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Harold Fickett's The Living Jesus is based on a premise as uncomplicated as a two-by-four: If Jesus is who he says he is, then Jesus should be where he says he will be—that is, in his church. "Jesus' prophecy of continuing to abide among his followers meant far more than the usual elegiac memorializing," Fickett writes. "He gave us reason to believe that his very personhood—who he is—would invest itself in those who chose to follow Jesus' way." Fickett goes so far as to warn that if the church does not display Jesus' "holiness, or perfect love," then the world has reason to doubt the resurrection.
A novelist, ghostwriter, editor, and journalist, Fickett has spent a lifetime in the bowels of the church's subculture and knows its unseemly side all too well. What he is after in The Living Christ is what emerges out of all the muck, what rises above the personality cults, the glitz, the wunderprograms, the spectacular failures, and the everyday sins. He wants to see Jesus.
Where to look? Shouldn't Jesus be known to us today in the same ways he was known when he walked the earth? Yes, Fickett says:
I began doing spadework, thinking through what I knew of the various aspects of Jesus' personality as we see him in the gospels. I became convinced that the most illuminating way of looking at Jesus centered in the roles he played in the lives of those who met him, whether followers or opponents.
The result of that "spadework" is an interesting though idiosyncratic menu: Jesus as wayfarer, healer, man of prayer, liberator, prophet, and martyr.
The first category is the most forced: while Jesus was certainly a wayfarer in that he traveled far by foot, there is nothing revelatory about this attribute. A hobo is not Christlike simply by being a hobo. But this is Fickett's excuse to talk about Chaplain Ted Keller at Transport for Christ, a 24/7 truckers' ministry in Columbia, South Carolina. Keller and his volunteers counsel, problem-solve, befriend, encourage, and evangelize the lonely truckers who come their way. Exhibit a is 25-year truck-driving veteran Troy. Grandfather Troy has lost most of his family ties. One night, after drinking too much, visiting his favorite pornographic website, and almost picking up a homeless teen-turned prostitute, he begins to realize just how lost he is. He stumbles into Whispering Hope Chapel and finds Chaplain Ted.
Then we witness a true miracle: Troy hears and receives the gospel and discovers that at this late date he can truly change. Troy's first act is to reach out to the lost teen he had met earlier.
The "healer" is Father Peter Rookey, an eightysomething priest in the Servite order who travels the world putting on Pentecostal-styled healing services. Father Rookey became a priest after having his eyesight miraculously restored after 18 months of blindness. He first began to suspect he might have a vocation in healing after he administered last rites to his 16-year-old cancer-stricken nephew—who, to the surprise of his uncle, was healed. Based in Chicago, Father Rookey is in Mexico when Fickett catches up with him. Fickett sees thousands line up, many carrying cripples and acutely ill family members to the services. After the Mass, Father Rookey spends almost six hours anointing and praying for individuals. Some are "slain in the Spirit" Benny Hinn-style, some get up out of their wheelchairs, but most are not healed. Where Jesus is in all of this is hard to grasp. Fickett concludes, "I have a much greater appreciation for how people in the gospels could witness the miracles of Jesus and not know what to make of these wonders and the person who performed them."
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