I've heard people all my life tell me that I need Jesus. I have heard old men, and young women tell me that Jesus is the way to go. I walk into the Church, and see a man hanging on a cross. Or, maybe I see a painting on the wall with a beard I know I'll never be able to grow. I hear about the Jesus of revolution, but I've never known revolution. Jesus was immaculately conceived, but I wasn't even naturally conceived. Suffice to say, I can't find my Jesus.

I read about a Jesus' birth, a few events about his childhood, and then the story picks up in ministry - three years later, he's dead.

I'd like to know what went through his mind, his heart, and his body. I'd like to know what he wondered about, what he cared about, how it all worked out. How did he argue with his family? How did he live day-to-day. I'm not concerned about the divinity, but the humanity of Jesus. My Jesus doesn't wander around in heaven playing croquet. My Jesus doesn't wonder about the intentionality of walking from Judea to Jerusalem, but wonders what the Jordan River will feel like when the Baptist dunks him.

My Jesus isn't afraid to meet the powers that be, but doesn't use violence, only love. Yes, he will toss some tables, but that's in the Temple. I think Jesus recognized that political power mixed with religious piety trumps empire everyday. For violence only begets violence. Jesus knew it's not what God is doing in the world that hurts people, its what we do with God in the world that hurts people. My Jesus makes a way in the middle of suffering to utter profound theological statements, but care enough to make sure his mother is comforted.

But that Jesus doesn't show up day to day, doesn't show up in the coursework, the classes, the prayers. I wonder why? I wonder why we are hesitant to push the brim of humanity we find in Jesus. I wonder why we can't find a Jesus that asks the deeper questions, not of the political regime, but of the religious regime. Often times we are so focused on telling other people about Jesus we forget what Jesus is telling us. The Gospel of Matthew spends an entire chapter on the dangers of religion, the dangers of piety.

Does our piety cloud our judgment so much that we cannot see Jesus beckoning us forward, out of the pew, and into the streets? Jesus will look different depending upon social class, geographical location, and life experience. But, that doesn't mean we can't listen to what Jesus tells us now. That doesn't mean that we can't be transformed. Different "Jesus" doesn't mean that our work in this world must end, but that we must be opened up to what that Jesus is saying.

Tell Jesus who you think he is, and I guarantee you, he'll deconstruct it.
Tell Jesus what you think she does, and I guarantee you she'll re-imagine it.
Tell the world what Jesus is, and I guarantee the world will refocus it.

My Jesus hasn't shown up yet. Maybe my Jesus will. Maybe my Jesus isn't mine at all, but ours. Maybe still, Jesus isn't what we think Jesus is. Perhaps, Jesus is the voice of the Imam, the voice of the Buddhist, or the voice of the Atheist. Maybe. We must look. We must seek. You will find Jesus where you least expect it, in the place you least imagined, in the face you reluctantly engaged.

My Jesus can't be found. In all I do, no matter what I say, Jesus shows up. It's just a matter of where I'm looking, to whom I'm listening, and where I'm walking.

"Manalapan High School students took a stand against hatred Wednesday. News that the Westboro Baptist Church — a group from Topeka, Kan., notorious for its picketing of U.S. soldiers' funerals — planned to protest Manalapan High's staging of "The Laramie Project" galvanized the school community Wednesday in a way that astonished many of the play's organizers."

This is the same group that has displayed signs at soldiers’ funerals and picketed at the Sago Mine Memorials with signs that say, “God Hates Fags” and “Thank God for dead miners.” They are listed by the Southern Poverty Law Center as a hate group, which is pretty unsurprising.

There are many reasons this group could inflame me. Namely, I’m a baptist, and I certainly don’t like being lumped into the same group as this extremist hate group. But, denominations are denominations, and labeling them as a hate group should keep their distance from any baptist prayer meetings.

In a world where pain reigns and brokenness is all around, one more voice advocating for the destruction and demise of peoples does not sit well with me. A message of hate is nothing new, nor is it something that will grow a better world. The negative energy spent preaching a hateful gospel manipulates. Power has unequivocal pessimism to fuel abuse and breakdown.

Do you really think God is killing humans and creating tragedies because of LGBTQ groups? We are told a narrative that declares we are made in a divine image. If God kills miners who are at the mercy of big business, what does God do to those who cause division and pain? Why would God choose the lowest and poorest to suffer punishment?

If I haven’t been clear, hear this: God doesn’t hate Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals, Transsexuals, Queers.

If I haven’t been clear, hear this: God desires justice, love, and peace.

When someone bears a sign that says “God Hates Fags!” they are only displaying their own insecurity. They are projecting their own fear of what they do not know. These signs, these declarations of hate, these most painful and despicable divisive actions are only laments for their ignorance.

These signs are prayers of desperation for peace, for knowledge. Prayers of desperation that God does not answer, we should not silence those prayers, we recognize the person’s desperation cry to God.

So, I will pray. I will offer my voice to the daily conversations in an effort to make whole this broken world. These cannot be platitudes. My words cannot be empty. No one, no group deserves the hate of another. They are to be held accountable, not to my way of thinking, not to any system, but to humanity and God – who is Love, not Hate. We must hold in check our words and actions because no matter what our religion, political affiliation, favorite candy bar, cellphone, Facebook page, car, magazine, we exist together. To eliminate the possibility of another human being is to suffocate the humanity between another.

It’s tough to look in the eyes of one who holds a hateful sign, speaks a harmful word, or swings a violent fist and declare we love them and they deserve love. But, my friends, I will not be moved. If grace is not possible then the future of our humanity is nothing but bleak and cold. If grace is not possible, then pull the color out of the world and cut down any vestige of hope. If grace is not possible, then put bars on my windows, lock the door, and throw away the key. If the love of God is not possible for all, then what's faith for? Our world is bigger than Westboro and our humanity declares a greater possibility than any slogan on a sign can ever contain.

Westboro plans picket lines, God plans grace. Grace is available for Westboro, will Westboro find grace for themselves?

We are the best of humanity. We are the worst of humanity. We are the likeness of God. We are the intention of evil. We are the voracious consumers of love, and the scrupulous evolution of hope.

The message of love does not know a political barrier – or a theological stance. Loving doesn't care about the doctrine of God, love cares for the providing and caring of the least of these. No doubt, that groups such as Westboro will have their judgment pronounced upon them, for theirs is not the kingdom of God. They drink the dirtied and muddied waters of hate and indifference. They do not drink from the well-spring of life, from the cool waters that refresh. While Westboro travels around spouting hate, I try to live a life of love. Our responsibility as those that profess to live the life of Jesus, that use the name Jesus, is to strive to live that name represents. It is of love. Let us not forget, the words of Mr. Wilde: "Every sinner has a future; every saint has a past."

Where picket lines are drawn, demarcations of hate built, and barriers of indifference fortified, grace will pummel and sustain those that pelt walls with words of love, peace, and hope. Where trenches harboring messengers of injustice are dug-out, the no-man’s land will be filled with peace. Where silos, bunkers, garrisons, citadels, castles, and bastions of brutal hate are entrenched, there you will find the possibility of grace. It is the cry of grace that says: “My body is bruised and bloody; but, unbowed.”