Jesus didn't say nice things.

The Narrow Gate and the Wild God

Jesus doesn’t say nice things.
Though we think he should.
He is not the God of perms
and white flowing tunics,
spotless with no creases or dirt.
His feet were caked in mud.
He had no time for wardrobe changes.
He didn’t care to impress us.

He is not safe, not even close.
Not if you want to keep your life.
Not if you want to keep your kin.
Not if you want to keep your idols.

He tells us to tear out our eyes.
Love our enemies.
Rejoice in rejection.
Forgive without end.
It all sounds a bit irrational.
They are threats against our ego.
They are wild flames,
waiting to burn down
our poor excuses
and fake shelters.

Jesus is not worried about offending us.
It does not keep him up at night.

The Prince of Peace is not what you think.
He did not come to bring harmony.
He came to wield a sharp sword.
Cutting our flesh.
Dividing between the true and the false.
This is how real peace comes.
Not from nice sayings.
But surgery. 
From truth.

Jesus is a threat to the world.
A threat to our American dream.
He tells us to pick up our cross.
That the real winners are the losers.
That self-preservation is suicide. 
That real joy doesn't come cheap.

There are two roads.
One has a wide gate.
It is an easy path.
Soft on your foot.
There is always a line to get in.
People go down in droves.
It has AC, and people smile a lot.
It’s fun, friendly and free.
You will even see good church folk on it.
But don't be fooled.
He says it leads to death, to hell.

The other is a narrow gate.
So narrow that you can't fit through it.
The only way in is to leave yourself behind.
Few people enter it.
There are no neon-signs on the door
promising your dreams will come true.
The path is hard, filled with rocks.
You will even see great sinners on it.
But don't be fooled.
He says it leads to true life, to Heaven.

He put his money where his mouth was.
Or as they say on the streets:
He smoked what he sold.
He picked up his cross.
He loved his enemies.
He sold his possessions.
He chose the narrow gate.

Maybe we didn't need him to be nice.
We needed him to be honest and close.
We needed him to come and suffer.
To live, die and rise.
We needed him to be God, on his own terms.
And God isn't concerned about being nice.
God is love and love looks like the real Jesus.