My Jesus Looks Like Jean-Paul Belmondo

jesus-wallpapers-0114A long time ago, when I was very young, Jesus was my closest friend. I went to church every Sunday: first at Christ the King in Commack, New York, and later, after moving to California at the age of 10, Sacred Heart Church in dusty, then-rather-backwoods Turlock in the Central Valley.

I can’t say I ever sat patiently through mass, or that I ever fully involved myself with what the priests were saying up there on those altars. I do, however, remember being in awe of the bright, stained glass windows, the pungent smell of incense, and the trinkle, trinkle sound of the bells during the presentation of the eucharist. Of particular fascination was Jesus himself, hanging on the giant cross behind the Sacred Heart altar: sinew-taut swimmers body, head on stretched-ligament neck lifted as if searching for something in the dark recesses of the giant, steeped ceiling. There was something about that Jesus that stirred fantasies that I couldn’t quite give a narrative to at that innocent age, before I understood that I was one of those children who were, as I would eventually be told ad nauseam, damned to hell for all eternity.

nanandandyMy Irish-Catholic grandmother, my favorite person in my entire world aside from my mother, was the keeper of the family bible, a humongous leather-clad edition with hand-written dates of birth and sacraments received. The pages were tissue-paper thin, save the florid illustrations that were bordered in gold leaf.  I remember the pages always felt cool to the touch, and smelled vaguely of mothball and some spice I still can’t identify.  I’d sit in the leather chair next to my grandmother’s credenza (there really was a piece of furniture called a ‘credenza’ back then) and thumb through the pictures, fascinated.  Handsome Jesus always looked so sad, save for the one illustration of that big moneychanger/temple brouhaha, where he looked downright peeved.

After my first communion, while still in my little man sport suit, my grandmother gave me a scapularBrownScapular.S2, which had illustrations of St. Joseph on either end of the black cord. The way my grandmother pronounced it, with her heavy Brooklyn accent, made it sound like “scapuluh.”  (Which, of course, was easy to remember since it rhymed with  spatula, which was a word I heard quite a bit, since my grandfather was a chef and always seemed to be searching for one. )  As she presented it to me, and then placed it over my head so that one St. Joseph rested on my chest and the other St. Joseph was lying against my back, she told me, solemnly: “Honey, if you die and you are wearing your scapuluh, you will go straight to heaven.”  This puzzled me for a moment. Why all the talk in church about Heaven, and Hell, and Purgatory and that silly sounding Limbo place I never quite understood if all I actually had to worry about was keeping these scratchy sharp-edge pieces of plastic hanging around my neck? I didn’t question it, I just counted my good fortune at receiving this amazing, magical, straight-past-Saint Peter- pass.

That scapuluh..er, scapular…stayed on my body for the next two years. The only time I would take it off was when I’d shower. Until, of course, the time i’d taken a nasty spill on the slippery tub bottom, at which point I began wearing it even while bathing (how horrible would it be to crack my head open on the porcelain, and as I lie there, the life ebbing from my ten-year-old, sin sodden body, seeing the scapular hanging just out of reach on the towel hook?)

That scapular made me feel somewhat invincible, sin-wise. I could make my confession and leave out as much as I wanted to. I could even lie outright, knowing my Heaven Direct pass was sandwiching my body. I felt like I could talk freely, even conversationally, to Jesus. Before Scapular, I would only talk to him if I needed something…sometimes trivial things like “please let my school catch on fire tomorrow so I don’t have to go”, and “please make my dad stop giving me those boring yellow Tonka construction trucks and Erector sets for Christmas.”

After scapular, I kind of felt that I could talk to him about anything, that I could even make requests that were probably inappropriate, if not downright unsavory. I was certain Jesus wasn’t thrilled with these kind of requests, but the fact was, I had a scapular.  So I’d talk to him about the kids at school I hated, the ones who picked on me – who called me ‘faggot’ and ‘fatty’ – and I’d ask him to please kill them – preferably in a gory accident of some kind, or at the very least some painful terminal illness that would require them to leave Sacred Heart immediately.

