A Christmas Walk On The Beach With Jesus

by Duane N. Burghard
©2014

It’s hard to say how I got there, which is to say I don’t remember getting there at all. All I can say is that, without any sense of how or when, I was just … there.

It was surreal to say the least, but even stranger was the fact that I didn’t really question where I was or how I got there. I was just there. 

“Nice!” he said.

I was a little startled because I hadn’t seen or heard him until just that second.

“What?” I said.

“This,” he said, looking around, “nice place.”

“Yeah, it is,” I replied, still more confused than anything else.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Uhh,” I was still really confused, but I did know the answer, “it’s ... Hapuna Beach, on the northwest coast of the Big Island, in Hawaii.”

“Oh, beautiful,” he was still nodding his head slightly in approval and looking around, clearly impressed. “You must have come here quite a bit, the amount of detail is impressive.”

“Except this isn't real, is it?” I said.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Well, just look,” I said. “It’s empty. We’re the only ones here. And it’s totally calm and quiet and peaceful ... and this light, this weird not daytime not nighttime, kind of like an eclipse or really bright moonlight light. This isn’t real is it?” I said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “it’s real to you.” He looked at me like a long lost friend who hadn’t seen me in ages and smiled, “It’s good to see you again.”

I looked at him. He was a couple inches shorter than me. He was dressed in robes that were tan and brown and made of really coarse materials with rough and uneven edges. He had thick black hair, with curls in it. His skin was darker than mine, kind of Mediterranean. He had a very small beard, just enough to cover his skin, but it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Deep, penetrating, sincere, caring, knowing. I knew who he was.

“You’re Jesus,” I said.

“Yes,” he smiled.

"Why?" I asked.

“You rang,” he said, still smiling.

“I did?” I asked.

“Sort of,” he said, still looking around. “Wow, you must have really liked this place. It is beautiful.”

“You’ve never been here before?” I asked, that seemed odd.

“Well I’ve never seen it the way you see it,” he said, and then he smiled, “but no, I didn’t exactly get out this way when I was on Earth.”

“Oh right, yeah, I guess not,” I said.

“Anyway, impressive job,” he said approvingly.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you built it,” he replied.

“What?” I asked.

“This,” he waved his arms around at our surroundings, “this place, you built it. Where we are now, this was entirely constructed out of your mind.”

“You mean it’s not real,” I said again.

He half smiled and made a tiny chuckle, then he looked at me and then down the beach and he said, “reality …” He shook his head very slightly and started to walk down the beach.

I started after him. “Why are we here?” I asked.

“What in like a galactic sense?” he replied.

“No, I mean here, now, why are we *here*?” I asked pointing to the sand.

“I dunno, that was all you,” he replied. His voice was kind, quiet and soft, and yet it seemed powerful somehow. “Oh, thanks,” he said, “but that’s only because that’s how you made it sound.”

“Made what sound?” I said.

“My voice,” he said.

“You can read my thoughts?” I asked. THAT was disconcerting.

“Yes,” he laughed, “sorry, I’ll try to … give you some space there if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, “look, I don’t really understand what’s going on. What’s real here? Are YOU real here?”

“That’s a hard question to answer,” he said as we walked together. “In a way everything is real here, and in a way, nothing is. The important things, the moments we share, the things we ‘say’ to each other, that’s real, how we do it, where we are, what we look like, what we sound like, all of that is, just a construct.”

“What we look like?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “As you might imagine, I don’t look like this for most people.” And in an instant he was suddenly several inches taller, his skin became white like mine, his hair became much lighter (not quite blonde) straighter and much longer. His eyes turned blue and his robes went from a bunch of Earthy colors to much brighter gold and red and blue. “Most people these days kind of go for this look,” he said.

“Nice,” I said.

He looked down at himself and shrugged, “it’s OK. It’s not the look I care about, it’s the ideas. Plus, I kind of like your version,” he said, and instantly he returned to the appearance he had been, “you see me with the same eyes that James did, you seek honesty and truth, I like that.”

“Can I see what you really looked like?” I asked.

“You mean how other people perceived me when I was alive here?” he asked, then he shrugged a little and said “sure.” In his voice I could kind of hear him saying, “not really sure why on Earth you’d want to, but whatever.”

