Was Jesus Misunderstood as a Kid?

"...this people's hear has grown dull, and withe their ears they can barely hear, and their eyes they have closed." - Paul qouting Isaiah in Acts

I don't know what's up, but recently I've been wondering a lot about Jesus' early years, his years as just a kid. And as I've thought, I've had a host of questions running through my poor brain ("poor" because it might over-heat).

Here are a few: Was Jesus ever in a fight? Did people think of him as a sissy? Did he ever swear? How did he express himself? What in the world did his parents think of him? Was he even thought of as a good kid, or like in his older years as a trouble maker of sorts?

Obviously, Jesus had to have been different from other kids. But my guess is something George MacDonald (CS Lewis' mentor/hero) grasped in his book "The Back of the North Wind." His main character in that book was a boy who knew goodness and lived it. People considered him odd, slow and perhaps even retarded. This didn't bother the boy a bit, as he knew that goodness was worth being thought ill of.

My guess is Jesus may have been like this. I can only imagine Jesus in a counselor's office these days. "My parents always yelled at me for being so obstinate, refusing to act like the other boys. My brothers called me a weirdo when I always took the smallest portion of pita, got beat up for standing up for the tax collector's kid, saved my scallions to give to "witch lady" and took time to talk to the beggars at the gate. I was always in trouble. I had a really traumatic upbring and just felt, well, hated by my parents and so misunderstood!"

The reason I believe Jesus would have been resented by his parents and family and most probably mistreated pretty badly, is that it's what happened when he began his public ministry. I know for a fact that we have no real clue what a truly good child would look like, because we are so blinded by the fall and the hatred that has corrupted us. I'm finding that this is my problem with parenting as well.

But I've been thinking about this a lot. So I just thought I'd share. I guess this kind of thinking on Jesus serves as a reminder that it's a good thing to be misunderstood for being truly good. But if we're going to even begin acting truly good, we've got to start sticking close to Jesus. Our culture should think of us Christians as weird for all the right reasons, not for not dancing, not playing cards and not cussing.

And while I'm thinking of it, could Jesus have ever taken his own name in vain, like in the video spoof I saw called "Vintage Jesus" on Youtube, where upon entering the temple, he says "What in the name of me is going on here?"

"Dear Lord Baby Jesus"

I've always have trouble understanding Jesus. I hear him referred to as "sweet precious Jesus" and I think, "What kind of Jesus is that? I don't find him in my gospels."

I love the scene in "Taladega Nights" (I don't recommend seeing the whole movie, unless you don't mind a lot of crassness.) when Will Ferrell is praying over dinner with his family, and prays to "Dear Lord Baby Jesus." This scene grows in hilarity as his friends and family members stop his prayer about 4 times to inform him that Jesus grew up and is no longer a baby. Will gets really mad raging that they can pray to "teenage Jesus, or bearded Jesus or whatever kind of Jesus they want" but that that he prefers his "Christmas Jesus". He finally continues his prayer rubbing in his belief in a "Dear sweet tiny tiny baby Jesus, with gold, golden fleece diapers... Dear eight pound six ounce, baby Jesus who doesn't even know a word yet..."

We all do this. We all make up Jesus. My kid's books really do this. They never portray Jesus as looking like a normal 1st century Israelite. While they've gone away from blond hair and blue eyes, he always has a purple sash and is very handsome, if not a little iffeminate.

A couple of days ago, I was reading one at breakfast to myself (which is a good practise by the way - reading children's books on the gospel has a power that speaks directly to our heart.) I was reading from one of my favorite series (Archway Books I think) about the blind man Bartimaeus.

I got excited as I looked at the illustrations. They were terrific! So earthy and real. When Bartimaeus finally is invited to come to Jesus he is lead to one that I assumed was Jesus. He looked like a 1st century Jew! It turns out he was probably Peter, always the illustrator's punching bag.

The real Jesus was sitting on a marble slab in a tiled square rimmed with big porcelain vases. He looked like Plato, brooding and handsome. He was the image of the ethereal and Romanized Jesus of western thought. And later after "beautiful Jesus" finishes healing Bartimaeus, the illustrator does something that really gets my goat, puts the goat in a sack and tosses him over a bridge.

