As a young high school “Jesus freak,” I grew my hair long. Dad didn’t like that. One day when he was needling me about it, I pointed toward a picture on the wall of my room. “What about Him?” I argued. “Who?,” Dad asked with irritation. Still pointing, I raised my voice: “HIM!” Dad stepped into the room and saw where my finger directed: the framed copy of a painting he had given me years earlier, that hung over my bed day and night—a classic image of Jesus, blue-eyed and bronzed, long flowing hair falling over his pure white robe. I don’t remember Dad ever bothering me again about the length of my hair.
“What about Him?” A question I suppose has bothered Christians for a long time. In those long ago “freakish” days, we thought it was clever to wear something that said “WWJD?” Another slick marketing tool to stir curiosity, so we could tell people the letters stood for: “What Would Jesus Do?” On the flip side of the coin, the point was to remind ourselves to carefully consider our actions, asking ourselves if whatever we were doing was something Jesus himself would do.
How many of those who claim to be believers or “followers of Jesus,” ask themselves one simple question: What about Him? A question that unpacks a whole bunch of other questions: What did he do? What would he do now? How should I act in a similar way? What’s their image, their model for active belief? They may not point at a framed picture of him on a bedroom wall, but give a moment’s reflection upon the kind of life he lived and lessons he taught. How should we treat others? What do we do about people who are different from us? How do we act toward people who are poor, or sick, immigrants or anyone who offends us?
What about Buddha? What about Gandhi? What about any famous leader of any religion or movement? Do we look to them, seek their advice, before doing anything? That doesn’t seem wise or even practical. Admired teachers or leaders of the past may present us with good models, examples of how to handle some situations, yet the truth is, they can’t live our lives for us. Should we make an effort to “live like them,” and is that even possible? I’m not so sure.
The real questions to ask are: What about me? What can I do? Should I do anything? Maybe there really isn’t any clear guidance from anyone, past or present. Whose responsibility is it anyway; who can tell us how to act, how to respond to circumstances we encounter? Sometimes the best response to a question like “What about him, or her?” is: they aren’t here right now, I am; they may never have faced what I’m facing, so it’s up to me now. And, perhaps to state this even more clearly, we need to say: it doesn’t matter what “they” would do; I can rationally decide to do what I think needs to be done, or say what needs to be said, based on my own conscience.
This gets more complicated when someone claims they follow Jesus but their actions or words don’t appear to reflect what we know about him. They may say they love others, yet their judgments toward anyone who disagrees with their opinions are anything but loving. They may focus exclusively on studying the Bible, having “biblical beliefs” and “saving souls” whereas Jesus modeled a different message. What about Him? How did Jesus show lovingkindness and compassion toward the “least of these”? Was he more interested in dividing the world into Factions of Faith, or was his life centered on serving others no matter their social, economic or religious position?
I’ve been watching the series, “Shiny Happy People.” It’s not easy to view, especially when you can relate to the evangelistic enthusiasm that captivates young people into a narrow box of beliefs. A former longhaired “Jesus freak” friend of mine agrees that we’re glad we never fell that deeply into a youth cult like the ones presented in the show. To watch these manipulative performances by preachers who build their powerful and profitable empires from a gullible generation, is disappointing and discouraging, even depressing. Yet, from personal experience I know maturity and experience can offer freedom. One major element of that escape can be the recurring questions that mark a healthy self-check up: What about Him? Followed by the essential query: What about me? I can’t imagine Jesus would have anything to do with these emotional events that trap so many in bubbles of belief. Then again, it’s not really about him, or a freakish faith, but reason and good sense.
Chris Highland was a Protestant minister and interfaith chaplain for many years before becoming a humanist celebrant and author. He lives in Asheville, North Carolina. His website is www.chighland.com.

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