Before scapular, I’d never have been so bold as to ask Jesus to break one of the commandments he brought down from the mountain (yes, I went to Catholic school, but I never did well in the religious studies part). Now, the cool plastic square pressed against my back as I lay in bed, staring up at the giant, lacquered and framed jigsaw puzzle of The Last Supper my grandmother had given me, I felt like I could pretty much do as I pleased. I guessed my boldness probably irked Jesus a little, but hey…I’m wearing a scapular.  Jesus was awesome, because he was everywhere. I liked that I had an invisible friend who would protect me, sometimes do what I asked him do.  The “everywhere” thing got to be a little much, though, so when I’d sit down to relieve myself in the bathroom I took to running the water in the sink to mask sound, and folding a bath towel over my lap for a tiny semblance of privacy.

About a year into my scapular addiction, when I discovered masturbation, I would finish every furtive hiding-from-Jesus-under-the-covers jerkoff with a whispered, “sorry, Jesus.”  Still, I considered him my friend, even though I sensed he was repulsed by this disgusting thing I was doing with my babymaker.  Again, though, I was wearing my scapular, so…free pass to Heaven regardless of how many cotton tube socks I violated, right?

ImageA couple of years later, I had an unfortunate encounter with Father Oliver O’Grady (often referred to as “The Hannibal Lecter of Pedophile Priests) that finally rendered my scapular absolutely useless to me. Jesus, my everywhere friend, had been right there when it went down, and to add insult to injury he was also hanging right there on a cross on the wall of the room it happened in. Granted, his head was looking away, more toward the ceiling than towards the event taking place below, but still.  Afterwards, I tried making a few excuses for him, but eventually it dawned on me there were only two options as regards my friend Jesus. The first option was that Jesus was a total dick. This supposed friend could pretty much do anything, I mean, he was curing fucking cancer left and right and making statues cry blood in South American countries but he couldn’t step in and bitch-slap Father Feeley-Grabby’s hands away from my privates?   The other option was that he just wasn’t real, that it was all just a bunch of bullshit, that everyone had lied to me just like they had about Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny, and that cheap bitch The Tooth Fairy.

I never wore my scapular again, and cursed myself for putting up with those sharp plastic edges for as long as I had.  I went to church still, because my parents made me, but I made clear that I was attending under duress and never sang along with another hymn again.

Once I knew it was all a bunch of lies, that Father Holier-than-thou up there on that hideous, modern, red-carpeted altar preaching about sins of the flesh was actually a living, breathing cocksucker, I figured out that people were no more than a bunch of not-to-be-trusted hypocrites, and people in positions of authority were the most hypocritical of all.  I went from being a shy, introverted, but somewhat happy child to an angry, sullen adolescent.  I began trying desperately to sublimate my homosexuality…not because of anyone in “heaven” looking down on me and judging, but because I did not want to be the thing that O’Grady was, and I thought, mistakenly, that he had planted this seed (no pun intended) in me. I had forgotten, somehow, that before that incident I would masturbate and think about other boys, and it took a long time for me to understand that he didn’t make me gay, he saw that I was already gay. Also friendless and shy to the point of being almost non-verbal. in other words, a fairly safe choice.

My anger grew as the years went by, and I became not only an atheist, but a defiant, challenging, in-your-face atheist. If you had a God, well, then you were a fucking moron sheep being herded around by superstition and fear of dying.  Eventually, this almost unbearable anger found the only relief that worked for me: drugs.  The first time I smoked marijuana, it was like my heart had been punctured and all the bitterness had drained out of me for the time that I was high. I smiled. I laughed. I made friends.

Unfortunately, to maintain the happiness required more and more – then, harder and harder – drugs. And those hard drug eventually led to…well, everything you read on this blog, I suppose.

It was only recently, just this past year in fact, that I started talking to Jesus again. A few friends of mine re-introduced me, and it’s kind of funny that I had no idea that these three people i’d known for a while were such good friends of my ex-friend. They just seemed full of life, free of judgment, and funny as hell.  Starting to talk to Jesus was weird at first, just like talking to any friend you left on bad terms thirty-five years ago would be. I’ll be honest…I cried a little and called him a few names early on, but we eventually agreed to give friendship another tentative go.

