Just Like Jesus -- A Confession of Doubt

"I Love
[The smiling Savior
Showing off his shiny white teeth
blond haired and blue eyed
model physique
standing straight and walking
majestically.
Clean blue sash across the chest
white robe from Armani
gentle, soft, manicured hands
smoothly filed fingernails
uncracked feet encased in folksy designer sandals.
Six feet tall and handsome enough
for a million nuns.
Silky-smooth skin.
Gentle voice that can caress
an entire mountainside.
Hangs out in Starbucks
and lives in impressive, high vaulted, frescoed buildings]
Jesus!"
"Oh, isn't Jesus wonderful!
Don't we all want to be just like Jesus!
Wouldn't the world be perfect if everyone was
just
like
Jesus?"

Sometimes
We aren't sure we're just like Jesus,
So we have to go to the poor and hurting to compare notes.

And though we find we're not quite there yet
We're closer than the starving, poor, destitute people without manicures, or handsome features, or majestic walks, or folksy designer shoes, or white teeth, or a model physique, or clothes from Armani, or smoothly filed fingernails, or silky-smooth skin, or gentle voices, or Starbucks, or beautiful buildings...

And the people who look at us begin to realize how far they are from Jesus when they see how close we are. These people trying to be just like Jesus have really cool stuff and really nice societal positions. Hey, I want to be just like Jesus, too!

And so they are saved from
that old man sitting in the dirty alley
that woman about to die from AIDS
that hunchbacked cripple
that hungry child
and all the other filth and roughness in the world
that gets in the way of being just like Jesus.

I have a confession.
Sometimes, I really doubt Jesus.
He just seems to put far too much effort
into looking dignified and trendy
for someone who would die for the sins of the world
or wash his disciples' feet
or be born in a dirty stable
or cuss the dignified religious people out
by calling them "vipers" and "sons of hell" and "children of the devil"
or go to a religious retail shop
and drive out all the cashiers with a whip.

I used believe
and through that faith I joined a crowd
that told the starving, poor, destitute people about the smiling, manicured, dignified Jesus.

And then I saw someone who seemed a bit rough around the edges who was the hungriest, poorest, most destitute-looking man I had ever seen. I went to him.

"You need Jesus," I said.

His homely, weather beaten face looked at me.

Jesus wept.