I was sitting in my office yesterday considering something (that I’ll spew into a text box tomorrow) when the following thought flitted through my spirit,

You so want to be led by a pillar of fire but you’re unwilling to go to the desert to find it.

I’m not sure if that’s a singular or plural “you,” but suspect it’s both.

It scared me just a little.

Matthew 5:40//And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.

Sunday afternoon some friends at church met a nice man named Fred when he stole some stuff from them.

Husband noticed someone rummaging in the back of John and De’Reen’s van after church on Sunday. The guy took off on a bicycle. Husband followed him for a bit, but couldn’t get him to stop and talk to him. Obviously.

De’Reen got in her van and found nothing missing except two canvass shopping bags. Their contents were dumped out, and just the bags were missing. So she got in the van and went to find the guy, which she did, shortly.

She met him under a couple trees where he was busy rearranging his things between bags to make use of his new ones.

De’Reen asked the man if he’d taken the bags from her car.

He sheepishly admitted that he had.

She asked if he’d taken anything else.

He said he had not.

She asked if he needed more bags.

He didn’t say anything for a minute.

I wasn’t present for the conversation, so I won’t attempt to reconstruct it. She asked if there was anything else he needed – bags, food, etc. He was astonished that she would offer, and swore he’d never done anything like this before. De’Reen told him it was forgiven, and asked again if there was anything he needed.

He took some of the groceries she had from the church’s food pantry, and told him he could come back next Sunday if he needed more. She asked him his name.

“Fred.”

“Fred,” she answered, “I’m De’Reen.”

“Why would you tell me your name?”

She assured him that no one was mad at him, and he would be more than welcome next Sunday. Husband caught up with him later and gave him his pocket knife and a flashlight. Fred nearly cried.

When Jesus says weird things like, “Give to those who would sue you and take away your things,” or “When someone attacks you, don’t fight back,” we think it’s really difficult. Or crazy. Or unsafe.

I think Jesus sees people differently than we do.

We assume that if we turn the other cheek, it will get hit too. That if we offer more than someone tries to steal, they’ll take it all. That if we go the extra mile, they’ll take advantage of us.

And maybe a few will. But maybe others are just really down on their luck. Maybe others don’t know how else to respond to a situation but with violence. And maybe when they see a that someone is willing to help, or is willing to show them a better way, their hearts will change. Maybe they won’t take advantage.

Maybe they’ll just cry a little and say Thank you.

I have stumbled upon a strategy for reading scripture that will breathe new life into your quiet time, deepen the roots of your relationship with Christ, and quite possibly revolutionize much of your theology.

I’m not entirely kidding.

Next time you’re in the gospels, try this. When you’re reading what Jesus was speaking, smile.

Smile.

Or – at least – picture Him smiling while He’s saying it.

Stay with me for just a minute, here.

I think
that we think
that Jesus was unhappy
more often than He really was while He was here.

It kind of fits with our general understanding of God. Even those of us who go to passionate, Spirit-filled, Bible-preaching, authentic (or any combination of the above) churches. Even those of us who have great pastors and good worship music.

If you do a Google image search for Jesus, the only picture you will find of Him smiling are the Buddy Christ statue from Dogma.

I won’t go into all the reasons why, but I think we paint a sadder, more serious, more disappointed Jesus than really walked the earth. And it bleeds into how we read scripture.

But, if you allow yourself to believe that Jesus was doing what He loved doing, with people He loves, for a Father He loves – you might be able to imagine Him smiling and it will change your Bible right before your eyes.

Example.

There is a wedding in Cana. Jesus is there with Mary and the first few of His disciples. The hosts run out of wine. Mary happens to mention the fact to Jesus. What is His response? “Woman … “ And yet, Mary goes to prepare the servants to receive what she knew was about to happen.

Read it once like most of us do. Like Jesus is irritated with her trite request and can’t be bothered with such foolishness. “Woman, what has your concern to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.” It’s almost snooty. And – though I have heard sermons on asking in faith, etc. – it doesn’t really make sense with what He does next.

Now read it and pretend He’s smiling. Like He loves the fact that Mary knows full well what He’s capable of. Like He knows He’s about to do a secret little miracle that will blow His disciples’ minds, and that – just for kicks – He’s going to use the water that the religious people use for ritualistically washing their hands before they eat. “Woman, what has your concern to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.” It’s almost playful. It’s almost like He’s about to pull a supernatural prank and it’s an inside joke for now.

And the examples are endless.

There are exceptions, of course, but they’re fewer than you might assume. If your mental image of Jesus smiling while He’s speaking makes Him look like a crazed lunatic, ditch it. Driving the money changers out of the temple, for example. Probably not smiling that time.

Try it.