Being Jesus

There is a guy in his early 20's who comes to my church every now and then.

I don't know how to describe him, really, other than to say that one glimpse makes want to gather my children around me and hide them under my wings like a hen.

He is weird in the creepiest way possible. One time I saw him at the public library in
women's clothing with a floral wreath on his head. Weird. And creepy.

Consistently, when J shows up there is one faithful couple

who do their best to make him feel loved, and special.

I've watched them love him for about 4 years and I know they have him over sometimes too.

It's not just a Sunday kind of religion for these two.

Like my friends Jesus involved Himself in the messiest of lives. A prostitute,

murderer, thief, shacked up honey, corrupt tax collector.

J was there today. He sat right in front of me providing me with blogging material. I
was just as creeped out and my friends were just as kind.

In fact, J sat right between them.

During the fellowship time I shook J's hand and GULP gave him a hug. He seemed a bit taken aback but in that surprised, shy way.

My friends are showing me how to be Jesus too.