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Life in the B.C.


Everything happens for a reason.  While those reasons may not be revealed to me on this side of Heaven, I do believe that I might’ve tapped into why I was born in…well, I’ll go ahead and say it -- in 1969 versus biblical times.  You know:  B.C. and early A.D.

B.C. living wasn’t for wusses. I am a wuss, I don’t like walking in soggy grass or camping.  Dust or rocks in my shoes can shut down my day.  Slaying, plucking and/or skinning what was only hours ago a family pet, building a fire, roasting and then serving said animal as supper doesn’t even make it onto the radar.  And don’t get me started on how women had to handle that “special time” of the month.  Although I must admit that seven days of isolation outside the city walls does have its appeal.

Freaking out was not an option.  Check the Old Testament: how often was God speaking from a mountain, or sending angels to deliver messages to His chosen ones?  A lot, that’s how often.  Those had to have been frightening supernatural events.  The angels knew it too, but it must’ve been a tiring routine trying to get people to not freak out.  Again, how many times do they have to say “Fear not” or “Don’t be afraid” or “Arise” or “Get up.”  A lot. There’s no way I would’ve lasted through that. Heck, I get nervous when my dog stares off into space like he can see something that I can’t.  Nope. I would’ve passed out before the angel said word one and screwed up the course of human history.

You lived among the history makers.  And maybe that’s what is so worrisome.  I believe now, and know who the disciples were and who Jesus is now, but that’s only after The Book was written, untold millions evangelized others, and have been killed for evangelizing about Christ.  But I’m not quite sure if I would’ve believed Jesus or the disciples had I been in crowds back then. With my critical nature, I would’ve been the one in the crowd of 5,000 who were miraculously fed with the five loaves and a fish kvetching about it being an imbalanced meal because there was no vegetable on the side.  Or I would’ve thought that Jesus was a really nice guy – a little kooky, but not God's Son...certainly not God incarnate.  I would’ve been the one who was telling the kids to leave Him alone, and been confused by His kindness to that one bratty kid who no one in the village could stand. 

God knows what He’s doing.  That’s why He put me here in the A.D. I’ve got the whole story at my fingertips; and I know that it’s got a happy ending.  But  A.D.’s got it’s own challenges: a corrupt political scene, families struggling in the economy  and natural disasters of…well, biblical proportion, that make it hard to remember that story does end well.

But I do remember…and thank God every day that I’m not a B.C. Baby.
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