Everybody loves Jesus. Even people who don’t believe in God or abhor institutional religion really like Jesus. He’s awesome. I’m pretty certain that if Jesus dropped in tomorrow afternoon for an unscheduled visit, there would be parties and celebrations and parades. Even Wednesday night church would be packed. Everyone would be thrilled to hear what he had to say. Until he said it. Then they’d be offended. The invitations to appear on university campuses would be protested, then rescinded. Politicians would distance themselves from his remarks. Businesses that endorsed his message would be boycotted. He’d be crucified in the press. And maybe in the streets. That is what happened the last time he was here, anyway.
The thing is, people don’t really love Jesus – they love a version of Jesus. Maybe you and I do, too. We pick and choose the stories and sayings of Jesus we like and spend most of our time there. I call this version the Facebook Jesus.
Facebook Jesus has lots of friends. He posts nice things like, “Judge not that ye be not judged.” We like that. We give it a thumbs up.
Things like, “Forgive.” We like that, too, especially if we’re on the receiving end.
“Blessed are you poor.”
And everyone’s fav: “Love.”
Facebook Jesus is tolerant and welcoming. If you make a friend request, he always accepts you. And he never, ever defriends anyone. Unless they are into institutional religion. In the Bible, he was always surrounded by sinners. And I don’t just mean people who cuss in traffic. I mean real sinners. Prostitutes. Thieves. Criminals. They never felt judged. They always felt welcomed.
Facebook Jesus loved children. And they loved him. They would come and sit on his lap and he’d tell them stories and pat their heads and speak sweet words of blessing over them. And if anyone ever objected, he’d very calmly say, “Dude — let the little children come to me. It’s cool.”
And Facebook Jesus was nice. Not just virtually nice, but actually nice. He fed hungry people. He made more fish sandwiches than anyone in the history of the world. And compassionate? There was this guy who had leprosy — the Zika/Ebola/HIV of the day. Jesus reached out his hand and touched his liquefying flesh and healed him.
Is it any wonder this version of Jesus has more friends than Cristiano Ronaldo and Shakira combined? Facebook Jesus is what you’d get if you put Mr. Rogers and Superman in a blender; the nicest guy in the world with X-ray vision and a cape.
Except that’s not how he really was. Everything you just read is true, but it isn’t the whole truth. There is more to Jesus and it isn’t all sweetness and light. It’s more complicated. It’s real. And in some markets, it doesn’t play well.
Jesus once said something about marriage that was so hard, his disciples responded, “If that’s how it is, it’s better not to marry at all!” See if they read that verse at the next wedding you attend.
He once told some religious experts, “You’re wrong because you don’t know the Bible or the power of God. In fact, you’re not just wrong, you’re badly mistaken.” Talk about not nice!
He even asked his own disciples, “Are you so dull?”
Then there’s the most exclusive, intolerant statement of them all: “No one comes to the Father but through me.” That’ll invade your safe space.
So, we’re not only tempted to embrace a sanitized version of Jesus – we’re tempted to preach one. To tell people all the nice things Jesus said and did and leave out all the hard stuff. H. Richard Niebuhr, a mid-twentieth century theologian, criticized the liberal social gospel many of his contemporaries embraced. He said they were telling the culture that, “A God without wrath brought men without sin into a Kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross.”
To borrow from a famous American beer commercial, we’re tempted to present a gospel that tastes great but is less filling.
We don’t actually mind it when Jesus speaks truth to power. We applaud that. The problem is that Jesus is an equal opportunity truth teller. As soon as he’s done sticking it to the man, he’s going to turn around and let us have it. And that won’t be fun. He’ll hurt your feelings. He’ll make demands. He’ll issue commands. But being told the truth feels a lot like being respected. If he trusts us enough to tell us the truth, then maybe we can trust him enough to listen.
Facebook Jesus offers a virtual relationship. If you want a real one, you need the real Jesus.
Facebook Jesus sounds a lot like “Civic Jesus” who, depending on zip code is either Rebublucan or Democrat, pro same sex marriage or anti-, etc
Yes. I almost added a paragraph about cherry picking verses to support one’s own political, social ideologies. You have done that for us. Thank you, Wye.
If Jesus were your preacher, you’d probably go somewhere else … adapted from Francis Chan
Ouch. That hurts so much it must be true.