The Mariner

McConnell’s heart froze in his chest. This man was mad. Surely only the insane would admit to something like that?

“And I saw something else too.”

“What?” whispered McConnell, not wanted to hear at all.

“I saw myself taking part. Something I did, something terrible.”

I don’t want to know, thought McConnell. Just leave. Get out, get out now! Sweet Jesus save me from this nutter!

“I saw myself kill a woman. I punched her to death as we fucked.” The Mariner turned in his seat to look at the reverend. As his face came into view, McConnell was sure the confessor would be grinning a psychotic bloody smile, but instead his visage bore a simple picture of misery. Sadness and guilt, nothing more. “I enjoyed it. Why would I enjoy a thing like that?”

“Are you sorry?” McConnell asked, feeling a sudden pity for the man despite his confession. “Do you repent?”

“Yes. But I want to know why I am this way.”

“Some whys cannot be answered. Not until Jesus returns and sews the world back together. But if you ask for forgiveness, God will give it. This vision you had: that’s your guilt. Ask Jesus for forgiveness, and then forgive yourself. Only through forgiveness can we be cured our ills, not through pills or time on a therapist’s couch.”

“God would forgive something like that?”

“Anything can be forgiven if truly repented. But it goes both ways. You must forgive anyone who’s wronged you too.”

Now it was the Mariner’s turn to appear afraid. He trembled in his seat. “My mother tried to kill me when I was a boy. I remember her holding a pillow against my face. I couldn’t breathe.” His eyes grew haunted as he recalled the dream. “I couldn’t breathe.”

“Forgive her. You must forgive her.” McConnell placed a hand upon the Mariner’s shoulder, feeling him jump under the touch. “It’s all in the past, there’s no use hanging on. Forgive her, and then forgive yourself.”

Later, once the reverend had said his piece, McConnell watched the Mariner leave and head out into the night. He prayed for the man’s soul until first light, crossing his chest over and over in hope his voice would be heard. And also, in moments of weakness, he made a prayer that this morning would be the last for that strange man with haunted eyes.

God told Jesus to build a boat.

“I have a rowing boat, Father. Will it not do?”

“You do not need a small craft, but a mighty vessel! One capable of housing all those worthy of saving from this sinking world.”

So, at God’s request, Jesus set about building a ship, a mighty wooden ark capable of holding a great host. He laboured for many days and nights, back-breaking work that shredded his already ruined hands, yet he would accept no assistance. This was a task set for him, and him alone.

Upon finishing the boat, Jesus turned skyward. “Who should I invite aboard, my Lord? Who is worthy of salvation?”

“This world is full of sin, my Son. And it must be paid for. I am sorry, but you must sacrifice yourself as a way of paying for these sins, and thus rid mankind of their awful stain.”

“I must die?” asked Jesus, feeling fear in his heart.

“You must suffer. Suffer terribly. And once you have suffered enough, you will be shown the light of truth and know those who are worthy and those who are not.”

So Jesus set sail and began his torment.

He is still out there, somewhere between life and death, paying the price for our own vanity, greed and wrath. One day, when his task is complete, he shall return, and only then will he bring our forgiveness.

— The Shattered Testament by The Reverend McConnell

19. MAKING PROGRESS