Hang a Left at the Giant Jesus

I, like most women, navigate by landmark. Men, on the other hand, usually navigate by direction, north, south, east or west. Test it out if you don’t believe me.

If you ask a man how to get to the airport you’ll get “Go West on Michigan Ave. then South on 275 and East on Eureka to the airport exit on the south side of the road.”

Women will say, “Take Michigan Ave that way (pointing) then go south on the freeway, take the Eureka road exit left. You can’t miss it. It’s right past the airport landing lights that run along the side of the freeway. Then there’s a big sign on the right side of Eureka for the airport entrance.”

I do have a good sense of direction.  Even after many turns I can generally tell where I am in relation to where I started.  But it's not a north / south thing.  I’ve never understood why someone needs a compass in their car. I only see two situations in which a compass would be handy. Lost at sea or lost in the wilderness and you have to make sure you don’t end up going in circles trying to find civilization. Do people really decide which way to turn at an intersectin by consulting their compass?

I used to regularly drive from our tech center in Michigan to our plant in Ohio. Four hours of driving down I75 through corn fields, boring/flat Ohio landscape and truck stops. If you weren’t careful you’d be mesmerized by the boredom and find yourself in Kentucky.

Fortunately, right next to my exit off the freeway, the Solid Rock Church built one of the most distinguishable landmarks I have ever navigated by. A giant Jesus. I’m not talking about a big Jesus. I mean a GIANT JESUS. He was pure white, outstretched hands to heaven, with the upper half of his body emerging from a man made pond. Just so you don't mistake him for John the Baptist, a big cross lays in front of him.  No possible way to miss it. From there it was right at the prison, left at the ice cream shop, left after you cross the bridge and then the first right. For the life of me I couldn’t tell you the name of one of those streets. But I trust that I could get you there time and time again.

That is, until today. My friend told me the bad news. The Giant Jesus was struck by lighting and burned to the ground. The church promises to “resurrect:” the statue. I wonder who came up with that line, the church or the journalist.

I can’t help but secretly think this is divine intervention. Some higher power trying to tell them that such an in-your-face symbol of Christianity isn’t everybody’s cup of tea. A message from on high to "Tone it down".

Their plan to rebuild the Jesus is a "testament" (see, I can do it too) to their commitment to bold statements of faith. As a precaution against another lightning strike I think they should give Jesus a lightning rod to hold over his head. Or would they worry that a lightning rod laid witness to their lack of faith and trust in God?

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