Ruth (Jenna Jameson) and Boaz (Michael Cera) have promised themselves and their Facebook groups to lose their virginity and have torrid sex on their wedding night. They’ve made it through the courtship, through the engagement, and through the Joshua Harris conference, but now they’ll have to make it through the wedding…and what a wedding it will be!  From a unity candle that won’t stay lit to an uncomfortable reading from Song of Solomon, events seem to be conspiring to keep Ruth and Bo from the blessed consummation they have heard so much about on the cover of Cosmopolitan.

True love has waited long enough!

When, at long last, the ceremony concludes and the reception begins, the mishaps and mayhem only get worse.  With no alcohol and no dance floor Ruth and Bo thought they were playing it safe and paving the way for a long night of necking and heavy petting.  They didn’t plan on Bo’s best man, Jeremy, having a few too many sparkling grape juices before his toast.  His graphic retelling of Bo’s church camp van encounters throws the assembled guests into fits of indignation.  Relationship Defining Talks and readings of Proverbs 31 ensue.  And that’s only the beginning!

What carnal advice is Ruth’s unsaved grandfather (Michael W. Smith) whispering in her ear?  What PG-13 plans do their friends have for their getaway car decorations? (You can bet there won’t be any prophylactics!)  Will the two ever make it to the Holiday Inn? Will they in fact “do it again and again” like that lady from the abstinence conference said they would?  You’ll have to watch to find out!

Whether you’ve had sex before or just think about it all the time, It’s About Time! has something for everyone.  Watch it with your youth pastor!  Watch it with your parents!  Watch it with your fornicating, non-Christian friends!

Watch it again and again and again.

This article was brought to us by the honorable and venerable James King, a master of thumb wrestling, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and RISK: Lord of the Rings Edition. We’ve made him laugh many times, and now we thank him for returning the favor.

Episode 18: “God, Grills, and Girly-Men”

Finally, after three years, Elijah (aka E-Jay) gets a word from the Lord saying, “Go back and face your old nemesis Ahab and tell him that I’m about to rock his world and, if he’s lucky, I might even send some rain his way because – let’s be honest – all the trees are dead.”

So E-Jay walks his emaciated self back to Jerusa-Vegas and heads straight for Ahab’s house (picture Master P’s house from Season 3 of Cribs, but with bigger dungeons).  He rolls up to the door and says, “Wat up Ahab, you big dumbass?” (Yes, E-Jay has some stones.)

And Ahab’s all like, “Oh look, it’s the guy who ruined my life.”  And E-Jay’s like, “Psssh, whateva, you ruined your own life when you stopped praying and started letting your whore wife manage your career.”  And Ahab’s like, “Good point.”

So Elijah tells Ahab to text all the prophets of Asherah and all the prophets of Baal and everyone else who doesn’t think God is awesome and to tell them to meet him on top of this one mountain because he’s ready to make like Ron Artest and crack some skulls.

So everyone gets together up on Mount Carmel.  And my boy E-Jay get’s up there in front of God and everyone and says, “Hey everybody.  Thanks for coming out today.  I think your gods suck.”  (Like I said, the dude’s got some cojones.)

Now the thing to remember about the prophets of Baal and Asherah is that they’re pretty much the Twilight fans of 1500 BC.  And by that I mean: they’re a bunch of little bitches.  So no one says anything.  They just twitter amongst themselves about how Elijah is a hater and how he kind of looks like Osama Bin Laden.

Hearing no objections, E-Jay keeps tearing them a collective new one.  “Would you make up your minds already?!  It’s always Edward this, Jacob that; I swear, every minute I spend with you people I feel like I’m getting more retarded.”

E-Jay says it’s time to figure out once and for all which supernatural being is a baller and which one(s) is a Betty White,  so he suggests they build two grills and throw a slab of Angus on each.  One caveat: they can’t use charcoal or matches or Girl Scout Juice to light them; they’ve got to ask their favorite supernatural star to start the grills for them.

Is this your deity?

