The Day An NBA Player Showed Up At The Door

Yesterday, the doorbell rang around 10 AM. We’re still staying with my in-laws during our (perpetually delayed) home repair, so we assumed my father-in-law had bought another boatload of crap from Amazon. We didn’t see a truck. But we did see the silhouette of two figures behind the textured glass. So, we opened the door.

A seven-foot-tall man wearing a tie and a straw hat stood there. He introduced himself and his son, a lanky young boy with his tie tucked into his pants, as volunteers. He wore a welcoming smile as he asked us whether we believed we could live forever. My boyfriend replied, “I hope so,” as I stood back to observe the interaction.

The tall man held up his tablet, read the displayed Bible passage, and asked, “Do you believe eternal life is possible?” My boyfriend responded, “Yes, if longevity medicine stays on course.” The tall man’s smile grew, “Ah, you’re a man of science.” The conversation continued. He wanted to introduce us to the Bible and help us come to trust the Bible. He offered to provide us a series of three one-on-one sessions in our home, where we could become familiar with the Bible and it’s teachings about everlasting life.

At that point, I think we both realized he was volunteering on behalf of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Yet, we were both intrigued by his pitch. We were raised Catholic, and we both became disenchanted with the church in our teens due to the numerous unpunished scandals. We both still pray independently, and we both long for the sense of community we had in our youth. This man’s words and demeanor were scratching that itch.

I don’t have any plans to join the Jehovah’s Witnesses at this point, but the interaction has admittedly reignited some primal longing for God, community, and moral guidance. It has forced us to think about our current belief system and our current lack of spiritual community. As corrupt as the Roman Catholic Diocese of Phoenix was during my youth–including priests within my own church and schools–there was an effusive feeling of community. Some days, I crave that desperately. Were we to have children, I would want that type of spiritual community for them. Thus, perhaps, it’s an important topic for me to begin thinking about.

I don’t watch basketball, nor do I follow the NBA. We only looked up the name on the business card because the smiling man in the straw hat was too tall not to have been an athlete. Sure enough, we spent our Saturday morning chatting with NBA star about eternal life. And now, I can’t stop thinking about.

7 thoughts on “The Day An NBA Player Showed Up At The Door

  1. Incredible! Shows just how important going door to door is for them! And I trust and pray you will find the place your heart is leading you. 🤍

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Yes, perhaps more than anything else, I was moved by his evident faith and commitment. I’ve never experienced that myself and it was really quite inspiring. Thank you! 🤍🤍🤍

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Church can be tough. I’ll spare you my normal #nopopery. If you can find a good one that shares your values, and if your conscience comports with what they offer salvifically one could build a happy life. It’s just a big if what with how they’ve been run through by infiltrators, scum and bobbleheads. I’m more of a Heathen myself, but it’s different strokes for different folks as best as I can tell. Good luck, and godspeed!


    1. Church is tough, and I feel continually torn. On top of the scandals and coverups, some of the imagery out of the Vatican is plain demonic and unsettling. It’s odd… I’ve loathed and resented organized religion for most of my life, and it’s only since seriously considering kids that it’s developed some appeal, because I feel it gave *me* a good moral foundation and supportive community. But, I bet I could emulate that elsewhere. I’ll have to give it some thought…

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Community is irreplaceable, but I think the churches harness a preexisting condition, not produce it. I crave both structure and spirituality, but have found the best communion with folks that don’t share my precise spiritual beliefs, but rather my social values. (Because really, who can but the voices in my head?)


      2. I’m glad that you mention that. Thinking about my own relationships, all are based on share social values. That’s actually quite a useful data point as the sheen of organized religion has dulled and, once more, I’m convinced it’s not for me.


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