Toby spoke. “Don’t you think it was kind of presumptuous for your family to go to a native tribe and try to force your culture and your religion on them, as if you knew what was best for them? Isn’t that just cultural hegemony?”

“I regard the Inisi as my culture. I grew up there.”

“But how much of their own culture have they lost because of you introducing your outdated Western mindset into their cultural system?”

“Our goal wasn’t to introduce Western culture but rather Jesus.”

“But isn’t the Jesus you introduced simply a construct of Western thought? I mean, what do we really know about the historical Jesus? We don’t even know whether he really existed.”

“All I can say is…I guess I’d just say, I know he did.”

That wasn’t particularly persuasive.

Kadie asked a question. “Do you think you have simply accepted the beliefs your parents taught you, or do you feel like you have critically examined them for yourself—like, in an objective way?”

“I haven’t seriously questioned the truth of Christianity, if that’s what you mean. When you’ve experienced the reality of God as I have…maybe instead of questioning you just try to draw near.”

“How do you think you’ve experienced the reality of God?”

“In my heart, all my life.”

Adriana commented, “But isn’t that completely subjective? I could just as easily say I’ve experienced a frog in my heart.” The class broke into laughter. “I mean, who could dispute me?”

Abby paused again. “Yes, that’s true. But a frog can’t triumph over evil spirits. Jesus can.”

At that statement the students lapsed into a frenzy of head shaking, snickers, guffaws, and comments to neighboring classmates.

I accessed the time and stepped forward. “All right. We’ve run out of time. Can we give a hand to Ms. Caldwell for taking the time to come to our class?”

The students applauded politely, then vanished back into physical reality one by one until only Abby and a young woman from Dallas on the second row remained with me.

“Miranda, you have a question?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask Abby a personal question.” She slipped out of her chair and stepped down to where Abby was standing. “I don’t believe in Jesus. I mean, I believe he was a real man, but I don’t believe in him like you do.”

“I understand,” Abby replied.

The girl shifted her feet. “I had a dream the other night, though. In my dream I was asleep, and then I woke up, and Jesus was standing at the foot of my bed. I knew it was him.”

“What did he say?”