Category Archives: funny

Pirate Jesus

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It’s a double edged sword this Christian belief in the incarnation (that God became human in Jesus) because in one sense it takes this massive concept of GOD and gives  him a family, a city, a time and place, it puts dirt under his nails, and even gives him a Jewish name. God becomes very local, knowable, and somewhat specific. He is Jesus. In another sense, though, the incarnation allows us to understand God as one of us. We learn that God isn’t particularly Jewish as much as he is knowable, that God desires to be known by his creation and to be forever and intimately associated with his creation. So we often visualize Jesus as looking like us…and that’s not wholly bad because incarnation demands localization.

but.

We’ve gotten weird about it haven’t we? We’ve created all these Jesus’s that are caricatures of Jesus and we’ve duped ourselves into thinking and believing that it’s “the right Jesus”.

  • Spooky Jesus is the one with the creepy halo who looks a little alien-like. He usually glows…which is kind of cool.
  • Bearded-lady Jesus is usually overly feminine and very very pasty white.
  • Little baby Jesus is usually worshiped at Christmas time or while watching Talladega Nights. This Jesus never pooped his diapers, didn’t cry (isn’t that what Away in a Manger teaches us?), and usually makes us feel nice.
  • Jesus is my boyfriend is the one that churches like to sing about and the one that Southpark likes to make fun of. This is the Jesus typified by worship songs that are actually love songs to girls with Jesus’ name inserted in.
  • Jesus as the celebrity rockstar doesn’t accomplish much and doesn’t necessarily know what he’s doing but he sure does sing well…think Jesus Christ Superstar.
  • Ultimate Fighting Jesus is the new cool Jesus where he likes to punch people, shoot guns, and hates gay people and women. I think that many rockstar pastors these days like this Jesus ’cause it justifies their own baggage and underlying hate of people who are different from them.*

It’s a little funny what we’ve done to Jesus. It’s a little scary too ’cause in many ways these depictions of Jesus have bastardized something pretty cool: that we can know God.

Anyway, I like the rockstar Jesus ’cause he’s aloof and fun…I’m aloof and fun and I like my Jesuses to look like me.

I wish I could love Pirate Jesus but, alas, even though I’ve got piratey earrings now there’s just something about Jesus with an eye patch that weirds me out. It’s like if Superman had a goatee.

 

* Thanks to Alan and Debra HIrsch for their valuable and fun chapter about Jesus in their book Untamed where I borrowed some of these descriptions.

Thanks Amy!

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A friend sent this to me via Facebook and it made me very happy.

Thought your sense of humor might appreciate this: We were in Nairobi this week and one day our taxi passed a children’s cancer hospital. Next to the road, on a little sign with a picture of a person crossing the street, were the words, 
“Slow
Children
Dying”

Offensive? Maybe. Funny? Yes. Awesome? Yes.

You can follow Amy and Robin via their blog at http://amyrob.wordpress.com/

Lego Clubs and Makin' Some Dough

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Jones and his friend have created a Lego club which includes a plan to raise money to buy more Legos by selling the Legos they already have. If you’re interested in purchasing some Legos you may want to visit their website here: http://legokids.weebly.com/

As a word of caution, Jones may have decided to sell some of his Lego sets for upwards of six cents…and ninety-nine dollars. As another word of caution, Jones’ parents do not intend to let him actually sell the Legos that we’ve taken out second mortgage for in order to afford (seriously have you priced Legos?! Jeepers!) I also have observed a potential flaw in his business model which is that he’s willing to give you the money you need to buy his Legos (its not a loan, its a freewill offering).

I remember being in clubs as a kid. My sister Tara and I had a sword fighting club once. My sister Jen and I had a club called the Doggie Dudes and Dudettes once too. Jessica and I form clubs all the time…as a matter of fact last week we formed a playdough club. It was pretty awesome.*

Clubs are pretty awesome…but selling the Legos your parents bought you for Christmas…priceless…well…unless you put a price of six cents on it like my son did. Ouch.

 

* This may or may not be based in reality…it could be a lie, but I’m not quite sure at this moment in time. I’ll let you know once I talk with my wife.

My Wife Just Can't Understand

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My wife just can’t understand what it’s like to go through what I’m going through. She can’t understand what it’s like to have all the extra hormones that I had to deal with while I was hopped up on steroids for six months. Crying at a moments notice, being moody, irrational, and generally having a different emotional disposition are all things that she just can’t understand.

Try as she may my beautiful wife who is chronically thin has no idea what its like to pour on thirty pounds in just a few months. Even worse, knowing that the extra pounds are not permanent keeps one from justifying purchasing more clothes to cover the new girth. She just absolutely doesn’t get it! She can’t imagine how awkward it is to need to use a rubber band to hold my pants together ’cause the button won’t reach the buttonhole.

She’s never had something foreign growing inside her, sucking her life’s energy and strength to feed its own growth. It’s as if I have a parasite living in my back…but its not a parasite, it’s a tumor. There’s no way she can comprehend the loss of control one feels with something like that being inside of you, one with you, and yet completely foreign. She just can’t get it.

Jess doesn’t know what its like to be nauseous day in and out, for food to not sound good for months at a time, and to be stuck on your back all day every day. She doesn’t understand how boring it is to be on bed rest, to not feel good enough to read, and yet to realize that there truly isn’t anything good to watch on TV. Nope, she doesn’t get it.

I keenly remember when I was at the hospital the transition that happened as I lost any need for privacy. So many doctors and nurses had looked at my body, poked and prodded it, that I lost any sense that there was anything to hide. Jess can’t understand that. She can’t understand what its like to be exposed so many times and so regularly that you forget you might have anything to be ashamed of.

Jess can’t understand how taxing it is to have to go to the doctor all the time, to feel like you’ve got a chain connecting you with your doctor ’cause you aint ever going to get to far from ’em. No way, no how she understands that frustration.

Speaking of frustration!!! She has absolutely no way to understand how annoying it is to have to pee constantly! I swear I’m like an eighty year old man (my apologies to any eighty year old men I just offended)! I pee every five minutes…and there’s no way my wife gets that. She can’t understand what that’s like for sure. And it’s not just pee either, no way she understands what severe constipation feels like. It is a miserable feeling that she just can’t sympathize with.

Thank God I got a vasectomy last year.

I see…

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I’m sitting here in a cafe and I’m fascinated by the things I see.

I see a beautiful woman with dreadlocks, brown sweater, and a hoop through her nose.

I see a comfy chair made out of burlap sacks.

I see a man with three coffee drinks in front of him.

I see a man wearing a jacket that’s too short.

I see a man wearing socks with sandals.

I see Don Cheadle

I see a window filled with pastries of the most delicious kind.

I see mocha pots suspended from the ceiling.

I see nine iPhones.

I see a booger suspended from a woman’s nose only a few feet away.

I see biscotti.

I see a lambswool vest.

I see a man with feet as big as my chest…no joke.

I see beards.

I see plaid.

I see a blog post that is slightly random, potentially boring, and partially filled with half-truths. (if you also see this please keep it to yourself!)