I know the story. You were far from God. You lived a life that probably acknowledged his existence, but weren’t devout. Then, you saw his face somewhere unusual. For a lady in Ohio, it was on a pistachio. For others it has been on potato chips, on a sidewalk, or even in the smoke rising from the 9/11 attacks. And ever since the day that Jesus showed himself to you, you’ve felt more intimate with him.
You pray more, but to whom? To the God of the Bible, or the god of your pistachio? To the Triune God, or to an image?
And then, in your excitement, you feel the need to share the story, so you call the news. They come and do a story on you and you look crazier than the people who took a ride on the spaceship. I’m not calling you ignorant or simple, I’m just saying that’s typically how you come across when the news stations pick up the story.
What was the mystery of Christ, the hope of salvation, has become a joke to tell. Non-believers can’t take the important things seriously – the original Adam, the virgin birth, the substitutionary atonement, the resurrection – because we proclaim his message through yummy goodness.
They’re making fun of you.
The dude in Glee saw his face on a grilled cheese sandwich… and then prayed to it that he would become the starter on the football team and that his girlfriend would let him get to second base.
Can we please get back to real Christianity?
[For a more Catholic reading of this post, feel free to substitute any mention of Jesus with that of Mary. You’re welcome.]