The Cord. Stephen W. Robbins
room. Bundt, their chocolate Labrador, laid down next to Anne on the couch with his head resting on her lap—almost as if he sensed what was about to be shared and that she would need comfort.
Payne forewarned, “I want to begin our family powwow by saying that this will not be like any other powwow.”
“Does this mean it will be interesting and short?” quipped Doug.
“I guarantee it will be interesting!” How short the meeting will be was not just a good question, it was the question. Just how much should be shared? How much should be revealed? Once something was said, it could never be taken back. It would forever change and shape the family trust.
“What I’m about to tell you is confidential. And what I’m about to tell you will, I’m sure, confuse and trouble you. It may even offend you. However, I believe, once you understand and hear me out, it will revive you, or at least intrigue you.”
“Dad, just tell us. We can take it.” Anne said this in hopes of moving the meeting along. She wanted to return to her original plan for the evening: study for the college admission exam that she was taking on Saturday.
“Actually, Anne, what I’m about to share affects you the most.” With this said, and with a deep breath, Payne invited his family to join him as he prayed. They all instinctively bowed their heads. Even Bundt closed his eyes.
“Father, You who loves us with an everlasting love, help us now to wait upon You with reverent and believing hearts. Grant us wisdom and clarity to do Your will completely, cheerfully, and without hesitation. We are so aware that this world is lost, and that You plan to call it to account. We believe that Jesus—the One that was crucified, dead, and buried; the One that rose from the dead, ascended into heaven, and now sits at Your right hand—shall come again to judge the living and the dead. Father, we believe this, and we believe that He could come at any time. Father, more than anything, we ask that You prepare us for His return. May we not be distracted, nor cause any delay to our blessed hope. To Your glory and our joy, we pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Immediately following the collective “Amen,” before the revelation, Doug interjected (Anne rolled her eyes), “Dad, you quoted some of the Apostles’ Creed in your prayer. It reminded me of a conversation I had at lunch today at school. One of my friends, who just found out that I am a preacher’s kid, asked me if I really believed that Mary was a virgin when she had Jesus. I told him flat out, ‘I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary.’ My friend laughed at me, called me crazy, and then shouted so all at the table could hear, ‘And he believes in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.’ Everybody laughed.”
Ashley chimed in, “Why are people so mean? Why don’t people believe anymore?”
“Because they saw their mom and dad put the presents under the tree and the candy in the baskets,” chuckled Anne.
“You know what I mean,” said Ashley in a tone only a mother could voice. “Why don’t people, especially young people, believe in the virgin birth?”
“I don’t believe in the virgin birth,” announced Anne. Deafening silence filled the room and raised Bundt’s ears. She explained, “I believe in the virgin conception, not the virgin birth. The conception was supernatural, but not the birth. The birth involved pain, blood, and pushing. There was no heavenly epidural. It was a natural birth. Isn’t that right, Dad? Just like with my birth, there was a birth canal, a placenta, and an umbilical cord. Isn’t that what you said in your sermon last Christmas?”
What Pastor Donovan said last Christmas was nothing compared to what he was about to say. How do you tell your daughter that she was about to become Mary? How do you convince your wife that this unplanned pregnancy is part of God’s plan? How will Doug handle his friends’ jeering when he defends his sister? Once again, Payne found himself with no answers, just a growing set of questions that soon would be mute, he hoped.
“You are right. That is what I said.” He choked up, paused to catch his breath, and then muttered, “There was an umbilical cord.” The family flashed puzzlement, either because they couldn’t hear him or because they could. Irreversibly, he candidly addressed his family. “There was an umbilical cord. And that is actually what I want to talk to you about at this powwow. On Monday night, I saw the actual umbilical cord of Jesus.”
“Cool,” said Doug with excitement. “What did it look like? Did you touch it?”
“No, I didn’t touch it. And, well, I didn’t actually see it. I saw the reliquary that contains it.”
“How do you know the cord was in it?” asked Anne, adding yet another entry into the catalogue of questions.
“It’s a bit complicated, but I can assure you that it was. I saw with my own eyes film footage of it being captured from the order of sisters that guarded and preserved it.”
“Cool,” repeated Doug, now sitting up straight. “Can I watch it sometime? Was there pain, blood, and pushing?”
“No. Now, please, no more interruptions. I want to tell you the unbelievable news. Without going into all the technical details (because, in fact, I don’t understand all the science involved), I want to tell you what we plan to do with the cord. Let me just say that, because the blood in the cord is well preserved and well suitable and usable for advanced procedures involving DNA, we can now bring back Jesus. Think about it, for such a time as this, God has graced us with the ability and the means to generate His second coming.”
“You can’t be serious.” Ashley could not help but interrupt. “Are you telling us that you intend to clone our Lord? That you will create Him in some lab? No, better yet, you plan to stage another virgin birth. No, wait, I’m sorry, virgin conception? I bet you already have selected a Mary. Who’s your chosen virgin?” Distraught, Ashley pointed toward their daughter, and said sardonically, “Anne?”
“Yes.”
“Way cool,” roared Doug.
“What?” gasped Anne.
“Are you out of your mind?” Now livid, Ashley stood up and declared that the family powwow was over. She ordered the kids to go to their bedrooms. Bundt followed Anne.
* * * * *
Payne and his wife sat in the living room, staring at anything but each other. When he thought it was safe, he spoke. “Please, Honey, just listen to what I . . .”
“No. You listen to me. My daughter is not going to get pregnant before she is married. She is going to go to college, graduate, get a job that she likes, and then get married to a man that she loves and that loves her and shares her values.”
“Just like you. You married a man that loves you and shares your values. I know that I have had more time than you to process this whole thing. But, please, know that what we are talking about will make all things work out together for our good. You know my heart. You also know that I’ve tried to help the church grow, to move God’s mission forward. But I have nothing more to throw to see if it sticks. That is, until now.”
“So you’re going to throw an umbilical cord?” quipped Ashley. Silence stretched between them—and then Ashley said, “I just don’t understand. Is this merely your latest attempt to take the church to the next level?”
“It’s not the next level. It’s the ultimate level, the pinnacle, the . . .”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the devil tempt Jesus from the pinnacle of the temple? And didn’t Satan try to use the Scriptures to tempt Him? And didn’t Jesus resist him by counter-quoting, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test’? Payne, you are not only testing the Lord your God, you are testing your wife with this absurd nonsense. Please, for your sake and mine and especially Anne’s, just forget about all this. Go back to being a regular pastor—preach, teach, and run the church—and entrust the results to God.” Ashley stood up, staged a consoling smile, and walked