Saved by the Bell: A Short Story

On the last day of school before the Christmas break, the school was tense.  No one had seen Screech all day, and at Bayside High, no one ever missed school unless it was serious.  Zack had been on his phone all morning.  In Chemistry class he had teamed up with a nameless nerd who was sure to get all of the work got done while he called everyone he knew.  By lunch he hadn’t heard anything, and as he headed into The Max, his feet followed the familiar path, but his mind was somewhere else.

                He hadn’t seen Kelly yet that day, which was disconcerting, but then again she had been avoiding him a lot the last couple of weeks.  For at least the last week she was often sick in the mornings, and would spend her first period – volleyball – in the girl’s bathroom.  Self-absorbed as he was, Zack wasn’t blind to what was happening; he recognized the symptoms for what they were, though he had said nothing.  Kelly was pregnant, he knew it.  And he knew this much, too: it wasn’t his.

                As he sat down at a booth, fellow students in bright denim talking animatedly to one another all around the restaurant, he realized he hadn’t really seen any of his friends this morning.  He had been so busy trying to find out about Screech that he hadn’t wondered where Slater and Jesse were.  Or Lisa, he thought with a pang of guilt.  He thought he knew why Lisa hadn’t been coming around him, especially after last weekend’s party.  He hadn’t meant for anything to happen; she had just been so drunk.  And so had he.  And in that state, it had been easy to act on what he had over the years often wanted to act on.  He wouldn’t blame Lisa for how she felt, he just wondered what exactly she felt.  Was it anger?  Fear?  Confusion?  He hoped it was confusion, because that’s sure what he felt.  Did he love her?  And more importantly, did she love him?

                Just then Slater walked in, looking lethargic.  He had a glazed over look: the hundred-yard stare, as Mr. Belding would have called it.  Zack knew why without asking, but he cleared his throat and braced himself anyway, prepared to talk about it.  Slater sat down without a word on the other side of the booth, his hands in his sweatshirt pockets.  Even though he was wearing his workout clothes, he appeared impeccably clean, from his glowing black curls right down to his polished white sneakers.  His skin seemed to pulse with a kind of bronze glow, and Zack again admitted silently to himself that, without a doubt, Slater was the best looking guy in the senior class.  He cleared his throat.

                “What’s up Slater?”  And tentatively he added, “Where’s Jesse?”

                Slater looked up suddenly, his eyes watery, before looking away again.  The noise and chatter in The Max was a din at that moment.  Why was everyone so happy?

                Slater cleared his throat and shifted in the seat.  “She’s not feeling well.”  He rolled his head around as if his neck was stiff.  “I don’t think she’s coming to school again.”

                Zack gritted his teeth.  He wanted to be sympathetic, but damn it, why did Slater have to be so somber about it?  It was Jesse’s fault, after all.  Zack love Jesse, had been her close friend since they were kids, but he didn’t think he could put up with this any longer.  If she wanted to ruin her life with No Doze, that was her choice, but she shouldn’t be allowed to bring everyone else down, too.  Zack plucked up his courage suddenly, and the words were out of his mouth before he knew it.

                “Slater, we’ve got to tell somebody, anybody.  Mr. Belding even.  Slater, she’s addicted.”

                Slater flinched, and hung his head.  Somewhere a tray of food dropped, but the noise was mixed with the conversation around them.  Zack gritted his teeth again.  “It’s not use, A. C.  I can’t keep faking it.  Everything’s falling apart.”

                Slater looked up, looked in Zack’s eyes, and there were definitely tears there now.  And they seemed to exchange an understanding.  A conversation was held in that shared look; in that moment they said everything there was to say about everything that had happened to them the last several years.  Their rivalry, their friendship; the romances and heartbreaks; the adventures, the crackpot schemes, the hijinks; the lessons, the wisdom; and the finality of what was coming at the end of the next semester.  That is what they were both thinking, Zack knew it.  They were both thinking, What would happen after high school?  What would happen to their group of friends?

                Just then the door of The Max burst open.  There in the doorway, framed by the bright Southern California sun behind him, stood Mr. Belding, his gray suit glimmering silkily, his bald pate shining, his thick smile beaming.  He walked toward them, and following behind was Screech.  Schreech!  His giant goofy grin lighting up the place.  And then Lisa, and Kelly, and Jesse.  And there was Miss Bliss!  And behind here came in a whole cast of characters, people Zack knew by face but not by name.  And he knew then that it would be okay, that they would make it.  He knew then that, against all odds, like a school child on the verge of failure, he had been saved, saved by the bell.

