If Jesus were alive today, would He even like me?

And would I even recognize Him?

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

There was a song by Joan Osborne that was popular back in the ’90s. It asked the question — what if God was one of us?

It’s a great question. It’s one worth asking.

What if I met God while I was out walking tomorrow? Or picking up oranges at the store?

What if He wasn’t wearing a mask? Would I chide Him?

What if He caught me rolling my eyes at the mother whose child was creating a mess in Aisle 3?

Would He dislike me?

I mean, I know He’d love me. He sorta has to, right? But that doesn’t mean He would like me.

And it would really hurt if He didn’t. Because I really want Him to like me.

For me, it’s not about the Bible and the saints and all the prophets, like it says in the song. I mean, sure, that stuff is important. But what is the most important thing to me — if I met Him on the street, or in a store, or at the park — I want him to see me as someone He might invite to join one of those parties He had with Mary and her sister Martha. I want to be one of the ones to sit at His feet and learn from Him. I want to make Him something He’d like — a loaf of bread or a soft, warm scarf or some beautiful work of art.

I suppose, in a sense, I am that work of art.

Every action I take, every thought I have — those are part of the sculpture I create of my life. And someday He’ll see it. Will He like it?

I hope so. I have nothing else to offer Him.