Team Baal and Team Asherah may be little bitches, but they also know enough about E-Jay to know that if they back down now, he’ll put them on blast on his next LP, with a song called “God, Grills, and Girly-Men” or something like that.  So they accept the challenge.

The Baalites and Asheraans go first.  They put on a bunch of costumes like they’re going to a midnight premier and dance around their grill shouting out to their gods.  It’s amateur hour at Mt. Carmel: half post-Prom field party, half MGMT video, all fodder for an embarrassing Facebook album.  This goes on for the better part of the morning.  As you’ve probably guessed, Baal and Asherah are about as real as the United States’ chances at The World Cup so, of course, nothing happens.

Around lunchtime, Elijah has had enough.  He starts dogging on the other prophets saying stuff like “maybe your gods are taking a leak, maybe they’re passed out on the pool table, or maybe they’re just real hungover and don’t feel like raining down fire at the moment.”  He also holds up a big sign that says “EPIC FAIL.”  Classic E-Jay

The other prophets are tired and irritable after their morning of dancing so they don’t take too kindly to E-Jay’s lip.  They say, “Screw you Elijah.  Let’s see you do better, you flip-phone-using old man.”  Like I said, they’re at least half retarded.

So Elijah goes over to his homemade Weber and says a quiet prayer his God who happens to also be the Sovereign Lord of the entire universe.  And before he can even finish his prayer, fire falls from the sky and consumes the steaks, the wood, and the entire grill. (I think this probably looked like that part in Independence Day when the laser blasts destroyed New York, Los Angeles, and Washington DC.)

Everyone is stunned and afraid and can do nothing but sit and watch as E-Jay dances around the mountaintop flexing his muscles and shouting “One shot!” like he’s freaking Ronnie from Jersey Shore. When he finishes rubbing it in everyone’s face, he rounds up all the prophets of Baal and Asherah, takes them down near the brook Kishon, and slaughters them.  Hahaha.  Classic E-Jay.

Sadly, murdering the losing team has since been made illegal.

“Sure, we make fun of Catholics. I mean, they do worship Mary and all, but no one can deny that their use of guilt as mind control revolutionized religion” said Dan Alterman, pastor of some church which members describe as “bible-based.” According to Alterman, guilt has long been used to control church-goers.

“It’s easy to throw a guilt trip at someone, and then ‘boom,’ you have your adult chaperon for your next mission trip to Guatemala.”

Catholics, Alterman says, have perfected the use of guilt, getting their followers worldwide to do crazy things like giving up chocolate during Lent or telling their deepest, darkest secrets to lonely, unmarried men.

“Statistics show that only 24% of the world’s usable guilt is being utilized as an energy source,” Alterman says, not citing any resources. “It’s time to bring guilt into the 21st century.”

(Note: This stat is a bit misleading as it leaves out the fact that TOMS Shoes is burning roughly 16% of the world’s guilt by selling shoes to help improve the lives of the people who made the Nike shoes that the TOMS customers feel guilty for buying in the first place.)

“We see it as a way of reaching out to the community, and the rest of the world, and saying, ‘Jesus loves the WHOLE WORLD, even the hippy, environmental part of it,’” Alterman explained.

Many members, including Alterman himself, are doing their best to raise awareness about the new fuel which will purportedly fuel everything from cars to toasters to the factories that produce the Prius that Alterman drives to church.

Alterman’s own son Josh had the idea – some might call it a divine revelation – while observing the exhaling breaths of people at concessions stands at the moment that they are asked if they want cheese with their soft pretzel. “There’s a lot of guilt tied up in getting a pretzel AND the processed cheese sauce” says the 17 year-old who works at the AMC over on Roy Road. This was the initial breakthrough that lead Alterman to begin harvesting “guilt sighs” during his famous sermon series Sad-Looking Minority Children and Starving Puppies.

