Noah Thinks You Are Jesus

Olivia Captain came into the vestry yesterday after the 10:30 a.m. worship service with something clearly on her mind. "Pastor Don", she started, "Noah thinks you are Jesus." Noah is Olivia's younger brother who, for a long time, has been calling me 'Under-God', which in and of itself is a bit of leap for anyone, including me, to either understand or live up to, so I can relate to Olivia's consternation with her brother now thinking that I'm Jesus. Smiling, I said to Olivia, "Well, you know that I'm not Jesus, right?" To which Olivia responded, "Oh sure! I just didn't want Noah to get that messed up."

I knew what Olivia meant, yet I couldn't help but smile at how I had heard it. 'No, Olivia, I don't want Noah to get that messed up, either!'

I am not Jesus, nor am I anywhere near to whom Jesus is. Jesus is the One who is my Lord and Savior. Yet, especially for the young ones among us who are just formulating faith and understanding, seeing and knowing the difference is sometimes a hard thing, particularly when the Jesus of the faith is constantly being spoken about by the one who is Pastor of the congregation. 'Pastor speaks of knowing Jesus' = 'Pastor is Jesus'.

Seem like a leap to you? Not to me, at least when you think of it from a young child's point of view. For Noah, I am to him what he hears about in Jesus. One equals the other. I am touched that he made such a connection. I am also deeply uneasy with the implications . . . as well we all should be.

To those who are new to Jesus, to any who are just in the formative places of faith and understanding, to all who are searching for answers along the way and come to this peculiar community called 'Christian', we who are the ones they encounter, the ones who witness to Him, the ones who embody His welcome, are as Jesus to them. What is it of Jesus that they see in us? What is it of Jesus that they hear in us? What is it of Jesus that feel in their hearts in who we are with them on the journey?

The very thought of it humbles me beyond words. Still, there it is, "Noah thinks you are Jesus." I pray that Noah sees only the best, hears only the words, and knows only the feelings of Jesus in his heart in who he perceives me to be. Maybe that is the truest test of whether or not we Christians are who we pray to be. Time, and Jesus, will only know.

For now, whether known as Under-God or Jesus or just simply Pastor Don, I had better be who God created me to be in the most faithful way I can, for there are little ones watching and I know Who it is that I want them to see: God. Thank you for reminding me of that, Noah, and thank you, Olivia, for trusting me with what you know. I'll try not to get that messed up.

Have a blessed day everyone!

A Messy Desk

My desk is a mess. I've tried cleaning it, but then find that I cannot locate the things I need when I want them. So, the piles multiply like rabbits and the papers spread out much as water runs downhill. I've heard it said that a messy desk is the sign of a busy person. I've also heard it said that a messy desk is the sign of a cluttered mind. I think I'll go with the former over the latter, after all, claiming to be busy opens the door for further accumulation. Right?! Claiming a cluttered mind seems a bit too personal . . . and far too accurate.

Maybe that's the reason Jesus didn't maintain an office: it would have been too much of a distraction. With having to constantly monitor the email requests for healings, the snail mail requests for motivational speaker appearances, the Facebook requests of folks wanting to 'friend' him . . . and the notices of those who are 'unfriending' him because of his controversial statements about the Temple and government, and not to mention tending to the telephone messages Mary Magdalene would have placed in his box from Concerned Citizens for a Renewed Israel and other assorted lobbyists who were demanding of his time and attentions, Jesus just would have never gotten anything else done! On the other hand, maybe having an office would have kept Jesus from being crucified . . . 'cause you can't get angry with or jealous over someone you never see! I guess we'll never know.

Maybe that's why my desk is such a mess: it's the cross I bear for Jesus. My desk is a mess so his never has to be . . . . yeah, that sounds good! I'll go with that. A messy desk is the sacrifice I make so that Jesus' hands are free to do the work he needs to do in our hurting world. A messy desk is my calling, my Via Dolorosa. The crowds may deride me, but I will keep moving forward in service to Jesus, regardless their animosity. The higher the piles, the closer the Kingdom. 'Father, forgive those whose desks are clean, for they know not what they do.'

Looking around this morning, Holy Week must be near. 'Not my will, Lord, but thine be done.' I'm going to grab a cup of coffee and do my best to do Your will, Lord. Grant me faith and strength waddle through the mess, while bearing up under the scrutiny of the Pilate's and Caiaphas' of the world who would judge my worth by the standards others would impose. 'A clean desk will not save you', is now my mantra. May I live it for You, Jesus, with all my heart, mind and soul!