I Don’t Feel Any Different

The Scene

There is a scene in The Chosen that I keep carrying around with me.

Jesus gathers the Twelve.

These are not twelve perfected men.

Not twelve men who have finally passed the Zion Readiness Examination.

Not twelve guys wearing little stickers that say:

100% SANCTIFIED — JESUS POWER APPROVED

They are just His guys.

Still learning.

Still misunderstanding things.

Still becoming.

And Jesus tells them He is sending them out.

They are going to preach.

Cast out demons.

Heal people.

Apparently Jesus is giving them power.

Nathanael seems confused.

“Was there a ceremony I missed?”

Jesus tells him, essentially:

This is it.

Then Nathanael says:

“I don't feel any different.”

And Jesus gives him this wonderful answer:

“I don't need you to feel anything to do great things.”

A Bottle From the Apothecary

There it is.

Another little bottle sitting on the shelf of my imaginary Jesus Mud Apothecary Shop.

I pick it up.

The handwritten label says:

YOU DON'T HAVE TO FEEL DIFFERENT

Active ingredient:

JESUS.

Dosage:

As directed.

Warning:

May seriously alter your understanding of who is actually doing the work.

Because I have been carrying around another belief that I want Jesus to examine.

Not a revelation.

Not a proclamation.

Not:

THUS SAITH THE LORD TO GREG.

Please.

This is an Alma 32 experiment.

Plant the seed.

Don't throw it away merely because it isn't presently a tree.

See if it swells.

See if it enlarges the soul.

See if it produces good fruit.

A Sacredly Imagined Conversation

So I sacredly imagine walking into the Apothecary.

Jesus is behind the counter.

Old-fashioned pharmacist Jesus.

Apron.

Bottles.

Mortar and pestle.

Mud ingredients.

Possibly some spit.

I approach the counter.

ME: Jesus, I think I know why Zion isn't here.

Jesus keeps grinding something.

JESUS: Oh?

ME: We're not righteous enough.

Grinding.

ME: Not enough unity.

Grinding.

ME: Not enough consecration.

Grinding.

ME: Not enough faith.

Grinding.

ME: Basically, we're not good enough yet.

Jesus stops grinding.

Looks at me.

JESUS: And what happens when you're good enough?

ME: Then You give us the big stuff.

JESUS: The big stuff?

ME: Power. Miracles. Gifts. Outpouring of the Spirit. Zion stuff.

Jesus reaches behind Him and takes a bottle off the shelf.

He sets it in front of me.

The label reads:

WHOSE POWER DID YOU THINK THIS WAS?

Oh.

I hate it when the medicine starts working before I even get the cap off.

Because maybe I have been imagining something like this:

Jesus gathers the Twelve in The Chosen.

He looks them over.

Peter?

Not ready.

Matthew?

Definitely weird.

Thomas?

Questions.

Little James?

Problems.

Simon Z?

Still working through some stuff.

Nathanael?

Doesn't even feel different.

So Jesus says:

“Okay, guys. Come back when you're better.”

Imagine it.

“When you become sufficiently Christlike, I will give you Christ's power.”

“When you become sufficiently Zion-like, I will give you what you need to build Zion.”

“When you no longer need the medicine, I will prescribe the medicine.”

Wait.

What?

That sounds like something my Jesus Mud Pharmacist might want me to reconsider.

The Causal Arrow

Maybe we have the causal arrow backwards.

Maybe I have imagined:

BECOME ZION PEOPLE

↓

MERIT DIVINE POWER

↓

RECEIVE DIVINE POWER

↓

BUILD ZION

And maybe Jesus is inviting me to experiment with:

JESUS SAYS IT IS TIME

↓

JESUS POURS OUT HIS SPIRIT

↓

IMPERFECT PEOPLE RECEIVE IT

↓

THE SPIRIT WORKS UPON THEM

↓

THEY BECOME CAPABLE OF THINGS THEY WERE NOT CAPABLE OF BEFORE

↓

ZION

Wrought Upon

That reminds me of Christopher Columbus in the Book of Mormon.

Whatever else we say about that complicated man, Nephi uses language that fascinates me:

“the Spirit of God…came down and wrought upon the man.”

WROUGHT.

UPON.

THE MAN.

Not:

Christopher finally accumulated sufficient righteousness points.

Not:

Christopher achieved Level 17 Spiritual Navigator Status and unlocked the Atlantic Crossing Spiritual Gift.

Something wrought upon him.

Something from God acted upon a human being.

And suddenly I start looking around history.

Christopher Columbus didn't have to be perfect.

George Washington didn't have to be perfect.

Joseph Smith didn't have to be perfect.

Brigham Young didn't have to be perfect.

Peter didn't have to be perfect.

