Jesus Saves at Publix

Today, feeling pretty ragged and worn, I walked into the produce aisle of my favorite small-town grocery store hoping to quickly pick up some grapes and go.

Then I saw Linden.

He's worked at Publix for years. We generally talk recipes, the state of the economy, and which tomatoes are on sale. But today I said, “You know, this life thing isn't what I thought it was going to be. It's hard and uncomfortable.”

“Yep,” he said in his quintessential southern drawl. “Life slaps you, knocks your head to the ground, and holds you down with its foot tight on your face so you just can't move.”

I nodded deeply, internally feeling the weight of life’s dirty rubber sole pressed hard against my cheek.

“But you know what,” he continued. “Only you can remove that foot. It's up to us to get it off of us, no matter how hard it might be.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, knowing this all too well.

“Do you follow a faith?” I asked.

“I don't go to church regularly, but I know Him.”

I leaned in, curious to hear more.

What I hadn't said outright to Linden is that I've been on a Jesus kick lately. It's really embarrassing to talk about, because I was raised Jewish, and most of the people I have lived around have rejected God completely.

And yet, here I am lately, secretly obsessed with this dude in sandals who I can't even see!

I'll be honest. There's a lot about the Christian religion that creeps me out. Lots of what I've seen and heard doesn't feel Christlike at all.

But then there's the people. People like Linden. These are Christians who aren't proselytizing one bit. They just love this invisible dude so much, to the point that their eyes soften when they say his name.

“Life is hard,” they say, “but I am loved, and so are you.”

I can feel it. These words are not just lip service. These folks speak straight from their hearts. They live it. They walk it. They are it. Not because they have anything to prove. They just can't help but know that Love.

Although I've always felt intensely spiritual, I've skirted around Christianity, opting for more exotic Buddhist and Hindu belief systems.

But there's another part to this—a part I don’t like talking about. For most of my life, I have secretly believed I am not worthy of love. I've spent so much time fighting my own shame, bending over backwards to win others' adoration.

So hearing these words of love from my Christian friends, feeling them intuitively, soothes my soul in ways I've never known before.

Linden then told me about the small-town Baptist church he grew up in, how they wouldn't turn anyone away. He told me about his parents and their love for theological wisdom. And then, right there next to the carrots and the cucumbers, I watched as his eyes filled with tears as he talked about Jesus. I got teary-eyed too.

I don't fully understand any of this. Because even though I'm studying a whole new theology, none of this feels new. I've known it all my life. I somehow have always known God in my bones. I've felt it in my lover’s deep kisses, known it in the silence of the river, sung it in lullabies to my children, witnessed it in synagogues, Buddhist temples, and on spiritual retreats.

It's always been around.

So, I texted my ex bf today. I told him about Linden. “That's the Holy Spirit,” he wrote back. It made me happy to see those words. He and I have talked about this power before, and he is perhaps the only person to have witnessed me in the sacred moments when I've been overtaken by it all.

So, none of this is new, and yet I am not the me I knew even four months ago. It's perplexing, humbling, and oddly grounding as well.

I may not know much of anything for certain, but I have come to believe that the Holy Spirit is real. I've met it more times than I can count.

I'm just not sure of its true name… or even if it needs to be named at all. All I know right now is that it's calling me… loving me.

Nothing feels more real.