He shrank several more inches. His nose bent to the left and flattened a little near his eyes (like it had been broken at some point). His right eyebrow dropped slightly and his hair got more curly. His skin got a little darker and a lot more weathered and wrinkles appeared on his face, but his eyes, his eyes stayed the same.

“Wow,” I said.

“Ehh,” he said and smiled, “it worked.” And then he reverted back to the way I had first seen him on the beach and we started walking down the beach again. After a moment he said, “To answer your question, we’re here because you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, but I want to talk to you all the time, why now?” I said.

“Well, I always hear you, you should always know that,” he said, “and I try to respond most of the time, but it’s harder for you to hear me. You can only hear me when you’re heart and your mind and your soul are all at peace, when you let go of the world and yourself and feel the special connection of all things. THAT, is when you hear me.”

“And now?” I asked.

“And now,” he smiled, “this is one of those rare and special moments when you are at such peace that you can actually rise above that level of consciousness and come here, where you can do things like, well like this, which is actually great fun for me. I love seeing what you see.”

“How long do we have?” I asked.

“I can’t answer that,” he said. He must have seen the disappointment in my eyes, because he added, “oh it’s not that, the problem is that your question involves time, which doesn’t really exist here. We’re literally outside of time right now. The is ‘the only,’" he said. He smiled and made a spooky gesture with his hands and voice when he said the words “the only” … clearly he was trying to be funny. I smiled. “So!” he said, “you have questions.”

“Uhh, yeah, like a million of them,” I said.

“Well let’s go,” he said.

“OK,” I said, “umm, oh! Uh, happy birthday!”

He laughed a light laugh, and looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, “thanks, but you know it’s not really my birthday.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, “you were born in the spring right?”

“Right,” he said.

“What day?” I asked.

“Umm, it was … what is now …” he paused like he was actually figuring it out, “March 19th.” he said confidently.

“Really?!” I said, “that’s my wife’s …”

“Yeah I know,” he said quickly, and he smiled and looked down and away from me.

“You’re totally putting me on aren’t you,” I said.

He laughed, “yes, I am,” he said. “I’m sorry, I sensed that you would find that funny. The truth is I don’t actually have any idea. I was a baby and no one thought to bring a calendar. But you’re right, it was spring time, I know that.” We paused and he shook his head a little.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said, “it’s just kind of funny the things people think are interesting or important. Dates for example. Seasons.”

“Well this is your season,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s nice,” he said, but I felt a little like he didn’t mean it.

“Does it bother you?” I asked.

“What the whole Christmas season thing?” he said. “No, not at all,” he said, suddenly anxious to speak. "The whole marriage with the pagan festival of lights thing, the Santa stuff, that’s all fine. And winter’s a good time to do it, especially for people who live where it’s dark and cold. You want to party and be nice to each other and say it’s all about doing that stuff in my name, that’s all great.”

“But ..?” I said.

“Well, to be honest it would be nicer if more people used it to remember the stuff I was trying to say and get people to DO, and maybe took it to heart a bit more,” he almost seemed sad, but just as quickly he perked right back up and said, “but there’s a lot of joy and love, and that’s nice. Really.”

“What about Easter?” I asked.

“Yeah, that one is a little odd,” he said.

“The eggs and rabbits thing?” I asked.

“No no no, again, all that stuff is fine, season of fertility and all that. Again, I just get concerned that the message gets lost,” he said. And then he seemed to get reflective for a moment, like he’d just stumbled on something, “in fact, you know, that’s about the only thing that ever really worries me.”

“The message getting lost?” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. Suddenly he seemed in deep thought. 

“Can I ask you about that whole experience?” I asked.

“Which experience?” he asked.

“Easter, the … crucifixion,” I said somewhat hesitantly.

“Uhh, sure,” he said.

“Well, it seems pretty graphic and gross and, well, was that the only way to make your point?” I asked.

“No,” he said quickly, “but it was the best way. And frankly, it needed to be something big.” He looked at me and then feigned being apologetic, “didn’t mean to be a ham about it.”

“Oh I didn’t …” I started to say, but then I looked at him and could see he was playing with me again. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, “although it is confusing isn’t it?”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well,” and he paused, as if he was reticent to say, “the whole … cross … thing.”

“What about it?” I asked.

“Well…” he seemed amiably confused, “it’s just that, to choose that as a symbol for a movement in my name.”

