When our daughter Sara was four years old, she burst into the house carrying a water-filled baggie in which swam a wide-eyed burst of sunshine. “Look what they gave us at the birthday party!” (Gee thanks.) We dumped the pet into a fishbowl and gathered around to select a name. Sebastian won. He quickly became the star of the family. We actually set the bowl on the dinner table so we could watch him swim while we ate. The ultimate fish dinner.
But then we got bored. Can’t fault Sebastian. He did everything expected of a family fish. He swam in circles and surfaced on cue to gobble fish food. He never jumped out of the bowl into the sink or demanded a seat on the couch. He spent his nights nestled amid a green plant. Quiet. Novel. Contained. Like Jesus?
The Jesus of many people is small enough to be contained in an aquarium that fits on the cabinet. Package him up, and send him home with the kids. Dump him in a bowl, and watch him swim. He never causes trouble or demands attention. Everyone wants a goldfish bowl of Jesus, right? If you do, steer clear of the real Jesus Christ. He brings a wild ride. He comes at you like a fire hose—blasting, purging, cleansing. He will not swim quietly. He is more a force than a fixture, flushing away every last clod of doubt and death and infusing us with wonder and hope.
He changes everything. Jesus does not promise to stop your snoring, turn your kids into valedictorians, or guarantee you will have the correct lottery number. Jesus doesn’t make you sexy, skinny, or clever. Jesus doesn’t change what you see in the mirror. He changes how you see what you see.
He will not be silenced, packaged, or predicted. He is the pastor who chased people out of church. He is the prophet who had a soft spot for crooks and whores. He is the king who washed the grime off the feet of his betrayer. He turned a bread basket into a buffet and a dead friend into a living one. And most of all, he transformed the tomb into a womb out of which life was born. Your life.
Jesus: Five letters. Six hours. One cross. Three nails. We live because he does, hope because he works, and matter because he matters. To be saved by grace is to be saved by him—not by an idea, doctrine, creed, or church membership, but by Jesus himself, who will sweep into heaven anyone who so much as gives him the nod.
Goldfish Jesus? Not on your life.
Goldfish Jesus happens only on Christmas and Easter. The real Jesus claims every tick of the clock.
Goldfish Jesus winks at sin. The real Jesus nukes it.
Goldfish Jesus is a lucky charm crucifix on a necklace. Jesus is a tiger in your heart.
Do you know this Jesus? If your answer is no, let’s talk about him. If your answer is yes, let’s talk about him. Let’s talk about Jesus.
Let’s begin where the earthly ministry of Jesus began—in the womb of Mary. The God of the universe, for a time, kicked against the wall of that womb. He was born in the poverty of a peasant and spent his first night in the feed trough of a cow. “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14 THE MESSAGE).
Didn’t have to, did he?
Jesus could have become a voice—a voice in the air.
Jesus could have become a message—a message in the sky.
Jesus could have become a light—a light in the night.
But he became more, so much more. He became flesh. Why? Why did he take the journey? Why did he go so far?
Might the answer include this word: you?
Jesus came to be near you. Any concerns you might have about his power and love were removed from the discussion the moment he became flesh and entered the world.
What a beginning. What an entrance. What a moment. Goldfish Jesus? No way.