BitterSweetLife

There's an idea loose in the streets that runs as follows: Our lives are such mundane affairs that we have a constant need for excitement. Somehow, we need to add a kick to the bromidic daily prescription. We need variety, flavor, spice. And, since we're spiritual creatures, we need spiritual thrills. Therefore, Jesus should occasionally exert himself and, well, surprise us.

It's the holy alternative to adrenalin addiction. If we believe in God, we may not bungee jump or hang-glide, but we seek our Jesus-kicks. Or something.

A statement by Augustine comes to mind here. Regarding intimacy with Christ, he wrote: "For one who knows you not may invoke you as another than you are" (emphasis mine).

It's entirely characteristic of our generation that we think the onus is on God to jump out from behind a tree and "shock us" with his "surprising" relevance. Somehow, it hasn't occurred to us that God is innately shocking. He could sit on his hands for the rest of eternity and his current portfolio is sufficient to "amaze us" out of our gourds. Christ's very existence is a scintillating paradox.

I find it pitifully egocentric that we think we're giving Jesus a "chance" to kindle our interest. "Look, God, if you make an appearance today, I'm prepared to, uh, sing a quick praise song. You will have saved my week."

God is sure to humor that kind of deluded narcissism.