Jesus Fused with the Cross

I saw several friends post ecstatic praise to Jesus tonight. They are people I am very fond of, but they remind me that, at my most exalted, I was never very good at that. I was terrible at lifting ,my arms and shouting 'Hallelujiah.' I felt self-conscious. I felt wrong.

I think the reason is that the "personal relationship with Jesus" is different from person to person and with me it had a definite gruesome aspect.

I only "saw" Jesus once in my life.  I was hiking in a snowstorm down by the Minnesota River, alone, and I was distraught about my kids, and about money. Suddenly, there is this figure -- this hallucination lasts all of three seconds -- and I know in an instant it is Jesus. It's freezing, and Jesus is traipsing through the wetlands, his cross grown into him.

I mean, the wood and his body have fused, and he is totally enchained in his martyrdom. He thrashes in the cattails and burdock -- and then he's gone. He was the son of God, but he was imprisoned in the cross and other vegetation. And that three seconds is my personal relationship with Jesus -- a horror story, of a God trapped in myth, loving, sacrificing, but still trapped.

And it was foreboding because I knew that this monstergod was watching me every second of every day -- in a kind of mute agony. I had all the obligations of Christianity -- being good -- but none of the sweet stuff that my Christian friends all seemed to have. It never seemed fair to me. But, I have stopped looking for "fair."

I “encountered" Jesus many other times, reading and thinking. I know he's not a monster, really. But this was the only time I actually “saw” him.  

I also appreciate that he atoned with God the father for the sins of the world -- but that doesn't mean your life isn't still hell/ And he didn't save everybody -- just the people able to clap and sing. The snide people get set aside, 

  I wonder why it's so different for other people.