What is this religion?

[Lief Erikson]

*I just wrote this story today. I don't think it's exactly the sort of story one can enjoy, but it might be found interesting.*
What is this religion?

My Mom, Tres, needs me to pick up my younger brother, Roy, from school. I didn’t used to ever get stuck with that responsibility, and it is a bit of a pain. Especially since I’m just coming back on vacation from college. I’d assumed this would be more of a fun time, after all the study I’m putting in, and it is, much of the time. I have a lot of freedom, and it’s really nice to have my Volkswagen available again for my use. I don’t have to worry about hitching rides now, and right now I have to give the rides. I’d much rather, of course, be on email writing to one of my friends whom I’ve taken so long in writing. Or reading a good book— I started reading "Mansfield Park" not more than three days ago, but have already gotten quite far. I’ve read two other of Jane Austen’s books, and I’m glad there are more still for me to enjoy after this one’s done.
While Roy is nine, I have a brother named Justin who is 19. I’m one year older than him, and am the only girl in the family. Justin hasn’t gone to college yet, and I’m not sure he’s planning to. I wish, sometimes, that he’d put a bit more effort into his work, but his interests just lie in different directions. He meets with some of his friends at one of their houses not far from here, every Tuesday evening. Today is Tuesday, and I plan to meet him and find out what sorts of people he’s been meeting. My Mom wants me to find out whether or not any of them are girls; he doesn’t mention his friends very much to her, and she wants to know what’s going on in his social life. So I’m meant to be a sort of unofficial spy today, but if I see anything Mom disapproves of, I’m not planning to tattle on Justin. He’s a grown up young man, and he can take care of himself.
As I stop at a red light, my attention is turned to a small group of about six men or women holding signs. They look like demonstrators, but as I read the signs, I’m surprised.
"ACCEPT JESUS WHILE YOU CAN"
"YOU CANNOT BELIEVE EVOLUTION IS ALL THERE IS"
"PLEASE, WE CAN SAVE YOU FROM HELL"
Then I notice that there are two others, knocking on people’s windows and talking to them about their religion. These people are serious, but they are fanatics!
I look in slight worry as one of them approaches my car. If he knocks on my window, I’m not going to open it. He’s only one car away.
Blessedly, the light turns green and the cars begin to move forward, one after another. The man further down has jumped back, but the one right across for me moves over to my car and raps on the window.
I determinedly keep both hands on the wheel, but I manage to avoid glaring at him.
"Believe in Christ!" he shouts, not to be stopped. "You’ll perish in hell if you don’t turn to salvation! It’s up to you to make a simple choice; no one can make it for you."
"Then don’t try!" I shout back, unable to stop myself. I glare and push the gas pedal, and he jerks backward as my car accelerates. I have to push the brake a moment later, to avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front of me.
I’m still stewing when I pull into the school parking lot, turn off the car, and open the door. A few kids are playing on the playground nearby and several others are waiting around the parking lot.
"Roy!"
He runs over, grinning a little. He looks excited about something, but then, when doesn’t he? He’s got wide, horn rimmed glasses with dark frames, freckles on his cheeks, and his always cheerful and enthusiastic.
"Can I sit in the front seat?"
"You know Mom doesn’t like that," I answer with a smile.
He doesn’t complain; simply pulls open the back door and hops in, slamming it behind him.
"Tomorrow, I’m going to trade my second Darth Vader for Brett’s Jango Fett," he says, his grin broadening.
I sit down. That man was certainly not a representative of the Christian religion, I tell myself, determinedly. There are idiots in every religion.
"Brett got action figures for Episode 2 from one uncle, two aunts, his Mom and Dad, and from his Grandpa. He got lots of doubles, so he’s willing to trade. He’ll have to find his Jango Fett’s missing head though; it fell off when I was playing with him a couple days ago."
"Mmm."

[Lief Erikson]

