An Excerpt from the Chapter: “The Wrong End Zone”

Another snippet from my book project.

     

As a kid youth pastor almost a couple of decades ago now, I ran across a story that’s turned out to be pretty reminiscent of my own life experience. 

 

On January 1, 1929, the Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets faced the California Golden Bears in the famed Rose Bowl.  During the second quarter, Golden Bears center Roy Riegels recovered a fumble by the Yellow Jackets Jack “Stumpy” Thomason 30 yards away from what could have been a touchdown for his team, but he somehow got turned around and ran the wrong way.  A teammate caught up with Riegels at the 3-yard-line just before he scored a touchdown for the opposing team and tried to turn him back around, but Riegels was quickly tackled by a swarm of Yellow Jackets on the 1-yard-line.  At halftime both teams gathered separately as is pigskin custom.  In the Golden Bears dressing room it was quiet as a deer in headlights, all of the players wondering what in the name of the tournament of roses the coach would say about the big screw up? 

 

It is said that Riegels sat alone during the intermission with a towel over his head.  When the Golden Bears were ready to take the field for the second half, the coach stunned the team when he announced that the same players who had started the first half would start the second.  But that didn’t change Reigels’ mind, he would not budge.  Coach Nibs Price looked back and called to him. 

 

Reigels spoke up, ”Coach, I can’t do it. I’ve ruined you, I’ve ruined myself, I’ve ruined the University of California. I couldn’t face that crowd to save my life.” 

 

Coach Price responded, ”Roy get up and go back out there—the game is only half over.”

  

Reigels did return and he ended up blocking a punt only to see his team lose a tight game, 8-7.  After the game, coach Price stuck up for Riegels, saying ”It was an accident that might have happened to anyone.”  Later, Price called Riegels the smartest player he ever coached.  Riegels served in the U.S. Army Air Forces, coached high school and collegiate football, and eventually ended up starting and running his own chemical company.  In 1991, Roy “Wrong Way” Riegels was inducted into the Rose Bowl Hall of Fame, and 5 years after his death in 1993, he was elected to Cal’s Hall of Fame (1998).  

 

Paul wrote in his letter to the church at Philippi, ”Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus (Philippians 3:12-14, ESV).”

  

Forgetting what is behind is possible.  But you won’t get there on your own.  And Jesus isn’t interested in your pity parties—it’s not until you get your arms around this truth that you can grasp that Jesus has a spot on the field for you in the second half despite what you might have failed to do in the first. 

An Excerpt from the Chapter: “Underdogs”

I’d like to hear what you think.  

If any single chapter in this book tells the story Jesus is writing with my life, this would be the one.

I was the munchkin so self-conscious about my skinny frame that I wore my checkered long sleeve shirts well into the summer just to hide my twig-like wrists.  When I went swimming, I’d quickly slip my t-shirt over my head and jump in the pool when no one was looking.  There wasn’t two ounces of meat on my ribs, if I was a cow I’d have passed for a poodle. My entire adult life I claimed I was a whopping 5′ 9″ until my best friend confronted me about it.  Alright, I’ll concede: I stand just over 5′ 8 1/2″ barefoot at the doctor’s office (funny enough, I had been reading a book by Jack Welch at the time and he pled guilty to the same crime with the same specifics).  I weighed 138 pounds when I got married 20 years ago, soaking wet.  I’ve put on roughly 30 pounds since.

One time my dad found me pumping iron in our musty basement at age sixteen, maybe he thought I was trying to get buff for some girl I thought was hot to trot, I don’t know.  He asked what on God’s green earth I was doing.  I responded, “Dad, you know I’m gonna be a big-leaguer one day!”  He simply shrugged and told me I might not want to forget my homework.  I wish I’d have listened now. 

As far as I can remember it was sixth grade when I went out for track and field.  Decided to run sprints and distance, I was what you’d call lightning quick so running made sense with aerodynamics being what they are.  I was as wide as a piece of paper.  You could have stuck two of me in the slim sized Levi’s my mom would search all over kingdom come to buy me.  And besides, I didn’t want to show off by doing shot put (even though I could barely pick the thing up, let alone chuck the thing past the end of my nose). I’m not sure I broke the 100 pound threshold until I got into high school, I was the late bloomer who never bloomed. 

