Sometimes I try to imagine what it would have been like to be Jesus, what it would have felt like.
If I knew that God was my father—as clearly as I know that my own father was my father—how would that color my daily existence? How would it change my approach to the circumstances in my life? How would it change the way I pray?
And sometimes, I wonder what Jesus would feel if he were to inhabit my body right now, in my particular circumstances, with my responsibilities and obligations, with my opportunities and my limitations. I consider, quite literally, what would Jesus do if he were me right now?
And I do this not only in the big moments of life, the decisions and crises, but in the mundane moments as well.
Or at least, I try to.
I try to get up a little earlier than everyone else in the house, so that I have quiet time to pray. I think this is the kind of thing Jesus would do, were he to suddenly embody me in my life right now.
And then, when I am about to pray, I try to embody Jesus and imagine how he would have prayed in that moment. I pray to the Father, but through Jesus, and I don’t know if this even makes sense, but it always feels right in the moment. I feel closer to the Father when I imagine praying to him as though I am his literal Son.
As I sit here writing this, I try to let Jesus into my body. I try to let Jesus embody me, so that the words I type are literally his, or as close as I can let myself get to them.
These are moments of union that are difficult to describe. I can keep trying to describe them.
I try. I will. I will try.