My Paper Jesus
Posted on November 10, 2008
Filed Under Generally Spiritual (few if any geek references) | Leave a Comment
Not so long ago I stumbled across the article “To write love on her arms.” What amazed me was the powerful love of the Christians in that true story as they reached out to a very troubled teen.
I made me think. It made me realize. It made me feel very empty inside.
It led me to reflect on the condition of my soul: what I believe and how I felt about what I believe. The following daydream is what I discovered about myself……..
It was a slow morning for a change, peaceful and rather pleasant. Perfect for letting a gnawing thought be heard. Sitting at the kitchen table I decided to spread out all my beliefs in front of me so I could look them over. Before I knew it, the table was completely covered with documents. I could not help but admire how good each and every one of my beliefs looked. I decided to gather them all up and almost by themselves they formed paper mache statue, about 2 or 2 1/2 ft. high.
At first it was a bit amorphous and crude, but in time I was able to add various details like a beard, sandals, a robe, a manly jaw, strong hands–and of course gentle eyes. Eventually, the statue became quite clear, very distinct. He was perfect. And I was proud of Him.
Quite satisfied, I drew him up into my arms and took him out into the back yard with me. What a beautiful day! Together, we enjoyed the sunshine and the birds and the flowers and the green grass and the cool breeze. But then something quite disturbing happened.
A neighbor came by. He only wanted to visit but soon my little bundle of highly detailed beliefs got his curiosity. So, he reached out and said “what is that?” and accidentally broke off his arm! The neighbor was very sorry, he really didn’t mean any harm, but still there it was, damaged and in need of repair. (Needless to say, from then on, I took great care to avoid my neighbor, and all others like him.)
Fortunately, I found a book on how to put a Him back together, how to shore Him up and strengthen His joints and keep Him in one piece. It helped! Before I knew it, the arm was repaired. More than that, I was now equipped to handle any and all future “accidents” and other attacks by the heathens and godless so-and-so’s of this world who seem so obsessed with poking and prodding at my paper Jesus. Go ahead, I would say, try his arm, pull on his leg. Poke him in the eye. Try and damage him if you can.
Life in my back yard was good again–until it started to rain. At first the rain was light, so I had no real concerns. I knew I could handle it… er, He and I could handle it. But then the drops got bigger and more intense. I tried covering Him with my arm, but that didn’t help. I took to hiding him under my shirt, but soon the rain got so intense that it soaked through my shirt and onto Him!
Just when I thought it could get no worse, the wind started to roar! and with it came hail! Suddenly, a big chunk of Him flew off. I grabbed it and worked feverishly to stick it back on. For a moment I had some success, but very soon my efforts actually made things worse!
Frantically, I dropped to my knees covering my paper Jesus with my body, trying to shield it from the raging storm. It was all I could do to keep it from completely disintegrating. But somehow, in the midst of my huddled panic, something managed to catch my attention. I couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of my eye, standing near me, was Him! Through the driving rain and the stinging hail I strained to look up into His face. He just smiled at me, with a sad/bemused/sympathetic/frustrated/kindly smile.
Something about Him looked very much like my paper Jesus, only I couldn’t help but notice: He wasn’t melting. The wind and rain and the hail, even the lightning (for now it was a very intense storm) had no real effect on Him though it battered Him and struck Him and soaked Him to the bone. Indeed, through it all, He seemed very much alive, as if He could handle it all and more.
He held out His hand as if to lift me up. Instinctively, I reached out, but suddenly I froze. What about my paper Jesus? I can’t stand up now! The storm will utterly destroy it! He noticed my hesitation (of course), but what I didn’t notice was that He did not want my hand. He wanted my paper Jesus.
Very reluctantly–for reasons I don’t quite understand–I handed it to Him. He took it and embracing it into Himself it disappeared. I rose and stepping toward Him, stared intently at what was my paper Jesus. Yet the more I looked for my paper Jesus, the more I saw only Him.
There, in the rain and hail and wind and storm, I began to understand. So I pulled out a piece of paper, a doctrine, and looked at it. Then I looked at Him. I looked at it–and at Him. Most of it seemed to look like Him, but not all. I gave it to Him, and before the storm could rip it to shreds, He took it into Himself and it disappeared. And where it disappeared He seemed a bit more clear to my eyes, more distinct.
So I took out another piece of paper and handed it to Him, and another, and another and another….some He readily accepted, some He altered a bit, others He would not touch, some made Him weep. The ones He received, He absorbed into Himself, and if he did, I could see Him more clearly.
However, whenever a piece of paper would upset Him, He would refuse it, and instead point. At first I didn’t know where He was pointing, but then finally I understood. He was pointing at my Bible. But as soon as I pulled out my Bible, He turned and started to walk away. This threw me into quite a shock, until I realized that He wanted me to follow Him. Leave my back yard! I… I … can’t! But I must, I have to if I am going to follow Him, if I’m going stay close to Him.
Long story/short: He showed me how to use my Bible as a lamp, a light in the darkness. And the strangest thing happened. The more I followed Him out of my back yard and into the darkness and brokenness around me, the brighter He got! I could actually see Him more clearly in the dank alleys and stench filled hovels than in the bright and cheery privacy of my home.
We went to so many places: ugly, rancid, scary, frustrating, threatening, humiliating, confusing, far from home places. In those places, sometimes I fell back onto old ways and pulled out a paper Jesus, only to have it threatened, and damaged. But if I handed that paper Jesus over to Him, a peace would come, even in the midst of it all.
I’m back home now, for a little while. I had many adventures with my paper Jesus; I want to write about them all–and I will. But for now, I’m tired. I need to rest.
Will I continue to trust in doctrines that look good on paper while failing to see that their real intension is to point me to Jesus? Of course I will. My paper Jesus has a way of coming back to me. For one thing, I can control it. I can shape it into what I like, what I understand, what makes me feel powerful and secure. And it’s made with my very own hands. I can carry it with me where ever I chose to go. You see, it’s tame. The real Jesus, as anyone can tell you who actually knows Him, is anything but tame. When He says “follow Me” He means it. And I must follow Him, that is, if I want to stay close to Him.
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