But after harvesting all of that guilt, how will it be used as fuel? Alterman has the answer: “We’re doing our best to be ecumenical, so we’re working with General Motors’ Smart Energy People [Editor: "Engineers"] to develop a new engine powered entirely by guilt.” The questions of whether or not the technology to efficiently turn guilt into energy is possible or whether or not Alterman knows that he incorrectly used the word “ecumenical” have yet to be answered.

A GM prototype sketch featuring the theoretical "Guilt-Eating Rabbit Engine"

Stay with TTM for further developments.

TTM welcomes the humorous musings of Matt Browning of “Real World: Omaha” fame to our humble website. We have spent the last six months recruiting Matt, and almost lost him to the Bulls. Luckily, LeBron ganked his spot and he had to settle.

Our Paragon of Masculinity, pushing more hair out of his chest with raw anger

1. How often do you watch UFC?

A. Always.

B. Always and with beers.

C. All of the above.

D. What’s UFC? I’m gay.

2. How often do you play video games?

A. Only with one of my multitude of children. I’ve lost count of them.

B. All the time. I’m a loser.

C. Sometimes. I’m a half loser.

D. What’s UFC? I’m gay.

3. How often do you fist fight?

A. Sometimes, but now that I’ve found Jesus I’m trying to stop.

B. Never anymore, but I used to fight people all the time. That was my sordidly badass past, which I talk about often in order to witness to others.

C. Only when dudes fail this test. Just kidding… Or am I?

D. I punch like a girl and am gay.

4. What do you think of having a family?

A. I am married and am actively producing offspring.

B. I am unmarried, but look forward to being a father like Mark, and especially look forward to the process of making children which I will talk about frequently in Church because that shouldn’t make you uncomfortable.

C. I am too busy trying not to fist fight to have children, but I will one day because having lots of children is a divine mandate.

D. I do not want children. I play lots of video games and am gay.

5. What are women good for?

A. Bringing me non-light (i.e. non-wimpy) beer as I watch UFC.

B. Incubating children for our large family.

C. I’m not sure.

D. Women are an important part of the Church because they contribute to Church development through theological interpretation and Church leadership. I am a gay heretic.

SCORING (DON’T LOOK HERE UNTIL YOU’RE DONE. GOD IS WATCHING)

A = 5 points.

B = 4 points.

C = 3 points.

D = 0 points.

20-25 points = Welcome to Mars Hill! Head to the information table to find out how to join an Arm Wrestling Small Group!

15-19 = Not our first pick, but welcome to Mars Hill anyway. Brush up on your micro-brews and you should fit in fine.

9-14 = Hmmm. Well. I mean, I guess we’ve got some room. Why don’t you come by the Men’s Automobile Repair and Violence retreat, and we’ll see where it goes from there. Sound fair?

0-9 = You’re either a woman who took this test on accident or you’re gay. Either way, we have a retreat to cure you.

Do you know what my job is, Jay? It’s not complicated, but it’s noble. I’ll tell you what my job is, Jay. Take a seat. My job is to deliver the correct words of the worship songs to the congregation, usually  spread across a beautiful backdrop. Something like a flowering field, or a Montana sunset. Sometimes in the winter I throw a beach up on the screen just to fight the Seasonal Affective Disorder. I get those words up there, and I do it at the right time, every time. That’s my job.

I take you from the sanctuary, to the rainbow by the lake on the farm.

Why are you trying to do my job, Jay? Have I tried to do your job? Do you see me going up on the stage with my Takamine? Yeah, I’ve got one, what single Christian guy doesn’t? Do you see me going down there, strumming some chords and singing some songs with my eyes involuntarily closed in a worshippy passion? No, you don’t see that. You know why? Because that’s not my job. I was called to operate a useful Microsoft program. Just let me do my job.

It’s time you give me the respect I deserve. How would you survive Sunday mornings without me? A hymnal? Please, we’re not Catholics. You do a lot of things well. Every time you flex that falsetto, it brings the tears. If Coldplay has taught us anything, it’s that tears = tithes. That’s good work, Jay. And I know that sometimes Jesus speaks into your ear monitor and tells you that you need to mix up the arrangement of the song, so you need to let the keyboardist, the harpist, the tuba, and the djembe know where to go musically. On those times where the Spirit is telling you that we need to go over the mountains and the sea just one more time, we all appreciate your leadership.

