He’s gentle and fierce. He’s kingly and compassionate. He speaks with love to outcasts and those the world rejects. He’s not especially attractive, but He calls folks to follow Him: hardened fishermen, criminals, prostitutes, noblemen, rich and poor and they leave everything for Him. He speaks in front of governors and beggars: and they don’t know what to make of Him. He talks in riddles so that people won’t understand.
Night and day, people press Him to give them things: food, healing, salvation, a place in heaven. But despite this, He doesn’t turn them away. He has time for them, even when He’s knackered. Even on the cross He’s thinking of others – gasping and bleeding and He reassures the criminal beside Him that He’ll go to heaven.
He loves us so much He faces hell for us. He loves us so much He’s born as a child, into the universe that He created. When his friends betray Him, He is gentle with them. He looks at a woman and tells her everything she ever said or did.
He’s afraid, sometimes. He cries. He despairs. He gets angry. He’s more passionate than we are; and not less. He loves His followers and He shares their lives and their bread. He’s patient with them when they get things wrong. He gives them second chances, and third and fourth and…He comes back from the dead and then cooks them breakfast.
He’s a lion and He’s a lamb. He’s a door, a shepherd, a vine. He’s bread and He’s water. He splits families up – and He puts them together. He’s a good man to have at a wedding: and the first to weep at a funeral. He confronts politicians, but He’s not political. He has authority over heaven and earth, but little kids feel at home with Him.
He’s real, but I can’t see Him. He’s loving, but He’s not soft. He’s God, but He’s also man. He’s lord of all, but He’s the servant of many. He’s mine – but He’s yours as well.