William Faulkner once said that every man’s life can be summed up in eight words: “He was born, he suffered, and he died.” Although I’ve completed two-thirds of that summation, I’ve not lost sight of the fact that it refers to mankind’s mortal existence. When I stand before God on Judgment Day, I hope to hear Him determine my immortal existence with seven words: “Well done, My good and faithful servant.”
I don’t think God minds that His children speculate on how He will evaluate their earthly performance. He probably chuckles at their imaginings. I’ve often mused that He might possibly evaluate my mortal performance in a manner similar to the way I evaluate my students’ performance, with seventy being the minimum passing grade.
What will I earn on the “Final Final”? Not a perfect score by any means. Because I refuse to accept anything as true without first processing it through my own intellects, I am usually at odds with mainstream thinking … which might be correct. If so and if God’s final is like a college examination, I will flunk.
If the Lord asks, “Did you forgive others?” I’ll be hard pressed to give a passable answer. Since lying to God is impossible, I’ll respond, “Master, while I realize that many of Your children forgave and forgot while on Earth, I didn’t. I believed forgiveness must be earned, and when it was, I forgave. As You may have observed, my students — many of whom had been led to believe that wrongdoings should be condoned or overlooked — learned the hard way that, in my classes, they were held accountable for unacceptable actions.
“Sir, while on earth I believed that forgiveness without consequences was meaningless. Furthermore, if sinners didn’t have to atone for sins, would there be any justification for Hell? As mortals, didn’t You expect us to believe that Your Son knew us, loved us, and died for us? Did You expect us to take that — the greatest gift of all — for granted, and continue sinning, certain that His death on the cross was an irrevocable ticket to Heaven?”
Another question might be, “Did you turn the other cheek?”
“No, Sir. When slapped, I slapped back as hard as I could.”
Next question: “Were you tolerant of others?”
“Not always, Master. I was intolerant toward lazy people — especially those who could work, but chose instead to avail themselves of wasteful, morally unacceptable government handouts.”
Next question: “Did you believe the common man was important?”
Answer: “No, Sir, I thought the uncommon man was important.”
Next Question: “What was your attitude toward war?”
Answer: “I thought it was terrible, but because wars toppled tyrants and preserved freedom, I thought it was necessary.”
If my Judgment Day scenario were the least bit plausible, I won’t even come close to acing the exam. All I can do is continue praying that when God’s evaluation of me is over, I will hear those long-awaited seven words: “Well done, My good and faithful servant.”
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