I turn the ignition, start the car, and pull out of the parking lot.
"We’re using his bristle blocks as lasers, and they’re pretty good. He got his Episode 2 action figures from the Star Wars fan magazine; his brother’s signed up for two years. Brett is able to use the form most though; his brother only gets the books by Michel Stackpole. He’s into the X-Wing series."
"Mmm hmm." Perhaps Justin will know something more about Christianity. If I ever end up having to argue with a Christian, it could be useful to know what they really do believe.
"Why don’t you like the Star Wars books?"
I drag myself out of my thoughts. "What?"
"Why don’t you like the Star Wars books?"
I talk with him about it for a while on the way back to the house. He doesn’t combat my opinion, and we hop out of the car together. I turn on the car alarm after we shut and lock the doors, and then we head into the house.
I pick up "Mansfield Park" and flop down on my bed, reaching out with one hand to pull the blinds open.
I soon am completely engrossed in the book. The vacuum cleaner goes on for a while in the hall and then off, and finally I glance at my watch. 5:30.
Justin’s meeting starts at 6:00; I’d better get going. Justin drives there from his work, so he’s hardly home at all on Tuesdays.
I’m wearing jeans and a flannel red shirt. I pick up my thin, dark brown sweater and tie it around my waist. It gets cold for me at night, though Justin rarely seems to notice the cold.
I put a bookmark in the book and place it back on its shelf.
The house I’m bound for is only a few streets away, so I decide I’d rather walk. I can hitch a ride with Justin on the way back.
The air is cool, as expected, but it will be a lot worse later on. I reach the place and check the number. There are already several cars parked on the street outside it, and the door is open. The sound of voices is coming from inside.
I check my watch; it’s 5:55.
I walk up to the door and knock. I’m not sure they’re expecting me, and just walking in could be uncomfortable.
A bleary eyed young man with sandy colored hair emerges from a doorway linking to the entry way. He’s wearing a light blue jean shirt and dark purple sweat pants.
"Heya," he says, putting one hand on the wall and leaning on it. "Who’re you?"
"My name is Shelly Fargon," I answer, extending one hand. He shakes it, but his hand is rather limp. "I’m Justin’s sister."
"Oh, Justin! Right. Well, come in."
I comply, but rather hesitantly. What kind of friends has Justin been making? Whoever this fellow is, he is younger than Justin. Probably about sixteen.
A dark haired fellow, about nineteen, is sitting on a sofa by a table, his feet up on the table, reading out of a magazine.
"I’m Mord; he’s Travis," the teenager beside me says, and I nod.
Travis looks up, sees me, and takes his feet off the table.
"Travis, this is Shelly, Justin’s sister."
"Good to meet you," he says with a welcoming smile. "Please, take a seat."
Mord walks past me and sits down on a stool in a corner, picking up a joystick and putting it on his leg, staring with focus at the images on a Nintendo game.
Travis gives me an apologetic smile. "We can’t kick Mord out until 6:10."
I smile back and walk over, taking a seat on a wooden chair opposite him. "Justin invited me on Sunday. We hadn’t had much time to talk till then, so I thought I might as well come and see what’s up with him."
"Yah, you’re home from college, right?"
"Yes."
"I’m on break also."
A wide shouldered fellow in a sweat soaked white tank-top comes in. He has reddish brown hair and black running shorts.
"Soccer practice went late," he says. "You got a towel around here, Travis?"
"Paper towels in the kitchen."
"Winning, Mord?" he asks, but leaves without waiting for a response. Mord hadn’t even looked up as he’d come in.
"That’s Brian," Travis says. "He plays soccer till about 5:20 every day, but usually he cleans up before getting here."

[Lief Erikson]

