A Journey Beyond Belief Story
I had a blast this past weekend. Saturday night was spent bar hopping with the guys, catching up with old high school friends. It was surreal to see everyone again, and everyone seemed to be doing well—some are married, others have kids. It’s funny how life moves forward, and you realize how much time has passed. Running into them felt like a snapshot of the past, and yet everyone seemed so different—more mature, more settled.
The next morning, I was up before seven. I made myself a cup of coffee, which I drank quickly. It wouldn’t be my last cup of coffee. I’d probably grab an espresso for a little extra energy before church. I live with a few roommates, but I still attend the same church as my parents. I enjoy our post-sermon lunch and the chance to chat with them afterward.
While getting ready, I checked my phone and saw a text from one of the guys in the group chat, asking what the plans were after church. I told them they could come to my place to watch the games. After devouring the espresso on my way there, I popped a mint to freshen my breath.
When I arrived at church, I bumped into one of my friends, who was chatting with my parents. They like him—he's one of those people everyone seems to get along with. Honestly, I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about him. He’s got this easy charm, always something interesting to say, always able to hold a conversation. It's a gift. I envy it sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s just natural or something he’s cultivated over time, but he knows how to make an impression.
We all got our seats, and I noticed he was a few aisles ahead of us. He doesn’t seem to carry a Bible—just sits there and listens. For some reason, I find that a little off-putting. But maybe he’s just the type who doesn’t need the book to engage with the message. It’s hard to say.
The service began with a couple of gospel songs, and then they played "In the Sanctuary" for what felt like an eternity. I swear, that song goes on forever. It’s not my favorite, honestly. I’m more of a country guy, and I often find myself zoning out during that part of the service.
Pastor Nick's sermon was about the Holy Spirit and God’s love. He spoke about God’s promises and the plan He has for us, and I couldn’t help but feel like Pastor Nick was speaking directly to me. It’s funny how sometimes the message feels like it’s tailor-made for your own life. During the prayer at the end of the sermon, I quietly prayed, asking God to guide me and that I trust in His plan for my life. I couldn’t help but feel hopeful about the future.
The service ended, and as I was heading out, I saw my friend again. He looked like he’d just woken up from a nap. Did he sleep through the sermon? I didn’t want to ask right there, but I figured I’d bring it up later. He never really responds to the group chat unless it’s about a movie or a TV show, so I’m guessing he didn’t join us for the sermon for any reason other than to keep the group dynamic alive.
After church, I met up with my family in the parking lot. We decided to grab lunch at a local spot called the Cheese Shop. I went with the BLT melt, and we talked about life. It was a good conversation, and thankfully, my parents are doing well. I cherish moments like these—simple but meaningful.
After lunch, I hit the gym at my apartment complex for a quick workout before the games. I knew I had some time since my friends and roommates wouldn’t be showing up for a while. I managed to get in a decent session and clean up the apartment. Once I was done, my roommates arrived with groceries for the game day spread.
Soon enough, my friends showed up, too. I guess even though Jordan didn’t respond to the group chat, he and Anthony must have made separate plans. They probably carpooled.
As we settled in and started talking predictions for our parlays, I asked Anthony and Jordan what they thought of the sermon. Anthony spoke up first. “I missed half of it, but it hit me hard. Money’s been tight for my family, and I needed to hear that. That message of hope—knowing that God has a plan for us.”
“I felt the same way,” I said. “It spoke to me, too.”
I turned to Jordan, expecting some input, but he just nodded along. “What about you, Jordan? What did you think of the sermon?” I asked.
“It was fine,” he said, a bit distracted, looking down. “Hopeful, I guess.” His response seemed a bit flat, considering the length and depth of the sermon. I wanted to press him on it but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.
“Didn’t look like you were paying much attention when I saw you,” Anthony chimed in, always the bold one.
Jordan shrugged. “I heard what I needed to hear,” he said, looking a bit annoyed. He wasn’t interested in diving deeper into the conversation.
“Alright, no worries,” Anthony said, backing off. “How was lunch with your folks?”
“Awkward, honestly,” Jordan said with a smirk. “They asked me what I thought of the sermon, and when they didn’t like my answer, they kept pressing me like you guys are doing now.”
“Well, what did you say?” Anthony asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I told them it was fine, that everything’s good. Same as always,” Jordan replied, not backing down.
“Do you think all the sermons are the same?” I asked, trying to dig a little deeper.
“Pretty much,” he said. “God’s loving, He gives hope, and we should trust Him. That’s the message every week. Nothing new.” He said it with a slight smirk, almost like he was baiting us into a debate.
“What’s wrong with that?” Anthony asked defensively. He’s a bit more sensitive about matters of faith, especially since his uncle’s a pastor.
“Nothing wrong with it,” Jordan said. “Just making an observation. I don’t need someone to remind me of that every week.”
“You didn’t seem too into it this morning,” I pointed out.
“I told my parents we’re not following God when we walk into church,” Jordan said, his tone serious now. “We’re following the church. We’re all uneducated, just going through the motions.” I sat back, stunned by his words.
“You’re wrong,” Anthony snapped. “The church follows God’s word. We follow God.”
Anthony’s response was quick and emotional, as always. But Jordan just sat there, grinning, almost enjoying the reaction he was getting. He was trying to get under our skin, to challenge the way we think.
“You need to talk to the pastor or my uncle,” Anthony insisted. “They can help you get back on the right path.”
Jordan smirked. “Sounds like you want to fix my brainwashing, like I’m in a cult.”
The comment hit harder than I expected. There’s truth in what he said. The idea of ‘fixing’ someone’s beliefs does sound like manipulation, like trying to reprogram someone’s mind. It made me pause.
“I never said I didn’t believe in God,” Jordan replied. “I’m just saying that believing the church has all the answers is foolish. The more you know, the more you realize how little you understand.”
It was a sharp, philosophical remark, one that left me thinking long after the conversation ended. Anthony didn’t seem to get it, though. He was too caught up in defending the church to understand the complexity of Jordan’s words.
As the day wore on and the games continued, I found myself reflecting on Jordan’s views. He didn’t need to argue with us to make his point. In a few short words, he had shown that his mind works differently than ours. He challenges ideas and questions assumptions. It’s rare, and it makes me wonder if we’re all just too comfortable in our own beliefs, unwilling to question them. Maybe that’s what makes a great philosopher—someone who knows how to ask the right questions, even when the answers are hard to find.
January 17, 2025