My preference was sprints for no other reason than my disdain for the grueling punishment associated with running any distance meant for an automobile.  Anything that results in gasping for air like a rodent who’s just been run over by a semi and puking your guts out when you accomplish your feat isn’t sexy.  I felt about running like Frederick Buechner does about jogging, The look of anguish and despair that contorts the faces of the people you see huffing and puffing away at it by the side of the road, however, is striking.  If you didn’t know directly from them that they are having the time of their lives, the chances are you wouldn’t be likely to guess it.  My young career abruptly came to an end with a wicked case of shin splints I just couldn’t shake.  It, and my plans to be a professional baseball star when I grew up, provided me the perfect aliby when my coach asked why I called it quits.    

A couple of summers ago now I found myself living and working right around the corner from one of the great institutions of learning; Vanderbilt.  I thought maybe living nearby I might stand to pick up some knowledge by osmosis.  Tough luck, it didn’t work out quite that way. The route for my usual walk to a bookstore I liked to frequent passed by the university’s track where several budding track stars in the making circled around the black top covered oval every waking hour of the day, out there galloping like thoroughbreds in pursuit of some worthy goal.  On one particular night, it was a group of junior high aged girls doing their rounds instead of the usual collegiates. 

As I watched I couldn’t help but notice a considerably smaller girl lagging behind some faster girls, but for all I know, the girl had been lapped a couple times.  What was obvious to me was that she was giving it her all, determined no matter how fat her chances were.  What made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention however, wasn’t this undersized girl’s courage, as much as it was the man I noticed jogging up and down the middle of the track bent on motivating his horses.  He was barking like a drill sergeant and blowing his whistle like a referee deciding a late 80’s Celtics-Pistons game.  The longer I stood there, the more I found myself pulling for this long shot, as if my own success was riding on her.

I got to thinking as I walked on down the street that humid summer night, that I am a kind of underdog myself.  Be it my less than average size, or my limited education.  Certainly my meager income for what seems like forever now has me feeling like Rudy at times, that is, when I have an income.  And I surely don’t consider my shattered dreams any kind of asset even though they are. 

As I meet people and listen to their stories I am learning that a lot of us are like that girl.  And God’s like that coach in the middle of the track, cheering on the underdog and calling those forward who are behind.   And when us slow pokes think our prayer to get back in the race is slim to none and slim just left town, Jesus steps in and takes the baton and carries us across the finish line on his back.

God is all about the underdog.

An Excerpt from the Chapter: “The Invisible Fence Thing”

For those of you who were wondering if I still had my foot on the gas pedal, here’s an excerpt from one chapter in my book proposal.

Have you seen these invisible fences they have for dogs?  I have to imagine that an invisible fence would make a good candidate to ruin your life if you were a dog.  You can’t see these things driving around your subdivision because they are invisible after all. They have become quite popular and it’s no wonder.  What a killer concept.

We had a dog some years ago that was a prime candidate for the invisible fence thing.   We didn’t end up getting one for several reasons I won’t list here. But looking back I’m not so convinced our dog wouldn’t have run right through the thing no matter how many shocks it would have zapped him with.  Max and I were instant pals from day one, two peas in a pod really. I spotted that hyper white and caramel hair covered ball of energy immediately and knew he was ours before we got to place our order. When we found our mud covered puppy living on a freezing cold cement slab with his mangy siblings, he was six months young and moved about sort of like one of those toys my dad got me as a young tot at the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus that spun around and around and around until it banged into a wall or something and fell over.

Right out of the gate, Max didn’t seem too jazzed about being told he needed to conform. It was like he was deaf when you’d bark at him about settling down.  And Max wasn’t about to respect anyone else’s bounderies if it meant he couldn’t be a dog.

