Jesus is like that guy at work who's friendly and pleasant to be around, but you don't really know what he does, and he keeps on getting promoted. When there's a screw-up, somehow he's never involved but he arrives a few minutes afterwards with a few pats on the back and consoling words. "There, there. We'll get another client."
Everyone brightens in his presence and forgets about their problems for a moment, and you do too, but there's this tingly feeling in the back of your head and makes you think, "Wait a minute. Wasn't Mertzsky Jesus's client?"
Or people say things like, "I have a potato. Thanks Jesus!" But no one ever stubs his or her toe and says, "Ouch! Damn it, Jesus, what the hell is your problem?"
There are plenty of bumper stickers printed with "Jesus Loves" or "Jesus Saves." What about, "Hey, Jesus. What's up with that Packers game last week?"
I'm all for being saved, but I want the whole package. That includes not leaving my house. It seems like all the people being saved by Jesus are the ones that have to do the leg work. Jesus, I'm so lazy that I'll go out in cold weather in a T-shirt and thin jacket so I don't have to remove as many layers when I get back inside. You want to save me, start by turning off my snooze alarm. The snooze button is like a rectangular Satan. Turn it into a duck or something. Then, after lunch, and a hot cocoa, we'll talk.
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