The day after

Then there was the day after, and the day after that, and the 38 days after that. And the mystery began.

I watched, oh, minutes of a History Channel look at the last 40 days of Jesus' life, and I was struck by a few things that were said. Basically, some talking head said that what we know of Jesus' life is told in the Gospels (check, I actually had that one). The writers spend chapter after chapter talking about his life and miracles and teaching and such. Then they spend almost no time at all on the last 40 days.

In other words, after the resurrection, as Jesus went about teaching more and more, what the heck? Why didn't they write about what he did, or what he said?

And the Final Jeopardy answer is, we don't know.

We don't know what he said about being dead.
We don't know what he said about coming back to life, about breathing in for the first time, about having those nail holes in his body and no one was stitching those babies up. We don't know what he said about, well, anything.

We don't even know much about why 40 days instead of 40 minutes. We just don't know.

And it is weird. I have to give the History Channel that. It is a mystery.

I'm good with a little mystery, and I'm definitely down with a little weird, being, well, a little weird.

Maybe they didn't listen. Maybe he was speaking American English, as my right-wing brethren seem to think. Maybe he simply told them he had told them all they needed to know.

The answer is, I don't know. We don't know.

If that bothers folks after the raising of the dead, and the walking on water and the water into wine and such, so be it.

What I do know is he was alive, with a body that ate fish but seemed to find locked doors no problem.  Maybe he came back and spent his time making sure there was a plan for church planting. Wish he had shared that baby, I have to say. Maybe he came back and said what I see is a gazillion denominations in your future, but I severely doubt that. Maybe he came back and said, "You know what, that whole church growth thing, maybe I'll just help you with it if you'll let me. Oh, you got that? Okay, I'll leave it alone. You do it."

And maybe he came back just because he loved us so much he didn't want to let us go. Maybe that's why there's nothing about that. It would be like a blog that was just too personal to write.

I get that. I've done that. I reckon we all have. Maybe that's one for the final days, mine or otherwise.

40 days of 40 nights, he came back to spend with friends. Makes sense to me.