The yard we had so kindly provided for our new Brittany Spaniel was not even close to sufficient for him.  It could have been more spacious, but even then I’m afraid Max would have been tirelessly looking for greener pastures possessing that one thing he didn’t even know he was searching for. Max decided the first spring with us that he wanted to redecorate our backyard with craters, our yard closely resembled the moon when he was finished.  I guess it didn’t help that we had one of those stupid metal stakes you put in the ground so your dog can run around in circles until he makes you so dizzy watching him that you need to scarf down a box of Dramamine just to stomach the sight. 

And it didn’t help that Max was a bird dog either, he’d just about rip off anyones arm that dare try to walk him if there was a pheasant within fifty miles.  Even with one of those cruel choke collars on, he was a royal terror and a half.  To top it off, if there was something within running distance to chase, well, you might as well have attached yourself to a telephone poll. That might explain the pain I am still nursing in my shoulder and it’s been nearly five years since I saw the crazy dog. Needless to say, when we called family to see who’d watch Max as we were beginning to plan an overdue summer vacation, we had no takers.  Max ended up at some dumpy kennel for the week.

I felt sorry for Max even though he had the entire family room to himself when he wasn’t allowed to roam the hallways and re-arrange the furniture in every other room of the house at will. He was a dog after all, and dogs aren’t made to be couped up in an 4′ by 2′ crate all day long.

Looking back now, I think obedience school or Ritalin would have only made Max more frustrated.  The reality is, we got the wrong dog to fit the bill.  What we had in mind was a nice little tame pet for our kids, it didn’t quite work out that way.  Sitting still and taking orders wasn’t the dog’s strong suit.  And I’m not sure that dog was even capable of it. Invisible fences weren’t designed with dogs feelings at the top of the priority list I figure, they must make dogs awful resentful when you put yourself in a dogs paws. I mean how fun would it be to spot a smokin’ hot available senorita two lots over you’d like to frolic with, and then all of a sudden you remember that you have a stupid invisible fence that you can’t jump over or run around?

I think it’s fair to say that religion can be a lot like the invisible fence thing.  When we set up senseless rules and silly regulations in regards to our life in Jesus it ends up serving the same purpose an invisible fence serves; the moment no one is looking and the fence comes down, we who were trapped are off to the races—on our way to some place we have no business going.

Invisible fences aren’t much good for dogs who wish to do more than imagine what it’d be like to live the life a dog was intended to live. As Jesus-followers, we need to refuse to settle for the equivalent.  Dogs were made to run free without a rope tied around their neck when you think about it.  Let a dog be a dog for goodness sakes’. 

And let a Jesus-follower be a Jesus-follower.

Book Plans

It is with reservation I write today.  I haven’t blogged here for a few weeks and its on purpose in case you were curious.  Over the course of the last several years I have been tossing around the idea of writing a book.  I have stopped and I have started again numerous times.  Of late, I have been stirred and inspired to go for it.  I had been sitting on it until very recently when I clearly saw where I wanted to go. 

The last couple years in particular have been good in terms of writing on my blog here and elsewhere (formally at Blogger).  My blogging has provided an avenue to share in so in ways that have been both helpful for me and hopefully beneficial and encouraging to those who have read.  It is my intention to return to blogging, but I am currently unable as my time is needed elsewhere as I finish my book proposal and seek out an agent.

Hoping to have a good report soon.

Which Jesus Do You Follow?

For Jesus doesn’t change—yesterday, today, tomorrow, he’s always totally himself.

Don’t be lured away from him by the latest speculations about him. The grace of Christ is the only good ground for life. Products named after Christ don’t seem to do much for those who buy them.  ~Hebrews c13 v8-9

Writing about Jesus can be overwhelming really. I mean we are talking about God in the flesh.  One of a kind.  Writing about someone so different from anyone else can be tricky.

John writes in his Gospel; There are so many other things Jesus did. If they were all written down, each of them, one by one, I can’t imagine a world big enough to hold such a library of books.  Obviously not a one of us has the whole scoop on the life of Jesus. Not even his closest followers who shared bread and traveled the countryside as they saw him heal the sick and feed the multitudes firsthand—knew all there was to know—not even they figured Jesus out.   So, following Jesus doesn’t necessitate that we figure him out like some sort of case study.  That being said however, following Jesus does mean our getting to know his heart.

