It makes sense that Jesus would be something of a curiosity for this the final month of the final year of the final decade of the final century of the… well, you know.

We are rapidly approaching the end of the Second Millennium (though there are some purists who still believe that the millennium will not officially end until December 31, 2000). If you stop to think about it, there would be no Year 2000, no Y2K, no media hype, no "Person of the Century" or even more mystifying – "Person of the Millennium" if it were not for our peculiar method of counting the earth’s annual trek around the sun.

As children, we pondered the origins of such assumptions. Why do we call it 1999? From whence cometh this obligatory four-digit label faithfully attached to the end of the virtually every report of the "date?" In what we once called the Western World, it’s the same in most every language.

Name the year, and you’ve put the event in context. Some years call to mind a flood of memories simply by naming the number. 1492. 1776. 1864. 1929. 1945. 1962. 1969. Get my drift?

The general populace doesn’t care much. It’s just the way it is. Modern historians are quick to point out that this generally accepted mode of measuring the passing of time and the anticipation of the future has "religious" roots… but the old "AD" (Anno Domini – that is Latin for "in the year of our Lord") went the way of the old "BC" ("Before Christ"). It is now more respectable to refer to "CE" (the "Common Era") – before and after - thus eliminating any embarrassing secular reference to a religious figure. We certainly would not want to offend anyone.

Check out the history of the modern calendar. The ancients all had the same problem – how do we co-ordinate the rotation of the moon around the earth with the cycles of the sun and the motion of the heavens with the changing seasons? Our modern (Gregorian) calendar solves the problem by varying the number of days in each month and an uncomplicated system of "leap years." But this calendar was not put in place until the year 1582. And it took a couple of hundred years for the rest of the world to conform.

Before that, the most widely recognized calendar was the old Julian Calendar – named after Julius Ceasar. It dates back to the beginning of the Roman Empire – seven hundred years BC. But it’s fundamental flaw was not identified until St. Bede the Venerable, an Anglo-Saxon monk, calculated the solar cycle with surprising precision – down to the second. The year was AD 730. The Julian calendar required arbitrary updates about every hundred years. That was eight hundred years before Copernicus determined that the earth circled the sun and not the other way around.

The Julian calendar established the date of the birth of Jesus. Thanks to St. Bede, we also know the calculation was faulty. They missed it by six years or so.

But isn’t it curious – here we are two thousand years later, the whole world considers Friday night, December 31, 1999 to be a turning point in human history. The ultimate reference point then is two thousand years… two thousand years from what? The appearance of the most profoundly influential person ever to appear on the world stage.

And Jesus continues to make His mark. He is perhaps the one person in all of history who simply will not go away.

The cover of TIME announces that historian and novelist Reynolds Price has hatched a "new gospel." I’ll relegate that little faux pas to biblical ignorance on the part of the editors of the most widely read newsweekly in the world. I don’t believe the author would be comfortable with the headline on the cover. Price has not come up with a "new gospel." That’s something the New Testament writers, especially the Apostle Paul, guards against. If someone claims that he’s found a "new gospel," head for the door. The Gospel is not something you get creative about. We do not reinvent the Gospel. It is what it is. Attempts to mess with it have never really lasted very long. Reynolds knows that.

The author of the TIME cover story isn’t coming up with a first-ever-thought-of view of the gospel of Jesus. He does, however, take considerable literary license. He reads between the lines with abandon. He makes conclusions about Joseph and Peter and Judas and others that are entirely speculative. There is a fair sprinkling of pop-psychology. He pays homage to textual criticism and acknowledges the Synoptic Problem (seeming discrepancies between the four gospel writer’s accounts) and identifies the scraps of ancient literature that have survived and give some clues about the life and times of Jesus. And he works hard to separate himself from the more high profile types who visibly and vociferously name the name of Jesus – you know, the televangelists and "religious right wing." I mean this is TIME magazine.

But all that said, Reynolds Price simply cannot dismiss Jesus.

In a vulnerable admission, he confesses to abandoning the clear Christian faith of his childhood. He went on to become a respected historian and novelist – winning high acclaim and a large readership.

Then something happened - in the middle of the night.

Shortly before, an oncologist delivered grim news. He reported the test findings. A twelve-inch long cancer had invaded the novelist’s spinal cord – and Price’s life was threatened. Severely threatened.

That memorable night, Price Reynolds experienced a visitation he would never forget. It was an encounter with Jesus. That same moment, his nasty cancer was healed. Miraculously. The doctors have no scientific explanation. To them it is an utter mystery.

And to this day, the person of Jesus mesmerizes him. Price is spellbound.

He writes, "my experience of (Jesus’) overwhelming but oddly businesslike healing and the memory of the unstinting mercy in his grave face and eyes are indelible."

And after complaining about humankind’s historical abuse of Jesus’ teaching, Price adds, "in the same two millenniums, Jesus' meaning has resulted in the most far-reaching movements of mercy, tolerance and human freedom and in the high-water marks of Western art. His words in Matthew 11 still extend their old welcome—‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.’"

So TIME did a cover.

The Jesus portrayed on the cover of TIME is strikingly human. Full of compassion. He wears a crown of thorns. There are tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes look heavenward. There are hints of droplets of blood.

Why does he weep? You get the sense that those tears have nothing to do with those painful thorns. The crown represents rejection. Not only personal rejection, but rejection of his message. Rejection of his father – God. His eyes are prayerful. And his plea is for those who have targeted him for elimination.

It is both an ancient and a modern picture that TIME has created. After all the historical research, all the philosophical point/counterpoint, all the psychobabble, all the exploitation of the religious sensitivities of the masses, all the embarrassing moral failures of those who claim to be his followers, all the abuses of people who justified their misbehavior by claiming to possess God’s approval, after all that, here we are turning the page on the millennium and Jesus still draws men and women to himself. Even Reynolds Price.

The magazine presents Jesus as rejected yet full of compassion. He prays for us still. From the cover of TIME.

No wonder history counts the years this way. He is the beginning. And the end.

Which brings me to my second mailbox surprise.

Someone in our county decided that the feature length production of the life of Jesus taken from the Gospel of Luke ought to be made available to every person in our region. Like three hundred thousand copies.

Instead of one more visit to Blockbuster for another rental, we popped the cassette into our VCR machine and took a look. It was a straightforward recitation of the life of Jesus. No special effects. No hyperbole. Just the plain telling of his life, and the portrayal of his message. What he taught. Who followed him.

He was human. He was divine. Men like Peter just followed. Women like Mary understood the power of his presence. It’s "The Jesus Film."

Maybe this is the best way to close out the chapter of this one thousand year period. The word out on the street is that most of us want to keep the turn of the calendar uncomplicated. We’ll stay up late this New Year’s Eve. We’ll watch the clock turn past midnight. Sing a little "Auld Langsyne." Call it a night. Welcome a new millennium the next morning.

What better way to close out the millennium but to consider the meaning of this One who haunts us still.

Think about the place He has in your life.

This One who according to the text, knows your name. This One who believes in you. This One who created you for a purpose. This One who sustains you through it all. This One who gave you all you have. This One who is not going to let you go.