And I remember the day he arrived. I remember all seven pounds of him. Each and every one of them. And I remember his first frown. His first smile. His first tear. His first laugh.

And I remember his first step. His first word. His first bruise. His first day at school. His first communion. His first baseball mitt. His first home run.

But of all the things I remember of him was his first hug. It came from deep within him. An electric communication of some sort or other. One that could have only come from royalty. Perhaps divinity. And it has never left me. His first hug. For it was heaven, you see.

And then there were the many talks I had with him, my many conversations with Johnny. And here I want to share some of them with you. From the birds and the bees to that time we visited the New Jerusalem together for the very first time. Where we checked into the Golden Hotel that sits at the crossroads of Faith and Reality.

triplets,

By the time of his tenth birthday biking, hiking, climbing, swimming, baseball, basketball, football, hockey, tennis and a somersault or two had claimed half of him. And, perhaps, one would call it curiosity, scrutiny, intellect, impulsiveness or just simply the need to know had taken over the other half. That had at this very early age made him into the Sherlock Holmes of our household. But, unlike his celebrated predecessor of the nineteenth century, his investigation was not of this world, but of the next.

It was late in the afternoon when I went down the steps into the family room to see what the little rascal was up to. As I entered the room, he exclaimed, "So they have one too."

He was hunched over reading a book that I would later come to know was the Vedas, the ancient Hindu scripture. "One what?" I repeated his statement in a question.

"The Hindus. Those in the east also recognize a Holy Trinity in their God, three persons in one God."

"There are three persons in the eastern God too?" I questioned in a tone that successfully suppressed my surprise.

"Yes," he replied, "and, what’s more, they recognized a Holy Trinity long before Christ came along. Actually, it was set forth in their scriptures, their stories, over two thousand years before Christ’s time. In the Hindu case," he read from the text, "God the Father, ‘Brahma’, is the Creator. And, likewise, Christ has His counterpart in Hindu scripture," he turned a page, "in ‘Shiva’ who is the Redeemer or Reincarnator.’ And ‘Vishnu’, the counterpart of the Holy Ghost, ‘keeps the balance between good and evil, tells one right from wrong.’ Vishnu, for the Hindu, is the light of wisdom, the Enlightener." He looked up at me with an inquisitive smile.

"So?" I said it more as a statement than as a question.

"Don’t you think that that is a little strange? After all, at His time Christ did not know that they were there."

"Who were there?" I asked.

"The Indians and the Chinese. The Great Wall of China had been built two hundred years before the time of Christ. But Christ did not know that they were there. That’s why in all of His testimony He never mentions them. And it is also why He never provided for them in His most sacred testimony, ‘Unless one believeth in me and is baptized, one cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven.’ It is obvious that never having heard of Him, the Chinese and the Indians had no chance."

"I don’t see anything strange about that. After all, all those who came before Christ didn’t have a chance either," I decided to head him off, "this doesn’t mean that Christ is not the same God as is God the Father."

"No?" he shot me a questionable glance as I took my place at the table across from him, "We shall see," he murmured, "we shall see . . ." he pulled forward the New Testament and opened it to a page that he had previously bookmarked. (continued in A God for Lions)