Wednesday, February 25, 2026
I want to write about two encounters I had recently in Galesburg. I am still reflecting on them.
In the first, a very old guy approached me and basically said, it's heaven or hell. A minute after you die. Then he gave me a pamphlet which was appropriately named, "One Minute After You Die," which it's possible he wrote himself. It was actually a pretty well-made pamphlet, and clever the way it folded up into itself, to the point that I thought I might like to copy his method of folding a piece of paper so cleverly.
But there was something disturbing about the interaction, too. I almost felt like he was leaning on a threat to get me to believe. Fear works for so many other things, why not use fear to get these guys like me to just fold up and believe. The thing is, I believe we have both heaven and hell here on earth. I am on his side, really, in seeking the kingdom of the Lord and wanting what's good in the world. But I didn't want to engage in a discussion of heaven and hell, rather I was just hoping to accept his blessing and good will as a general offering and read the pamphlet later.
I'm not actually big on discussing the fine points of theology with guys like that, as it's clear that many hours out working on people has made him only more sure that the switch gets pulled one minute after you die. Well, he's also probably looking at death a little sooner than I am, though not much sooner, so grant him the need to put forward what he believes or is certain what will happen. I admit, I'm not so certain.
The second guy was giving away Bibles in the Walmart parking lot. I drove up to him, opened my window, and asked him "How's business?" He admitted it was kind of slow. But I loved this guy right away. He too was old, probably older than me. He had signs all over his car, but his car was very much like mine too, dark blue, very compact, maybe an old Honda Fit. Without question, he just handed one over. It's paperback, thick, and all it says is KJV Bible on the front. Mass produced, no doubt, yet this church had decided that was a good way to spend their money, getting bibles out to a guy like me. On the inside cover, a little sticker that gave his church's name and information about how to get to their service.
I actually wanted to do what he was doing, in fact I may go back, and ask him if I can have a shift doing that same thing. Standing there giving away bibles seems to be a very gratifying thing even if no one actually reads them. But some people do, I'm sure, and some like me just like bringing home a big fat holy book just to fill up my space.
For a while I entertained fantasies of giving away Purver's Quaker Bible. There are lots of problems associated with this idea. Purver is an eighteenth century English Quaker farmer who thought he'd get to the bottom of what the Bible really said, by studying himself the ancient languages and the translations of them. He wrote copious notes on every verse so that his Bible is almost twice as big as the one I was just given, which itself is plenty big. His notes covered mostly how difficult it was to translate something from ancient Aramaic into modern English, "modern" being what they were using in about 1750. It didn't go over so well even with Quakers, so it's a little bit of a misnomer to call it "Quaker Bible" although that's what this one printer called it shamelessly.
So what would this plan look like? Print my own, obviously. Stand out there and be ready to discuss differences between versions, and know the differences. Get versed in Christian theology. Already more than I can imagine. I would have fun, but I'll never be "versed;" it just isn't me.
I'd enjoy learning, though.
In the first, a very old guy approached me and basically said, it's heaven or hell. A minute after you die. Then he gave me a pamphlet which was appropriately named, "One Minute After You Die," which it's possible he wrote himself. It was actually a pretty well-made pamphlet, and clever the way it folded up into itself, to the point that I thought I might like to copy his method of folding a piece of paper so cleverly.
But there was something disturbing about the interaction, too. I almost felt like he was leaning on a threat to get me to believe. Fear works for so many other things, why not use fear to get these guys like me to just fold up and believe. The thing is, I believe we have both heaven and hell here on earth. I am on his side, really, in seeking the kingdom of the Lord and wanting what's good in the world. But I didn't want to engage in a discussion of heaven and hell, rather I was just hoping to accept his blessing and good will as a general offering and read the pamphlet later.
I'm not actually big on discussing the fine points of theology with guys like that, as it's clear that many hours out working on people has made him only more sure that the switch gets pulled one minute after you die. Well, he's also probably looking at death a little sooner than I am, though not much sooner, so grant him the need to put forward what he believes or is certain what will happen. I admit, I'm not so certain.
The second guy was giving away Bibles in the Walmart parking lot. I drove up to him, opened my window, and asked him "How's business?" He admitted it was kind of slow. But I loved this guy right away. He too was old, probably older than me. He had signs all over his car, but his car was very much like mine too, dark blue, very compact, maybe an old Honda Fit. Without question, he just handed one over. It's paperback, thick, and all it says is KJV Bible on the front. Mass produced, no doubt, yet this church had decided that was a good way to spend their money, getting bibles out to a guy like me. On the inside cover, a little sticker that gave his church's name and information about how to get to their service.
I actually wanted to do what he was doing, in fact I may go back, and ask him if I can have a shift doing that same thing. Standing there giving away bibles seems to be a very gratifying thing even if no one actually reads them. But some people do, I'm sure, and some like me just like bringing home a big fat holy book just to fill up my space.
For a while I entertained fantasies of giving away Purver's Quaker Bible. There are lots of problems associated with this idea. Purver is an eighteenth century English Quaker farmer who thought he'd get to the bottom of what the Bible really said, by studying himself the ancient languages and the translations of them. He wrote copious notes on every verse so that his Bible is almost twice as big as the one I was just given, which itself is plenty big. His notes covered mostly how difficult it was to translate something from ancient Aramaic into modern English, "modern" being what they were using in about 1750. It didn't go over so well even with Quakers, so it's a little bit of a misnomer to call it "Quaker Bible" although that's what this one printer called it shamelessly.
So what would this plan look like? Print my own, obviously. Stand out there and be ready to discuss differences between versions, and know the differences. Get versed in Christian theology. Already more than I can imagine. I would have fun, but I'll never be "versed;" it just isn't me.
I'd enjoy learning, though.