Bartimaeus and everyone are celebrating in the market, with their cute/ugly cartoon expressions, a really beautiful scene, when Western Jesus totally ruins it by serenely walking through the square, with his purple sash and with the two finger medieval wave he does raised in greeting to some dude in a window shaking out his rug. I can only imagine the rug guy's thoughts, "Who? What weirdo is this? Why did he two finger wave at me?" I would have drawn Jesus celebrating with the rest of them. Poor cartoon Jesus, always destined to have no fun and to be no fun at all.

This sort of Jesus is so detached. An emotional robot. A figment of our imagination. Didn't Jesus have no "beauty or outward appearance to draw men to himself"? Wasn't Jesus one of us? Isn't that the ENTIRE point of the incarnation?

Thanks for letting me vent a little on my blog. If this is the way we picture Jesus, no wonder so many of us have trouble relating to him.

My Friend Terry

"Who knows what evil lies in the heart of man? I do and it's scarry." - Captain Vimes (in Terry Pratchett's Night Watch)

I just found out that one of my favorite authors is dying - Terry Pratchett. He's a British humorist/satirist/fantasy writer who's been quoted as "being better at being Douglas Adams than Douglas Adams." I think he wrote his first novel at 13 and hasn't stopped since. He's written hundreds of children's stories, plays and novels. The guy is a marvel.

I was talking with a friend this morning about all the reasons I love Pratchett, and it struck me, as it often has, that one of the major reasons I like him is because of his thorough-going grasp of reality. Oddly, he sets his reality in fantasy.

In his fantasy he is able to portray so many human foibles, flaws and outright ridiculousness, that I always find myself sniggering and, if I don't open my mouth to snigger, snotting on his books. Melissa gets tired of me raving over Terry Pratchett. His thoughts are a rare gem, as are many "non-believing" authors.

As a Christian, I've often thought that since I have fuller revelation, there's not too much to be learned from non-Christians. What a fool! In fact, I'm finding that sometimes the opposite is the same. Sometimes Christian literature is vapid, emotional, religious, safe and boring. Kind of like some "Christian" music.

I forget that we're all humans rotating on this ball in space. We all face the same basic stuff, under the same God, in the same creation. So I shouldn't be surprised that people who don't follow God have a lot to say.

And for those of us who do, and try to produce safe, clean art, I sometimes wonder, is that what defines Christian art?

It's a big conversation, but one that I heard on the NPR yesterday as they were interviewing a Christian band, asking them what defines Christian music. The band-members gave a decent answer, that it is music that is focus on goodness in all of the facets of the word "good." A pretty good answer coming from the two band members - 15 and 31 years old.

But when they were being questioned whether they are offensive, I think they should have said "Hell yeah!" They answered that they weren't offensive but were in fact seeking dialogue, discussion, shared ground and connections with "non-believers." I thought it was another decent answer. I think they should have said they try and be offensive like Jesus, taking religious righteous prigs by the collar and shaking all the sin out of them.

So this brings me around to what's been bouncing around in my noggin for the longest time. When are we going to consistently going to preach the Gospel of Jesus? That Jesus hated religiousity. That Jesus hated oppression. That Jesus hated self-righteousness. Of course I'm kind of being a self-righteous prig in writing this, so ironically, he'd shake me around a bit too, or a lot!

Last week I had the huge privelige of being a part of a ancient Jewish market-place. It was for VBS, and my church was commited to really bringing Jesus' world to life. I was John, Jesus' favorite disciple and spent most of my time in early disciple (probably late too) mode: stealing from booths, hamming it up with the Romans, cutting deals with the Tax-collector, whining about how there was no fish booth, telling kids to get out of my way and talking about how confusing Jesus was. My take on the disciples was evident.

Jesus did a great job. He was kind to the kids, gentle and I felt like following him. But one of the ways we view Jesus was evident in the way we set up the skits. Jesus came into the market-place for the miracle or whatever and left. Umm, I don't think that was Jesus. In our fake-Jesus' defence, he had to get to work.

