He isn’t a roadside attraction. Drive-by Jesus, while you’re seated in your comfy minivan, the kiddies clambering for a view. Open 10-to-5 on weekdays. Half price on Sundays. And for $19.95, you can purchase a cross replica, made to scale, complete with decorative box, perfect for display on your mantle.
Subscribe-now Jesus. For a donation of any amount, receive a rusted nail, like those that pinned His feet, and an authentic copy of His prayer shawl. Add $10 and we’ll have your name listed amongst our sponsors. Cue infomercial.
Statue Jesus, head hung, a crown of thorns painted on His brow. Inanimate. Life-size. Lifeless. Come on Good Friday and pose for family photographs.
He isn’t a roadside attraction, but we’ve fitted Him into our schedule like one. Not now, the game is on. Not now, it’s been a long day; I just want to unwind. Not now, people are watching.
We’ve allowed Him a pocket-size view, Paper Jesus tucked away in our wallet like a business card we picked up at the local diner. We dress like saints and smile like saints but don’t tip the waiter. Don’t hold our peace but open our fat mouth. Don’t give to support the church but sit on our wallets just in case He pries it out of our pocket. After all, He doesn’t pay our bills. We do with all our hard work.
I’m as convicted as I hope you are. I’ve yelled at many drivers then parked and got out where I intended to go, pretending I wasn’t hot-headed and impatient on the way there. I’ve spouted freshwater and saltwater from the same fountain. Grown onions on a fig tree. (Jas 3:12)
Instead of Secret Jesus, Hidden Jesus, Pop-Him-out-when-we-need-Him Jesus, why don’t we show off the REAL JESUS? The one who died for the men who put Him there, those who rejoiced when He was beaten, when His beard was plucked out, men who watched self-satisfied, blood streaming down His sides, and cared not one bit that His mother mourned. Or His disciples had been scattered.
Why don’t we show Jesus-the-Resurrected to the world? Awesome Jesus, who defeated the devil and rose from the grave, the power of Holy Spirit so strong it raised others to life, who’d been buried around Him. (Mt 27:51-53) That Jesus. Son of God Jesus. King of kings Jesus. Lord of lords Jesus.
Except not our Lord because that spot is reserved for food and money and cell phones and entertainment, for weekends at the cabin fly fishing, for an afternoon at the amusement park. Jesus can step aside while we cram in two seasons of a show we loved back in our twenties, all in one weekend. Jesus will understand. Jesus is longsuffering. He’s patient. He’s merciful.
I have an idea. Let’s make Him First-Place Jesus. Best-Option Jesus. Or better yet, Only-Option Jesus. Let’s make Him Go-To Jesus, Is-the-Answer Jesus, Lord-of-Hosts Jesus with eyes of fire and a massive angel army. Compassion Jesus, who will sit there while we cry. Loving Jesus, who takes us in His arms, no questions asked, no perfection needed.
Let’s look like Jesus, speak like Jesus, dance like Jesus. Let’s show off Jesus and not be ashamed of the gospel, which is the power of God unto salvation. (Rm 1:16) For the coworker you like. And the one you don’t. For the nincompoop in politics who stands for all the wrong things. Her too. Let’s leave vindication to Jesus and commit to being the children of God, who dedicate our lives to Savior Jesus and worship Soon-Coming-King Jesus, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, twelve months a year, from January first to the end of December.
Every-Single-Day Jesus. Everywhere-I-Go Jesus. My Jesus.
Photo from Lightstock.com
Suzanne D. Williams, Author