But most of the time, that’s not it, chief. Most of the time you’re up there, acting like you’re Bon Jovi and you’re going to let the crowd do the next verse of Livin’ on a Prayer. Nobody has their lighters out here, Jay. It’s 9:30am on a Sunday morning. Your job is to be the voice we sing along with, that’s it. You initiate the singing, I show people the lyrics. You do your job, I’ll do mine, and there won’t be any trouble. Keep up the teleprompter act, though, and we’re gonna have a problem. You know who sits right next to me? The sound guy, Jay. You and I both know the kinds of things he can do to make your world filled with hurt. We don’t need to go there, do we? I’d hate for you to get a lot of feedback in your ear monitor. It’d be a shame, Jay. A real shame.

Worship Leader:

Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Wuh-uh-uh-oh!  Where did that come from?  Seriously bro, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.  You sure this isn’t about something else?  Like maybe how I started dating Sara last week?  Bro, we’ve talked about that.  You guys only dated for like a month.  Plus, you and I weren’t even really friends back then so it doesn’t count.

For now, let’s pretend that you’re actually serious about this whole “speak n’ sing” thing and I’ll try to explain why I do what I do even though you probably won’t get it because you’ve never lead worship anywhere much less been lead worshipper for a trans-denominational meta-church.  No offense, bro.

Question: What good is a slide with words on it if you can’t read?  Answer: Not very good at all.

Are there illiterate people at our church?  Probably not.  Most of the farmers and truck drivers go to Lakeside Baptist across town.  But maybe there are.  And even if there’s only one, I think that justifies my decision to say “the splendor of the King” before I put it to music.  It’s my job to bring people closer to Jesus and that includes all people, not just the ones who paid attention in first grade.

Secondly, where’s this obsession with the slides coming from?  It seems to me – and I could be off-base here, but I’m just calling it like I see it cause you’re my boy and what are boys for if not to be upfront with each other but definitely let me know if there’s something else going on or if I’m missing something here – but it seems like you’re turning the overhead screen into an idol.  We want people looking at the stage which then makes them think about heaven.  Who cares about what’s going on the screen?  No offense, bro.

You know who else had a big screen he wanted everyone to pay attention to?  King Nebuchadnezzar.  That didn’t work out too well for Chad-rack, Three-pack, and Antonio, and I’m not about to let you get this church thrown in a fiery furnace.

I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate what you do for us, but I just feel like – and again, I could be wrong here but you got me all worked up and I need to speak my mind for a minute or else I won’t be able to sleep tonight – I feel like Christians did fine without Powerpoint for, like, 4,000 years and whenever the world ends and we’re back to living in caves and playing guitar by flashlight, we’ll do fine without Powerpoint again.  Is that what I want?  No.  But we could do it.  That’s all I’m saying.

Seriously though, are you sure this isn’t about Sara?

“That was the worst day of my life,” says Walter Lincoln, a long time fan and a saintly Christian. “It was almost as if Amy [Grant] had died for real. I wept for a while, and then I just crushed my [Amy Grant] CDs with my Bible. It just weighed so heavily on my heart.” It was a dark day, indeed. Our sources tell us that on that day alone in 1999, 14 billion Amy Grant CDs and tapes were destroyed, most of them by ritualistic fire.* According to the RIAA, the demographic that most commonly purchased Amy Grant records changed after March 4th, 1999 from almost entirely Christian to mostly Satan worshippers.**

A ripe target for your holy hand grenade.

We surveyed a group of 1 million Christians on their opinions of Grant’s divorce and the results were significant, but not surprising. 78% said that Grant was “Likely never saved,” 91% said “Vince Gill is the devil incarnate,” and 135% said “’Baby, Baby’ is such a good song.” ***

Fred Phelps, the pastor of Westboro Baptist Church – commonly known for its God Hates Fags, God Hates America, and I’m Completely Insane organizations – had some wise insight regarding D-Day. “It shouldn’t be a day of mourning. It should be a day of celebration. That day, a sinner left the Church. That’s a good thing, y’all! Sinners don’t belong in our Churches, they belong in hell!”