"Do you do much sports?"
"No," Travis answers. "I used to do quite a bit of swimming, but that stopped, and since then I’ve been like Justin. Only lazier."
"I see."
"I put the push on at college, of course. How about you?"
"I did jogging in the early mornings until I got to college. Late nights killed it, then."
"Are you an early riser by nature, then?
"Hey, Jessica!" he says as a dark haired girl walks inside. She has long eyebrows, tight fitting pants and a black T-Shirt. She has the tattoo of a rock star’s name on her arm.
Her eyes turn lazily to me, and I stare back evenly.
"This is Shelly," Travis says. "She’s Justin’s sister, on break from the tortures of college."
"Oh." She walks over to a nearby chair, ruffling Mord’s hair with one hand as she sits down. His eyes remain focused on the Nintendo screen.
Brian stumps in again. "Hey there," he says, noticing me. "You Justin’s sister?"
"Yeah," I answer, rising and shaking his hand.
"Justin told me you were coming."
"So what do you usually all do together?"
"Hang out. Watch movies, play cards, whatever we feel like." Brian grins. "You’re the one who goes to college— what kind of things do they do there in their free time?"
I smile a little, feeling more relaxed now, in spite of the fact that Jessica is staring at me.
"Not much more intellectual things than that," Travis says with a grin, from behind me.
"Hey there," Justin says as he comes in. "This is my sister Shelly, everyone. Brian, where’s Max?"
"Probably decided to go home and get tidied up."
"Tut tut," Justin says, walking away from the entrance and slouching down onto the sofa beside Travis.
I sit down again.
"Yes, quite," Brian says. "There’re more than enough paper towels to go around."
He looks at me with an earnest expression. "We can’t in good conscience get into the beer without Max."
"He doesn’t drink," Jessica tells me.
She glances at Travis, who smiles slightly. "Yep, his Mom and Dad won’t let him. They’re Christian."
"He follows those rules?" I ask in surprise.
"Yeah well, actually come to think of it," Brian says, "he’s a Christian too. Most Puritan one ever was seen."
Jessica hits his leg, grinning, and the others laugh a little.
"Well, shall we not at least get out the glasses and welcome him?" Justin asks, getting up.
We all troop out to the kitchen, and they pull out a few glass bottles of beer from a cardboard box. Justin opens the kitchen cabinet and takes out a few glasses.
Jessica leans up and takes out a couple.
"Hey," says Travis, looking at his watch. "It’s time for the countdown."
"What?" Brian asks.
"Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." He lowers his watch and grins. "Now, the room is ours."
Justin starts pouring beer into the glasses and Travis walks back into the room. "Mord, Mord, it’s our turn. Play on the computer in your bedroom."
Justin passes me a glass, and offers another one to Brian, who is standing a few paces away by a lamp, squinting down at the pages of a book.
A lean teenager of about seventeen comes in through the front door, closing it behind him. He has dark brown hair, and sure enough, he’s wearing jeans and a sweater, unlike Brian.
"Hey there," he says, coming in.
"Hey, Max," Brian says, drinking from his glass.
"What’s up?" Max asks, leaning on the counter.
"Just got here; we’ll have to consider what t’do first. You cold?" Brian asks, glancing at his sweater.
Jessica pulls out a tray from a cabinet and puts it on the counter, placing the glasses on top of it. She heads back into the back room, and I notice angry voices coming from there; apparently Mord and Travis were having an argument.
"You just like to show off your muscles," Max says with a grin, and then looks up at me. "Hi, er, Shelly. You going to be coming here often?"
"I doubt it," I answer with a small smile, "but we’ll see. I wanted to at least meet Justin’s friends, and I’m doing that."
"Maybe you’ll change your mind," Max says.
Justin hoists up the box of beer bottles and walks back into the room after Jessica. Brian smiles once at us and then follows.
"So I hear you’re a Christian?" I ask Max.
He looks a little surprised. "Yeah, but does that make any difference?"
"What else do they not allow you to do?" I ask with a small grin, making it seem more playful.
He glances at my beer glass, then away from it again, and doesn’t answer.
I wish that I’d bitten my lip and not said anything about that, but I want some sort of an idea about the truth of their religion.
"Never mind."
"You’re not really interested, anyway," Max says. "I think I’ll take a can of Sprite."

[Lief Erikson]