Our VBS Jesus couldn't help being good looking and tall (and Joseph Wingfield, if you're reading this, sorry for outing you). But apparantly Jesus wasn't attractive, and he was probably around just like everyone else. He wouldn't float in and float out popping off miracles from his finger-tips. That's what made Jesus so shocking. He was just some dude right? Raised in red-neck Galilee right?

Which brings me around to why I find so much in Terry Pratchett. We don't become saints when touched by Jesus, we don't always even see that much better, and Jesus doesn't descriminate between giving insight to believers only. He's in the mix with everyone, giving anyone a chance to come home in him.

So I may meet Jesus in Terry Pratchett. Of course there can't be the special kind of communion of believers between us, but God's grace is everywhere, and I've got to keep this in mind when hanging out with my "non-believing" friends. It's not "us/them" it's "us/Him," period.

Evil Meets Good

"Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself." - Matthew 14:13.

Can you imagine hearing that your cousin (John the B) had been beheaded for a trifle? Can you imagine walking in Jesus' sandals? I can't.

What was going through his head when he heard that his cousin, the one who played such an intimate role in Jesus' kingdom reign, the herald, had been brutally murdered? Not only this, but John was murdered AND his head given as a gift!

Why? Simply because John was good (as well as bold). He spoke out against the tyranical religious and political figures of his day. Maybe he figured, "I subside on locusts and live in the desert, I don't have much to lose." Somehow I doubt it.

There's something really mysterious going on in John's ministry and death isn't there? To be a herald for the king, I'd imagine you'd come in with trumpets blasting, wearing your finest and speaking with a conquerer's attitude. What is this humble herald? He did seem to have some of the conquerer's attitude though didn't he.

Maybe these were things that were tumbling around in Jesus' heart, mind and soul as he withdrew to a desolate place to be by himself. Maybe the powerful shock of two kingdoms colliding, the kingdom of good and God and the kingdom of evil and man was a little too much for Jesus. And perhaps-maybe he needed some time to mourn the tragedy of a friend. You think!

I'm sure he needed some time to swallow the bitter pill of what he was up against - very raw and real EVIL. Can you imagine being Jesus? Knowing a little of what bringing good into a world ruled by evil would do. Knowing that 11 of your closest friends would be murdered because of good. Knowing that you were about to suffer the most terrible fate... ever. Knowing that you were to drink down pure undistilled, unfiltered EVIL and drink it all, all evil, down to the very last drop.

I think I'd withdraw. I'd withdraw to someplace far, far away. Maybe to the joy of future Mormons everywhere, I'd run to the Americas and seek out a new life among the Indians.

I'd run. I'd hide. I'd lie. I'd do anything it took to ensure that what happened to John, wasn't about to happen to me. And on top of all this, if I knew that my furture involved my life being given as a gift to the Devil, I'd run for a long long time. I'm glad I wasn't Jesus.

So what does Jesus do? He withdraws to a desolate place and people chase. If I was Jesus, I'd have told the brainless sheep-people to buzz off. My cousin had just been murdered for crying out loud! Leave me alone!

But he doesn't, showing extreme mercy, extreme in that it had to drain Jesus to no end, he speaks to the people, continuing on his mission to share his goodness. He feeds them. Then he dismisses the crowds to pray.

Jesus faces the worst with humility, not pride, and he goes to his strength, the Father. And in the starkest backdrop, he finds in God the resource to continue spreading good. And he keeps taking the next step of obedience. Step, step, step all the way to the cross.

We have to commune with this Jesus. We have to learn the steps. We have find his humility and strength. We have to repent and depend. We have to find his obedience at work in us.

We have to and he does. That's the mystery. As much as we need to seek, we're sought. As much as we need him, we run away. As much as we must rest in his arms, we rest in the arms of any other lover.

But this Jesus, the Jesus who withdrew and drew near, this Jesus who drank evil, this Jesus who preached real goodness, good news for the broken, never gives up on us, his sheep-people.

We need to withdraw to be with Him for He knows the Way.

