WWJD - nap

"Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ." 1 Corinthians 11:1

It's never not intimidated me when the Bible says I/we gotta imitate Christ. For most of my life, I've understood this as meaning 'be like Jesus' to = 'don't sin, always be the best.'

While not sinning is part of imitating Jesus, it's not all of it. The imitation of Christ is too often equated with attaining for 'perfection.' And our sense of 'perfection' is warped, frankly. Icarus can never make it.

To be blunt: Jesus did not create daily to-do lists, complete with immaculate, color-coded penmanship. He never got into what his Enneagram type could be. He did not wake up at 4AM every day to fit in 90 minutes of cardio and strength training. He probably didn't floss after every meal. He did not show up 10 minutes early to every lesson at synagogue, just to ensure he wasn't late. When he gave a housewarming gift, he may have re-used a gift bag.

He probably let his food ... touch the other food on his plate.

In fact, Jesus:

-took naps on the regular (Mark 4:38)

-enthusiastically ran away when a crowd became too much (Mark 6:31-32)

-got hungry, and then became annoyed when he couldn't find food (Matthew 21:18-19)

-was not at everything other people expected him to attend (John 11:6, John 11:21)

-cried when he was sad (John 11:35)

-showed frustration at religious systems -- and didn't even try to hide it (John 2:13-17)

-every so often resisted his family's pressure on how he should live his life (Mark 3:21,31-35)

It's almost as though Jesus -- in telling his disciples and followers to imitate -- is saying we should copy *all* of his ways in how we live day by day. In the famous words of the penguin skipper from Madagascar when they made it to the beach: "Now THIS is more like it." 

So while we're trying to imitate Jesus and keep from sinning, and in trying to love our neighbors as ourselves, let's not forget about how Jesus didn't always go along with his family's wishes--we may need to imitate that at some point. Or when Jesus cried. Or how Jesus showed some frustration. Or how Jesus took those naps.

hope, and wisdom

When I hear news that hurts, I personally gravitate toward an Irish-influenced disposition (not that any of you asked; I just thought you'd be interested to know). 

By 'Irish disposition', I mean that I dislike any syrupy, tone-deaf optimism response to heartbreaking news ... but on the flip side, I also don't want to project a grim, doom-and-gloom aesthetic onto everything either. 

(I'm not even really sure there's anything strictly Irish about this sort of reaction. It could just be me. It's probably not that important. I digress.)

Two words percolate in my mind and heart when I hear news that hurts, try to take a break from scanning headlines of news that hurts, and try to filter fact from hysteria: 

Hope. And also wisdom.

Every world faith tradition has resources for dealing with suffering and calamity. As a Christian, I'm most familiar with my own faith's resources, so it's fitting to share from within that. 

There's this passage in the New Testament book of Matthew, chapter 2, when an angel visits Joseph & Mary (Jesus' parents) to warn them of danger, and tells them the plan for what they should do. Jesus is a baby at this point. This passage, with its blend of hope and wisdom, has long stuck with me...

".....behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 'Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.' And [Joseph] rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt and remained there until the death of Herod."

The hope the presence of the angel. In Scripture, angels are nothing like the Precious Moments figurines that collect dust on your great aunt's bookshelf, wearing doilies and adorable harps; they are warriors, and look quite alarming. In fact, almost every time an angel meets someone in the Bible, the angel has to say 'Do not be afraid!' Why? Because they look fearfully strong, and genuinely threatening. So if they have your back, you'd feel good about your odds in a tight spot.

And yet, the wisdom -- 'Rise, take your child and his mother, and flee...'  The angel, this warrior, this messenger of God, has just one command:

RUN. 

Hit the road. Get out of here. Flee.

Who cares if the car's all the packed, start the engine! Less chatting, more moving. Hurry, hurry.

There's nothing fancy about these words.

The angel avoids syrupy optimism ... "just believe it'll all work out, and it will!" 

Nor does the angel turn gloomy -- "This sucks, why bother? All is lost..." 

Nor does the angel take a defiant stance ... "I'll never let them get to you!"

It's none of this. The fact that there's something to do invites hope! But there's urgency too. Scripture-infused hope always includes some wise, anchoring roots in this world.

Hope and wisdom, woven together. 

This is where I find my emotions today amidst continual washing ashore of heartbreaking news.

There's hope amidst all this going on. And urgent wisdom to observe in the meantime.

Where does this leave you with whatever you're dealing with? Which do you lean toward carrying with you ... the hope, or the wisdom? The euphoria, or the gloom?

When my feelings start to tank toward doom-and-gloom, I try to remind myself that the angel's words carried hope. When my feelings get euphoric and invincible, I remember the angel, the powerful angel, told them to run.

May we continue in hope. And may we anchor this hope in wisdom.