Will

 I like words. I always have. It’s not so much because they elicit a response, although I always smile when I read the word fudgy, it’s because words mean things. At least, they used to up until a few years ago when people with an aversion to personal hygiene decided en masse that any word can mean whatever they want it to mean, but I digress. I know, I digress a lot. It’s how my mind works.

Oftentimes one small word can make all the difference and change the outlook of an entire situation. Every cheesy love ballad you’ve ever heard would have a different emotional resonance if only one word were to be changed. What if instead of I will love you, I will hug you, I will kiss and hold you tight, you replaced the word will with may?

I know, sister Eunice, you don’t listen to that kind of heathen music, but you must have heard it in passing at some point. Whether in an elevator, a grocery store, or your dentist’s waiting area, we’ve all heard songs we wish we hadn’t, making promises the crooners never intended to keep.

It’s not a one-way street, either. Seemingly, it’s also gotten harder and harder to impress the ladies. The songs went from I will buy you flowers, to I’ll catch a grenade for you. Easy there, tiger, sounding a little desperate. Maybe start off with the flowers and holding her hand. If that doesn’t work, you can try the grenade.  See, I digressed again.

Will is both definitive and declarative. May is ambiguous at best. When someone says something will happen, it’s a guarantee! When someone says something may happen, it’s a gamble; a fifty-fifty shot at best.

Do me a favor. Call it an intellectual exercise; even call it homework if you must. Grab your Bible, go to Matthew 24, and highlight it every time you see the word will. Let me help you out. I’m only going to quote a few verses, but it should make the point.

Matthew 24:9-12, “Then they will deliver you up to tribulation and kill you, and you will be hated by all nations for My name’s sake. And then many will be offended, will betray one another, and will hate one another. Then many false prophets will rise up and deceive many. And because lawlessness will abound, the love of many will grow cold.”

Within the span of three verses, you have ten specific things that Jesus says will happen. This wasn’t a meteorologist trying to cover his backside by saying there was a high probability of showers. Jesus was declaring what would be definitively and without ambiguity. Like the kid in Chicago who tried to sell me a twenty-dollar bill for ten bucks said to me, “trust me, bro, you can take this to the bank.” Unlike him, Jesus wasn’t lying.

One small, often overlooked word changes the entire narrative and leaves no room for questioning or second-guessing. These things will occur, all of them, without exception, because the Christ said they would.

I cannot fathom the level of hubris required to look at the things Jesus said will take place, shrug one’s shoulders, and say, I have a different take on it. Certain things in life are self-evident. If you have to weigh yourself on an industrial scale, you don’t need a second opinion from another medical professional to tell you that you might want to skip the second stuffed crust pizza once in a while.

Who knows? That may end up being a thing after all. Body-positive doctors! Boom, billion-dollar idea. You’re welcome. You go in with a list of symptoms, which are likely caused by the fact that your neighbor’s house shakes when you walk down your driveway, and your doctor tells you what you need are more mental health days. Before the double chins start wagging, I’m not poking fun at fat people, nor am I fatphobic. That would mean I’m scared of myself. That would just be weird. I’m a husky, big-boned fellow, but I’m self-aware enough to know that if ever my knees start to buckle, it’s not because I’ve been eating too much kale and alfalfa sprouts.

Ooh, another million-dollar idea! Start a new kind of prepper movement where the food you’re storing isn’t in a bunker; it’s on your body! I’m not fat; I’m just prepping for the last days. While y’all are trying to haul cans of tomato soup into the back of your camper van, me and my mobility scooter will be zooming down the road.  

Shortness of breath? Heart palpitations? Excessive perspiration? Difficulty walking? It’s the stress! Because you like what you’re hearing, you don’t even mention that you have no stress other than figuring out what you want for lunch every day. You just nod along, even though deep down, you know he’s just saying what you want to hear.

It’s not a stretch to say this is analogous to the modern-day church. When someone doesn’t want to hear the truth, they find a place that won’t tell it to them. It’s not rocket science; it’s the practicality of supply and demand at work. It’s a twisted combination of instant gratification and delayed acknowledgment of reality. In the moment, I’m all aflutter at the thought of being whisked away, and I get to put off having to acknowledge that some of the things Jesus said would happen are already starting to happen.

Granted, one would think that men’s souls and eternity were beyond being affected by supply and demand theory, but money’s money and some people have an aversion to earning it by the sweat of their brow.

There are two ways to make big bucks in Christianity today, and they both have fear as their fulcrum. You can either alleviate people’s fears or use fear as a motivator. What do I mean by this? You can either tell people they’ll be caught up before any untoward thing occurs in the world, or you can sell them radiation shielding undergarments for when nuclear war commences. You'll die rich if you can live with yourself while doing either of these two.

I would be remiss if I didn’t also acknowledge the subset in Christianity today, the handful of souls that stand there pointing to the word and saying, Jesus said these things will happen! Will!

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.