Tuesday, January 22, 2013

If I Could Have a Beer With Jesus...


Once in awhile you hear a song, or a conversation, or something that prompts you to write.  Yesterday I heard that song.  It’s called “If I Could Have a Beer with Jesus.”  Interesting song title…typical country song, if you are in to stereotyping music…but if you listen to the words, you will understand. 

So obviously it got me thinking…what would I do, If I Could Have a Beer with Jesus?  Obviously I believe in him, or I wouldn't be writing the blog, so with that in mind, here goes.  In my head I imagine that he doesn't like your standard Coors Light, Miller Lite, etc…I imagine him as more of a craft beer drinker…if he even likes beer.

Initially I would probably think he was pulling my leg.  I mean, what would those odds be?  And since I don’t believe anything out of anyone’s mouth, I would have a hard time believing it.  I would NOT ask him to turn water into wine, or walk on water to prove it; I would just probably say do you even like beer?  Or are you a “spirits” guy?  No pun intended Jesus.  Seriously though, maybe he likes whiskey at which point I would have to not only agree, but decline to join him on having one because I would want to remember the conversation and with whiskey I would forget.  And I imagine he would say he knows that, all too well.

I would ask him what he was doing there, there with me.  Why me?  Probably because I have never given myself enough credit in life to deserve much, let alone such a visit.  I would ask how much time he had because that could determine the outcome of our conversation.  Like, do I need to ask about all my friends and family that have passed and how they are?  Because I think they are fine and if I really have his undivided attention there are some other things I would rather talk about. 

I would probably tell him that he looks nothing like I was “taught” he would look like.  I would also tell him one of my favorite books is “The Five People You Meet In Heaven,” and that I have always been suspicious that he walked among us like a regular commoner.  At which point I would say, aren't you just that?  A common man?  Was it hard to be you?  With all these people and their expectations?  And I would then get right to the heart of one of the biggest questions I have always wanted to ask him…Did you want this?  Did you want all these massive buildings where people are required to go to worship you?  Because I don’t think you did.  I don’t think that had anything to do with your mission.  And I would say but the religion I was brought up in said otherwise and that when I was old enough to make my own decisions, I stopped going to these buildings because I could find him everywhere.  That even if I made bad decisions I still had his opinion of me in the back of my mind.  And that I know enough to know that just believing in him does not exonerate me from sin, but living my life in such a way I would have expected him to is what guides me.  To love everyone equally.  To not assume I know why people make the decisions they make. To love unconditionally and with an open mind and heart.  To love all of God’s creatures.   And in my mind, he would say, NO Tiffany, I didn't intend for massive buildings to be built or people be told they had to go to them to believe in me.  If someone wanted to build these things, it was for people who needed that sense of companionship, people who needed to be around others to spread my words.  That he didn't think everyone would feel this way as some people find peace alone or with nature, or by doing good deeds.  That it was okay either way.  If I needed that in my life that was fine and if I didn't that was fine.  And I would say I KNEW IT!  Thank you…I have needed to hear that from you for a very long time.  And I would say, are you ready for another drink?  Because I tend to drink faster when I am chatty.

I would say OK Big J…I have some more questions for you.  Cancer.  Why?  Especially children.  And if we are only here on loan, how is it decided how long some get to stay, or what they have to battle while they are here?  Is there a department for that?  It seems like a lot of paperwork, or coordination.  Jesus?  Is this really Hell?  Right now?  Right here?  Our day to day lives?  Is that why some things are so incredibly despicable and wrong and awful?  Is that why what happened to you was so incredibly atrocious (but really just the beginning of how awful humans can be to other humans), because that was Hell?  And if that is the case, are those of us that leave here early, or horribly, or who have to suffer, are they really the lucky ones?  HELP ME JESUS.  Help me make sense of this.  Because all that suffering seems not fair if that is the case, but if you tell me because where they are going is going to make that all worth every second, well I may be able to buy into that.

I would ask him if he was sad.  Sad to see how far things have come and how advanced we have become as a society, but sad at how some things just get worse.  Like how easy it is to kill another human being.  How sometimes it can be so senseless. 

I would ask him what he does to unwind.  If he is Type A like me.  Does he have OCD?  Does he sleep well at night or does he toss and turn?  Does he cry and if he does, what brings a man like Jesus to tears?  In my mind he would answer that with yes, that he does cry and it happens mostly when we are so horrible to our fellow man.  That he knows he has no control over diseases and stuff like that, and really doesn't have control over our own personal actions either but that it brings him to tears when we treat others poorly, because we choose to do that.  We make a conscious decision to bully, belittle, demean, berate, verbally, mentally and emotionally abuse.  Those are the times he cries.  And I would say me to Big J…me too…

And eventually he would say, Tiffany, I need to move along, I have many beers to drink…you aren't the only one and I would say you know what, I figured, I couldn't be that lucky.  And I would thank him for his time and I would say I still can’t believe you picked me and he would just smile and put his arms around me and not pat, but hug, like the hug from Jesus I always imagined it would be.  Home.  It would feel like home.

I would say, one more thing Jesus, then you can go…I know, I know, you are very busy.  But I need to know this.  It’s like the only thing I have ever really wanted to know from you…

Are you disappointed in me?  Have I failed you?  I mean, I love everyone, equally until they give me a reason not to.  But I don’t love in the traditional sense, or the way I was taught I was supposed to.  It’s not that I don’t find men attractive, that’s not it at all, and I find some men incredibly attractive.  But I also find women to be the same way.  And I live in a world where until really recently, this was not approved, condoned, believed, etc.  In fact, my religion calls me an abomination.  And I can’t imagine having the heart that I have or the compassion I have or the empathy I have in my heart and yet be considered an abomination because of the sex of the person I choose to love.  I cannot wrap my hands around that?  I mean why do people care?  If I am not affecting them, why do they care?  Is it because they were told it was wrong?  And who made that choice?  God?  Because I don’t believe in a God that created us all the same.  I believe in the one who made us all different and who wanted to SEE IF WE COULD embrace one another’s differences and if we couldn't well, then that would be our own private hell.  But honestly, once I loved myself, I no longer cared what others thought, but I do care what you think.  I cannot stand to be disappointed or to disappoint.  So, I really can’t go on if I have in some way disappointed you. 

And because I am the type of person who NEEDS an answer, who needs confirmation and affirmation, and who likes to talk and break things down, I imagine he would be very vague and cryptic.

I imagine he would smile at me, and my God he has a beautiful smile, and he would say you already know the answer to this question.  You have always known the answer.  Thanks for the beer.  And tell your mother I said hello.

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