More of Jesus, Less of Me

It has not escaped my notice that this blog appears to me more about myself than about God, and while my intention here is to [try to] write about my relationship with God, thus necessitating the insertion of myself into the narrative, I find it alarming (and more than a little troubling) that my usage of personal pronouns is so pronounced.

This, too, is humbling.

I am a self-centered, vain and imperfect creature, and to have recently spent the Easter season reflecting on Jesus and his supreme selflessness has, as should be expected, highlighted so many of my own flaws.  It is Jesus that I find myself drawn to in the Bible, more than to the Holy Spirit or to God Himself, which was, I suppose, much of the point of Jesus' being made human.  It makes him more relatable in a way, though his perfection is also made more awe-inspiring for the same reason.

How can I be so drawn to someone so filled with love, someone so blameless, when I am made to feel so little, so petty, so hard-hearted in comparison?

If the Church were to focus more on Jesus, wouldn't that make it more difficult for the world to be so disgusted by religion?  If I were to focus more on Jesus, wouldn't that make me better able to show the love of God to those who want nothing to do with Christianity?

In the mid-eighties, when I was in middle school, my mother and I trekked to Atlanta every Monday night to see Mylon LeFevre & Broken Heart play.  They were very much a part of my mother's return to church, and thus my own exposure to God, and they were very much a product of the time period.  Christian rock mirrored the styles of the times, much as it did for the following 10 years or so, so it is with no small amount of trepidation that I link the following video.  One must be able to overlook mullets and parachute pants, mustaches and the like.  I rather liked the 80's.

This band holds a very special place in my heart, and the song "More of Jesus" that appears in the following video is one that stuck with me through more than a decade of rebellion against the church; and last week, when I felt God moving my hand, and I wanted to rebel against even that, this song planted itself on repeat in my head, where it has remained stubbornly for the past eight days.

This is my prayer: to be more like Jesus, less like me.