walking till my feet ache

I went to Border's bookstore today after I had finished a couple of
hours of in-school observation for my art education classes, and I was
a little depressed by what I saw. It wasn't anything out of the
ordinary, nothing hugely controversial, but it got to me nonetheless.
There was this particular periodical on the magazine rack that caught
my eye; "The Real Jesus" was printed boldly on the front, with a
traditional oil painting of... I was going to say of our Savior, but
it's not like anyone actually sat down and drew his portrait, is it?
But yes, this pictorial representation of what we think Jesus looked
like, or whatever. Anyway, I found myself wondering, "The real Jesus?
Don't we already know this? Can't we be content with the Jesus we have.
I'd say He's pretty much alright as it stands." I became annoyed as I
read. And what annoyed me I think is that the words on the page, the
pictures, the titles, just seemed like the words of a giant, wheezing,
windbag. Like a whoopee cushion. A whoopee cushion in print, screaming
at me from a bookshelf.

I decided to move over to the Christian section. In these moments of mine, these times of cynicism, skepticism,and overall hardness of heart, I do not want to look at the
"Christian Inspiration" type books. I find the idea vacuous and superficial, and perhaps this is true even outside my weak emotional state, but perhaps the thoughts just come more easily that way. I'm not saying these are necessarily bad for everyone; maybe somebody can get joy out of books with titles like, "Be A Better You in 7 Steps" or "Life is a Merry-go-round with Jesus!" or some such nonsense. To be frankly honest, I think my life would be far easier and happier without Christ.

Does this mean I dislike Jesus? Sometimes I do. Why? Because He goes against everything my flesh wants. Do you dislike your parents? They give you masses of love and affection, if they're any good, but that never stopped anyone from sneaking out of the house to throw rocks at a fence or whatever kids do. God prods me to do things that I just don't want to do. God chastises and corrects, so yes, there are times when I don't appreciate that. But then I suck it up and get over it. But I don't hate Jesus.

I don't hate, but love Him for a few reasons. But first, I want to clarify what I mean when I say "I'd be happier without Christ." I view happiness as a state of
blissful ignorance, a mental position of freedom from care and concern.
Generally, I don't get this from Jesus. What I get from Jesus is an
acute awareness of my idiocy, an understanding of the absolutely ridiculous
amount of evil and deceit in this world, and my inability to do
anything at all to stop it. But I also have something else entirely,
which is Jesus Himself; I have the meaning of Life, and Life itself.
Does this make me happy? No, it makes me joyful. It sustains me, and at times does far more than that. At the least it is a slow drip-drop of gasoline into my fuel cell, and at the most, it is a practical hydrant of wet, gassy Love that cannot help but get all over everyone.

I doubt that sounds appealing, but that's what I understand a walk with Christ to be: uncomfortable, hard, depressing, joyful.

CS Lewis once said:

"I didn't go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don't recommend Christianity."

Amen.