following a false jesus

I recently came to the shocking discovery that I've been following a false Jesus.

It was in the car a couple weeks ago, as I was driving home from work. It had been another long day on the job during a rough week, and I was worn out from it all. I was praying with that fearsome anger of someone who has been wronged, praying for justice.

I had every reason to want justice. My employers are notorious cheapskates who don't pay their employees well, who don't hire enough people and then expect the workers they do have to work doubly hard, without overtime compensation, to get the job done.

I had missed seeing my girls all day -- again.

I had missed reading them stories, praying with them, and tucking them into bed -- again.

I had failed to be there for my wife when the day grew long and tensions wore on her nerves -- again.

I had suffered one loss after another, and endured one abuse after another, for a job I hated with employers who couldn't care less whether they drained dry the people who were earning them their fortunes.

I wanted God to show them what they were doing, not just to me but to a dozen other people I knew. I wanted God to show my employers that they were making themselves rich at our expense, and I wanted them to know what Scripture warned about people who hoard wealth and deny workers their wages.

I was getting positively excited at the thought of their comeuppance, and was ready to dance with glee on the rubble when suddenly it hit me: I knew exactly what Simon had expected when he became Jesus' disciple.

Although he's often overlooked because of that other Simon in the gospels, Simon the Zealot is an important figure for us to remember. As a Zealot, Simon was looking for a Messiah who was going to come lift up downtrodden Israel and throw mighty Rome down to the ground. He was going to right all the wrongs, punish the wicked and shake all the Roman sympathizers right out of the house.

To Simon, in love with his liberating and conquering Messiah, the Suffering Servant embodied by Jesus must have seemed practically heretical. If it weren't for the miracles, it's possible Simon wouldn't have given Jesus a chance.
But Simon did give Jesus a chance, and over the three years Simon was a disciple, he became acquainted with the Cross. He got to understand that the way Jesus showed us isn't about hungering for revenge, even when we call it justice. Over those three years, Jesus told Simon to turn the other cheek and not to resist an evil person. And while Jesus did urge the well-to-do to assume their obligation for the poor, he saved his harshest words for religious hypocrites and always led by example.

Simon eventually got the idea of the Cross -- that we're supposed to see people made in the image of God, not enemies. After all, one of the other disciples was Levi, a Jew who worked as a tax collector for the Roman occupiers and made himself rich in the process. I'm sure the two had their more awkward moments during Jesus' ministry, but eventually Levi, who wrote the gospel of Matthew, joined Simon the Zealot in a martyr's death.

For my part, I went back to the Cross and asked forgiveness for straying -- again. After all, this isn't the first false Jesus whom I've let lead me astray. There's been the false Jesus who got me to look down on unbelievers, and there was his brother, the false Jesus who got to look down at other believers and revile them as non-Christians or as worldly. Other false Jesuses have taught me to think that if I follow Christ's commands that I'll be rewarded with wealth, with happiness or some other fleeting blessing, when Christ actually promises the exact opposite. Some have got me to attempt great things for the god who lies within me and who is always trying to divert my attention from the God I swore to serve.

One thing is always the same. Whether it's the false Jesus Simon served, the false Jesus Matthew served, the one Peter served, or some other false Jesus, he always takes my eyes off the Cross.

The Cross is where I belong. That's my sin dies and my spirit soars to life again. It's where my faith the size of a mustard seed can see impossible things happen, and it's where I find communion not just with Christ, but with all sorts of other people who, just like me, don't get it -- except for those brief shining moments when we're touched by grace and the lights come on.

If you've been following a false Jesus too -- and you know you have -- then come join me at the Cross. Because that's the other thing about the Cross -- it's where our false Jesuses are put to death, and we get to see the real one instead.