This was a week unlike any other. It has been a week of sorrow, frustration, anger, and loss. Reflecting on what to write has left me dizzy and finding the right words is beyond me. Hopefully, in time a unique Junkyard Wisdom perspective on the recent events will come to me.
In the midst of this it is good to have a friend who reminds me Jesus is present. All we need to do is imagine Jesus as a lumberjack. Yes, a lumberjack. Or, well, whatever you wish.
Bruce Kirkpatrick and I met through his service at Extollo, which provides vocational training in Haiti. I read his book Lumberjack Jesus and asked him to share more about understanding Jesus as just another guy at the table.
In times of turmoil it is good to reflect on the simplicity of God’s presence. We overcomplicate this because we struggle to see God in our midst. So creating a habit of imagining Jesus as being physically present can be powerful and comforting.
With that in mind, here’s a story from Bruce about how he imagines “Lumberjack Jesus” beside him. Hope you enjoy it!
Lumberjack Jesus
I grew up in a “quasi-Christian” family. I went to church once or twice a month, but we never talked about God, Jesus, or religion at home.
When we started a family, my wife and I decided we wanted to investigate the Christian church where our kids attended preschool. We liked the messages they were coming home with. We became more and more attracted to what Christianity offered. For me, it was a way to make sense of the uncertainty in the world, a way to find meaning and purpose in my life, and a way to feel a part of a larger, global community.
My journey started out as an intellectual quest. I never suspected that a person like me could actually have a personal relationship with God. That possibility never came up in my days of Sunday school or church sermons.
So, I learned about God, read my Bible daily, and devoured Christian literature. I attended church classes and joined a small home group to get to know the people of God. I volunteered at the church to see the longing of people searching for God and the splendor in their lives when they found him.
It was all intellectual but impersonal. Interesting but impractical. It wasn’t enough to know what the Bible said. It wasn’t even enough to believe what it said. How could this Jesus change my life and make me a better man? Bolder, more compassionate, more forgiving, less judgmental—characteristics I knew I needed and envied in others.
I wasn’t looking for a belief system filled with obligations, rules, or restrictions. I knew I was a good person—I lived that way, was raised that way. I knew I could improve, but I wasn’t interested in adopting a set of commandants to define my life.
I have a buddy who always asks, “Why is Christ so mean to the disciples?” And I can see his point. From a distance, Jesus can look rather judgmental and critical. I’m hardest on myself, so I didn’t need to see him in that light. I needed a friend, a confidant, an older, wiser brother. Somebody I could talk to.
I needed to visualize Jesus as a real person, in conversation with me. The Bible is full of characters speaking with God or Jesus, but those stories can be hard to relate to. I had issues I wanted to deal with, and Jesus seemed like the guy who could help me deal with them. But if he wasn’t a real person sitting at the table with me, how could I figure out whether he was speaking to me—or just talking into the universe and I happened to be listening? His teachings offer great knowledge and wisdom, but personal direction? That was hard for me to grasp.
I sought a Jesus that spoke in everyday language to me personally. Not an historical figure in a galaxy far, far away that spoke in parables to a culture completely different than the one I lived in. I wanted a life coach, not a prophet.
Then I read a book called The Shack. In the book God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are depicted not as ethereal non-beings but are given the characteristics, mannerisms, clothes and appearance of real-life people. Somehow, Jesus as a man with a short-cropped beard and flannel shirt, looking very much like a lumberjack, hit the mark with me. I could relate because it made him real.
The “Lumberjack” persona I visualized held intriguing traits—simple, down-to-earth, and hardworking. I saw a more in-depth character who was honest, direct, and maybe even friendly. Okay, that’s somebody I could talk to.
So, lumberjack Jesus and I began a conversation. Not once in my ten years as a Christian had I ever heard God talk to me directly, in words I could hear (or at least distinguish), until those conversations. The two of us spent three months at my dining room table in serious give and take about anger, forgiveness, grace, the cross and love.
Lumberjack Jesus told me that my guilt and shame—those issues I mentioned earlier—were keeping me from being the person he had originally created. He never used the word “sin”, but I’ve come to realize that sin is simply that what keeps me from relationship with him, so now I label those feelings that way. But Jesus never used that word. And he never required that I ask for forgiveness; I didn’t need to come to him and beg for mercy. He simply said that if I would relinquish the guilt and shame to him, he would nail them to the cross. That was his job; that was why he came to Earth. Then I could get back to being the man that he created. It was a very visual depiction of the cross, a symbol of his sacrifice, but also a place where I could surrender my guilt and shame. I sometimes try to imagine how sturdy that cross is to be able to handle not only my sins, but also the sins of the world.
So gradually, over time, I asked him to take away my guilt and shame. And he smiled and reached for his hammer and nails.
The Lumberjack had become my personal Jesus.
Bruce Kirkpatrick is the author of the novels Hard Left and The Resurrection of Johnny Roe, and the Christian devotional, Lumberjack Jesus: How to Develop Faith Despite Pitfalls, Roadblocks, Stupidity and Prejudice. Visit his website, www.bkirkpatrick.com.