The Pietistic Jesus-Juker

He’s always there. Always watching. Always waiting to strike.

A newlywed gazes into the bright blue eyes of his bride and says, “I love the light I see in your eyes.”

But out of the bushes jumps the Jesus-Juker:

“You should say you love the Light of the World that resides in her—not some fleshly concern like eye color.”

Two old friends crack open some cold ones on the back deck.

“I need a new kind of grass for that dry patch in my yard,” one says.

Suddenly, a voice from the shadows:

“You’re worried about grass? You should be growing the fruit of the Spirit in the dry patches of your heart.”

All around town he travels, correcting to and fro.

“Worried about the tomatoes in your garden?”

— You should be cultivating spiritual fruit.

“Feeling bad you haven’t called your elderly mom back?”

— You should feel bad you haven’t called on the Holy Spirit today. And once isn’t enough.

“Having foundation issues in your home?”

— Why don’t you worry more about the only firm foundation: Jesus Christ.

“Starving and in need of food?”

— You should hunger and thirst for righteousness, not bread and water.

“Lonely and longing for a spouse?”

— Behold, Christ is the groom of the Church! What more could you need?

Every joy must be rerouted. Every grief, reframed. Every simple pleasure, baptized in shame.

But one day, the Jesus-Juker, weary from his good works, goes home.

He scrambles some eggs. Brushes his teeth. Lies down for a nap.

He forgot to turn off the stove.

The dish towel was too close.

A flicker becomes a flame. Smoke fills the house. All exits blocked.

He screams from the window:

“Help! My house is on fire!”

The townspeople gather and shout back:

“You should be more concerned about being on fire for Christ!”