Grant would not return our calls for an interview, likely busy with her new life of sin, but we used our patented Interview Simulator™ to suggest responses that Grant would probably have provided.

Us: Why did you divorce your husband?

Simulated Amy Grant:  Because I hate God. I am pro-choice.

Us: Isn’t divorce a sin?

Simulated Amy Grant: I love to sin. It is my favorite.

Us: Will you ever return to Christianity?

Simulated Amy Grant: Rachel Maddow is fun. I love Satan.

*Source not confirmed, but the odds are it’s true.

**Not actual data from RIAA. They know a lot about Satan though, right?

***We didn’t actually survey anyone.

What you’ll definitely witness and likely take part in, however, is the time-honored practice of the Christian Knock-Off. You see, we Christians don’t like to be original. We’re rip-off Jews, what are we supposed to do?

We take what the “secular” world produces, and we say “Hey, that’s super rad! But since it’s secular it’s probably going to hell along with everyone at MSNBC and Stephanie Meyer. We should make our own version of it so that we can make sure it goes to heaven too!” From music to movies to t-shirts, if you make it, we’ll take it, throw it in the washer a bunch of times so it shrinks and fades, draw a cross on it with a Sharpie, and sell it at LifeWay.

Remember back in the day when YouTube exploded like Octomom’s v…oracious appetite for childbearing (and life-ruining)? Music videos became relevant for the first time since MTV decided to change its programming strategy from “Music” to “whatever sucks and will destroy happiness and souls,” talentless pubescent zit-bags with webcams all over the world found a way to express their talentless pubescence with ease, and the Motion Picture Association of America and the Recording Industry Association of America found a whole new way to satisfy their hunger for all things related to lawsuits and making everyone hate them. It was a beautiful thing.

Fresh off of the loss of Jessica Simpson to 98 Degrees, Evangelicals needed us some beauty. Rather than, you know, participating in the normal trend with the rest of the world, we made “GodTube.” It’s like YouTube, but it’s for God. So only God can use it. Or something. Anyway it’s Christian, so tell your pastor.

Go back a few years before that. Remember when boy bands started tearing up our hearts? Anyway, we Christians lamentably had a boy band all of our own. The sonic equivalent of religiously motivated castration, plusOne – whose name signifies absolutely nothing except a possible reference to a wedding invitation – hit the scene in 2000. Their line-up consisted of 5 moderately-attractive-but-fantastically-moral Christian dudes singing songs about Jesus. Which makes a lot of sense, you know, to sing songs about Jesus using a genre that is known for its romantic songs marketed to pre-pubescent girls. Somehow I feel dirty, having just thought about the whole thing.

What about reality TV? You just cringed, didn’t you? You know what’s coming, just like my toilet knows what’s coming after a meal at Chipotle. Get it?! Crap. The joke is that it’s crap. One Christian reality TV show is called “The Uprising.” I said “one” on purpose. There’s more than one, but because I love you and this hurts me more than it hurts you (seriously) I’m only going to talk about this one. The central conflict of this particular show centers around whether or not a few pro skateboarders will decide to be “born again.” I’m fairly sure that will give people more delusions about God than anything Richard Dawkins could write.

Ever heard of the blog “Stuff White People Like”? It’s pretty funny. An original idea. Wasn’t long before the Christian “me too!” version popped up as “Things Christians Like.” It’s pretty funny, but can we really be proud of a good imitation? Thank God everyone else keeps having original ideas, otherwise we’d be stuck with Carmen and the PowerTeam.

