No, Jesus Is My Personal SaviorCommentary • Opinion • religion • christianity • ISSUE 39•47 • Dec 3, 2003 By Duane Hurley Duane Hurley What? Now you've opened up your soul to Him and made a home for the Lord in your heart, too? Give me a break, Matt. You're just saying that because I told you I'd been born again into new life in the love and grace of our Lord, the Redeemer, Christ Jesus. Let's get one thing clear: Jesus is my personal savior, not yours. I don't want you horning in on my eternal-salvation action. Get your own Redeemer, Matt. I have a one-on-one, personal relationship with Jesus, and I don't remember inviting you in on it. Yes, I know, Jesus said the apostles should spread the good news of His death and resurrection, and his followers should "go forth and do likewise." Hello, I'm the one who told you that, remember? But just because I happen to have proselytized unto you on His behalf, that doesn't mean I welcomed you into the fold or expected you to embrace the one true Messiah. I was only saying that stuff out of devotion to His teachings, not because I wanted you to get with God, too. I was the one who found that little cartoon pamphlet on the ground. I was the one who looked into my soul and realized that I'd been living a lie spun by the great deceiver. I was the one who got down on my hands and knees, right there in the bus shelter, and accepted the Lord Jesus Christ into my heart—not you. I broke the bonds of sin and was reborn into a new and beautiful world of eternal life, man! And now, you want to get some of my eternal life after death for yourself. You're lucky I've devoted myself to the worship of a forgiving and benevolent messianic figure, or else I'd seriously want to pop you one right now. Spare me the rhetoric about loving kindness, turning the other cheek, and "all are welcome at the table of the Lord." This isn't about that, Matt, and you know it. This is about me finding something really great, and then you swooping in from outside to take my cool new personal Savior and claim Him for yourself. Remember when I got into Linkin Park? That's right, I saw the video for "One Step Closer" on MTV. You said they were a one-hit wonder, but I stood behind them. Then you bought Hybrid Theory and started acting like you'd been a big fan all along. Or what about Owen Wilson? I was all into him after Bottle Rocket. I said he was a real talent with the potential to be a big star. Then Shanghai Noon comes out, and there's Matt, jumping on the Owen Wilson bandwagon, waving the Owen Wilson flag! And don't give me that "Judge not lest ye be judged" crap. Jesus may be an all-compassionate avatar of God's divine forgiveness, but just because I've chosen Him as my personal Savior, that doesn't mean I'm obliged to let you walk all over me. I don't need you coming in here with your "Jesus accepts all into His all-forgiving bosom, even the sinners, tax collectors, and whores, so why not old Matt?" crap. Don't start going off on me about Christ's repudiations of the exclusionary doctrines of the Pharisees, okay? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even know the word "Pharisee." No, Matt, because you don't come up with your own ideas. You just latch on to stuff that other people already like and leech off them like a parasite. Man, if it weren't for that "love your enemies as yourself" doctrine and the whole bit about fellowship and stewardship of God's Kingdom on Earth, I'd be just about through with you. Okay, fine. Jesus is your personal savior. Congratulations! Matt's found eternal bliss in the afterlife, everybody! He's a big man! Go ahead—enjoy worshipping your newfound Messiah all you want. I'm moving on. From now on, Jesus is no longer my own personal Savior. You can have Him all to yourself. I'm leaving behind selflessness and forgiveness and individual sacrifice for the greater good, and I'm finding something else to center my universe on. From now on, I'm devoting myself, heart and soul, to cool old sports cars. And I don't want to see you in six months talking about how awesome the '63 Corvette is, either. Collectible '60s sports cars are for me only. Got it? Good. Now, go and enjoy your transubstantiation of bread and wine into the body and blood of the Lord in the holy sacrament of Communion and leave me alone. What's that? Oh, I'm being an asshole about it, am I? Thou sayest, motherfucker. Thou sayest.