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| Photo courtesy of Lindsay Cournia |
While flipping through a popular Christian magazine a few
years ago, I came across the results of a contest the magazine had put on in an
earlier edition. The results came in the
form of photos—photos of Cheetos. The
crunchy kind. But these weren’t just any
crunchy Cheetos. The winning images
featured Cheetos that were coincidentally shaped in the semblance of…
Anyone? Anyone?
Jesus. Yes. For all of you former Sunday Schoolers out
there, the classic Sunday School answer takes the cake in this case. Although I personally couldn’t make out the
Jesus-likeness of the Cheetos in most of the snapshots, even with the erratic
variety of twists and knobs on each powdery, neon-orange stub, I could make out
a couple that seemed to be sporting some totally righteous beards.
Say, “Cheese!”
In spite of being a creative thinker, I oftentimes find
myself lacking in the imagination department.
I never was one to find animal shapes in the cauliflower-like contour of
cumulous clouds, and whenever my friends would point out giraffes or giant
Snoopies inching their way across the bright summer sky like giant inflatables in Macy’s annual Thanksgiving
Day parade, I’d put on my most convincing voice and squint, “Yeah, yeaaah. I totally
see it!”
Though I was unable to see Jesus in the Cheetos in the same
way the winning contestants and the editorial staff at the magazine had, the
notion of mixing the Savior of the world with the salty party snack did hold
some significance for me because it reminded me of a Jesus one of my former
college classmates had described in a scene he’d written for our screenwriting
course. I don’t remember many specifics about his screenplay,
but I clearly recall the term “VILLAGE
IDIOT” being ascribed to the King of Kings in capitalized courier
typeface. His Jesus was a hapless klutz,
tripping over his robes and grinning like a goon as he fumbled and stumbled all
over the pages of that mocking manuscript.
Although I found my classmate’s depiction of Jesus to be
distasteful and disturbing, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest because I’d
seen that Jesus before. And I continue
to see him to this day, only I don’t call him “Jesus,” because I don’t think he
deserves that title.
I call him “Cheese-us,” and I believe he exists well beyond
the concluding sentence of that saddening screenplay to distract people from
The Real Deal. I believe our enemy,
Satan, would much prefer us to follow and worship this made-up poser than the one
tried-and-true Messiah.
When I think of “cheesy” as an adjective, I associate it
with things that are cheap, things that are weak, things that shallow, and things
that frankly, are kind of stupid. Things
that attempt to appear genuine on the surface, but wind up feeling like more of
a joke than anything in the end.
I realize the term “cheesy” is subjective. What some may find cheesy, others may find
moving and beautiful. While I might
cringe at images of gleeful people worshipping on the ocean shore with their jeans
rolled up and arms raised high, the glowing sunset reflecting on their skin
like firelight, others may want to mount the scene above their living room
mantel. And while I may want to clunk my
head and go, “Jeez!” (or better yet, “Cheese!”) because I find some of the
jesting on Christian radio stations dorky and downright gag-worthy, I know
there are others out there who spray their morning coffee out of their noses
and onto their windshields because they just can’t take those hilarious hosts. And while I may find myself seriously
struggling to use popular Christian expressions like “praise God,” “I feel so blessed,”
“you’re such a prayer warrior,” “I pray His hedge of protection around you,”
and “the Bible is God’s love letter to you and me,” in a manner that feels
genuine, the words roll effortlessly off the tongues of many of my brothers and
sisters in Christ.
Some people like a little cheese when taking in the Bread of
Life, and that’s not always a bad thing.
If you’re still reading this, I’m sure it’s become (perhaps painfully)
obvious to you that I’m OK with cheesiness at times, particularly when it comes
to hamming it up to make a point.
Did I really just
say that?
If I’m being completely honest, however, saying things like
“brothers and sisters in Christ” often feels cheesy in the nose-crinkling way for
me. So do terms like “salvation,”
“fellowship,” “personal relationship,” “praise and worship,” “the gospel,” and
even (gasp) “Christian.”
“Gospel’s” a big one.
I can’t explain why, but whenever I see or hear the word, I get an
immediate mental image of a big, round hunk of cheese with a small triangle cut
out of the side, Tom and Jerry style.
It makes me uneasy to experience such intense aversion to
words and phrases that used to flow so naturally in and out of my conversations
with other Christians. (Even saying that
right there gives me pause.) It’s hard
not to feel like some kind of backslidden rebel, or worse yet, an apostate.
But I know that’s not true.
Having grown up in the church, I’ve been immersed in
Christian culture for so many years that a lot of the vernacular has become a little
stale for me. To avoid the stinky cheese,
I find myself groping for terminology that holds the same root meaning, but
lacks some of the lingo that the church has claimed and tamed. Sometimes I succeed at it, but mostly, I find
myself still standing there, wracking my brain for the right words long after the
interaction has ended. There are some
things that feel almost too deep, too sacred for words.
This isn’t an issue of me being ashamed of the gospel—it’s
being ashamed of words that have been flopped around so flippantly they’ve taken
on new meanings altogether. It’s losing
tolerance for all of the fluff that rivals the stuff of my friends’ animal-shaped
cumulous clouds. A lot of people are OK
with using these words and are able to do so with utmost sincerity. I can’t judge them for that. Personally, though, I’m not a fan of cultured
cheese. It disagrees with my digestion.
I take the most issue with cheesiness when it makes Christ
and His promise of hope come across as chintzy and artificial, silly and
untrustworthy—when there’s so much cheese piled up high atop the naked truth, squeezed
from a canned gospel, that it threatens to crowd out the truth altogether for
those consuming it.
I guess that’s what you’d call “Cheese-us Christ on a
cracker.”
People buy canned cheese because it’s easy and fun, but they
rarely take it seriously. I don’t want a gospel that can’t be taken
seriously. I don’t want one that promotes
all the easy stuff, but skips out on the nitty-gritty. I don’t even want one that softens its edges
in the name of being “family-friendly.” (And
if we must add the cheddar, can we at least make it the sharp kind?)
I want a gospel that won’t pass over uncomfortable passages
like, “You will be hated by everyone because of Me” (Mt 10:22) and “I did not
come to bring peace, but a sword,” (Mt 10:34) and that won’t apologize for
being straightforward, but will unwaveringly testify to the truth (Jn 18:37). I want one that boasts of the depth of the
riches of Christ’s wisdom and knowledge (Rom 11:33) and also of the depths of
His love (Eph 3:18-19 and Rom 8:38-39).
I want one that boldly proclaims how “the foolishness of God is wiser
than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength” (1
Cor 1:25). I want one that reminds us
that were not redeemed with perishable things, like silver or gold, but with
the precious blood of Christ (1 Pt 1:18-19).
The one I speak of is not shallow, He is not weak or foolish,
and He is not cheap. His name’s not
Cheese-us—it’s Jesus. And I choose Him.
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