High up on the shelf in my Sunday School classroom, there was a picture book about the life of Jesus. It had been written and illustrated long before I was born and its pages were fragile and yellow with age.
The Jesus in that book—and the Jesus I met in most of the pictures I saw as a child, was a gentle man with a faraway smile.
Some pictures showed him sitting quietly with a sheep across his shoulders or a child upon his knee. Others showed him standing in a meadow, gazing up at the sky, or walking along the shore of Lake Galilee.
Those were the boring pictures.
But even the exciting ones—illustrations that pictured Jesus driving money changers from the temple or arguing with the Pharisees, never really showed him as angry or impatient. He never looked like the kind of person who might call someone a fool or a viper, or the type of man who would heave a table full of coins
across a crowded courtyard.
Our teachers told us that he was so popular, that crowds followed him everywhere. But the man in those pictures didn’t look as if he had ever laughed so hard, he fell backward out of his chair, like the most popular boy in Miss Studebaker’s class—and he didn’t look like someone who might know all the best jokes, even the ones you couldn’t tell your mother.
And although Jesus must have walked along the dusty roads of Palestine, his robe always looked clean. The pictures never showed him with blisters on his feet or knots in his hair. He never looked sweaty or grimy or just plain worn out the way we looked after we played tetherball at recess.
We were supposed to love Jesus. We were supposed to be just like him: meek and mild and tame.
The problem was, most of us weren’t.
And frankly, neither was he.
Yet, we absorbed that image of Jesus along with our graham crackers and milk. Those illustrations were as much a part of our religious formation as learning the Creed and knowing when to kneel or stand. And those images helped shape our own sense of life, and faith, and the journey of discipleship.
But what about the Jesus we finally discover, if and when, we read Scripture through adult eyes?
--The Jesus who speaks sarcastically when the disciples are clueless?
--The Jesus who challenges with difficult sayings and troubling demands?
--The Jesus who eats and drinks with the dregs of society?
--The Jesus who applies a sharp pin to institutions and people filled with hot air?
--The Jesus who refuses to pick up an earthly crown or use temporal power?
--The Jesus who repeatedly states that he is heading towards the cross?
This Jesus isn’t quite so meek and mild. He is not so much interested in carrying us forever as little lambs upon his back, as he is turning our faces toward Calvary
and our feet toward the cross.
This Jesus is not so much interested in keeping his robe clean as he is in plunging into whatever faces him—
The hungry crowd
The deep water,
The life of prayer,
The difficult problems,
The troubling demands,
The question of eternity.
The disciples argued over position and power—They argued over who would be first, who would take precedence, who would sit at his right hand. And Jesus? Well, Jesus was inviting them to see something bigger. The holiness Jesus embodied is a holiness that demands sacrifice.
Commitment.
A dry shirt.
A sense of humor.
This is a kind of holiness that beckons us to “Come!” Not after we clean ourselves up and go sit in the meadow with the lambs. Not after we determine the correct social pecking order. Not after all of our questions are answered and each concern fully addressed, but NOW. Right now. Wherever we are. Whoever we are.
The real Jesus we encounter as adults may not be quite as tame or quite as comforting as the Jesus of our childhood picture books. It is true, he calls the little children to him and places them in our midst. He teaches us that receiving a child in His name is like receiving him in person. But there is nothing tame or boring here. The adult Jesus upsets our plans and challenges our beliefs. He overturns our expectations as thoroughly as he overturned the moneychangers' tables.
This Jesus reminds us, "The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they will kill him, and three days after his death the Son of Man will rise.”
The disciples did not understand this saying, and were afraid to question him.
What about us? Even though we know about the empty tomb, the encounter on the road to Emmaus, the fire of Pentecost, the glory of the Ascension; we, too, are often afraid to question, afraid to listen, afraid to look, afraid to let Jesus out of the pages of a picture book and into our lives.
But we have a clear choice.
We can avoid hard questions, argue over privilege, close our ears and refuse delivery on the difficult message of the Cross...
or we can follow Him.
Wherever it takes us.
By far one of your most thoughtful touching inciteful sermons. I follow you religiously because you make me think and reflect on many different aspects of Jesus and our religion. I learned of your writings through our former pastor and am so grateful for his referral. What a blessing!