We’d finished walking the Mall. My stomach growled. Ernie moved toward a bench and sat down. I wanted to move toward the food court.
That’s when Ernie asked, “What sort of Jesus do you believe in?”
“What are you asking me?” I moved to the bench and sat beside Ernie.
“Well if Jesus asked, ‘Can you help me out?’ would you?”
“Because Jesus asked.”
“So if Jesus said, ‘Please, I need your help, then you’d immediately say, ‘sure?’”
“I think so, yeah.”
Ernie glanced my way and pressed another question. “Alright so if Jesus asked, ‘Do you need my help’ what would you say?”
“On whether I think I need his help.”
“Well … meaning I think some things I think I can decide and do on my own.”
“Make a decision about what I am going to eat?”
“So you would tell Jesus you didn’t need his help in choosing what to eat?”
Ernie nodded. I felt unsure.
I asked, “Where are you going with this? What are you trying to get to? What are you thinking about? Why are you asking me this stuff?”
“I’m wondering,” Ernie said, if the sort of Jesus I believe in is just a genie. Rub his belly and get three wishes. Or the Jesus I believe in is simply a good fairy who sprinkles magic moon dust on my mess and it goes away.”
“What sort of Jesus do I believe in? What sort of Jesus should I believe in?”
I offered, “A Jesus that’s more than a genie or good fairy.”
“What would that look like?” I asked.
Ernie took a moment and then said, “Intimacy. It would look like intimacy. Because Jesus would be my friend. Jesus would be my companion. Jesus would be my lover.”
“Oh … OK.”
Ernie looked at me and asked, “Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?”
Crowder “Come as You Are”
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