my jesus

I'm going to massage school. For the first time in five years, I am attempting to further my education. It feels oh, so good. My class has ten people in it. Let's just say we really get to have one-on-one time with our teachers, and it's the perfect place to establish myself as someone that has something to offer. More on that later.

I want to tell you about one of my classmates. My classmates are all their own levels of crazy. We're all crazy, let's be honest, but this one...I mean really, she is just really crazy. She's 49. She's got super long black hair, and she is what you conjure up in your mind when you think, "closet witch." Maybe I'm the only one that's ever had that thought. You can just tell she's got some crazy secrets and crazy experiences that you maybe want to hear about, but also, maybe not.

All but 2 of my classmates are Mormon. She's one of them, and it just so happened that during one of our ten minute breaks, religion became a topic of conversation. She recently moved here from Texas, and as such, didn't have a lot of experience with Mormons until now. She calls herself a "Super Baptist." Can someone explain that to me? She wasn't trying to say that she is very orthodox Baptist or that she is a better Baptist than others, but it's actually a branch of Baptist...ism.

Anyway, we asked her what she thought of us crazies with our huge families, and our churches on every corner, and she said it was great. Everyone was very kind. But then she said something. Something I wasn't expecting, something I haven't heard before, and something that made me want to pull a big hood over my head and walk away quietly. 

"I don't think you believe in the right Jesus."

Uh, hwat? (emphasis on the "h" sound in what.) She proceeded to explain that the Jesus that we believe in makes us work too hard to get to heaven. We should just accept His grace, and live the rest of our lives in peace. She also thinks she has a closer relationship with Him as a friend, because she doesn't believe in Him as a Brother. 

I clammed up. I had nothing to say to her after that, because the offense I felt was too deep. I was hurt. Hurt for hours after that. It wasn't until I had a chat with a sweet friend, who's thoughts and opinions I value above most, that I realized that what she thought my Jesus was didn't matter. Because I know who My Jesus is, and no one can take that away from me. 

My Jesus doesn't leave me alone. He's always around. Sometimes it feels like He's not as close, but that's usually my fault. One of the things I love about my Jesus is He is unfailingly trustworthy and reliable. Like a big brother that people only dream about, He has fought for me, and continues to fight for me. His love is unending, and His light and truth are the only things in this world that do not falter. The forgiveness He so desires to bestow upon the world is readily available. Above all these, my favorite thing about my Jesus is His peace. When the world around me is falling apart, and everywhere is darkness, tragedy, and sin, the very moment I ask for him to send his peace, it envelopes me. It almost creates this shield around me, where the bad stuff can't get through. And in this world so full of hate and destruction, I cling to that peace like a lifeline. It's so real, and so comforting, and so full of His presence. My Jesus will never leave me alone.

If my Jesus is the wrong Jesus to believe in, then I don't want to be right.