Todd Agnew sings: 

…My Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars,
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
or do we pray to blessed with with the wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sands

My Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars,
He loved the poor and accosted the rich,
So which one do you want to be

Who is this that You follow,
This picture of the American dream,
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side,
Or fall down and worship at His holy feet

…Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion,
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins,
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part,
Sometimes I doubt we’d recognize Him

My Jesus bled and died He spent His time with thieves and the least of
these, He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable,
So which one do you want to be, Cause
My Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet might stain the carpet,
But He reaches for the hurting and despises the proud
And, I think He’d prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud…

Do you follow one of the mis-representations, or the Jesus of holy scripture?  Do you follow the one some call lunatic and refer to as a freak, or do you follow a Jesus of your own making—a Jesus in your own image?  Do you follow the Jesus of the “good book”, or the Jesus of another book?

Which Jesus do you follow?

Tough Love Jesus

We’ve been looking at the unaltered, unadulterated, and unchanging Jesus.  We have enough challenges in following Jesus without being ignorant about who it is we worship.  This post continues the discussion about the Jesus presented in the scriptures to draw some clearer distinctions between the timeless Jesus of history and the pretend one we hear about much too often.                

When the renowned theologian Karl Barth visited the University of Chicago, students and scholars crowded around him.  At a press conference, one asked, ‘Dr. Barth, what is the most profound truth you have learned in your studies?’  Without hesitation he replied, ‘Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.’  I agree with Karl Barth.  Why, then, do I so often do act as if I am trying to earn that love?  Why do I have such trouble accepting it?  ~Philip Yancey, What’s So Amazing about Grace? (page 67).  

Karl Barth is regarded by many scholars and preachers as possibly the greatest theologian of the twentieth century.  And he realized above everything else that the love of Jesus was paramount for the Christian.   

Jesus is the lover of your soul.  And he loves you with a love that doesn’t take a vacation or a leave of absence.  His love isn’t tough, it’s ferocious.

Alright, I’ll admit it, I can’t stand this Jesus.  For lack of a better term I will call him Tough Love Jesus.  He is about as useless as a copy of one of those Y2K preparation guides turned out to be.  While I will agree with the hard-liners that Jesus doesn’t love us with a mamby-pamby kind of love (he wasn’t a wimp, you know the picture that gets painted in those cheesy gospel films, do they still make those films?)—I won’t agree with them when it comes to what is underneath their teaching. 

Tough Love Jesus loves us with a love that is conditional.  He is the champion of those don’t have the stomach for a Jesus who made himself vulnerable, they prefer a Jesus who cares more about rules than he does souls. 

Here’s the skinny: If Jesus is as tightfisted with his love as many of those who claim to be his spokepeople propose he is, I’d say Jesus is no different than any other religious scam artist.  But thankfully, Jesus loves you with a love to die for, delivered by nail scared hands. Name another “god” who voluntarily laid down his perfect life as a ransom for your sinful one?       

This artificial Jesus is chompin’ at the bit to cut you from his team the moment you get out of line.  His top priority is to whip you into shape.  This Jesus loves you as long as you behave. When you are bad, well, you are out of luck. It’s “good riddance and don’t come back” with this Jesus when you mess up one too many times. Tough Love Jesus questions your salvation as if it were constantly in the balance and ever under review. This Jesus continues to move the bar and raise the stakes—he makes assurance of salvation a delusion. This extremely popular Jesus would have you fretting and questioning whether you have done enough to get into Heaven, while the real Jesus has secured your splendid future without end and there isn’t anything you need add or can subtract from his sufficient sacrifice.

You can’t be any more loved than you are right this second.

For me, I can relate to Tough Love Jesus, I have been associated folks who’d fight you ’till the death for challenging this Jesus to a dual.  Tough Love Jesus wouldn’t consider going after a lost sheep, he’d let the dumb sheep find his own way home so he’d learn a valuable lesson.  And if he never made it home, Tough Love Jesus wouldn’t lose any sleep. 

