Jesus is my Facebook friend

I.

Dear Jesus,

Will You please accept my friend request?

Love,

Lina

II.

Dear Lina,

Will you please accept mine?

Love,

Jesus

III.

I have a(nother) confession:

I don’t love Jesus.

I don’t love Him the way I love Mike Fox.
I don’t love Him the way I love the sound of children’s laughter.
I don’t love Him the way I love (macaroni and) CHEESE.
I don’t love Him the way I love sunshine and green grass and a cloudless blue sky.
I don’t love Him the way I love America, especially during the Olympics.
I don’t love Him the way I love libraries.
I don’t love Him the way I love the idea of starting a family with Mike.

I could go on for days about all of the things I love (seriously—days) but when it comes to Jesus, I could talk about Him for an hour at most. And I wouldn’t even be talking about Him—I would be talking about things He has done for me and how He has changed my life, [insert most of the right things to say]; unfortunately, I usually spend more time talking about my experiences vs. Jesus. I am embarrassed to admit this but I know it’s true because I have friends who don’t know Him who ask me about Him. I stumble through the highlights of His life like I’m running through a mental outline of everything I’ve ever learned in Christian school or absorbed through osmosis as a pastor’s kid. I try to sound sincere about how much I love Him but I know it sounds

E          m          p          t          y

or sort of made-up and pieced together from books and blogs and journal entries and sometimes the bible (sans scripture references because I haven't memorized one in years).  And afterwards I run through the conversation again and again and beat myself up about the talking points I should’ve included or how I should’ve mentioned that time Jesus saved me from the pervy old man because the story is so ridiculous it proves (without a doubt in my mind) that Jesus is real and that He cares; otherwise He wouldn’t have saved me.

I try to sell Jesus even though He doesn't need to be sold. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about why I break into a cold sweat when I try to introduce my friends to Jesus. I  can talk to you about gravity and photosynthesis (loosely, with some made-up words and a crude drawing) so why not Jesus?

And then it clicked (loudly):

I don’t really know what I’m talking about.

And then it clicked for me again (just as loudly):

Jesus is my Facebook friend (and not much more).

I know all of the important details and check in often enough to stay in touch but I don’t make the effort to spend time with Him. [Sometimes I send Him flair to change up the routine.]

Saying it aloud hurts:

I don’t know Jesus.

I can barely whisper this but when I say it in my head, it echoes and echoes until it gets swallowed up by the damp stickiness of my head-space:

[I don’t love Him.]

I don’t know Him well enough to love Him.

IV.

I have decided that I want to be more than Facebook friends with Jesus.  I want to meet Him and get to know Him because

I want to fall in love with Him.

I don't want to just get by on memories or the relationship I used to have with Him; I don't want to force Him to accept the shadow of the girl I once was. 

I want to say

I          love          You

and mean it (for real).

I want to tell my future-babies, my co-workers, my neighbors, my family members, my friends who don’t know Him and anyone else God sends my way about my real friend, Jesus; the Jesus of my grown-up-life, beyond the flannel-board, lamb-carrying bearded Jesus of my childhood. I loved Him then.


I want to love Him—know Him—now.