Between Thor and the Holy Ghost
I was baptized, took communion, and once spent a week at a Christian summer camp scheming how to smuggle drinks into the woods after dark. That about sums up my credentials.
Ours was a household that hedged its bets. A little Norse. A little gospel.
The kind of arrangement where Thor and the Holy Ghost might have bumped into each other in the hallway. We went to church when the spirit moved us, which was less often than the spirit probably hoped.
I wouldn't call myself a good Christian by any measure of knowledge. By conduct, I did alright. I tried to treat folks fairly. Tried to tell the truth. Tried to stay loyal to the people who had earned it and to hold out hope that most people, given the chance, would do right. That's about as far as my theology went.
Still, Jesus has a way of turning up. He was on the WWJD bracelets every kid wore in the 2000s. He was in the end-zone prayers of every athlete who scored a touchdown. He was the quiet answer to questions I hadn't thought to ask.
Then, in college, somewhere between a circuits exam and a differential equations final, I signed up for a Bible course as an elective. And wouldn't you know it, met on my own terms, the man and the book turned out to be great company.
Here's what I picked up, and what's stuck with me since.
Jesus was born in a manger to a virgin mother. He lived about thirty-odd years, worked as a carpenter out of Nazareth, gave sight to the blind, and once turned water into wine at a wedding. I feel like everyone knows and loves to lean on this last point.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, buried, and rose on the third day. The rulers of his time wanted him gone. He knew he'd be betrayed and walked straight into it anyway.
He's the reason Judaism and Christianity part ways. One faith sees him as Savior and Son of God, the other does not. And he will, Christians hold, come again to judge the living and the dead.
That's the outline. What I find harder to shake is the shape of the man inside it. Theologians have been brawling for two thousand years over what scripture means, what sect has it right, which translation is closest to the bone.
On one point, though, I've yet to hear a serious disagreement … His teachings orbit a single command: love one another. His words point there. His life pointed there. Whatever else a person believes about the man, that much is built into the foundation.
That's what I know. It isn't much, and I won't pretend otherwise.
Truth is, I wish I knew more. I wish I could tell you how Matthew sees him differently from John, or sort the parables from the history with any real confidence. I wish that when life handed me a hard moment, as it does for all of us, that when the old question “What would Jesus do?” floated to the surface, that I’d have more than a vague outline to work from.
Most days I'm working with a sketch when I could use a map.
But life is what it is. The calendar is full, the to-do list is longer than the day, and I suspect that's true for you too. We're living in a sped-up world. Information moves faster than any of us can keep track of, and while nearly everyone I know says they want to slow down, the how of it tends to slip through our fingers. We mean to. We plan to. Next week, next month, after this one thing settles down. The practice itself rarely arrives.
So I've made peace with something smaller than a grand plan. Show up to church as often as life allows. There's something in that weekly hour the rest of the week can't quite replicate. The singing. The sermon. The familiar faces. The quiet of a room full of people all pointed the same direction. You don't have to have it all figured out to walk in. Nobody there does.
And once a quarter or so, go a little deeper on one book of the Bible. A group is best if you can swing it. Faith was never meant to be a solo sport, and a little social pressure has a way of carrying us further than willpower alone. When life won't cooperate, a Peterson Academy course or a quiet Sunday with the old book does the job just fine.
That's the whole thing. Nothing dramatic. I'm a new parent, and I've learned that grand plans and small children get along about as well as cats and bath water. It’s about small, consistent, honest steps in the right direction. That’s the pace this crazy life will allow.
I was raised with Thor in one room and the Holy Ghost in the other, and I've spent most of my life drifting between them without committing to either. Maybe you have too.
Whatever you believe, or don't, it seems to me the man is worth the trouble of an honest look. The book has been sitting quiet on the shelf, patient as an ol' dog. The door has been open longer than any of us have been alive. You might find, as I did, that Jesus meets a curious soul far gentler than you might expect.