The Decline of Evangelical America

   The title is from an op-ed piece in the New York Times, seen here.  John Dickerson, the author and a pastor of a relatively small church, is onto something important, although his most important point, which I'll mention below, is muddied by his insistence on perpetuating an "evangelical culture."  I part ways with him on several points, including the notion that we (Believers) can or should "refashion [our]selves."  The idea that we can fashion or refashion ourselves implies that Belivers exist as some kind of entity, like Focus on the Family or the Southern Baptist Convention.  The very existence and prominence of these two groups, and of many others, is very much a part of the problem of "evangelical culture."  In fact, the notion of "evangelical culture" is itself a problem.
   Believers should not have a marketing problem; we are not selling ourselves.  I can tell you that Jesus does not have a marketing problem, and even if we think he does, he doesn't care.  God is accepted on His merits, not on ours.  That does not mean that we shouldn't embody His merits - in fact, the whole pursuit of the Christian life is to be more like Jesus.  What it means is that Evangelicals don't save people, God does.  Jesus does.  What we do is carry His glory around, display it, walk in His power, and love everyone we possibly can.  He has called us to love, and so that is the only way we need to "fashion" ourselves.
   Mr. Dickerson reaches a proper conclusion when he writes:

"For me, the deterioration and disarray of the movement is a source of hope: hope that churches will stop angling for human power and start proclaiming the power of Christ."

   However, it is apparent from his essay that he still holds out for a movement of some kind; that he still finds an "evangelical culture" desirable.  The problem with his view - and with the view of most American evangelicals - is that we can't control the "movement" any more than we can control the Holy Spirit.  The movement of God's People is nothing unless it is His movement.  He is and has been moving, long before this election or any other one, and the imperative for all Believers is to move when, where, and how The Lord is moving.  That, my friends, is A Real Movement.

A Quick Case for Debate

   I would like to make a quick case for debate.  Specifically I would like to make the case for debating ideas that are considered Conventional Wisdom, also known as Common Knowledge.  The Danger of this idea of Conventional Wisdom is that once and idea becomes Conventional Wisdom, it isn't really open for debate.  It's settled, so don't question it.  Get over it.  The opposite danger is my very proposition of debating Conventional Wisdom, which often manifests itself as paranoia and conspiracy theory.  But in general I believe that the latter danger is insignificant when compared to the former, so debate we must.
   In order to make this case, let's use an example of Conventional Wisdom.  I will choose one of my favorites: vaccination.  It is Conventional Wisdom that vaccinations are good.  They are touted as safe, effective, and important.  They are regimented into our lives through doctors, schools, and especially large-scale public health agencies: the World Health Organization (WHO), the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), and many others.  Perhaps most effectively and importantly, they are described in terms that are meant to frighten those who would question their use.
  Now why would someone debate vaccinations, given the widespread support for their use?  Conventional Wisdom says we shouldn't, that we should trust the experts, their studies, their proof.  And Conventional Wisdom also dismisses many of our points of debate or argument, essentially claiming that this issue is settled and should not be open for debate.  But there are questions worth asking, even about something so widely accepted.  For example: what are the ingredients in vaccines, and what do they do?  What happens to viruses as large populations are immunized against them: do they mutate into something more insidious?  What are the secondary and tertiary effects on immunized populations, i.e. what are the unintended consequences?
   In my mind, this last question is the only reason we really need to continue to debate Conventional Wisdom: what are the unintended consequences?  Because there are always unintended consequences.  Sometimes they are innocuous.  Oftentimes they seem innocuous, only to prove significant, if not downright dangerous.  And because there are always unintended consequences, it is irresponsible to stymie debate of Conventional Wisdom.  Neither is it ever acceptable, in my mind, to stymie debate by way of fear.  In the example offered here, the experts usually do just that, especially by raising the specter of an outbreak of pandemic disease.  People assuredly respond to fear, but rarely if ever in constructive ways.
   For me, it comes down to liberty: the freedom to make a choice.  Conventional Wisdom discounts Personal Choice by establishing the Right Choice - or the Only Choice.  Debate provides the opportunity to tease out the pros and cons and discover what other choices there may be.  In the example of vaccinations, the problem is a social or corporate one, but the choice is a private or personal one.  The proofs and arguements for the Conventional Wisdom in this case are cold, impersonal, statistical.  The debates against the Conventional Wisdom are heated, sincere, and personal.  Conventional Wisdom, when it dismisses Personal Choice, runs the risk of sacrificing its legitimacy for the sake of establishing its proof.  And Personal Choice runs the risk of sacrificing legitimacey for the sake of argument.  The danger is greater for Conventional Wisdom, by virtue of the very fact that it is Conventional; legitimacy is everything.
   I did not intend to argue a specific point here, but rather make the case I stated initially, in favor of debate.  I will add one important point: debate requires us to be informed.  We don't have to be experts to debate; in many cases being an Expert is a liability.  The Experts have limited vision by virtue of their knowledge of the debate.  Again, Conventional Wisdom.  So let's keep the debates alive.