“Yeah?” I said.

“Well it’s not exactly a happy moment, you know?” He was laughing a little as he said it. I could tell it didn’t bother him as much as he seemed to feel a kind of amused confusion about the choice.

“What would you have chosen?”

“I don’t know!” he said loudly. His voice seemed to contain both amusement and exasperation, “how about a sun symbol or something, you know, representing the light of the world thing, I liked that. Or even a sheep or a shepherd kind of thing.” He paused, and then said, “it’s no big deal, it’s just weird that’s all.”

We walked in silence for a while, then I asked, “do you ever get mad?”

He looked thoughtful and said, “I don’t know about mad," then he looked up and raised an eyebrow, "I mean there was the whole thing in the temple that one day, but generally no. I do get pretty frustrated sometimes.”

“Like when?” I asked.

“Well the one thing that absolutely drives me nuts is when people do stuff in my name that’s got absolutely nothing to do with me or my message or what I was trying to get people to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said.

He smiled lovingly at me and said, “yeah, I know you do.” He paused and then continued, “you know I just … I just don’t get it. I said, you’ve got to do two things; love God and love each other. Don’t worry about what other people are doing, focus on what YOU are doing. YOU do those two things right in everything you do, and everything else will take care of itself.”

“It will?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said.

“What about … bad stuff,” I said.

“What about it?” he replied.

“Why does it happen?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking up and around as if it genuinely perplexed him. “For what it’s worth I think it’s really weird. And I can tell you that it’s not real.”

“What do you mean not real?” I asked.

“I mean not real,” he said. “Look, the only things that are real are life and love. That’s it. Literally. That’s ALL the universe is. WE, are all just momentary collections of tiny pieces of life and love. We flash into existence, we shine and reflect that which we truly are; life and love, and yes, some shine better and brighter than others, but, like the stars, they’re all adding to the light. And then we’re gone, back into the mix of the universe, to reorganize in some new and different and interesting way where we do it again. And that’s IT. Over and over. Forever. And the only thing that matters, every moment we live, is how much we love, because that’s all that we are and all that goes on.”

We walked on again in silence for a long time as I thought about that. I felt like we'd been together a long time. “I’m afraid,” I said.

He looked at me as he always did, with a look of love and amazement and wonder and amused confusion and confidence all rolled up together, then he laughed a little and said, “of what?”

“I’m afraid that when I leave this place I’ll forget all of this,” I said, “that I won’t remember. Worse, that I won’t be able to live that, what you said.”

Tears came to his eyes and he said, “I am ALWAYS with you. In fact I’m never farther than I am right now. You simply need to LISTEN in order to find me. You are such a thinker. You know I’ve always loved that about you. You’re intense, focus and determined. You work hard to get at what you think is closest to me and when you have it you never back down.”

“But I can’t … I'm not good enough,” and I started to cry.

“Yeah you are,” he said, “and I know it bothers you that your drive and intensity flash into temper too often.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said as tears flowed from my eyes.

“No!” he said strongly. “No, don’t be sorry. It’s part of you, and getting better is part of your journey. It’s what you have chosen to learn. You are a seeker and defender of truth, and that's a GOOD thing. A lot of people aren’t ready to hear that.” He paused, and looked at the tears on my face. “Hey,” he said, “it can be frustrating. I know. And I know a little something about annoying people too.”

I laughed, but I seemed unable to stop crying just the same. “What should I do?”

“Keep seeking the truth. And love everyone. ALL the time,” he said.

“But I keep making mistakes,” I said.

“Yes you do,” he said unapologetically, “but you are moving in the right direction and your heart is in the right place. If it weren’t, you would never have made it here.”

“But I have to go back,” I said.

“Oh yeah, about that,” he said, “there is no ‘back’ in space or time. Each moment is forever, which is why it's so important to love all the time. In reality, everything is part of ‘the only’," (and he did that thing with his voice and hands again, clearly trying to make me laugh). 

And at that moment, the beach, and that entire world faded away, and I found myself sitting in my office in front of my computer screen staring at this document.

And then way off, in what felt like a great distance, I heard his voice one last time. He said, “keep focused on love.”

And then it was gone. At least I thought it was, but then a moment later I heard “happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me-ee, happy birthday to me! ……. Made you laugh.” Yes, he did. Merry Christmas.