Book 1, Verse 25

Tomorrow took too long to show up.

I sat in my tent; or rather, I laid down in my tent, not sleeping at all.

I hadn’t died.

But I had gotten really freaking close.

Gee, thank God for that.

I turned over on my bedroll.

Then again, I had gotten close. I had blacked out. Even a little more damage to my body and I probably would’ve been beyond repair.

I bit my lip.

I remembered something from back when me and John had first met in high school. I’d asked him about why bad things happened to good people.

His response had surprised me, to say the least.

“I don’t think there are any good people.”

“What the heck? There’s tons of good people! Mother Teresa? Gandhi? My mother?”

“They’re all sinners.”

“Oh yeah? And I guess you’re not?”

“No, I’m just as bad as everyone else.”

Then he told me about sin and how, according to God, everyone is worthy of death because everyone sins.

Of course, God decided to have “mercy” on us pitiful humans by sending His kid to die in our stead, so that “our sins would be paid for.”

Some mercy.

Why did some random “God” get to be in charge? Who let Him come up with all the rules? Why did He have the authority to decide who got to live and who got to die?

I rolled over on my bedroll.

“Why doesn’t He just ignore my sins? If He’s so big and powerful, why does what I do matter to Him at all?”

“Because you’re made in His image.”

Some image; I didn’t even ask for it.

I looked down at the shirt I was wearing and lifted it up.

My chest had five or six long scars running down it; they weren’t bleeding, but they still looked fresh and red. Maybe it would look cool when they finished healing.

I put my shirt back down.

A megalomaniacal God who can’t stand when people who He cursed with “His image” sin.

“What even is sin?”

“It’s breaking the law of God.”

“What if I don’t break it?”

“You’ve inherited the failings of those who came before you; you will sin. And your sin deserves punishment by a holy God.”

Oh right! Let’s not forget the part where people are, apparently, forced to sin.

What a great God.

“Here’s a world for you to live in, where horrible things can and will happen to you, and unless you decide to play by my rules, when your pitiful little life is over, I’ll send you to burn in a fiery hellscape for all of eternity! Have fun!”

What a deal; I’m practically jumping out of my skin to get a taste of that.

I rolled over on my bedroll again.

I couldn’t wait until I could stop pretending to be a priest; get back home and tell my family and friends all about this.

Then again, they’d probably think I was crazy. Maybe I’ll just write a book about it.

Once I get back home, where I can talk about what I really believe…

I laid flat on my back and looked up at the top of the tent.

There was no God.

“Then what do you live for?”

I told my memories to shut up.

“What is the meaning of life?”

I told them to be quiet.

“What’s the point?”

I told them to hush.

“What–”

“I don’t need one!” I said out loud as I sat up in a huff.

The night was quiet.

I looked around my tent hurriedly, but no one was there.

I took a deep breath, then laid back down slowly.

What was the big deal with meaning? I can make plenty of meaning all by myself; live a full life where I make the decisions.

A life characterized by freedom; by doing what I want, when I want, how I want.

I clenched my fist as I thought more about the world I occupied.

No one to tell me, “No.” No one to say, “Stop that.”

A world where I was the head honcho; the boss; the big shot.

Even if there was no meaning to it.

Besides, freedom is more important than meaning.

Better to die free than live in a world where an omnipotent God who hates me condemns me to die because I dared to think an impure thought.

“But there’s no purpose to anything.”

What did I care?

“Where does morality come from?”

Society.

“What’s after death?”

Who cared?

“Why go on?”

Freedom.

“Meaningless freedom.”

Better than no freedom at all.

I laid there on the bedroll, looking up at the top of the tent.

Right?

“I can do anything.” I whispered into the darkness.

But nobody answered.

“You hear that God?” I said, a little bolder. “I don’t need you. I-I’m free!”

The darkness didn’t respond.

“I’ll do whatever I want!” I yelled in the confines of the tent. “Screw you! You aren’t real!”

But no matter how loud I yelled, no matter how much I screamed, I couldn’t get John’s stupid voice out of my head.

“You’ll be free. Hopelessly free. Horribly free. Absurdly free. Vainly free.”

At least I’d be free.

Even if it didn’t matter.

I shut my eyes tight.

John had told me something else about freedom.

“You know Shinko, where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

I kept my eyes closed tight, even as something leaked out of them.

“Shinko? I heard you yell. Do you need Elisa to give you more–”

Vivian was crouched down and peering into my tent.

“Shinko, why… are you crying?” She stepped into my tent and let it close behind her.

I laid down on my side, with one or two tears falling from my face.

“Meaningless.”

“What?” Vivian said softly. “Shinko, what are you talking about?”

“Vivian.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Without God, there might not be any meaning to life, but that’s okay, right?” I asked quietly. “We can– we can make our own m-meaning, right?”

I looked up at her, and her expression was one of extreme confusion.

“Shinko, what are you talking about? A-aren’t you a priest? You’re supposed to know about this stuff, not me.” She sounded unsure of herself.

“Vivian, please, tell me the answer.” I asked her quietly, and a few more tears came out of my eyes in the darkness of the tent. “Why me? Why was I sent here?”

“Shinko, you’re scaring me.” Vivian said, backing away from me slightly.

I sat up and looked at Vivian.

She wasn’t lying; she did look scared.

I wiped away some of the tears and breathed deeply a few more times, but I couldn’t quite steady myself.

She watched as I tried to calm myself down in silence. Once I had gotten rid of most of the tears, she looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes and spoke gently.

“Shinko, I don’t understand why you were crying.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

She looked away.

Her long brown hair was a little unkempt, and it covered most of her side profile. All I could see of her face was the very tip of her nose when she was facing away from me.

“But for what you said about meaning, let me say this.” It was her turn to breathe slowly. “Until I met you, I didn’t think about it. I just went around, stealing from… people.”

I looked at her in the darkness of the tent. She seemed so much smaller than before.

“And, yeah, maybe I felt bad about it, but I told myself that it didn’t matter.” She trembled a tiny bit. “B-because, really, nothing mattered.”

She looked at me again and smiled a little bit.

It was a smile that was sad, and happy, and hopeful.

It was radiant.

“Then I met you. And you told me that, maybe, it did matter.” She looked at her hands. “Maybe, all the stealing I did; maybe it mattered, and it was wrong.” Her voice quieted.

There was stillness in the tent.

“But if the bad things I did mattered, then that meant that my life mattered.” She held her hands up and showed them to me. Her palms were covered in small callouses and scars. “Maybe, my dirty little thief hands weren’t worthless.”

“Aren’t you scared though? Of God’s wrath? Of His punishment for sinners?” I asked quickly.

Vivian looked down at her hands and her smile became even wider.

“Shinko, my hands matter. The God who made the world thinks my hands matter.”

I… I couldn’t do it.

“Vivian, I need to go to sleep.” I said quietly. “Thank you. For coming to talk to me.” I looked down at the ground as I laid back down.

Vivian looked at me, a little surprised; then she smiled.

“Of course. If you need something, Shinko, please just ask. You don’t need to yell.” She went out of the tent, but stopped at the entrance of it. “Good night, great priest.”

She stepped out of the tent softly.

I laid down alone in the tent.

And thinking about what she said, maybe I didn’t… fully agree with all of it, but… thinking about it made falling asleep a little bit easier.

Maybe this whole thing about being sent to another world mattered.