Almost immediately, the floating, gauzy, phantom monsters that would invade my field of vision at night…or in any darkened room…and the horrible nightmares that followed, began to subside. I began to sleep fully and deeply for the first time in years. His doing? Or my brain just healing itself from years of drug abuse? I don’t really care.

breathless8This time, I got to set a few of the parameters of our relationship: There would be NO RELIGION INVOLVED, not in any way, shape or form.  This time, if I begin thinking that he’s some kind of magical wizard who fixes shit upon request or spends his days constantly righting human being’s fuckups, he’s gonna let me know that i’m giving him too much credit. This time, I can masturbate and watch porn all I want (though he’s agreed to let me know if it ever gets too excessive.) I can have sex with my husband any way I want and he’s just going to have to be okay with it (Jesus, I mean, not my husband.)  He’s also given me his permission to imagine that he looks  like Jean-Paul Belmondo in “Breathless,” because he thinks it means i will pray more (he’s absolutely right.)

MY Jesus is encouraging of my homosexuality, since he made me this way  and would hate to see his special modifications not put to good use. The fact that I found my amazing partner of almost twenty  years – and that we’ve remained firmly committed, even during the tumultuous years of my meth addiction, is proof enough for me that he smiles upon our union.

MY Jesus doesn’t give a shit about swearing, as long as it’s not used to hurt or demean someone. Which is a big, fucking relief, because i’m an inveterate swearer.  I do feel uncomfortable when I reflexively growl out a “Jesus F_____ Christ,” and I’m working to curb that completely.  MY Jesus thinks “Jesus H. Christ” is hilarious, though, which also shows you that my  Jesus has a sense of humor.

MY Jesus has no issues with his theological counterparts…The Buddha, Mohammed, or the others…he assures me there’s no competition going on, despite what a bunch of loudmouth miscreants might claim. MY Jesus has no problem when those who don’t know him call him by other names…like Love, or The Universe, or even Positive Energy.

MY Jesus despises hypocrites, and rolls his (big-sleepy-Belmondo) eyes at pompously religious (ugh) people who make a grand public show of knowing him.

MY Jesus, as the Irish band In Tua Nua so eloquently put it, is in the innocent and the honest ones.

MY Jesus loves me no matter what mistakes I’ve made, or will make. And I will make many, many more.  I have no problem calling myself a sinner, because My Jesus doesn’t think of sin as some horrible act of dark transgression. My Jesus believes sinning merely  means missing the mark…basically, falling short of my own expectations of what a moral, compassionate, honest, spiritual life should  look like.

My Jesus promised me that if I keep talking to him, keep asking him for guidance, and basically, just let him love me, he’ll help keep me clean and sober and make clear the path upon which I should be traveling.  I’m counting on it.

And finally,  MY Jesus speaks to me the way John Grant writes songs:

This pain it is a glacier moving through you
And carving out deep valleys
And creating spectacular landscapes
And nourishing the ground
With precious minerals and other stuff
So don’t you become paralyzed with fear
When things seem particularly rough

Don’t you pay them f*ckers as they say no never mind
They don’t give two sh*ts about you, it’s the blind leading the blind
What they want is commonly referred to as theocracy
And what that boils down to is referred as hypocrisy

Don’t listen to anyone, get answers on your own
Even if it means that sometimes you feel quite alone
No one on this planet can tell you what to believe
People like to talk a lot and they like to deceive

75 thoughts on “My Jesus Looks Like Jean-Paul Belmondo

  1. Andy I’m so sorry for the pain you suffered through esp as a child who had every right to innocence and safety that was brutally stolen. I apologize for the confusion, shame and self loathing you’ve battled with. It sucks what we go through in attempts to feel ” normal” and accepted. I’m so sorry for the failings of so many re oliver ogrady being free when he shouldn’t have been, including my self and my parents. I pray to a loving God that sees more then we portray and waits repeatedly for us to accept his love. It is so hard to see and believe in our worth. We trade on addiction for Another…continuing the sabatoge of ourselves long after others. Peace and love and prayers re your courage and your abundant worthiness for a successful recovery.

  2. Love your writing style, thanks for shsring your story…I don’t ever think of Jesus but if I did I’m not sure how I would picture him

  3. I echo the comments of others and simply want to say thanks for sharing. I don’t know that you’d be interested–perhaps you’ve already read it, but Philip Yancey covers the topic of who Jesus really is vs who we have reinvented him to be in The Jesus I never Knew. One of my favorite passages talks about what Jesus looked like and the traditions that led to current iconography. According to one French tradition, Jesus was apparently short and bald. I take great comfort in this and find it has impacted the quality and flavor of my conversations with him as an adult.

