No Stranger To Danger

I have often lived a life of danger.

As a child, I was the one who teetered the totter, who rocked the boat, who always found a way to make life a little more … adventurous. Pushing the edge of safety, my gang of friends were the ones everyone else wanted to be like. Parents warned their children to stay away.

As an adult, some of that has carried over. I love to experience new things and places. And that has led to some near tragedies. Women in my life have either loved it, or hated it (sorry Mom!). It has imperiled my children and thrilled them at the same time.

Christ the Saviour (Pantokrator)
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve flipped rafts in the middle of raging rivers, slid down the sides of mountains, and been stuck in mud up to the hood. I’ve been robbed at knifepoint in Panama, questioned by Turkish police for taking photos, and wandered in Chicago’s worst neighborhood at night on foot.

Some would this and adventurous lifestyle. Now that I’m a little older, I call many of these thing just plain stupid. There is a line between the two, I didn’t always fall on the right side, to my detriment.

Jesus on the Edge
The thrill seeker in me always recoiled at images of the olive-skinned depictions of Jesus, artists more intent on creating a Savior with a look straight out of a magazine. The fairy-man with a permanent back-lit hairdo, a trimmed beard and perfect teeth.

Really?

My Jesus was a dangerous man. He called the Pharisees “white-washed tombs” and “broods of vipers.” When He heard that John was imprisoned, he went to Galilee and called Herod a fox. He touched a leper, conversed with a prostitute and shared a cup with detestable people. He rode straight into Jerusalem, knowing full well what lay ahead.

He never ran from danger. He never backed down from a challenge. He never showed an ounce of fear.

He was killed not because He was a good teacher. He didn’t hang on the tree because of His teachings about the Golden Rule or His love for others.

Christ died because He was a dangerous man — perhaps the most dangerous man who ever lived. He threatened the well-trod paths of human wisdom, secular government, petty religion and vain piety.

Most of all, I’m learning to channel my adventure. I want to walk into the lion’s den, emerge from the belly of the whale, and strike a match in the darkest of night. I learning that the way to reach an outrageous world is with outrageous love. With a dash of danger. I love it.

Hat tip to Eric Parks, preaching at Red Rocks church for the inspiration.