotten out of bed.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted, slamming my locker door shut. I felt too tired to grab any textbook.

"Why?" Trey asked, giving me a disgusted look. So much for moral support.

"I couldn't stop thinking of how this afternoon's lecture will be like," I said. "Oh, right. It's yours and Samuel's turn to speak later."

Trey slapped his forehead as if he didn't know that was the setup for the lecture. "Seriously?" Then he let out a heavy sigh. "I mean, the Lord be with me."

"You're gonna do great," I reassured him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You're not going to be the one speaking, anyway. It'll be the Lord. Just let Him."

Trey nodded, yet he looked distressed. "Right. Just... just let the Lord do His thing, right? I'm just the instrument, right? That's... easy. He-he. That's... it'll be nothing."

"Yes," I said, trying to convince him everything was alright. I squeezed his shoulder and shook him in a cheerful way.

"I don't think I'm ready," Trey snapped.

"Nonsense," I said, shaking my head. I fixed his dark blue Hawaiian shirt collar and sleeves. I gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder. "You're gonna knock 'em dead."

He cringed. "That sounds like a bad thing. Do you want me to do badly, huh, Charlie?" He said, panting and puffing.

"You're hyperventilating!" Alex said, coming out of a classroom just beside Trey. She chuckled and we fist-bumped.

"Why wouldn't I?" Trey said. "I'm doing the lecture later. Me. Trey Mullins. I'm just a kid, man. I've only got small goals in life. And that is to make it to the Big League. I'm not cut out for this big stuff like doing a lecture that must only be done by professionals!"

"Charlie did a lecture, and he isn't a professional," Alex said.

"Thanks... for emphasizing the unprofessional part," I said sarcastically.

"Yeah, but that's Charlie Borlock!" Trey fended.

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm going to embarrass myself in front of the whole student body!" He said, clutching his chest where his heart should be and acted like he was running out of air.

Alex laughed and slapped him on the back. "Stop that!"

"What if Coach Anderson's gonna be there?" He asked, his eyebrows in a worried look. 

"Then that's better," I said. "You're gonna knock him dead."

He cringed. "Ooh, I wouldn't want him to be dead. I want him saved first."

The three of us laughed our anxieties away, knowing that just in a few hours, we were going to make an attempt to convince unbelievers of the reality of life.