Apparently God has spent a considerable portion of human history accomplishing His purposes through people who would never survive the Internet's background check.

That does NOT mean:

Everything these people did was God's will.

No.

It does NOT mean:

Imperfection doesn't matter.

No.

And it certainly doesn't mean:

Agency doesn't matter.

It means something much more interesting to me.

God does not have to endorse everything about a person in order to work through that person.

Jesus apparently needs something less than perfection.

Maybe He needs something more like:

sufficient willingness.

Enough openness.

Enough faith.

Enough surrender.

Enough non-resistance that when the Spirit starts moving, we don't immediately grab the emergency brake.

Merit ≠ Receptivity

And that distinction feels increasingly important to me:

MERIT ≠ RECEPTIVITY

Maybe I don't have to merit the medicine.

Maybe I have to take the medicine.

Whose Power?

Which takes me to Joel:

“I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh.”

There is that troublesome grammar again.

I WILL POUR OUT.

God seems to be the subject of the sentence.

God pours.

People receive.

And suddenly I sacredly imagine another Apothecary conversation.

ME: But Jesus, these latter-day people aren't ready.

JESUS: Correct.

ME: They're weak.

JESUS: Yes.

ME: Divided.

JESUS: Quite.

ME: Confused.

JESUS: Obviously.

ME: Some of them are really weird.

Jesus looks at me.

Okay.

Moving along.

ME: So how can they possibly build Zion?

Jesus slides the bottle back toward me.

WHOSE POWER DID YOU THINK THIS WAS?

Right.

Maybe Zion isn't ultimately a trophy humanity presents to Jesus.

LOOK, JESUS!

WE FINALLY MADE OURSELVES GOOD ENOUGH!

Maybe Zion is considerably more embarrassing than that.

Maybe the eventual testimony sounds more like:

LOOK WHAT JESUS DID WITH THESE PEOPLE.

That feels different.

The Latter-Day Experiment

And it makes me wonder about the latter-day miracles I hope to see.

I have a feeling—a sense, a belief, an Alma 32 seed—that some extraordinary things are coming.

Soon?

I think so.

But I hold even that as an experiment in belief rather than something I claim God has personally certified for everybody else.

And here is the strange part:

I don't think the people through whom those miracles come are necessarily going to look particularly impressive beforehand.

Maybe that's part of the miracle.

Maybe heaven isn't presently conducting a worldwide search for THE 144,000 MOST SPIRITUALLY IMPRESSIVE HUMANS.

Maybe Jesus already knows how this works.

He takes fishermen.

Tax collectors.

Questioners.

Hotheads.

People with disabilities.

People who misunderstand Him.

People who sometimes disappoint Him.

People who say:

“I don't feel any different.”

And then He gives them something.

Power.

Authority.

Gifts.

Spirit.

Calling.

Grace.

And suddenly the question isn't:

Are these people powerful enough?

The question becomes:

Is Jesus powerful enough?

Well.

That seems like a considerably easier theological problem.

The Active Ingredient

And perhaps that is part of what the Jesus Mud Apothecary is trying to teach me.

Yesterday's medicine might have been:

YOUR MIRACLE MATTERS.

Today's bottle might say:

ALL MIRACLES MATTER.

And tomorrow's bottle might simply say:

JESUS SUPPLIES THE ACTIVE INGREDIENT

Maybe righteousness itself is more gift-soaked than I have realized.

Maybe the righteousness of Zion will not merely be the righteousness people bring to Jesus.

Maybe much of it will be righteousness Jesus creates in people who keep consenting to His work.

Not coercion.

Not possession against their will.

Not cancellation of agency.

Quite the opposite.

An enormous human YES meeting an enormous divine OUTPOURING.

People allowing themselves to be wrought upon.

And perhaps that is how a people becomes fit for Zion.

Not:

We finally became extraordinary, so God arrived.

But:

God arrived, and willing ordinary people began becoming extraordinary.

What If Zion Begins Like That?

That is the seed I am planting.

I reserve the right to discover that I have misunderstood it.

That's part of experimenting upon the word.

Jesus can correct my prescription.

Jesus can change the dosage.

Jesus can take the bottle away.

Jesus can hand me another bottle tomorrow.

But right now I am staring at Nathanael.

Jesus has just given him power.

Nathanael checks himself.

Nothing glowing.

No spiritual electricity shooting from his fingertips.

No heavenly background music.

No sudden sensation of apostolic magnificence.

Just Nathanael.

“I don't feel any different.”

And Jesus effectively says:

That isn't the point.

And somewhere inside my little Jesus-Greg WORLD, I hear another question:

What if Zion begins like that?

A bunch of imperfect people looking at themselves and saying:

But Lord, we're still us.

And Jesus saying:

I know.

Now watch what I can do with you.