A Little Jesus

A Little Jesus

I opened the locker door and there on the shelf stood a little Jesus, or at least a little Jesus figurine. He was immediately recognizable, at least to me. The figurine was cartoonish, but friendly. He stood about an inch tall in a long, white robe and wore a blue sash with the words “Jesus Loves You.” His molded hair was long and brown with a dark beard, eyebrows, beady dots for eyes and a broad smile. I picked the figurine up and put it in my jeans pocket.

            My first thought was, “I wonder if he’s made in China?” My second thought was about the person that left the little figurine in the locker. The message was clear. “Jesus loves you.” Simple. Direct. Over the years, I had encountered these little evangelical messages. Sometimes it was a young person asking me if I knew Jesus. There were times when someone on the street would hand me a tract, a small pamphlet giving a person instructions on how to become a child of Jesus. They might contain bible verses like John 3:16, “For God so loved the world He gave his only begotten Son that all who believe in Him might have eternal life,” or Romans 3:23, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”

            During the years when I did not practice my faith, when I ignored God, it was just as easy to ignore these people who only had my best interests at heart. Jesus Jive is what I used to call it. “Man, I don’t need your Jesus Jive,” I might say. Most of the time, I dismissed them out of hand, discarding the tract or telling them that I knew Jesus, that I was Catholic and had been Catholic my whole life. Sometimes this was enough and other times it sent people off on a rant about the great Satan that was the Catholic church. In any event, I always walked away.

            As the years progressed, these incidents became less frequent or perhaps I just noticed them less. There might be the occasional Jehovah’s witness’ or Seventh Day Adventist’s roaming the neighborhood, knocking on doors. Persistent little buggers, but it was part of their ministry, part of their commitment to their church. I only knew one person who could get the best of a Jehovah’s Witness, my uncle Henry. He simply out talked them and over the course of an hour or so, would have them discussing his favorite subject, trucks.

            This type of evangelization was never effective on me, never got me to the place that they wanted me to consider; that we all need God. I found it intrusive. I had always believed in the phrase “Find a friend. Be a friend. Bring a friend,” a gentler approach to evangelization. That is a little too personal for some people. Most don’t want to jeopardize a friendship by sharing Jesus with somebody who might not be receptive. It is a tenuous balance.

            With age comes wisdom or at least patience. I came to realize that I did need something more in my life. I had gone through a series of crises over many years, struggling with addiction, divorce and more. During those times I called out to God but ignored his counsel because I didn’t know him. (Do you know Jesus?) I couldn’t see him in my life, and I couldn’t hear him. Now, when someone approached me, I listened politely, understanding that they were sincere in their faith. I wanted to understand what made them so faithful to God that they would risk insult and abuse to tell people about Him. I wanted that type of faith, but didn’t know where to start.

            Eventually, with the help of my mother, I made it back to church. Surrounded by a congregation that included the immensely faithful and those on their journey to faith I began to understand the journey. We are not all as acquainted with Jesus as we would like to be. Peter recognized Jesus immediately after the miracle on the Sea of Galilee and begged Jesus to leave him in his sin and James loses his faith after Jesus dies, but Christ had followers who came and went, who were not willing to listen to what he had to say. There was the rich man who Jesus told to sell his belongings or the man who was told to leave his family without burying his father. Neither could bring themselves to make such a sacrifice. Neither wanted to hear what Jesus had to say at that moment. Did they ever come back?

            These days, I share my faith gently. I tell people how blessed I am with work or friends or family. Even my aches and pains are a blessing to me because they keep me humble. So far, no one has removed me from their social media or asked me to stop preaching. When someone shares their faith with me, I might share my faith journey with them. The afternoon I found the figurine, I sent a picture of the little Jesus to a friend of mine and she sent me an online video of a group of the little figurines all standing in a group with the song “Jesus I Love You” playing in the background followed by another video of someone who purchased 50 of the figurines with the intention of handing them out to random people on the street, a simple way of sharing Jesus with strangers. Simple, direct and honestly, a little fun.

The little figurine sits on my desk, arms out and smiling at me. He reminds me that Jesus loves me. I’ve thought about taking him back to the gym and putting him back in that locker for the next person to find, sharing the love, so to speak. After all, everyone needs a little Jesus in their life.