“He was nothing,” Phil said sadly. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jack asked, his voice rising.
“How can you possibly say he was nothing? Guess who everybody went to when they needed to know anything? He always had answers for them. And guess who everybody went to when they needed help untangling a mystery? And guess who had a gift, a gift, I tell you, for prophecy?”
Phil shrugged and held up his hands, apologetically. “I’m sorry, I was just saying . . .”
“And faith,” Jack interrupted, “that man’s faith could move mountains.”
“Yes,” Phil said, nodding. “True, but I still maintain that he probably amounted to nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jack snapped. “Nothing? Listen! He was the best speaker in the whole conference!” “Yes,” Phil nodded, “undoubtedly true. Still,” he shrugged and gave a pained smile, “still, it was just an empty sound.”
“And he gave his estate to the poor . . . the whole thing. In fact,” Jack paused, seeming to swell in his shirt collar, “my brother-in-law was his executor and he said that there wasn’t much to manage because it was almost all given away before his death. Almost everything! And then . . . get this . . .” he was leaning into Phil’s face, “he sacrificed his life . . . his very life, and you say he amounts to nothing?”
Phil nodded sadly. “Yes, I know about that story.” He nodded again. “Quite the sacrifice. Still, I doubt it did him any good.”
“What,” Jack said, eyes bulging, “what, in your opinion, would it take then for somebody to amount to something?”
“Love,” Phil said. “Merely love.”
“Love?” Jack barked. “Love?”
“Yes,” Phil nodded. “And nothing less.”
“And how would you decide if somebody had love?”
Phil rubbed one hand across the back of his other and sighed. “Jack, let me ask you, since you lived around him, was he . . . was he a patient person?”
Jack chuckled. “Well now . . . I must say that was a bit of a weak point with him. He didn’t think much of those who were late or wouldn’t get their act together.”
Phil looked thoughtful. “Would you say . . . did he ever want things that he didn’t own?”
Jack chuckled. “Just the farm next to his.”
Phil nodded. “And would you say . . . was he a bit of a self-promoter?”
Jack shrugged. “You’ve seen him. He always said that you can’t rely on someone to see what you can do. Sometimes you just have to tell them.” He nodded. “People forget, you know. You’ve got to remind them what you have to offer.”
Phil furrowed his brow. “Was he ever . . . rude?”
Jack shrugged again. “I’ve sure seen him set a contractor, truck driver, or waitress straight if they didn’t perform according to his specs.” He grinned. “His very high specs.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “He did make me wince a few times the way he’d set people straight. Could be pretty abrasive at times, actually. He always said, ‘You don’t do anybody any favors to beat around the bush,’ and believe me, he didn’t. I’ve seen him bring a waitress to tears already.”
“Did he look out for himself?”
“Well you know. . .” Jack said. “Of course. He was generous and everything but . . . sure, he looked out for himself, you know that. Look, Phil, why are you asking all these questions? You’ve known him nearly as many years as I have.”
Phil nodded, then gave a heavy sigh and looked down at his feet, shaking his head. “I was just checking. You know . . . according to 1 Corinthians 13, he really did amount to nothing then.” He shook his head again. “Such a wasted life,” he murmured. “Such a wasted life . . .”