¹Now the tax collectors and “sinners” were all gathering around to hear him. ²But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

³Then Jesus told them this parable: ^4′Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? ⁵And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders ⁶and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ ⁷I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent (Luke 15:1-7, NIV).

We are Pelagians at heart and in turn tend to highlight the tough side of God’s love; it’s safe, it’s human, and it’s calculable. 

 

But God’s love is none of the above. 

This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it. And why? Because of that person’s failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him (John 3:16-18, The Message).  

God’s love demonstrated in Christ isn’t tough. 

 

No, his love is free for the believing.

 

Boxed In Jesus

We’ve been looking at the unaltered, unadulterated, and unchanging Jesus.  We have enough challenges in following Jesus without being ignorant about who it is we worship.  This post continues the discussion about the Jesus presented in the scriptures to draw some clearer distinctions between the timeless Jesus of history and the pretend one we hear about much too often.                                                                                                                           

Our problem is this: we usually discover him [Jesus] within some denominational or Christian ghetto. We meet him in a province and, having caught some little view, we paint him in smaller strokes. The Lion of Judah is reduced to something kittenish because our understanding cannot, at first, write larger definitions.  ~Calvin Miller

Some of us get the idea somewhere along the way that Jesus can be confined to the little box we put him in. 

So, as we have discussed in the last two posts, Jesus isn’t committed to a political party, or an agenda we set for him.  He isn’t committed to our ideologies.  He isn’t limited in his actions by our theories. And he isn’t constrained by the boundaries we set for him. 

The Jesus who said Let the children come to me; was the same Jesus who ran the money grubbers out of the temple.  The Jesus who fed the poor, healed the sick, brought sight to the blind, and raised the dead; was the same Jesus who hung out regularly with the shady and those with murky resumes.  The Jesus who left the riches and comforts of Heaven; was the same Jesus who knelt down and washed the stinky feet of his disciples. The Jesus who rebuked and riled the religious bigots of his day; was the same Jesus whose closest confidants predominantly included blue collar every day folks. And the Jesus who turned the water into wine and surely turned a few heads in doing so; was the same Jesus who prayed for his killers as he lay beaten in a pool of his own blood—Father forgive them, they know not what they do. 

He was teaching in one of the meeting places on the Sabbath. There was a woman present, so twisted and bent over with arthritis that she couldn’t even look up. She had been afflicted with this for eighteen years. When Jesus saw her, he called her over. “Woman, you’re free!” He laid hands on her and suddenly she was standing straight and tall, giving glory to God.

The meeting-place president, furious because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, said to the congregation, “Six days have been defined as work days. Come on one of the six if you want to be healed, but not on the seventh, the Sabbath.”

But Jesus shot back, “You frauds! Each Sabbath every one of you regularly unties your cow or donkey from its stall, leads it out for water, and thinks nothing of it. So why isn’t it all right for me to untie this daughter of Abraham and lead her from the stall where Satan has had her tied these eighteen years?”

When he put it that way, his critics were left looking quite silly and redfaced. The congregation was delighted and cheered him on (Luke 13:10-17, The Message).

And just as Jesus would not refrain from healing on the Sabbath, he will not be subject to our inferior thinking either. Attempting to box in Jesus is no new phenomenon.

It’s pretty clear; Jesus was too concerned with meeting the most desperate needs of people to let trite and meaningless rule-keeping stop him from doing what others said he shouldn’t.

We might take note and follow his lead.

Hippie Jesus

We’ve been looking at the unaltered, unadulterated, and unchanging Jesus.  We have enough challenges in following Jesus without being ignorant about who it is we worship.  This post continues the discussion about the Jesus presented in the scriptures to draw some clearer distinctions between the timeless Jesus of history and the pretend one we hear about much too often.   

