Boy Like Me, Man Like You

I was reading in Bill Gilhams’s book What God Wishes Christians Knew About Christianity, a lengthy title to a stellar read (so far), and he was hammering away at his premise, the main premise of this book and the other one I read Lifetime Guarantee: that Jesus offers us not only salvation and redemption, but an actual life; that the life he lived qualified him for the death he died, and the death he died qualifies us for the life he lives, that he gave his life for us, to give his life to us, to live his life through us. And he was talking about the literal indwelling of Christ in us, that we are to offer our bodies as living sacrifices in the most basic sense, namely, that as long as we live we are to sacrifice ourselves to Jesus on a continual and unstoppable basis. And in the Spirit of that Ian Thomas quote, I was mulling over how Jesus can live through me at this particular point in my life.

Here I am, at loose ends, struggling with a cornucopia of difficulties ranging from my health and prospectus for future health, to my job and prospectus for future vocation, to my complete lack of a social life and the bleak prospectus of ever finding a woman who could stand me. Oh, yes. I forgot my lack of self esteem. Thank you for pointing that out.

So I was pondering this and thinking about what my life would look like if Christ was actually living through me. That is, how it would affect me on a daily basis. How would it affect my job hunt, the various teaching jobs I would like. And how would it affect how I deal with my roommate, the relationship with whom no small amount of tension has accumulated. And how it would affect my teaching abilities and the way I handle my class, in particular one student whom I can only describe as willfully ignorant and stubborn and refuses to follow the simplest of directions or to put forth a bare minimum of effort. And how it would affect my desire and determination (lack thereof) to lose weight and become a healthier person. And I suppose I must also consider how it would affect my pleasures, the sort of things I watch on TV, the amount of TV I watch, the books I read and how much, the movies I rent, the time I spend frivolously playing Hearts during the day, and the obsession I have with the game of golf. Not, as you might understand, how Christ in me would affect my spiritual stance on these matters per se, though certainly the spirit is inextricably linked to the mind and body, and can therefore affect our behavior. This is a universal truth; otherwise the promise Gilham and Thomas and my dad harp on, the message of liberation and abundant life they derive from the Gospel and the New Testament, would be meaningless since our spiritual resurrection would have no bearing on our mortal lives. And this misapprehension is the very thing they are railing against. No, I was pondering how Christ living through me would affect these things on a practical, real, measurable way. How that spiritual transformation, the evidence of Christ in me, would help me find a job or a girl or drop twenty pounds.

This is by no means a new revelation to me. But it struck me that Jesus spent 30 years on Earth (as far as we know) before he embarked on his mission. So I was wondering: Did Jesus ever get frustrated with the wait? Did he ever wonder what exactly the Father was going to do with him and through him for the people of Israel? Did he listen to his father’s clients or the local priests rant about the Romans and wonder whether he would drive them out? Did he ever lose faith or doubt about his purpose, if only for a moment? Did he ever wonder, What is God’s plan for my life?

By these questions I don’t mean to throw into question the divinity of Christ. But I do think that he gave up his absolute knowledge of time when he became a man. Did he retain the course of his own life, seeing the miracles he would perform, the people he would encounter, the betrayals he would suffer, the death and torment he would endure, and the resurrection he would undergo? Or did the Father reveal things only when Jesus needed to know them, as He seems to do with us? Jesus walked in complete reliance on the Father, he claimed, doing nothing he didn’t see his Father do. And we are to live the life of Jesus! We are to do the things Jesus did! Isn’t that what it means that Jesus lives through us? Or at least, potentially what it might mean? Not that we will walk on water and calm angry seas with a word, necessarily, but that we might? Jesus did, and he wants to live his life through us, so it might be on the table, no?

More to the point, however, I was meditating on the mentality of Jesus as he passed his twenties, as he saw his contemporaries settle down, marry, start families, begin to ascend the social ladder. Did he rebuff other families’ advances to marry him off to their daughters? Did his parents try to persuade him to embrace his trade? Did they know even then that his would be a life lived out of joint with the rest of the world, that he would never call Nazareth home or marry or become a member of society? And did he ever sit in his room after the seventeenth marriage proposal he turned down, coming on his twenty-ninth birthday, and wonder, When will my purpose begin to take place? When will my true Father begin to use me? When will I fulfill my destiny?

I want to know, because it says somewhere that he can sympathize with us because he went through the things we go through. Hebrews I think. Anyway, sometimes Jesus seems as far away as the Father. Like a perfect son who always pleases his father and meets expectations naturally arouses jealousy in his brothers for a multiplicity of reasons, not the least of which that they know he’s doing things right and thereby convicting them of all the things they’re doing wrong. I was the good son, well-behaved and conscientious to my parents, and so my sisters regarded me as our parents’ favorites for the simple fact that the parents berated and punished me less than them (my sisters). The nail(s) that stick up get hammered down, and I realized early on the benefits of the path of least resistance. Not out of any altruistic desire to please my parents and by proxy God, but rather to avoid spankings. I let my sisters battle each other, and learned to play the peacemaker, another gold star in my column of self-worth. And they resented me for it. They still do, to one degree or another. And so I was apart from them in their eyes. I couldn’t commiserate when they got treated harshly and (in their eyes) unfairly. And I think I regard Jesus in such a light at times. How could he know how hard it is to overcome temptation? He never sinned! He was God! He started out without the seed of Adam in him. Head start! No fair! Yeah, sure, Jesus, easy for you to say “be perfect like how I am perfect,” don’t you know how infuriating that sounds? Like it's easy, you just have to want it? Like perfection is a choice I can make and everything else will be gravy? All the more frustrating when I fail, and that constant reminder of my failure is what can drive a wedge between me and Jesus. How could he possibly understand what it’s like to be tossed in the gale winds of life, struggling toward the promise of light and shelter, not knowing if the directions scratched in the dirt are even correct or if I’m even following them right, if I understood them in the first place?

Did Jesus ever have to go job hunting? Did he worry about his health or looks? You get the idea. As you can tell, my faith needs some work. Or maybe not. After all, I’m not going to abandon it, I’m going to persevere, and that’s what Jesus wants, right? But does he want dogged effort or helpless surrender? And if surrender then how can I be sure that he…

O wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of sin and death?

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

But you see my predicament.

Don't you?