Have it your way… have it your way…

Good morning, my punkins. “Blessed are the peacemakers” indeed… I just had to break my dogs up, as they were fighting. Hairy little dogfighters. I’ve found the best way to do this is to yell “Cujo!” For some reason, this gets their immediate attention: they cease growling, perk up their ears and cock their heads at me, eyes bright and pink tongues lolling. “What?” they seem to ask. “You have called out the name of our god. How shall we serve him?” Honestly, this is the response, and it kinda bugs me. I thought I was their god. Another delusion flushed, straight down the toilet, with the rest of the yams.

@ For the last couple days, I’ve been reading a book called The Jesus I Never Knew by Philip Yancey and it is shaking my foundation. The picture I’ve always kept in my mind of Jesus - despite knowing it’s patently ridiculous - is the one I saw on the wall at Sunday School when I was little. Tall (I could tell, even though he was sitting), light-haired, blue-eyed, handsome, and beatific; he looked perfect, without spot or blemish, not a hair out of place. When I’ve imagined him speaking to crowds, healing sick people, or yelling at Pharisees, it’s always been with this picture in mind - not as cognitive reality, but as unconscious belief - and it’s pushed me away from him. How can I possibly relate to such a perfect being, and how, how, how could he possibly relate to me? The sanitized version of Jesus has been wearing me down my whole life, and I didn’t even know it. I’ve been trying to live on Jesus, but there’s no nutrition in Jesus-lite.

When I was chatting with God last night, I had a revelation. Suddenly, in my mind, a new picture of Jesus emerged: Jesus as dark-haired, dark-skinned and brown-eyed, like most middle eastern people. Jesus as short, stooped - a little hunchbacked - and *gasp - even ugly. The minute this picture flashed to mind, my heart expanded to connect in a way it never has before. I connected with Jesus’s humanity, and I awoke to the fact that he truly did experience life like I do. There’s no doubt he grew up in poverty: his family couldn’t afford a lamb for their yearly sacrifice; they had to use doves. God deliberately came to earth as a poor man. He wanted to enter in from the bottom up. So, why would he come in as a handsome man? Wouldn’t that give him a natural advantage; kind of an instant “get-out-of-jail-free” card? There’s no physical description of him anywhere in history, apart from what Isaiah wrote:

~ Just as there were many who were appalled at him - his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man and his form marred beyond human likeness… He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we did not esteem him.~

This doesn’t sound like the description of a movie star; not even a Paul Giamatti-type character actor… This sounds like a real person, living with other real people, and dealing with real-life situations. This new picture of Jesus dilates my mind to accept the things he said, because I no longer see him preaching from the platform of perfection, down to me. I see him standing on the same dirt I do.

I’m smack in the middle of the chapter about the Sermon on the Mount, ready to hear Philip Yancey’s take on why Jesus told us to be perfect as our father in heaven is perfect. I can’t wait to read what he says, now that I see Jesus with different eyes. I trust him more; I feel I know him; that he just may possibly be the best friend I’ll ever have. It’s like the difference between a slab of rich, moist chocolate cake and a month-old nilla wafer: I’m suddenly craving him, wanting to tell him everything, knowing he’s listening and here to help. I see the chasm between us - I do not do what he told us to do; I’m so far from perfect it’s disheartening - but I see he wants to bridge the gap and that there’s hope. We’re walking in hope, towards joy, every day we live. It’s hard to convey, but what I’m saying is I feel my faith is more rooted in reality now, than in the ideal. It’s tangible instead of invisible; something I really can grasp with my hands and wrap my brain around. It’s accessible.

@ Scott’s working out the final details to embark on a new vocation. I’ll probably get to tell you about it tomorrow. We’re both extremely encouraged and feel a little lighter on our toes today. Thank you everyone who’s been praying; it’s possible this is the answer to those prayers. I’ll let you know.

@ Van ships out to Kuwait tomorrow. He’ll be there for two weeks before leaving for Iraq. Despite the fact that he was one of those trained to drive Humvees - a scary idea considering all the roadside bombings - he’s encouraged that his unit will be staying at Camp Anaconda, entertainment capital of the desert. It has a 9-hole golf course, a swimming pool, a Burger King… I’m thinking, Did they build the camp around what was already there, or is it new? If it’s new - just built for our soldiers - then I’m shaking my head. Sigh. Americans. Honestly. I mean, I love being an American - really love it - but do we HAVE to have our damn Burger Kings? C’mon, it’s silly, and I’m laughing. But crying inside. But still laughing. Peace today, friends. xo