If Jesus wasn’t an American, we wouldn’t have to sing the same songs translated into every language in the world from our centuries old leaders. We could sing songs in minor key, or chant, or simply stare into the sky.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, we wouldn’t have to weekly visit a dingy building lined with wooden beams to sit on, or perfectly symmetrical and evenly spaced chairs facing the lecturer and be expected to just sit and listen for fifty minutes. We could walk on the shore of a lake, ride a boat, sit under a tree or lay in the grass and just talk with our Daddy any day.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, we wouldn’t have to have a hierarchical leadership structure with clearly defined roles where I am on the bottom and some guy we only see once a week is the unquestionable supreme authority in all matters. We could just be friends and not worry about trying to climb a ladder of success and control.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, we wouldn’t have to develop a legal structure and a systematic belief plan to explain grace and mercy. We could just love.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, we wouldn’t need a 501(c)3 non-profit status in order to identify ourselves as his followers and accept tax deductable donations. We could have our identity in emulating our Master.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, I wouldn’t have to wear a suit. My barong would be acceptable, or my African robes, or even my t-shirt.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, my salvation wouldn’t be centered on me and my decision on that specific day, but on my love for the community as I demonstrate His Kingdom.
If Jesus wasn’t an American we wouldn’t have to define our relationship with a contract, signed in triplicate. Because we’re friends.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, I could talk about my spiritual life with my sister at the church which has a cross with the flame as their logo, or my uncle who is a member at the pointy cross church, or my niece who goes to that weird cross with a bird church. We have such awkward holidays together.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, I wouldn’t even have a spiritual life and secular life. I could just be me, whole and complete, all the time.
If Jesus wasn’t an American, I wouldn’t have to define my maturity in terms of nickels and noses, nor the number of hours I pray or parse Greek words. I would just know He loves me, because he volunteered to die for me.
If Jesus wasn’t an American. . .
“I will build my church”
-Jesus (Matthew 16:18)
