Enter the Story

If you could be present during any of the accounts of Scripture, which would you choose and why?

Last week I asked the above question on my Facebook wall, and received a number of interesting responses:  The account of creation. Elijah’s battle with the prophets of Baal. David and Goliath. The moment Anna and Simeon first saw Jesus. The woman at the well. The transfiguration. One person responded that, though she knew it would be heart-wrenching, she would want to stand beneath the cross and witness all Christ had suffered on her behalf.

My pastor  is preaching a series on the life of David, showing how his life points to Christ. During Sunday’s sermon, he mentioned that he knew which story in Scripture he would most want to witness.

 “The road to Emmaus, without a doubt,” he said.

My pastor is a profoundly gifted preacher, skilled at opening the Scriptures in a way which reveals how all of it points to Jesus. And yet he said he longed to have that experience of walking with the disciples, and being joined by Jesus as “beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.” Luke 24:27, ESV. He wants to have his eyes opened to see more deeply how all things point to Christ.

I’ve thought long and hard this week about where I’d like to be inserted, Forrest Gump-like, as an eyewitness to an event in the biblical narrative. Mostly, I kept coming up with episodes where I’m sure I would not have wanted to be present.

The account of Noah’s ark is, perhaps, the most familiar of all Bible stories, even among many who aren’t well acquainted with Scripture. Baby nurseries and children’s storybooks often feature images of the ark, surrounded by pairs of happy animals set against the backdrop of a vibrant rainbow.

But the account of the ark isn’t really a happy story, and I’m not sure I would have wanted to be present as it was unfolding. The account of Noah and the ark is a dark one, filled with judgment and destruction and death. I don’t think I would have liked being cooped up inside a wooden boat, surrounded by two of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. As much as I love my family, I think I might have gone a little stir-crazy not knowing for how many days we would be enjoying nothing but one another’s company. I would have missed the blue sky. And I think it must have been terrifying, being tossed about by wind and storm and sea, protected by nothing but a wooden boat and the promise of God’s word.

Of course my only other alternative would have been taking my chances outside the boat.

I wonder what it would have been like to witness Jesus perform one of his miracles. I imagine myself sitting on a hillside, waiting to hear this speaker who’s been causing such uproar throughout all of Galilee. Knowing me, I’d have grumbled and complained about the lack of concession stands and clean bathrooms. Maybe I’d have listened to what the itinerant preacher had to say; maybe I’d have been distracted by my own irritation. I wonder if I’d have been one of the ones who came just for the spectacle, begrudgingly grateful for my share of bread and fish brought in by an unlikely caterer.

Would I have followed Jesus or gone home unchanged, determined to write a letter of complaint directed toward the organizers of the day’s event?

I wondered, when I asked my question, whether or not anyone would choose to stand at the foot of the cross. I respect the one who wrote and said she would. I couldn’t. The words penned by the eyewitnesses are hard enough for me to read. And I think about Mary standing there, watching her son as He was tortured and humiliated. As a mother, I’m not sure I could have stood by watching her agony.

After Sunday’s sermon several of us gathered for a meal, and we talked about the pastor’s question. One said he would choose to be with Jesus at the wedding at Cana.

And I knew. That’s where I would want to be; sitting across the table from Jesus, drinking the miraculously good wine, the best which was kept for last.

And that’s where I want to be; where there are no more storms or darkness or night. I look forward to raising a glass in celebration that God has always kept His promise, bringing me safely home. I want to know that Jesus didn’t leave me sulking and stubborn and sitting on a hillside; but drew me irresistibly to follow after Him. I want to party with Jesus; breaking bread with the One who was broken for me, and knowing nothing will ever again break this mother’s heart.

How about you? If you could be present during any of the accounts of Scripture, which would you choose and why?

Linking with Michelle @ Graceful:

And with Jen and the sisterhood @ Finding Heaven: