Jesus. Savior. Immanuel. God with Us.

Prayers. Tears. Joy. Pain.

Regret. Poverty--Loneliness. Remorse.

A man died on a cross to save you from your sins.

Since I was a boy, I have always known Jesus, or atleast who He was. He died for my sins. His love endures forever. He had a beard. We "Do this" in His memory. As a boy--young man and as a comfortable believer, I always had a percieved closeness with the man I call Savior.

Now, now that I begin to look for myself and ask my own questions and seek out "God's will"...
Now, now that I wonder about and speak of love and justice and true peace...
Now, now that I know life wasn't meant to look like this...
Now, now that I am even aware of another kingdom...

Now, now I pray for visions. I pray that God would give me a dream--a desire--a want--a calling.

Now, now when I begin to wonder for myself who this man is, the man that I have called Savior for 8 years and claimed to follow for 3...
Now, now its seems like I am always a step behind meeting him.

It is like He is leaving me clues here and there for who He is, but we can never meet.
It is as if He is more a memory than a constant.
I don't even know who the man is. Yes, I remember when I knew who He was. Now it is a mystery.

I still believe that Christ died to redeem humanity and reclaim His kingdom.
I just don't know that I can call myself a follower of Christ whenever I don't even know who He is.

I don't know how to be like Him in the least.
I don't know how to pray unselfishly.
I don't know how to lay down my life for my friends.
I don't know how to heal the sick.
I don't know how to provide for orphans and widows.
I don't know how to forgive 7*77 times.
I don't know how to fight against poverty.
I don't know how to heal the nasty scars from years of social injustices.
I don't know how to inspire people to question and to act.
I don't know how to act.
I don't know how to further the kingdom of God.
I don't know how to fight the kingdom of Man in love.
I don't know how to die, that Christ might live in me.
I don't know how to question.
I don't know how to love my neighbor.
I don't know how to love without end.
I don't know how to love.

Its that giant heave that you get in your chest, the kind you get when you are immensly sad or when you know this epic part of a song is coming up. The one that starts in your gut and pushes its way thru your chest till you feel like you are going to explode from the shoulders, and so you let out this loud awkward sigh to aleviate the pressure. And in the middle of a crowded Starbucks after paying $7 (USD), you wonder and pray about being compassionate like Jesus was when He saw the crowds. You think about the kingdom of God as you put the change from the $20--which paid for coffee, atmosphere, and taxes--in your pocket. While sitting alone and drinking the highly priced treat, you muse about stewardship, and what Jesus meant when He commanded the rich man to give everything away to the poor...

They say Christian means little Christ...

How dare I call myself a Christian.