  4. Oh man, this is one of the best blogs I have ever read on the subject of Jesus and homosexuality. I seriously would just about BEG you to come and “chime in” on our discussion at http://www.youcantaskthat.com regarding the very same thing. People NEED to hear your beautiful, powerful story.

    Thanks so much for sharing. You officially have a new follower!

    –Steve

    • thank you for your kind words.. I’m following your blog now too…. I think I’ll pass on commenting on the debate for the time being, i’m still in my first year of sobriety so i’m trying to avoid anything that might mess with my serenity for the time being! But who knows, now that i’m following your blog I might not be able to resist chiming in at some point. Have a great day and again, thanks so much for the compliment, it made my day.

      • Well I am honored!

        Totally understand the need for serenity and I respect that.

        Thanks for the follow and the response. I am now reading “Follow Jesus or Go to Hell” and I am afraid I may be on your site all night. Sheesh!!!
        :)

        Peace.

  5. Had me @ the title- been sooo long since I thought of Jean Claude. What a witness you are! Started crying by the middle and was balling by the end. Thank you. If you’re ever roaming I write about my walk, stumbles and detours too.

  6. my view of Jesus is very different than yours. but i really enjoyed reading this, i like the way you write and how passionate you are. i hope that you know not all ‘Christian’s’ are as hypocritical and sick as many of those you’ve encountered.

    i like how you said it was about a relationship. that’s all it is. people who slap the ‘religion’ sticker on it are confused and likely don’t know what they believe.

    Jesus is so important to me and while i disagree on your view of him, it’s your view and it isn’t up to me to decide what he is for you.

    thank you again for this post, i really enjoyed it. :)

    • thank you so much, and I assure you I don’t think all Christians are of that ilk. I’ve known some amazing Christian people in my lifetime, they just were nowhere to be found in my formative years. I call them “real Christians.” For obvious reasons. Have a great day!

  7. Pingback: My Jesus Looks Like Jean-Paul Belmondo | SouthWeb Org
  8. Thank you very much for sharing your experience. You had me curious with Jean-Paul Belmondo who I adore, and I very quickly forgot all about him because you were so much more compelling. Brilliant.

  9. I absolutly love this, you have every right to stand tall and proud and I love the way you see Jesus, everyone sees him a different way but not too many people have the guts to come out and say it. Its odd that I came across your blog, I recently lost my daughter (she was born stillborn) and I have a blog that I use to write about her and bring awareness and I seen your blog as suggestion, so I read it and in the past few months when Ive felt like not much of anything could make me feel inspired and you did… You will do amazing things in life.

  10. I enjoyed your writing and had forgotten about the scapulars. I never had the misfortunate experience you did and (I was an altar boy), but I left the church when I was nineteen after receiving a phone call from one of the church women who told me that if I didn’t commit to a set amount of “donation” to the church I would not be buried by them.

  11. Thank you, Andy for sharing part of your story. I relate to the anger and I finally realized I had to tell myself that I didn’t believe God/Jesus so I could think about, believe and trust an All Loving Creator. We all of stories and I’m learning those who are honest about theirs are the people you want to be with. I wore a mask for years in order to seek love and approval although I’ve made much progress to keep it off. My mask like to sneak back on when I’m not present and willing to feel!
    Pam :)

  12. jesus always said in front of the masses he came to bear witness to the truth, but it seems only the night before his death with 9 witnesses (nothing against the apostles but the point is 9 accounts is much easier to fabricate than a mountainside full of strangers) out comes this phlosophy that he died for our sins.

    makes sense if you think about it; if your a power that be and there is this man that has no shame about comming into your synagouges and exposing your hypocricy, how do you deal with him? you can’t just kill him and be done with it when thousands are following him. you must instead use his death- jesus died for our sins.

    i instead think he was a man or divine entity describing a truth to be discovered instead of a philosophy to be believed in and someone who had a truth worth dying over. i know real stuff when i hear it and i know he’s real, but that does not have to equate to believing he died for my sins. he may have been the lord himself and salvation in all respects, but that does not mean that i must not consider that he may have been slaughtered and used to suit someones purpose.

