What Would Jesus Really Do?

“He Himself took our infirmities And bore our sicknesses.” - Matthew 8:17

I am not your typical Christian, and I do still consider myself Christian although I haven’t been to church in more than three years. I am absolutely, I think, of the heretical variety at least according to the teachings you hear espoused in a many American churches today. I’m okay with that. If I am honest with myself and with others, what I am at my core is a seeker—a seeker of truth, a seeker of wisdom, a seeker of understanding.

Tonight, I write this from my parents’ home. They require 24/7 care, at least at this moment, and it’s my night to sit with them. My father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s related dementia about three years ago. A few months ago, he fell while walking down the stairs in his home. In addition to a broken elbow, which has now healed, he’s has since demonstrated significant changes in cognitive function that no one in the medical profession has been able to clearly explain to us. My mother also shows signs of dementia related to a benign brain tumor that occasionally also causes seizures because of its position in the brain. Caring for them has proved to be both physically and emotionally exhausting for me and my siblings.

Some years ago, can’t recall how many, there was this huge, highly popular “What would Jesus do?” movement in churches across America, maybe even outside of America. The idea behind it was to encourage Christians to be more Christ-like by considering whether their actions and words were aligned with what Jesus would do or say, and then to act or speak, accordingly. How would Jesus treat the homeless person asking Him for money? How would he treat his colleagues at work? Would Jesus start or engage in an argument with his spouse or children? Would He curse the driver who just cut him off on the highway? Would He be caught throwing back a few beers at the local tavern with his buddies? I’m sure you’re starting to get the point of this exercise in mindfulness, except I think whoever started this movement and those who followed it may have missed the point of what Jesus actually came here to do.

As I sat in the chair by my father’s bed after giving him something to drink, I found myself asking the question: What would Jesus really do? What would Jesus do if He were here, right now in the flesh, in my parents’ home? What would he do after he entered their home and noticed my father in a hospital bed in what used to the be the dining room, uncertain of where he is, who I am, or even who he is? How would he respond to my father's difficulty  to complete a single, coherent sentence? Would Jesus walk over and fluff my father’s bed pillows to make him more comfortable in his bed? Would he sit down quietly beside my father and hold his hand? Would he try to encourage him with words like: “The Father loves you and understands what you’re going through. It will all be alright; there’s a great reward waiting for you in heaven.”

What would Jesus do if he took a walk upstairs to my mother’s room where he would find her blurting out random words and phrases uncontrollably, or complaining that she can’t sit up to properly eat her food, or can't even swallow her food? Would he offer her some more water to quench her imaginary thirst? Would he, feeling compassion for her condition, attempt to reassure with words that everything is okay, after all the Father knows all her troubles?

Let’s assume that the stories in at least two of the Gospels are eye-witness accounts of actual events that occurred, what would Jesus do, really? Perhaps, he might do what he did when he entered Peter’s home and found his mother-in-law sick with fever. Upon entering my parents’ home, he’d walk toward my dad and gently place one hand on my father’s head and the other on his heart, and immediately my father’s body would be restored to a state of perfect health. And then, he and my father might share a quick meal together before heading upstairs to visit with my mother where Jesus would declare to her with firm, yet tender authority: “Woman, you are set free.” She, too, would immediately be restored to a state of perfect health and soundness of mind, and offer Jesus a drink of water.

I closed my eyes for just a moment to imagine this. I closed them again and remembered that Scripture says Jesus and I are one.

So, I set about doing what Jesus would do. Moments later, my father awakens and I ask if he’d like something to eat or drink. He responds coherently that he would like something to eat. Earlier in the day, he’d refused both lunch and dinner—such behavior is a common symptom of dementia, according to my father's doctors.

Does this mean that my father is healed? I am certainly encouraged. The way I figure it, I owe it my parents and myself to begin exercising the mustard seed faith Jesus spoke of and believe that like him I, too, can be a vessel of healing.

"And when Jesus went out He saw a great multitude; and He was moved with compassion for them, and healed their sick." - Matthew 14:14