On the impulse to Jesus juke

Plus: a disappointing read, a poll for Protestants, and more

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1. A take I haven’t written elsewhere

On the impulse to Jesus juke

(via)

My mother (who is likely reading this—hi, Mom!) is the queen of the Jesus juke. She can turn any conversation toward Jesus.

One moment you’re talking about the best kind of butter to buy or whether you should put snow tires on the car or if it’ll be an especially hot summer this year, and the next moment—somehow, by a process that will forever be mysterious to me—you are talking about Jesus. What does Jesus have to do with the butter, the tires, the weather? I cannot possibly tell you, but I can promise you my mother will get there.

My mom even Jesus juked my name: The Kristian of Bonnie Kristian is the result of a name change. Yes, it is pronounced like Christian. Yes, it is about Jesus.

I joke about Jesus jukes because I find them at once familiar and uncomfortable. My brain simply does not attempt the leap between Jesus and the butter. I can’t make the kind of connections my mom and others of her generation make—and this habit of thought and speech does, in my limited observation, seem to have a strong generational dynamic—and I often am unsure how to respond when they’re made.

Is Jesus juking a skill I haven’t learned or a tic I should avoid? Sometimes I’m not sure. Did the apostle Paul do Jesus jukes? I suspect he did, constantly, and I wonder if Luke and Barnabas and Timothy joked about it, too. (I might just be brain-wormed by a kids Bible I had that drew Paul very like George from Seinfeld.)