Suppose we heard an unknown man spoken of by many men. Suppose we were puzzled to hear that some men said he was too tall and some too short; some objected to his fatness, some lamented his leanness; some thought him too dark, and some too fair. One explanation… would be that he might be an odd shape. But there is another explanation. He might be the right shape…. Perhaps (in short) this extraordinary thing is really the ordinary thing; at least the normal thing, the centre.  ~G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Seems a necessary and healthy rebellion is underway.  This holy rebellion is based in a rejection of a stodgy, ineffective, and moribund religion made up of nothing more than lame slogans, tired politics, rigid dogma, stingy love, convenient compassion, lopsided justice, and religious gimmicks. 

I say good. 

Republican Jesus is twisted.  He is not biblical.  I understand I may have raised the ire of a few of my dwindling republican friends (who I would add, some of which are brothers and sisters in Christ) with my last post.  No one commented, but I did get an email that brought to my attention various points my post raised that I might wish to explain (but won’t here, maybe elsewhere at a later date).  For the record, I am not a liberal democrat, nor am I a conservative one (an oxymoron I realize).     

A caricature depicting Jesus as American is an abomination as far as I am concerned (Jesus doesn’t choose us based on our race or gender, see Galatians 3:27-29 ).  This line of reasoning suggests that somehow if you aren’t a flag waving American, or at least have affection in your heart for the United States, you can’t be a Christian (try telling that to some starving orphan who lost both of her parents on the other side of the globe due to one of our bombs, and then tell me that God endorses your doing so).  As I have stated elsewhere in so many words—as Christians, we aren’t here to promote a national agenda, we are here to proclaim a heavenly Kingdom. 

The real Jesus is not some egocentric power broker when it pertains to morals either, we have the “Religious Right” who do more than plenty for that unholy cause.  But there is a danger however, and it is this; to throw out the baby with the bath water.  Just because Jesus has been badly misrepresented and made out to be no more than a boring Sunday School teacher by some within the Church, or a hall monitor on steroids concerned merely with outward appearances—by others—doesn’t nullify the genuine Jesus we have been discussing here of late. 

Just because I decried a patriotic and political version of a Jesus who doesn’t exist as long as truth is involved (see “Republican Jesus”, last post), doesn’t mean there isn’t the opposite mischaracterization.  There is another version of Jesus that is just as sickening.  I will call him Hippie Jesus.  It’s that Jesus who has a sponge for a back bone, no hatred for sin, and little concern over all matters of justice (including those who can’t fight for themselves).  

Recycling everything you can get your hands on, including your worn out underwear, won’t get you into Heaven according to the scriptures.  You can be as “green” as Kermit The Frog and be just as unregenerate as anyone (and still end up in Hell).

Hippie Jesus worships the creation and its creatures, the real Jesus is the Creator God—and he alone deserves any and all worship.

15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. 16 For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. 17 And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. 19 For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, 20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross (Colossians 1:15-20, ESV).

For my friends who insist that Jesus only ate organic granola, that he sported braids in his hair, that he wore a peace sign strapped around his neck, that his nose was pierced, that he referred to everyone as dude, or that he wouldn’t be caught dead in dress clothes—I’d beg to differ.   Hey, it’s cool if you want to have dreadlocks, shave your sideburns all crazy, and wear shoes made out of seaweed.  But I’d like to be allowed to keep my goatee, not be required to change my geeky hairstyle, and wear my black Adidas flip-flops  instead—we don’t have to go to extremes and try to justify our preferences by making some sort of holy dress code out of them, or by mandating a “Christian” grooming style.  Being a Volkswagen fan, I’d like to think it’s what Jesus would drive if he were walking (or driving) around today.  But I dare not make a religion out of my petty tastes and trivial opinions.  So often, that’s what we do though.   

We can miss a lot of things. But when it comes to the person of Jesus and who he is, missing it has eternal implications. We don’t get to choose who Jesus might be.  “Depeche Mode” sang, your own personal Jesus—Well, sorry to disappoint, but Jesus isn’t looking for those who craft their own version of a designer Jesus, rather, he’s calling disciples who drop their nets.  Jesus isn’t some guy with a phony smile and a plastic hairdo behind door number two.  He isn’t some pick in a dating gameshow where you get three choices, and all three are right.  Just picking the Jesus that best works for you doesn’t cut it. 

