Jesus and side hugs

She is perched on the counter, legs crossed, face animated, as she tells me about her week, about what she’s been processing about God and Church and life. I am moving back and forth between cutting board and stove top, preparing a meal for us to share. It is long overdue, and our time together has been via screen rather than face to face for too long.

“Haley. I feel like Jesus would never side hug me!” she says.

I laugh and nod because it is true. And because the way she sees Jesus, the way she loves Jesus is beautiful and true. She calls me out of my scholarship, even as she loves to learn what I am learning, and invites me to dance around my kitchen with Jesus just because.

And, because it’s what we do and how we met, I tweet her statement.

"I feel like Jesus would never side hug me." - @emelina #TRUTH

— Haley Cloyd (@haleykristine) February 17, 2013

We settle onto the couch with plates of dinner, a selection of nail polishes, and James Bond. By the end of the movie her statement has at least 20 retweets. Which, sure, isn’t anything to write home about, or tweet about, but followers and stats are not the point here. The point is that something about Jesus pulling us close with both arms hits home.

Jesus would never side hug you.

Jesus does not side hug you.

He faces you square on, and wraps both of his arms around you.

He pulls you close into a full body hug.

Because Jesus isn’t afraid of you, or of what it means if, in hugging you, your boobs touch his chest.

Because Jesus isn’t afraid of what someone else will think if they see two dudes locked in a full on embrace without any back patting.

Because nothing about the cross is a side hug.

The cross is a full on embrace of the mess and dirt and sin of who we are, exactly where we are.

So no, Jesus would never, ever side hug you. Ever.

remember you are dust

Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

How easy it is to forget we are dust.

How easy it is, with warm bodies, full stomachs, and money in the bank to forget we are dust.

How easy it is to mindlessly nod along as the pastor exhorts us to remember our position were it not for Christ’s intercession.

How easy it is to go through the motions of acknowledging sin and accepting grace without actually doing so.

If it is difficult to remember we are dust, and to dust we shall return, then it becomes exponentially more difficult when, after the sign of the cross is brushed onto foreheads in ashes and oil, we are told to turn from sin and be faithful to Jesus.

I'm posting over at Deeper Story today, head over there to read the rest of this post.