Remember Me

"Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom." - Thief on the Cross

If I was hanging on a cross, I think the last thing I'd be thinking about would be who's hanging beside me. "Hey pal, how's it hanging?" may be the only sarcastic comment I'd be able to sputter, taking my humor to the grave with me.

But as I was reading this morning, I was struck by how much history surrounds all the events in scripture. As I read, I realized there was a history that had been impacting the criminal hanging beside Jesus.

I know it's not safe to do too much conjecturing, but it seems pretty evident that he'd been doing some observing and pondering. There's no way to know, but perhaps he had heard stories in his jail cell of this man, claiming to be the messiah, the king, who was healing and doing miracles all over the dusty cities of the time (Why dusty? I've been there. Add camels, and it'd be stinky too!)

Perhaps he had been mulling this over in his cell.

Perhaps he had even heard the crowds as they yelled for Barabbas' release. He probably knew Barabbas, the guy who always took the top bunk in his cell, and hogged all the blankets. Jerk.

Perhaps he heard rumors of a kingdom coming, wrapped up in this king riding in on a colt.

Perhaps he knew some of the prophecies.

Perhaps he'd even heard the scrolls read out of Isaiah and somewhere deep in his subconcious, he knew he was dying beside someone special.

Perhaps he had heard how this man not only healed the sick and raised the dead but spent time with sinners - sinners like himself. And this man, this holy man who captivated everyone in every synogogue in the dusty greater Judean counties, was a holy man who forgave sinners.

Perhaps it was this last rumor that had brought the thief hope.

Maybe he didn't just think that it was a long shot, asking Jesus to remember him when he came into his kingdom. Maybe he was like wily criminals the world over who see the world a bit differently and had been catching on to some of the wily ways of God: life being brought through death, one final sacrifice, a king laying down his kingdom and taking it up again.

"...when you come into your kingdom."

Much is made of the thief on the cross. How his plea was sort of a last ditch turn-around, reminding us all that it's never too late. But in my opinion, here was a man who knew who and where he was, and more importantly knew some of the truths about the man who hung beside him.

Surely there was a burning passionate hope beating through his chest when he heard the words "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." If ever someone could experience relief on the Roman torture device of a cross, it was this man.

Most of this entry is "guestimation." But it highlights for me, that what happened in these guys crucifixion didn't happen in a sunday school room on a felt-board. It happened in real life, in the real hues, smells and all the societal curiosities of a real community experiencing it first-hand.

This theif had a front row seat, so to speak, and my guess is, when the sixth hour hit and darkness covered the land for 3hrs., while he was scared, it was more of a thrill of hope confirmed. Something big was going on beside him. And he was now a part of it.

One final note: Today, in the days that God often seems so silent, may we remember that there is something big going on. Something that we are a part of. Something that if we take time to ponder, to spread rumors about as we try and keep Barabbas from singing again (or my son David from whining), we will see that a kingdom is coming, and that the chief desire of our hearts should be for a rescue like this: that Jesus would remember us. For he will.

Jesus, The Real Deal

"Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done." - Jesus

How could Jesus want anything but God's will to be done? This quote is so proving to be so pivotal in my understanding of Jesus. He was no halo-clad, blonde-haired, beautiful saint in a toga. Jesus was a real man, with real struggles. Jesus' struggle was profound.

In the Garden of Gethsemene, in his anticipation of the cross and the rupture of his relationship with his father, I can't even begin to plumb the depths of his anxiety, fear, and troubled-spirit. Can you imagine sweating blood? I can't, and I've dealt with some pretty fear inducing stuff, like tasting "tootie-fruitie" ice-cream for the first time (my fear was well founded).

In Jesus' experience in the Garden there is some stuff we do know. He was anticipating the loss of a parent, the loss of life, the reality of torture and deep-spiritual darkness. This last had to be the worst, for he was facing pure, undistilled evil. And he was facing it as a human.

I've never really given this too much thought. That Jesus didn't somehow have super-strength to endure the cross and ensuing hell. We find in scripture that he had to face it fully human, and as fully God. The fully God part only made it worse, not better. He was capable of experiencing infinate pain that goes, umm, infinitely beyond our feeble imaginings.

