The game of “If” is popular among children, and not a few adults indulge in it as well. If I had a million dollars—so the most familiar version begins—then I would . . . and onward we launch into the fantasy of things to buy and do, places to go, problems to solve. Some might altruistically unload their dream-wealth on cancer research, needy children, or wildlife-saving. Others are more parochial in their redemptive moves, choosing to rescue the underwater mortgage or a debt-ridden relative. Others will make a beeline to personal acquisition: houses, yachts, and fancy vehicles. Some might travel the world. A few might follow the aspiration of William Shatner to “boldly go” into space.

While the money fantasy is a primary way to play the game of “If,” other versions include turning back the clock and giving history a makeover. Human history could certainly use a redo. What if Hitler could be stopped before the Holocaust, or the terrorism of 9/11 could be averted? What if European colonizers to the New World had found a peaceable way to coexist with Native communities? What if slavery had not been embraced as a means to gain wealth in the Americas?

Of course, we might simply prefer to rewrite our own histories. What if we’d been born to other parents? If we’d married that earlier love? If we’d chosen another vocation?

The game of “If” is often pursued as a bragging right: If I had been at the scene of the shooting, I would have wrestled down the perpetrator before a single person was injured. If I had been in the Garden of Gethsemane, I would not have fled and abandoned my Lord like those loser apostles.

What you or I might have done in the gospel generation is especially significant. We’re used to listening to these stories and privately avowing that we’d have been smarter than the twelve—not to mention braver, more loyal, and frankly more useful than the friends of Jesus generally are. We wouldn’t have asked all the dumb questions. We’d have made Jesus proud.