I spent the better part of an hour last weekend looking for Jesus. I knew he had to be around, because I found his parents Mary and Joseph sitting close by. I called my sister since it was her storage shed and said, “Hey I’m looking for Jesus and he is nowhere to be found.”
She told me to keep looking, “I know he’s there because I’ve seen him.” So, I hung up the phone and continued my search because seeing is believing. Sure enough, after rifling through several boxes of Christmas ornaments and holiday decor, there he was sitting quietly in the bottom of a cardboard box wrapped in a swaddling plastic blanket. I sent my sister a text stating. “I found Jesus! Seek and ye shall find.” I know, pretty corny, but I couldn’t resist.
After finding Jesus, I placed him back with his adoring parents. All I had left to do was to be sure their bulbs worked so the trio could light up the sky and spread Christmas joy from my front yard.
Wiping the dust off my plastic baby Jesus, it dawned on me that I have been searching for this dude most of my life. I found it a bit funny, and even awkward, that this plastic mold of a baby represents the source of my hope in life.
I became a Christian in college, September 11th, 1982, to be exact. Got baptized shortly thereafter. It was my third time taking the spiritual plunge. I guess the first two didn’t stick. Maybe I was ready for number three, and I understood what it meant. Much like Forrest Gump when asked by Lieutenant Dan if he had found Jesus yet, Forrest replied. “I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for him.”
All I know for certain is that my life changed that night. I found clarity on right and wrong like never before. Every decision from that day forward has been inspired from that honest moment of surrender. Since then, I have tried to do the right thing, but doing the right thing is not always easy or obvious. I have made my share of wrong turns …. and will make a few more. There is so much about life that I will never understand, but that’s OK because it’s not for me to figure out.
I will tell you however when I do get to heaven, I do have a bone or two to pick with my plastic Jesus. Many prayers that I have prayed have gone unanswered, thus making no sense to me. I know Garth Brooks had a song out many years ago saying he thanked God for unanswered prayers, well maybe on a few, but there are several I really wished he would have answered. Maybe he did give me an answer, and I have not seen it yet.
Telling somebody that God has a plan or purpose when they are struggling through a heartbreak is the last thing they want to hear. It’s hard to talk about eternity when you can only see about five feet in front of you.
I have asked God to protect to heal and sometimes he doesn’t do it, but that does not stop me from asking again. I mean, where else am I gonna go?
I have learned in my old age that when I do talk to Jesus, there are fewer and fewer things I ask for. At my age, good health, my dog Cash, a full tank of gas, and a happy family are about the extent of my request.
I don’t know much about Jesus, but what I do know is this. All of our conversations with him are different because we all have different needs and he can cover all the bases.
Watching game seven of the World Series last week between the L.A. Dodgers and the Toronto Blue Jays, the camera scanned the crowd showing people praying for their team to win. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but which team wins the World Series is probably not a top priority on God’s list. I have a hard time believing God would answer a prayer like that and not someone’s prayer to be healed from disease.
So yes, I found Jesus again, almost forty-five years from the first we met. This time he was lying on the bottom of a cardboard box under ribbons and a Christmas wreath, waiting patiently for me to show back up – and I was glad to see him.
***
Todd Howey is a columnist for BrownwoodNews.com whose articles appear on Fridays. Email comments to [email protected].