Just like me

What's rolling around my head - probably because of the Donald Miller book I've just finished reading - is how we become imitators of Christ.

And yet, even as I write, I'm aware I could be barking up the wrong tree. The moment I start talking or writing or thinking about becoming more like Jesus, I turn what should be a pursuit of relationship into ritual or endeavour. Or worse, legalistic competition.

While there are things that I seek to be quite intentional about with Fi (my wife), I don't live in a calculating, mathematically-driven, 'see-what-I-can-get-on-the-board' fashion. We hang out. We talk. Sometimes we talk nonsense (and sing nonsense), sometimes we're chunky, sometimes we argue and sometimes we say nothing. And then I look at the sometimes cerebral approach I have with Jesus. As if he is an inanimate genie-like creature in the corner. Or worse - a Tamagochi that only responds when stimulated but is otherwise stationary. Jesus is alive and active. Regardless of my moves and stimulation. He pursues relationship with me and with those around me. He exists, at least in part, to intercede on my/our behalf. So, we don't talk ourselves into a lather to wake Him. We open our eyes to see him and our ears to hear what He's already doing.

Perhaps there's two things at work here. We pursue intimacy with Jesus because He's absolutely worth hanging out with. He loves, guides, instructs, leads, hears, comforts and pours out grace as he invite him into our lives and re-align our journey and enter in to what He's doing and His plans for us. And yet, as we do, we quickly come face to face (and read of and hear about) someone who is completely otherly. Not like us...and in a good, sublime way. Pure of heart, altogether lovely, altogether worthy, graceful, merciful, righteously angry when it's called for yet never descending into the dysfunctional places we go.

About the same time we discover this, we might discover Paul's instruction to imitate Christ just like he does. Before too long, if we're not careful, we're moved off the main highway into a self-righteous side street. Suddenly we're doing stuff, ticking boxes and generally striving to be more like Jesus rather than more with Jesus. Our efforts become like forced rhythms than an 'easy yolk' and the idea of us being in relationship with him becomes a little more muddy. Yet our lists make more sense. My lists make more sense. It's easy to calculate how you're doing when you can scan down the list for validation and self-approval. And yet, Jesus stands at the door of our hearts (and our heads, and our souls) and knocks. He waits to come in, hang out and have a meal with us.

Abide. Abide. Abide. Wrestle and rest.

We're back to the top. Back to a place where we need to remain. In communion with Him and inspired to become like him as a product of being with Him. Fresh intimacy. Fresh revelation. Fresh transformation. Not from memory, not by rote, but because of what He's doing and has done. And yeah, I become like Him. Slowly. Sometimes backwards, sometimes forwards. Yet it's a result of the main game, spending time with him.

We end up where we first began: remembering that the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.