If Jesus had a dog, what kind would he have? It is with no small amount of sheepishness that I will admit it is inane questions such as this that grip me at times. Most often it is in the middle of the night, or at church that such musings are birthed, and despite the lack of intellectual benefit such a query would seem to have, I find myself caught up in the wondering.
You ever feel like you’ve got this Christian walk thing down? You’re coasting along, feeling like you’re doing pretty good when suddenly the Lord throws a celestial banana peel into your path. Then there you are, flailing wildly, and you turf it. Hard. And suddenly you can see that your footing was not nearly as securely planted as you thought. Ouch.
The day I learned that I am not the Messiah was clear and sunny, a rarity for our neck of the woods. I could feel the warmth of the grass as I settled into a spot close to the baptismal. A perfect spot for taking pictures. I was glad I’d remembered to wear my sunglasses as I looked up at the bright sky. My ‘babies’ were about to be baptized. And I had had nothing to do with their decision to do so.
“…I saw that, of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both…” Dr. Henry Jekyll
Most people don’t realize that I have a twin. And much like those beloved villains written into all good soap operas, my twin is pure evil. Over the years my vile nemesis has committed a multitude of sins, all while wearing my face. She has said horrible things about my friends and family. She spews words dripping with poison into others’ ears. In her rages she has screamed vicious things into the faces of my precious children, wounding their tender spirits. She has engaged in activities too shameful to mention, and worse, liked them.