For those not hip to the Facebook, your main page lists these ‘feeds’. Feeds contain your friends’ user-defined statuses (“Jo has the neighborhood kid out there mowing her lawn. Totally worth $20.”), any site activity you’ve taken recently (Jo has joined the group “Not turned on by 18-yr-olds who mow your lawn for cut-rate prices.”), and any posted links (Jo suggests “match.com for dates, not trolling the younguns in the neighborhood.”).
As said above, I’m fascinated by them. Because I have more than ten friends, each time I log onto Facebook, there’s something new.
Of my eleven friends, I have a good number from my high school. Like many small Texas towns, many people from here love Jesus. Sure, Sure. Lots of people in all sorts of places love Jesus. Blah blah blah. But these people REALLY love Jesus. As in, they exclaim everything is a product of Jesus’ doing, live in their little church bubbles where everyone agrees with that way, and don’t see how anything about their behavior differs from much of the population.
Now, before I get into the meat of this, I’ll go ahead and say that I don’t care if you love Jesus. I know plenty of nice people who do. However, my Jesus-loving friends do nice things because doing nice things is the right thing to do. These Jesus-loving Facebook friends do nice things because they want to make Jesus happy. I see just as much wrong with this as I do with Dick Cheney talking about torture.
READ: Torture is wrong because it’s wrong; not because it’s not always effective.
That being said, I’m especially drawn to the Jesus-y exclamations on these feeds.
One comment was about a child was turning one, and his mother exclaimed, “Praise the Lord!”
How about, “Happy birthday!” instead? I mean, sure, it’s great you managed not to lose the kid for twelve entire months. But really? You needed Jesus to not screw that up?
Another wrote a blog about how she wants to be more Christ-like. Her primary focus: not kissing strangers.
I cannot make this shit up.
And another was dealing with sick kids who kept re-infecting each other. Instead of shaking her first at viruses and vowing to have her family wash their damn hands, she says, “Satan leave us alone.”
I damn near had a coronary at the absudity.
A friend and I were chatting on IM the other day and discussing what I’d noticed. It reminded me of ‘bible dipping’ from Running with Scissors.
Bible dipping is basically the magic eight ball of divine prophecy. You think of a question, seek guidance from above, and then land your finger on a random page and passage to help answer your inquiry.
The friend was looking for an example, and my pointing yielded interesting results.
Me: Does Matthew smell like cheese?
Me: “and his skin, and his dung”
Me: This thing really works
Matthew: really wow.
Although uncanny, I’m pretty sure Jesus had nothing to do with this.