He walks around to the other side of the counter.
The voices in the back room raise to a higher level, and Mord storms out suddenly, looking angry. He runs up the stairs, turns a corner, and I hear a door slam.
"I am actually interested," I tell him, and he stands up, popping off the cap of the Sprite and taking a quick swallow.
"Well." He glances at the back room. "This hardly seems the place or time. Perhaps after the movie?"
We watch a movie, play a few games of cards, and then finally begin to break up.
Jessica heads off to go home first, but from the sultry look she gives Travis, I doubt that she’d be going if Travis’s parents weren’t home. Justin certainly isn’t going to be mixing himself up with her, I am relieved to see. Justin and Travis stay inside, talking, while Brian lies with his torso on a cushion on the floor, half asleep.
Max leans a little closer to me and rubs his eyes. "You wanted to know about Christianity?" he asks. "Well, what do you know already?"
"That it involves God sending his son to die for everyone’s sins, and that by having faith in him you will be saved. That’s the primary belief, if the beer’s not befuddling my memory."
"It’s not," he says with a smile. "Yah, that covers it all."
"How can you have faith in someone you can’t see?" I ask.
He pauses. "Well . . . the Bible says he’s there, and the Bible is the Word of God."
I almost laugh, but don’t. "How do you know that?"
He shakes his head a little. "Uh . . . I’m sure there’s a reason we believe that; I just can’t think of what it is. I know it says it in the Bible."
"If I send you a letter which has in writing ‘I’m Joan of Ark and am alive now’ on a piece of paper, does that mean it’s true? Are we just expected to have faith without any reason to believe?"
"I think so, because if you don’t have faith, you can’t reach God."
"It doesn’t sound as though you have any evidence at all that Christianity is correct," I tell him with a small smile.
"If there wasn’t any evidence, I doubt the religion could have grown and survived for so long," Max says helplessly. He really is very young.
I sigh in mild disappointment.
"You could get in touch with my pastor. If you give me your telephone number, I’ll get back to you on it."
"Why do you even remain a Christian? Is it because your Mom and Dad say it’s the truth? Science has already stripped all Christianity’s foundations from underneath it; I doubt you have any idea. There is no evidence to support the Flood of the Old Testament. There is no evidence to support many of the Old Testament events. The New Testament, sure there is some, but there is no reason to believe that Jesus was God’s son. A wise man, perhaps, and perhaps slightly delusional of himself, but there really is no evidence. Just go home and ask your parents; I doubt they’ll be able to do any better for you."
"I expect they could," Max says staunchly.
"Whatever," I say, taking a sip of beer. "But you’re fairly grown-up, why don’t you begin to think for yourself. Evolution also . . ."
"My parents don’t let me learn about evolution."
I stare at him. "They what?"
Justin and Travis turn, looking at us. Brian snorts loudly and raises his beer bottle to his mouth.
Max shrugs uncomfortably.
"That’s a huge gap in your education," I say in astonishment. "How could they just not allow you? I mean, religious freedom is one thing, but not where it breaks into state rules on education."
"What’s going on?" Travis asks.
"Max hasn’t learned about evolution!"
Travis stares as well.
"Not necessary, I guess, if you want a different kind of career," Justin says.
I pounce on that at once, though. "That is absolutely not true, and besides, you decide what kind of a career you’re going to have after you are more grown up. During the time you’re growing up, you rarely have any accurate idea of what you’re going to be, and this is parental superstition that is coming in here—"
"How do you know religion is parental superstition?" Max asks angrily.
"Calm down, calm down," Travis says, extending a hand toward us. "The debate over religion has gone on for years and years, and there’s no need for any of us to get into a sweat over someone else’s business. Religion is each of our own affair, whether we have one," he looks at Max, "or not," he says, turning his gaze on me.
I flush slightly. "Sorry, Max."
He gets up, nods at Travis, and walks over to Brian. He pushes Brian’s shoulder, and who looks up at Max vaguely. "Huh?"
"It’s getting late."
"Come on, Max, no sweat," Travis says. "We’re all friends, here. If Jesus is your friend, he’s welcome here too."
"I don’t mean to be a bad influence," I say with an apologetic grin.
He looks at me and suddenly smiles. "Well, perhaps Jesus wouldn’t mind just one." He picks up my beer glass and drains the last bit of it.
We all cheer, and I bury my pain.

[Lief Erikson]

The End.


I hope no one finds it offensive; it certainly isn't meant to be so to anyone, and I'd strongly prefer an absence of religious debate following this post. But opinions upon the characters, their views or the themes of the story and how they were portrayed are welcome .

[Nurvingiel]

I liked your story, but why end it so soon? The characterization was good - hard in a short story - you could do more with it, explore the debate further. Though (and this is a comment on the story, not a religious debate) you could have put in a word for the more moderate Christians, of which there are many.
Cheers |N|

[Starr Polish]

I enjoy the concept, but I have some constructive crit, mostly relating to awkward dialogue:

"Brett got action figures for Episode 2 from his uncle on his mother’s side, from two aunts on his father’s side, from his Mom and Dad, and his Grandpa...

You don't tell us how old Roy is, but I assume elementary (please correct me if I'm wrong.) I doubt that a kid his age would say "unlce on his father's side" etc. He'd probably just say "from his uncle and two of his aunts..". Also

"...He got duplicates of many of them, so he’s willing to trade. He’ll have to find his Jango Fett’s missing head though; it fell off when I was playing with him a couple days ago."

It's more probable that a kid (even an older teenager) would say "got lots of doubles of them" intead. And "have to find" and "missing" are redundant.

Also, since Shelly's character and Justin's friends are mostly late teens/early twenties, they probably wouldn't say "Yes" very much, unless answering a question that irritated them. More likely to say yeah.

But still, I liked it

[Aralyn]

Originally posted by Lief Erikson
I have an older brother named Justin who is 19. I’m one year older than him, and am the only girl in the family.

What?

[Lief Erikson]

Originally posted by Aralyn
What?

Good point . I posted a not very fully edited draft, obviously.

Thanks for the comments, Starr .

[Lief Erikson]

Originally posted by Nurvingiel
I liked your story, but why end it so soon? The characterization was good - hard in a short story - you could do more with it, explore the debate further. Though (and this is a comment on the story, not a religious debate) you could have put in a word for the more moderate Christians, of which there are many.
Cheers |N|

I'm glad you liked the story . The religious debate wasn't the point of the story, which is why I didn't go into it deeply. Introducing a more moderate or a more informed Christian wouldn't help the story, for the point of the story isn't what's out there, or to inform people. The point of the story is more that Christians who don't know what they believe thoroughly need to get informed, because simply by not knowing, they can obliviously hurt themselves and others.