“A god of our own understanding” is our language, not a term Jesus ever ascribed to his Father—God Almighty.  The scriptures teach that God is One, and he is exclusive.  And he is God, we are not.  We must define him on his terms and not on our own—otherwise we are fooling ourselves (and there is plenty of that to go around).

And if there still are any disputes about whether Jesus was a hippie or a politician, let us remember that Jesus was a rabbi.

Republican Jesus

We’ve been looking at the unaltered, unadulterated, and unchanging Jesus.  We have enough challenges in following Jesus without being ignorant about who it is we worship.  This post continues the discussion about the Jesus presented in the scriptures to draw some clearer distinctions between the timeless Jesus of history and the pretend one we hear about much too often.   

                                          

…I believe that dispensing God’s grace is the Christian’s main contribution. As Gordon McDonald said, the world can do anything the church can do except one thing: it cannot show grace. In my opinion, Christians are not doing a very good job of dispensing grace to the world, and we stumble especially in this field of faith and politics.     

 

Jesus did not let any institution interfere with his love for individuals. Jewish racial and religious policies forbade him to speak with a Samaritan woman, let alone one with a checkered moral background; Jesus selected one as a missionary. His disciples included a tax collector, viewed as a traitor by Israel, and also a Zealot, a member of the super-patriot party. He praised the countercultural John the Baptist. He met with Nicodemus, an observant Pharisee, and also with a Roman centurion.  He dined in the home of another Pharisee named Simon and also in the home of an ‘unclean’ man, Simon the Leper. For Jesus, the person was more important than any category or label.    ~Philip Yancey, What’s So Amazing About Grace, page 242   

No list would be complete without Republican Jesus, whose main goal is to see us conquer the world while failing our mission.   This Jesus only does town hall meetings in certain suburban zip codes.  His middle name is ‘Conservative.’   His primary agenda is to install a strigent nationalized religion and outlaw anyone who objects.  With this Jesus, those who are going hungry best get rid of any notions of being fed, no free meals with this Jesus—he’s more likely to charge you for one (and about his admonishments to feed the poor, he was just kidding with his disciples).  In the rare instance there happen to be any handouts, they are to be doled out to only the finest of characters who have fallen on hard times. 

Republican Jesus sports a Brooks Brothers tailored navy suit, a crisp white shirt with cuff links, a bright red striped tie, and shiny black wing tips.  He drives a dull medium blue sedan and his radio is ever tuned into the Rush Limbaugh Show.  His favorite soup is lobster bisque.  He can be found vacationing at the most exotic of destinations.    He has stock in many of the Fortune 500 companies (even if some of them just happen to exploit the poor or fund the murder of  unborn humans).  And lest I forget, Republican Jesus is president of the Nazareth Chamber of Commerce.  Republican Jesus promotes working as many hours as possible to attain bigger, better, and faster. This Jesus doesn’t bother to warn us of the dangers of living as if we will never die. All who follow this Jesus will have their reward in this life.  

36 Jesus answered,  ‘My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.’ 37 Then Pilate said to him, ‘So you are a king?’ Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world—to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice.’  -John 18:36-37, ESV

Notice Jesus didn’t say, ‘Only republicans listen to my voice.’   The real Jesus was loyal to his Father in Heaven, not to a political ideology.  And the real Jesus didn’t have a bumper sticker reading ‘Get a Job’ on the rear of his donkey (and speaking of riding a “donkey”, we can be certain he wasn’t republican).  Contrary to what my republican friends might believe, the biblical Jesus doesn’t exclude democrats from his inner-circle.

Before we start defining who is, and who isn’t a Christian—based on political leanings or affiliations—it might be helpful to bear in mind that Jesus wasn’t a card carrying member of any political party.

Ivory Tower Jesus

We’ve been looking at the unaltered, unadulterated, and unchanging Jesus.  We have enough challenges in following Jesus without being ignorant about who it is we worship.  This post continues the discussion about the Jesus presented in the scriptures to draw some clearer distinctions between the timeless Jesus of history and the pretend one we hear about much too often.  

