Last night I had coffee with a group of women whose hearts I've come to love. We meet at Mezamiz once a week (the date is variable), sip our hot or cold coffee-ish drinks of choice, and talk - about jobs, movies, husbands, kids, recipes, haircuts, faith and life. For some reason last night, several of us wound up sharing about our experiences with dramatic reenactments of the Christ story. Jana's husband, Richard, has played Jesus in several productions, and I was a part of a church Easter musical for five or six years as a teenager. We talked about the profound impact of acting out the Christ-story, on individual believers and on church bodies. But my favorite was a story Amanda told.

Amanda's husband, Ray, used to have long wavy hair and would get frequent comments such as "You look like Jesus!" from random people in the street or at the grocery store. But one day a little girl ran up to him and asked breathlessly, "Are you Jesus?" He squatted down to her level, looked her in the eye and said kindly, "No. But He's a real good friend of mine."

I think I'd like to be able to say that.