I want to see Jesus.
Not the storybook one in the white robes with the blue eyes,
I want to see the dark-eyed Jesus, brown-skinned and stained.
I want to see Jesus, the man who was God,
the man whose feet were dirty,
whose sweat dripped as he sawed the wood with Joseph,
whose hair fell into his eyes as he bent over his work.
I want to see Jesus whose lean back was muscled from years of hard labor,
whose hands were rough from handling raw timber,
who could have fought the soldiers and won because he was fit and able,
but who didn't because that wasn't the plan.
I want to see Jesus strong, respected by men, honest and capable,
used to negotiating prices, smiling and confident.
I want to see Jesus the man who loved his mother
and followed her instructions even though he wasn't ready.
I want to see Jesus, the man who was God,
when he walked through the crowds who loved him,
disappeared from those who would harm him,
and strode across the water as though it were land.
I want to see Jesus, the man
who gave up his healthy, well-liked, successful life
to become the savior of the world.
I know God--
invincible, maker of heaven and earth, almighty, omnipotent, omniscient, always with us.
I want to know Jesus
who came to earth
just because he loved me.
September 2014