I carried Jesus all day in downtown Minneapolis. He wasn’t heavy, but he would not fit in a bag or a backpack, so all day he was in my arms. Although some people smiled and even chuckled, many people crossed the street clearly hoping to avoid one or both of us. By the end of the day I was tired of carrying him, wishing for someone else to take a turn. It was a long walk to the light rail and I was bit overwhelmed with the attention as I climbed on the train.
It was rush hour and there was barely standing room, but people took one look at Jesus and gave me more space than we needed. No one said a word. The uncomfortable silence deepened and then a woman stepped into the car, “Oh, you have Jesus! Can I hold him?”
I handed him over and she hugged and held him, as tears ran rivers down her face. When her stop came, she gave Jesus back to me, “Thank you,” was all she said.
I first heard about this Jesus years before, through a seminary student who I was mentoring. We spent a lot of time talking about Jesus because she had grown up without him or the church, “I don’t feel like I know Jesus, we don’t have a relationship. Do you think I need to know Jesus to be a pastor? It feels like I have so much catching up to do.”
I did not feel like I was very useful or helpful to her. But then one day, she called, full of joy, “I found Jesus! I talk to him every day and hold him every night. We are getting to know each other. I found him online. He is amazing.”
I asked for more detail. “He is a doll, a cloth doll and he is beautiful.”
The stories about her Jesus doll kept coming, but I never saw him until that day in Minneapolis, at a preaching conference. He was perched on a table, as if waiting for me to find him. His long brown hair, brown skin, brown eyes, simple tunic, coat, and sandals said “Jesus” loud and clear. He was made of durable cotton cloth, standing with help at about two and half feet.
Picture a Raggedy Andy. Of course, I bought him in the morning, sat with him through all the worship and preaching, all the visiting and eating, a constant companion.
Once I took him with me to an elder community to visit a woman with some form of dementia. Other times it had been hard to visit. She was restless and even combative, but this time she had eyes only for Jesus, “Give me Jesus,” as she reached out to take him from me. “There, there, everything will be all right,” as she nestled him to her chest, stroking his hair, caressing his face.
“Come sit with us,” she motioned to me, “help me sing to him.”
What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear… Her voice stronger than mine, what a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer! Oh what peace we often forfeit, oh what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.
“Will you take him home now? He needs to go home.” She kissed him and handed him back to me. We had all been trying so hard to care for her, but what she really wanted was to care for someone else.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This week our contributor is Reverend Beth Benson of the First Congregational Church – UCC in Grand Marais.
Leave a Reply