I’m not going to even mention every single ridiculous Christian t-shirts you can still purchase at your local Christian bookstore. Those go without saying. I’ll mention an all-star though:

The product of Christianity's finest minds

How are people supposed to trust that our faith is relevant when our art and culture is not? Can we be “not of this world” and the “salt of the earth” without having what amounts to the store-brand version of secular culture? Only Kirk Cameron really knows. Speaking of which, if you’ll please excuse me, I’m going to finish writing a letter to Kirk Cameron about my script for a Christian vampire flick called “Sondown.”

He didn't know Jesus was such a stickler.

recently read the Gospels for the first time during a segment of the MTV Special True Life: I’m Joel Osteen. “Ya know, I decided it was about time I toughed it through all four Gospels. They’re super long but I mean, I am a pastor, right?” Osteen said laughingly in his charming Texan accent. The author of Your Best Life Now, a theological dissertation concerning the Biblical hermeneutic of success, was shocked at the lack of material prosperity present in the words of Jesus. “I tell you what, I don’t get it. Where’s the prosperity in the Gospels? Jesus didn’t own anything really. Not a yacht, not a Merc[edes], or, well, whatever their equivalents were back in the 1600′s when He was alive. What would that be, a carriage? I don’t know. You get my point.” Osteen went on in shock as he described how Jesus told his followers to give up everything and follow Him, rather than telling them to “invest everything wisely in solid mutual funds” or how “being a good steward means being successful in the stock market.” The story of the rich young man was apparently the straw that broke the pastor’s back. “And then, and then, Jesus goes and tells the rich guy to sell everything and give it to the poor? Everything Jesus? Everything? You can’t be serious.”

The experience has completely derailed work on Osteen’s next book Your Bestest Life Now. “What am I supposed to tell people? When God came to Earth, He was poor? Come on. No one is going to buy that,” Osteen said as he dismissively sipped on a Perrier. “If people are going to do this whole ‘Christian’ thing, there’s gotta be something in it for them. And what’s the Gospel offering them? Spiritual wealth? Treasures in Heaven? What does that even mean?” Osteen is also unsure of how to incorporate Jesus’ words regarding the ease with which the wealthy enter heaven: “A camel through the head of a needle? Give me a break. That’d take a miracle.”

In order to avoid any confusion between his writings and the “poverty” of the Gospels, Osteen has decided to have bookstores categorize his books as Christianish rather than just Christian. “See that? See what we did there? We’ve got Christian in there because that’s P.C., but we threw the ‘ish’ on the end so that people know it’s not so Christian that it’s not about money. We dodged a big one here, we really did,” said Osteen.

This article is satirical and is thus completely fictional. None of the quotes are real and are not intended to be used as such. Joel Osteen was not involved in the writing of this article and is not associated with us. He also has a lot of money and could probably sue us into the Revolutionary War, which is why I’m writing this right now. Just as a side note – this article was originally going to run in the Whittenberg Door, but they apparently have lost their funding or something so I’m running it here, assuming we’re not competing with their readership.

(whispered) Excuse me. Hi. How are ya? Uh, this is a little awkward for me, and uh…well, I really hate to interrupt you two during the sermon like this and all, but…umm…you see, the thing is, I’m sitting two rows behind you and your little fondle-fest up here has begun to disturb me in a very deep and permanent way.

I heard you two recently got married. That’s awesome! Seriously, congratulations and all that. I can see that you guys really love each other, and I’m so happy you found one another. I’m just not so sure that God’s house is the most appropriate place to play huggy-bear, kissy-face. I get that it’s intensely painful for you two to be physically separated for even a few seconds. I get it, I really do. It’s called biological addiction, and I feel the same way about my couch. However, my sense of propriety and respect for social norms prevent me from dragging that couch here to the Lord’s living room every Sunday. I wish you two could do the same.

Listen bro, I’m sure tenderly caressing her lower back and running your hand through her silky auburn hair makes you want to worship the Lord more fervently than ever before. And you? I don’t doubt that as you run your finger nails along the contours of his bicep you’re pondering the sovereignty and strength of the Almighty. The problem is, all I’m thinking as I observe this foreplay from my pew is how long its been since my last solid makeout session. It’s been quite awhile, I don’t mind telling you.

