Unless you live on the moon (or outside of Arkansas, perhaps) you've probably heard about the most recent church leader who went down in flames when a 15 year old kid came forward claiming to have had a sexual rendezvous with the dude. The cops stung him, and he admitted to it. Game over, game over, too cold.This is really no different than any other pastor/kid bullshit scenario you might have heard, except that I went to the church.
It comes like a punch in the gut to me, and to everyone else who went there.
I thought about ignoring it as far as this blog is concerned, cause I just want to get as far away from it as possible, but I just can't. This is the place where I talk about real stuff and this is real stuff. I am not afraid of anything that might come out of this. I believe Jesus brings good through the burning embers of bad.
This obviously doesn't change anything for me. I am still in the exact same place I was at before this happened, and my king is still the one they call Liberator. They guy that once led our small and fickle church is not Jesus, he was never Jesus. He was and is just a dude, like me, and like you. Jesus hasn't changed.
And that's what I really want to make clear to anyone reading this who might think something has changed because of this. To someone who might try to use this as an excuse to slam the door in Jesus' face for good. I understand, I would probably do the same thing, but like I said, a fallen pastor is not Jesus.
Jesus doesn't touch kids inappropriately. Jesus cares about people, not himself. Jesus weeps over things like this. He wept when it happened and he wept when it came out in the newspapers. He weeps all the time.
He's just sitting there, weeping.
It breaks my heart, really. I want to comfort him and let him know that I am never going to leave him. That I'm never going to break his heart like that. I know it doesn't make sense to most people, even most Christians probably. Well I am not a Christian. Christians generally make me want to have nothing to do with them. Christians continuously disappoint me, to be honest. So I don't know what you should call me. Honestly, I'd rather there not be a name for it at all. We don't need a name.
Call us whatever you want. But don't throw us in the pit of lunatics most commonly known to the world as Christians.
I'm sure Muslims don't want to be known as Muslims either, now that I think about it.
If there is an enemy in the world he is not in the gutters, the strip clubs, and the crack houses, he is sitting in the front row at churches and mosques. Looking great. Smiling. Handsome. Knowledgeable in the Bible and the Koran.
Well I reject all of it.
The Jesus I know lives on a mossy rock at the Buffalo River.
He sleeps in a hammock in a tree.
He shows up when the stars come out and the clouds drift over the moon.
And he always has.