Later when Jesus was eating supper at Matthew’s house with his close followers, a lot of disreputable characters came and joined them. When the Pharisees saw him keeping this kind of company, they had a fit, and lit into Jesus’ followers. “What kind of example is this from your Teacher, acting cozy with crooks and riffraff?”

Jesus, overhearing, shot back, “Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? Go figure out what this Scripture means: ‘I’m after mercy, not religion.’ I’m here to invite outsiders, not coddle insiders.”   -Matthew 9:10-13

Jesus is more likely to be seen out in the slums and projects than he is in the halls of power.

There is a picture of Jesus as this untouchable religious figure that we must confront.  I’ll call him Ivory Tower Jesus, he is too busy sipping grape juice with the religious zealots to ever leave their company and go to the ghetto where the reprobates and winebibbers reside.  This artificial Jesus condemns sinners regularly (John 3:16-18) and is ever casting stones their way until they get it right (John 8:1-11). 

Ivory Tower Jesus doesn’t have the time of day for losers. 

This common version of Jesus produces a band of paranoid, knit-picky, and drill sergeant types. Every single activity that doesn’t include bible memorization for these uptight kill-joys is questionable.  Nothing is permissible with this Jesus and freedom is not allowed. 

Ivory Tower Jesus really isn’t into reaching the poor, the damned, the ill-repute, and the downright disgusting. It’s all public relations.  When Jesus goes to the projects and hospitals it’s merely a staged event, a photo shoot.  Besides, Ivory Tower Jesus is too concerned with his personal privileges to to step out of his comfort zone (Mark 8:31-32).  Ivory Tower Jesus lives to be associated with all of the notables, respected, and revered—any notions of a Jesus who came for the forgotten and despised are put to rest with this version of Jesus.  Lawyers, car salesman, and anyone deemed shady are extremely uncomfortable around Ivory Tower Jesus and his high society cronies.

Scholar Dallas Willard wrote a few years back in his best seller and one of my favorites, The Divine Conspiracy:

Blessed are the physically repulsive,

Blessed are those who smell bad,

The twisted, misshappen, deformed,

The too big, too little, too loud,

The bald, the fat, and the old-

 

For they are all riotously celebrated in the party of Jesus.

 

Then there are the “seriously” crushed ones: The flunk-outs and drop-outs and burned-outs. The broke and the broken. The drug heads and the divorced. The HIV positive and herpes-ridden. The brain-damaged, the incurably ill. The barren and the pregnant many-times or at the wrong time. The over-employed, the underemployed, the unemployed. The unemployable. The swindled, shoved aside, the replaced. The parents with children living on the street, the children with parents not dying in the “rest” home. The lonely, the incompetent, the stupid. The emotionally starved or emotionally dead. And on and on and on.

 

Is it true that ‘Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal?’  It is true! That is precisely the gospel of heaven’s availability that comes to us through the Beatitudes. And you don’t have to wait until you’re dead. Jesus brings to all such people as these the present blessedness of the present kingdom—regardless of circumstances. The condition of life sought for by human beings through the ages is attained in the quietly transforming friendship of Jesus.

 

Willard continues,Even the moral disasters will be received by God as they come to rely on Jesus, count on Him, and make Him their companion in His kingdom.  Murderers and child-molesters.  The brutal and the bigoted.  Drug lords and pornographers.  War criminals and sadists.  Terrorists.  The perverted and the filthy and the filthy rich.  The David Berkowitzs (”Son of Sam”), Jeffrey Dahmers, and Colonel Noriegas.  

Can’t we feel some sympathy for Jesus’ contemporaries, who huffed at him, ‘This man is cordial to sinners, and even eats with them!’ Sometimes I feel I don’t really want the kingdom to be open to such people. But it is. That is the heart of God. And, as Jonah learned from his experience preaching to those wretched Ninevites, we can’t shrink Him down to our size.  

Can’t add much to that.