Paradoxes of Faith

I had a conversation with Jesus this afternoon.
An encounter, really. I wish I had been a better conversationalist.
Jesus looks a little older that his GlamourShots photos I see in random buildings in this city.
He’s fairly disheveled, wears a blue baseball cap, and His hair and goatee are untrimmed and quite gray.
He wears workout gloves.
They add a very idiosyncratic nature to His handshake.
I internally noticed this anomoly, but said nothing.
Jesus then told me He goes by His street alias, Dwayne…or is it Duane?
He remarks about the beautiful day outside today as we meet.
I wonder if He’s secretly proud of His dad for doing such a good job today.

Jesus pushes a shopping cart full of clothes and recyclables down my alley.
Hence the gloves.
They’re good at multitasking:
-Preventing blisters from the hours stacked on top of each other that the cart must be pushed
-Simultaneously keeping the subsistence that Jesus digs from my 90-gallon garbage can from invading His pores.
He’s either a great planner, or simply knows how to adapt from negative experiences.

Then I got to wash His feet.
I can’t say it wasn’t awkward. For both of us.
As I pulled aluminum cans, glass bottles, and plastic containers from the can
Jesus pleaded with me to move aside so He could do it
Saying, “I’m used to it, please don’t.”
But perhaps it was His Dad telling me to keep going.
To give His Son’s back a rest from bending over and digging.
Albeit for a moment.
One very difficult-to-receive moment.
I understand Peter’s reaction now. My eyes were closed before.
Imagine pulling what I at best consider ‘redeemable trash’ from a bin
To give to and serve this son of man longing to simply find a way
To turn my refuse into His sustenance and subsistence.
I almost cried at the revelation.
The living parable I was granted to partake in barely an hour ago.

Jesus then asked me about my Super Bowl predictions.
He laughed when I said I hope both quarterbacks lose.
Jesus grew up in Chicago; thus He’s a Bears fan.
I invited Jesus over to watch the big game tomorrow.
I hope He comes.
He was skeptical at first.
I would be skeptical too, were I in His shoes.
Why is this white kid in a collared shirt doing this?
What does he want?
Is he really for me? Why?
But Jesus got over His apprehensions.
He said I’d see Him tomorrow.
I’ll root for Chicago with Him.

If you want to kick it with us, come on over.