    “He who has ears let him hear” right? so even if i’m wrong at least i’ve attempted to hear, and even if i don’t believe what a typical christian does, i can still try to be like the wise man who built his house on the rock and actually put his words to use.

    sounds like you got ears. sounds like you heard a man who forgave sins -or maybe played on our ignorance that we thought they needed forgiveness- free of charge without anyone having to die (like the woman who weopt at his feet and others too). funny how christians now days seem to think jesus did not want them to actually use their brains. many just show up and profess this philosophy to be believed in- this right or wrong answer with their words, “but your hearts are far from me”. many show up with their clean church suit but have yet to “clean the cup from the inside out”. and many think he is describing a terrible burden and a life of suffering persecution when he may have instead been so utterly full of bliss he was instead saying that what he found was simply worth persecution; “my yoke is easy and my burden is light”

    thanks for the post. sorry so long a response:)

  13. Congratulations to you on being Freshly Pressed, and congratulations to whichever of the WP staff had the great good sense to feature this post. In all these years of searching for my own truths, you have given me the greatest sense of who Jesus really is that I’ve ever known. ~smooch~ Thank you, and God bless.

    • Wow! Thank you! I had no idea what “freshly pressed” even meant until this comment. So thank you for that, and thanks even more for your lovely words. God bless you as well!

    • Thank you SO much…not just for the kind words, but for your amazing blog. I just checked it out and it actually brought tears to my eyes. It gives me so much hope to see that there are good, or as I call them..REAL…Christians out there. Also, I commend you and your husband for the relationship you have with your oldest son and his partner. I’ve been blessed with parents who have also loved me no matter WHAT, and there is no doubt that my husband is as much a part of our family as my sister’s husband. So…not sure exactly what I’m trying to say with this rambling except that I look forward to heading back over to your blog and reading all of it!!! Have a beautiful day, and God bless you.

      • Andy, Thank you so much! I am honored that you have taken the time to read some of my blog and some of my story. I look forward to continuing to connect with you in the days ahead.

  14. Reblogged this on The Ashy Pint and commented:
    A bold post on Freshly Pressed about someone who has, remarkably, managed to maintain a shining kernel of his faith despite everything about it letting him down, especially the institution that was supposed to represent and mediate it. This falcon is learning to hear the falconer again.

  15. A beautiful piece of writing and well deserving to be Fully Pressed. I am sincerely impressed and encouraged that you have been able to keep something of the kernel of a true faith for you when everything around it let you down so badly. This shows not just that there is something real there, but also your own strength of spirit and willingness to strive on. I am sure that will bear fruit for you, always.

    I converted – quite willingly – to the Catholic Church about seven years ago, following what I would have to call a “mystical experience” which at that time I could only interpret as making sense within a Catholic context. I was raised as an atheist and later became a Buddhist – I evidently feel a need for religion but haven’t found my stride yet – so I’m inclined to look for religious meanings; but I’m getting used to this and learning as I go on!

    I really did believe most of it for a few years, but have now found that I just can’t, that too much of it is about believing because The Authority says so, and so it becomes about social control and discipline. This, sadly, is part of what has led to the numerous cases of clerical abuse that the world has heard about. Most recently here in the UK we had the resignation of Cardinal Keith O’Brien due to allegations of “improper sexual conduct” towards seminarians in the Eighties. The hypocrisy here is that he had been a vehement opponent of homosexuality. I have to say that I have witnessed no wrongdoing myself and the Catholics I have met have been fine, but I feel I can no longer participate in this.

    Also, I started feeling that I was helping to maintain a different subculture’s identity and way of life, as though Catholicism, to an extent, operates on a purely ethnic level for some. That’s fine, but it’s not my culture so I didn’t feel sincere. I’m still surprised at the level of superstition as well – such as scapulars – which is what got so many Catholics in the North of England persecuted as “witches” in the past; byt then I suppose they’ve retained these are part of their “Catholic identity”. Even my neo-pagan friends like this stuff because it’s a bit like magic!

    Anyway, that’s a long comment. Sorry – hope you don’t mind. Thanks Andy.

    • I don’t mind at all..you made my morning! I’d type a longer reply but I have to rush out and pick up a friend for a clinic visit. I’ll check out your blog later..and thanks for the repost!!!! cheers!

      • Splendid! I’ll be talking about your post for a while to come, I’m sure. It’s really got me thinking. I’ve only just started my own blog so still finding my voice. Not much content there at the moment but it’ll grow. It looks a bit gloomy at first but the aim is to be positive – sort of in the gutter looking at the star style. I think your post may help me find a bit of a direction, actually. My main blog is called The Ashy Pint. I have another – Opquam – but that’s about my love of vintage computer games so may have more limited appeal! Best wishes!

