I feel like shit, and I mean that about as literally as one can. I’m also probably going to puke any minute now. My kids have had a tummy bug, and of course now they decide to be great students of my “please share” philosophy. Where was this aptitude when I wanted a fun-size Butterfinger on Halloween? Ugh, forget it. Candy’s the last thing I want now.
Also I probably should have refrained from chili for dinner tonight. That’s gonna burn twice. Damn.
And I’m not trying to gross you out– I promise– but I’m just sitting here wondering, as my insides threaten to bust out: Did Jesus get diarrhea? Do you think he ever puked? I’m sure he didn’t make passive-aggressive mention of denied fun-size candy bars to his eye-rolling disciples, but, I mean, if we’re going to buy that he was fully human, then didn’t he surely get the shits?
My brilliant nurse practitioner friend says that, given the water quality and sanitation of the time, he probably had frequent diarrhea as a child. Then, as an adult, he would have had enough antibodies that he didn’t have to worry about it. So, okay, fine. (Also, I’m not sure I’d take that deal. Or any of his subsequent ones, come to think of it.)
But then I’m thinking, He broke so much bread! Yeah, there were like 153 fish that one time, but, you guys, all the bread. And let me tell you– because I can carb load like nobody’s business– you go around multiplying your pitas, and you are gonna be stopped the hell up.
And if he spent his childhood on the runs and his adulthood shitting bricks, then my curiosity really gets a little bent out of shape when I think about his adolescence. You know a young dude’s gonna wake up to morning wood– totally natural. But then what does he do?! Here’s all I’ll say about that: Jesus’ life is noticeably undocumented from about ages 12 to 30.
And speaking of his sexuality (which I totally just did!!!!!<–what!!! aslkdflsjkdfskd!!!!!!), what was Jesus’ orientation? Did he have romantic attractions that he just shut down on account of also sort of being Our Father? Or was he maybe asexual? That actually makes a ton of sense. I can totally see him friend-zoning us all.
I know maybe you think it’s weird that I think about this stuff, but here’s the thing: I have to really know this man. I have to know he was just like me, but also not like me at all. I have to know he dealt with real shit because how else could he deal with mine? I have to know he felt the whole range of human feelings because how else could he feel me?
I have to really know him because that’s how the whole thing works. If I have any chance of really being saved, I have to really be loved. And if I have any chance of really being loved, I have to really be known. And if I’m really known, then I can really know.
It’s like If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Nasty Christian Edition, all coming back around like my stupid chili dinner.
A family friend once joked that maybe we get diarrhea as a product of the Fall. I think it’s pretty unfair that we haven’t managed to build the antibodies for sin in all this damn time since. But I guess maybe that’s where Jesus comes in with all those pita pockets. He’s like:
Listen, I know how much this sucks right now. I’ve totally been there.
But, here, take my bread.
It’ll bind you up.