All of this taken into consideration, we have in Jesus, illustrated by this quote, someone who knows temptation towards self-preservation. And to the degree that I'm capable of being honest with myself, self-preservation defines my life. What I want, when I want it, I need and if I don't get it, you'll pay.

Jesus now lives in me. So there's severe tension with my self-defining attitude. Great tension. People who think that the Christian life is easy, haven't yet faced themselves. We are bent on evil, Jesus is bent on good. A battle ensues. But Jesus is tender with us in the battle as he knows what it's like to be tempted after something other than God's plan.

That's what I find in this verse. A fierce declaration of loyalty in the fiercest storm of temptation this world has ever know. I don't think I'm using hyperbole. In Jesus we get the real deal.

For the longest time, my whole life on and off, I've thought that we get a weirdo who floats around and lives on a different plane than the rest of us. That goes utterly against the incarnation, and the experience Jesus went through. As my eyes are opened to reality of what happened at the cross, my temptations begin to go all fuzzy. That's what I'm counting on anyway...

My Jesus is Mad Again

I've been reading this book called "Imaginary Jesus," by Matt Mikatalos, and it's great! It has different Jesuses popping up everywhere. And they get into fights, what fun! It's an insightful and humorous look into the world of our imagination and how it doesn't hold up to the real Jesus we should find in scripture and experience.

My imaginary Jesus probably would be a mix of Mark's "KJV Jesus" and "Perpetually Wrathful Jesus." At least those are the Jesuses I seem to have grown up with.

That's why I so desperately need to read my Bible. Even as I type, I have my fat ESV study Bible sitting on the table beside me, untouched this morning. It broods. But I've got to get inside it and explore.

I've want to see these imaginary Jesuses that have been with me so long dissappear. And I really, really want to meet the real Jesus. Even if he's ugly, as the Bible hints, and even if he has the breath of my 8th grade math teacher. He has the words of life, and that's what counts.

Prior to reading Matt's masterful book on the subject of all the made up Jesuses we believe in, I'd been on a long hard search for the Jesus I know. It's weird, searching for someone you know already. But nevertheless I search.

Matt really nails something in his book. When do I slow down, just be quiet and give Jesus the time to speak? Even as I write I'm in Starbucks, listening to Tracy Chapman, with a ton of background "life-noise" going on. Starbucks employees are not known for being quiet. Hospitality is their goal, and often includes loud clangs, bangs and raucous laughter. This is the Starbucks I experience. If you find a quiet one, lead me to that Holy Grail of peaceful coffee.

Is it that life makes it hard to slow down and hear from Jesus? Or are we simply afraid to hear from him? In my case, I think it's both.

My Jesuses are really pretty scary. I don't like them much. KJV Jesus is always walking around frowning, holding his fingers up in that weird way he does, making pronouncements and declarations that end in " - or thou shalt burn in a lake of eternal fire." He's a fun guy to hang out with. Perpetually Wrathful Jesus is more of the same, but he typically pops up to condemn me when I'm reading parables: "You see all those seeds that landed on the stones, were choked by worldly weeds or were eaten by birds. All those seeds are you, and I'm going to kill you you naughty seed!"

Would the real Jesus please stand up? I'm going to stop for a little and attempt to pick up my ESV study Bible, this takes effort as it weighs 65lbs., and see if Truly Reformed Jesus can teach me anything. No, I am going to stop, try to quit intellectualizing everything, read and listen. Maybe Jesus won't be that hard to find.

One last thought: Of course we all know that the real Jesus was a Ninja. Nobody but a Ninja could have gotten out of as many tight spots as Jesus did if he didn't have some "num-chuck skills."

"Oh God My Robot..."

I just finished reading the story of Jephthah and his Rash Vow in Judges, where he makes a deal with God that he'd offer God whatever came out of his house in sacrifice if God would grant him victory over the "something-ites."

This story has me thinking, "How often do I make deals with God?"

"Oh God My Robot, grant that I might be able to get out of bed this day and I will do my best to not hate my fellow humans who have me under the covers in petrified fear in the first place."

