Last summer I had a chance encounter with a former high-school classmate of mine. I was 200 miles from home on a speaking trip and when the receipt wouldn't print at my gas pump, I popped inside the station to grab it from the clerk.
Although I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm one of those people who has been conditioned by our modern technology to crave constant stimulation, I stood in the line with my head buried in my phone. I would have totally missed him if he hadn't recognized my voice of all things.
To protect his identity given the fact that I went to a small high school, I'll just call him Sam. Sam came walking up to me with an armful of unhealthy food options and said, "Peter Heck, what in the world are you doing here?" We stood and talked for about 10 minutes that afternoon, and it was such a blessing.
Sam had been through it. If he were in school now, he would have a bevy of accommodations for learning disabilities and mental deficiencies. I never knew exactly what made Sam slow, but he had been held back twice. Even when he walked across the stage with my class, his diploma cover was empty. I actually don't know if he ever attended summer school and earned the diploma, got his GED or what.
But there was something else about Sam that I remember. He was very rough around the edges. No good home life, no solid example from parents, no connection to faith - Sam was a loner and a floater with a foul mouth.
I wasn't surprised when he told me he had spent 5 years in prison for a few really bad choices, but I was floored when he told me that while serving time, he had found Jesus. One of the prison guards had encouraged him to meet with the Bible study that took place on Wednesday evenings courtesy of a local church in the area. Sam had gone, heard the gospel of Jesus, and made the best decision of his life.
I actually apologized to him for not doing a better job being a good example of Christ and talking to him about Jesus when we were in high school together. He made me feel better by saying it wouldn't have mattered much at the time anyway because his heart was anything but open to God. But now? He may still struggle with self-control issues, with anger, with symptoms of his cognitive challenges, but now, he belonged to Jesus.
I had forgotten about that encounter and about Sam until just the other day when my social media timeline started being populated with comments about Mr. Covid himself, Dr. Anthony Fauci. It seems the good doctor recently sat for an interview with the BBC, during which time he opined about his lapsed Catholic faith.
As a Christian, I was confused at that clip from the very outset. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around the concept that Dr. Fauci doesn't "practice" his faith anymore. I know people say things like this, but what does it even mean? Does he just mean he isn't going to church and following the commands of Christ right now? If so, wouldn't it make more sense to say he's decided to just not be obedient to Jesus? Sure, that sounds worse, and that euphemistic language like "practicing" and "non-practicing" is more fun, but isn't it more helpful to just be honest? Faith without works is dead, according to the New Testament writer James. So I guess Fauci could always go with that - "my faith is dead right now."
Again, I'm aware how pushing this point may come across as uncharitable to Dr. Fauci, but look what he goes on to say.
"First of all, I think my own personal ethics on life are, I think, enough to keep me going on the right path…it seems almost like a pro forma thing that I don't need to do."
I guess I'm glad that the BBC added the Elton John piano accompaniment in the background of those remarks. It really helped lighten the feel of Fauci quite literally elucidating the counsel of Satan himself in that remark. Where else does the notion originate that we can be gods of our own private universes, keeping our own counsel, maintaining our own "ethics," and steering clear of the institution that Jesus Himself inaugurated upon His resurrection, if not from the Prince of Darkness?
Either you trust Jesus enough to follow Him, or you decide to trust yourself. Dr. Fauci has made his choice, so why do we need to obfuscate that fact with some silly notion that he's just not "practicing?" As if converting to Christ is like passing the bar exam.
I saw that video of Dr. Fauci - walking these elaborate hallways of power, being interviewed on the largest broadcast networks in the world, eating well and enjoying mind-boggling levels of wealth and privilege - doing it all without Jesus because he doesn't need Him to be fulfilled.
Then I think back to my ex-con friend, Sam. Grabbing his grub at a Speedway, heading back to a low-rent apartment for the evening, before heading to his third shift security job at a Walmart distribution center. He finds joy and purpose in those simple things because he has a new life in Christ.
And it's then that I realize what the Apostle Paul meant when he wrote that "God chose the foolish things of this world to shame the wise" (1 Corinthians 1:27).
The world won't get it, but my fellow Christians will. I look at those two men, the decorated medical doctor and the low income ex-con, and I shudder in sadness and pity for the poor fool, Dr. Fauci.
