Jesus-Lovers, WTF?

On the way to score my morning hit of caffeine (alright, my second), I passed a gloriously dilapidated old church, all crumbing brick and broken stained glass and water-stained, graffitied plywood. A middle-aged man was out front raking yellow leaves into neat little piles. As I passed he smiled, revealing a  gap where his top front teeth ought to be, and said, “Jesus loves you! Have a blessed day!”

My first thought: Jesus doesn’t even know me.

Then: How would that guy possibly know what Jesus does and does not love? 

Then: Does Jesus—I mean post-ressurection Jesus—love the Jews?*

And: How real was Jesus, exactly?

And: What happened to that guy's teeth?

Then, finally, as the layers of cynicism and ADD flaked away, I thought: Suppose Jesus is real, did get all resurrected and stuff, does magically know me, and really does love me—that would feel pretty great.

Christians, you no longer seem quite as insane as you did earlier this morning.

*I’m not Jewish—but some of my best friends are. Love me, love my best friends. 

Photo courtesy alexander, morgueFile