  16. Your Jesus kicks ass! Your journey is powerful and every second of it is bringing you closer to Him. What a inspiring message. Thank you for sharing. Keep talking to Him!

  17. I think it’s amazing that we learn about Jesus as kids, and he’s a loving accepting guy. Red, yellow, black and white, right? But that image gets screwed up by all the things we experience from some of his followers as we grow up. Yet we find Jesus again when we need him most, at the end of ourselves. And it’s that same accepting loving Jesus we learned about as a kid. Glad you found Jesus again, and that you are in such a good place given all you have experienced.

  18. Pingback: My Jesus Looks Like Jean-Paul Belmondo | SouthWeb
  19. My Jesus is still in his formative stages, he’s much kinder this go round. I appreciated your earnest flood of words. When you share something this honestly it suddenly seems profound.. as if we the reader are dusting off some portion of our mind that has existed a bit forgotten on the shelf. Best of luck to you.

  20. I grew up in a somewhat liberal mainstream church. When I was young, I thought of Jesus as this Jewish guy with long hair and a beard who went around telling people to give up their money and follow him and to love each other — sort of a hippie, communist!! I thought that was cool back then. Later in life, I would find that Jesus is certainly a different guy to different people. In any case, I am really sorry for the terrible pain that was inflicted on you by people who were supposed to represent the church. This is a great post, and you are are a really good writer. I wish you all the best.

  21. I really enjoyed reading this post, you are a gifted writer! I am so sorry for what you had to go through growing up in the name of religion. That is not Jesus, and it breaks his heart. I’m glad you can see that, I’m sure it’s been much more of a journey than you’ve been able to express in this post! xo

  22. Best thing I’ve read on WordPress since I joined. I knew those priests – I mean, I had my own version of them growing up (yes, “them”). I’m sorry you went through that– it’s wonderful that you can write so well about it.

  23. Thanks for your inspirational story. I’m a Christian too but quit the church. It seems to me that God still wants us to suffer or he could end it, I don’t get it , but there’s no point in asking why. So I wonder if it’s a test, and your way of dealing with the crap in life is what he wants to see. I wonder how much I see is random flukes and how much is the test of my free will. I don’t remember hearing the answer in Catechism class when I was a young chick. And evangelical people who go door to door don’t tell me either. Or does He even care ?

    • There’s really no way of knowing. I just know that the misery is balanced by beauty. My personal feeling is that He doesn’t really control situations at all, as evidenced by The Holocaust, natural disasters, plagues, etc. Without great misery there would be no feeling of great joy, I suppose. Thank you so much for reading this piece and taking the time to reply. xxxoo

    • The short reply is: God gave us choice. Choice to believe in Him or not. If He sorted out all the sh*t we ourselves cause, one, we wouldn’t learn anything, and second – and most important, we would have no choice but to believe in Him.

      I could go into a huge diatribe Chris – but God doesn’t want anyone to suffer. When you create something out of love you want the best for them – not the worst.

  24. For over thirty years I have been a pastor in liberal mainline Protestant church. It is a source of pain for me that organized religion has let you down so. I applaud you for your faith journey. Jesus does endorse your family, and so do I. May you walk with Jesus as a friend.

  25. Thanks, Dave….I’m feeling better than I have in a long, long time. The writing is helping…putting my secrets out there for people to read is making me feel ten pounds lighter with each post (which is awesome since i’ve actually gained 20 pounds since I stopped using, lol). I appreciate your taking the time to read my stuff…(also, I once considered converting to Judaisim back in the 90’s when I was working on a Holocaust documentation project…came very close….).

    Have an amazing Sunday. xo

  26. Remarkable and brave writing. It is funny, after converting to Christianity (I was born a Jew) I could never have sex with my cross on. It felt weird. It is funny how arbitrary these rules we give ourselves really are ad then something HUGE happens. Like what happened to you. I am so sorry you went through that, but it sounds like you are healing well and I hope you continue to do so =) Dave

  27. Its about relationship. Not religion, legalism, & tradition. Happy the two of you are on good terms again. :) the Jesus I love and believe in is kind, non-judging, & compassionate – setting up our example to follow.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to share. Or leave a comment here. Thanks!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s