God is not safe

Sometimes, I go to church and completely zone out during the sermon. Correction; a lot of the time. The times that I don't are directly correlated with the level of interest and excitment of the preacher, or if it's something God specifically wants me to hear. Then, there are those preachers who really, truly hear the heart of God and convey it with passion. I heard a sermon like that this morning. In one sentence, it was "God is not safe." When you enter the presence of God, nothing is safe except you yourself.
Too often, the North American church has reduced God from the Lion of Judah to a cute teddy bear. Jesus is an Anglo-Saxon with a long straight nose, a hint of a smile, light glowing all around him as his blue eyes stare meaningfully (insert desired meaning here) at a fixed point in the sky, his head slightly tilted with flowing, light brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. I don't like this picture of Jesus. He didn't go around staring meaningfully at things. He probably didn't wear white. He wasn't white. He was Middle Eastern. Jesus called out the hypocrisies of the pious Pharisees; he rampaged through the temple, turning over tables of those who were blatantly disrespecting God's temple. He said outrageous things, made mud out of spit, got up early to pray, saved a woman from stoning, ate with the "bad guys," invited himself over to other people's houses, and finally allowed himself to be hung on a cross. Jesus was not safe. Christians are called to be like Christ. And still, for some reason, he's widely used as a security blanket.
For anyone who is not a Christian and is reading this, I hope that your conception of Jesus is not characterized as a white guy who stares at things meaningfully. He's so much more than that.
Well, we had our second dress rehearsal last night, with an audience. It went well, but our backdrop fell down a couple times. The roads to Vancouver were closed last week, but they're open now and we should have no trouble getting there. Tomorrow is our final dress rehearsal in the city of Champion. Well, technically, it's the village of Champion, but I just like saying city of Champion. What a good name for a city. And Tuesday morning we're off. Our set is made, our props are ready, our lines are memorized, our van is clean (on the inside), I can sort of juggle, and there's very little to do in Barons other than rehearse. We have a few last minute details and we're on our way!
Oh, and for my family and friends back in Chinookless central Alberta; it's ten degrees here. Reneyah and I cleaned the van for two hours outside with all the doors open, wearing sweatshirts and jeans, and I wasn't cold. There's hardly any snow left. I can't believe it's January!