"Oh God My Robot, grant that I might feel very good today, and I will do my best to have my devotions, write on my blog, make support raising phone calls today, brush my teeth, and try not to hate people."

"Oh God My Robot, grant that I might vanquish all of my foes of fear, resentment and worry, and I will quit doing all the fun stuff I like to do."

I believe that anytime I make deals with God, I do so from a position of gross misunderstanding of his revealed truth about himself. He is no Robot. He is no deal-maker. The only deal he made was a Covenant. And that wasn't a deal as we think of them. It was a one-way promise of steadfast love way beyond our puny comprehension. Or rather, it was two ways and he figured out how to keep both. How's that for our mysterious God?

God is a mystery. And anytime I reduce him to a simple wish or request granter I treat him like a robot.

It's funny, when I became a believer for the first time (I've prayed the sinner's prayer thousands of times since - because I believe I can save me - but really I only need have prayed once), my parents in the height of irony now that I think of it, gave me a robot. From their perspective they were giving me a gift to mark the occasion in my 4 year old brain. It really worked, and I'd recommend this to other parents, but the choice of a robot is funny.

It's funny now that I think about it for the first time, for perhaps it was prophetic of the God I would come to believe in as I grew older and thus more selfish. On an aside: I do believe in original sin, but I also believe in me, and "I" as I have grown up have done stuff that makes original sin blush. Somehow, I don't think that I was as sinful then as I am now.

But my belief in God as "Oh God My Robot" did begin relatively early. As I grew, I sought to put him on the bookshelf of my life and go on my business about me.

That's why I'm thankful for stories like Jephthah's Rash Vow. It was "rash" and in a very Ancient Hebrew Narrator sort of way. In fact it's so subtle they don't even say it's rash, they just say it's a vow. But it's begging to be uncovered. For it was an absurd vow! It was ludicrous! It went against everything God was for and about!

First off, God didn't need Jephthah, Jephthah needed God, and may I add a serious overhaul of his perspectives on God. Let's put on our pocket protectors and nerdy hats, and serious coffee breath for a moment: in my ESV Joshua commentary (Thanks Dad! My Dad helped write the bible!), it says that Jephthah's language in his vow implies that he may not have simply had animals in mind but said, in the original Hebrew, "whoever" might come out to meet him. In his vow he included the possibility of human sacrifice!

Umm, Jephthah, God is sort of against human sacrifice last time I checked. Even my Oh God My Robot could tell you that!

But then I do the same thing: sort of willfully fitting God into my categories, categories that fit neatly around my agenda. I do all kinds of damage. I don't sacrifice people. But I do sacrifice people.

Those around me hurt when I simply relate to Oh God My Robot, rather than God my loving father and LORD - you see it, all caps, that's very biblical!

I think I sometimes believe that since God gave his very own Son for me, we've entered into a one-way relationship in which he meets all of my desires all of the time. It's a horrific misunderstanding.

God gave me his son, not so I would do the further damage of viewing him as Oh God My Robot who would bequeath to me anything I want (I used "bequeath." I have a rich vocabulary, so why can't I win at Scrabble or Boggle? Will someone please answer this mystery?)

He wants his gift to reshape my heart, to take the blindfolds off my eyes and enable me to walk, skip and jump within His love. And to sing with "undumbed" lips (or not sing depending on whether I'm in the shower or not) about his never-ending, never-failing, always and forever steadfast love.

For the time being, I'm blessed with a God who condescends (in every loving meaning of the word) to my habitual address of "Oh God My Robot." But the more he's teaching me to relate to Him as "Oh God My Lover/Lord/Rescuer/Friend/Brother" the more life becomes less about me, and for that I am blessed. And for that, I have the hope that I won't sacrifice those I love, to the God of me.

Here's to NOT sacrificing people today!

"I said DON'T sacrifice Buddy. Aw man, will somebody please put Buddy out! Timmy, why are you smiling? How many times have I told you not to light Buddy? I know, he does have a terrifically funny scream and he bursts into a beautiful ball of flame, but it's not funny for him, alas."