It is for that reason that I avoid drive-in movies, and scenic overlooks after dark. I don’t need to be reminded of what I’m not experiencing. And yet here you sit, engaging in some incessant necking and heavy petting (to use the parlance of high school handbooks) as if this was the backseat of your father’s Ford Taurus. Give me a break, would you? I mean, for one hour a week I make an honest attempt to stop thinking about sex, and you two are making that nearly impossible.

We’re not in eighth grade and this isn’t the back row of The Mummy Returns. You know what I’m saying? Go to Starbucks. Go to a public pool. Go to a playground with a swirly slide. There are literally millions of public places where you can canoodle and stare amorously into each others eyes without reproach. Unfortunately for you, the sanctuary of a Protestant church on a Sunday morning is not one of them (I can’t speak to the Catholic situation).

I’m really not trying to be a prude or a buzz-kill or whatever. If you guys have some sort of freaky sanctuary fetish, that’s fine. I’m cool with it. I just don’t care to participate. Maybe come in on a weekday or something. That’s not too much to ask is it? Come in on a Wednesday afternoon and you guys can sit in here giggling and rubbing noses until you pass out. Sound good? Awesome. Good talk. Glad we could do this. Enjoy the rest of your worship experience. I’ll see you guys at Coffee Time after the service.

It doesn’t? Not even a little bit? Please, I welcome your counterpoint, although I fear it will be insufficient.

Walking Stigmata

What? That gentleman over there? No, of course he doesn’t look like the Pascal Lamb! Well, to start he’s clean shaven! No, he doesn’t look like you. Not at all. His hair is so short! Sure it’s the same color, fine. But still, I maintain that you look completely different, him having absolutely no resemblance to Jesus, the Rose of Sharon.

That’s true, good point. You are blonde and you do have two very blue eyes. It makes sense that Jesus probably didn’t have those two Aryan traits. Nevertheless, I’m going to stand my ground and say that your follicle features bring to mind artistic renditions of the one and only Son of God.

Riddle me this, Christ impersonator: What if Jesus was an albino? Oh, right, sure. Now you bring in statistics. The guy raised people from the dead and gave blind people sight, and you’re going to say that the chances of Him being an albino Jew – who would thus look a lot like you, save the nose – are “astronomically low”?

What was that? Touché, touché. Based on most long-haired modern Israelis, it is likely that Jesus’ hair wouldn’t be naturally straight like yours. I’m going to go out on a limb though, and submit to you the following explanation of your resemblance to One Third of the Holy Trinity: maybe back then, as it is now, it was fashionable to straighten one’s hair for aesthetic reasons. Furthermore, perhaps Ancient Hebrews found it appealing to bleach their hair, just as Americans did about a decade ago.

Well, sir, I beg to differ. I don’t think it’s a far jump in logic at all. Certainly you’re not suggesting that Jesus had a poor fashion sense? That’s what I thought. Excuse me for believing that Christ the Redeemer – He who turned water into wine, mind you – could turn His hair blonde and His eyes blue if He wanted to do so. All powerful, remember? Even so, I still think it looks as though you modeled for the statue of the Good Shepherd that I purchased just yesterday at a Family Christian Bookstore.

Oh, okay. Now you’re backpedaling. So you’re saying He could have, but He didn’t? I guess you’re aware of some physically descriptive Biblical passage that I must have missed somehow? You’re not? Well then, it stands to reason that the Lion of Judah could just as easily look like you as He could look like that Hasidic Rabbi over there. You’re grasping at straws now. Let’s just part ways, agreeing at least on the point that you probably look a lot like Jesus, if not exactly like Him.

I think you’re being unreasonable.

Calling people names doesn’t really belong in a conversation about The Lord, does it? Well you don’t talk like Jesus did, that’s for sure.

Well I wish you would turn that Evian into chardonnay, but if you did I assure you I would not shove it there or anywhere, I would drink it gratefully. Right, then. Good day, sir, and God bless.