What if Jesus and I Didn’t Have a Good Start?

There once was a child playing near a road.  She is immersed in her play and does not hear the car coming down the street, does not see the way it weaves and jerks, does not sense the danger that is approaching. Someone cries out, she startles into a kind of obedience to the call, and she is yanked out of the way just as the tires go screaming past. Does she feel safe?

 As a young child, my first encounters with church words about Jesus felt like a warning by a road. The faces were solemn and the words were frightening: "Watch out. The day of judgment is coming. Turn to God, you sinner. He may save you." While the invitation was earnest, something crucial to the heart of the Gospel, the heart of the Bible, the heart of God had been left out.

Who is the one calling out near the road?

 The one who cries out is the one running flat out toward us. The one who has held us, rocked us, sung us back to sleep in the night. The one whose heels and shins have been bruised on toys we have left on the floor, whose back and weary feet have been bent in the effort to provide, whose heart bears an enduring ache that we might be whole. The one who speaks of the things to come is the one whose eyes are bright and crinkly-lined with the pride and pleasure of sharing each hour with us.

For those of us whose formal introduction to Jesus was muddled and mishandled, whose hearts and minds and bodies have held onto the terror of the threat rather than the loveliness of the shelter we sought, who continue to struggle to connect to the love that our God professes for us – a prayer:

 Jesus, we have trembled beneath the sharp claws and cruel beaks so near the seed you have sown. We seek to bear up under the weight of internal rebuke. As we stumble toward you again and again, let us find you running flat out. We want to feel safe again with you.

 Let us hear the sound of your voice singing over us as we listen in the night; let us touch the bruises you have received on our account as we eat and drink and remember; let us see your face shining on us as we peer into your eyes and see ourselves in their frame.