While driving the other day, I cut someone off in the roundabout by accident. Incidentally, the other driver laid on the horn of her Honda Accord and angrily sped away. I could see her waving goodbye, which seemed odd after such aggressive honking. She also had a very unique wave in which her middle finger was sticking straight up. I waved back in apology as my eyes focused on the message of her bumper sticker: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” — life imitates art.

Every so often, I’ve had readers of this column ask me why I don’t write about religion. My response is: what business is it of mine, and who am I to speak on the subject?

I grew up attending First Presbyterian Church and my wife, Shannon, grew up in the Church of Christ, so, needless to say, we both possess experiences hailing from polar opposite corners of Christianity.

Today, we both hold our beliefs very close to the chest and find the subject of worship to be deeply personal and private for that matter. In turn, that has laid the foundation for me to write about anything but religion.

I do believe, though, that beliefs are not universal truths and it’s foolish for any human being to presume otherwise.
In every moment, we are defined by what we do or don’t do. So that begs an important question: do our actions match our words or bumper stickers, for that matter?

There usually isn’t a day that goes by I don’t see on social media where a local business person has been accused of underhanded business dealings or much worse. Deceit and dishonesty are rampant and they live next door.

All the while, there is one premise that surrounds these everyday offenders. One phrase that is glossed over and regurgitated throughout social media comment sections, typically worded as, “but they’re a good Christian person.” Perhaps…

I am in no way a self-righteous guy judging others through the lens of social media. I am, though, a man who has learned hard lessons through his many faults. In response, my eyes don’t see through rose-colored glasses. Hypocrisy has become a tired game and it’s time for the whistle to blow.

So today only, I will speak responsibly and deliberately about religion, then I will quietly see myself out. If I do, in fact, strike a nerve, then maybe it was predestined.

I think we should all rewind to the 1990s. We can make our way there by digging through our junk drawers and finding those multicolored bracelets with four letters: WWJD.

It was a good thought, never mind that the message was a failure to launch. I’m pretty sure I wore those bracelets in high school while doing anything but what Jesus would do. Even when I tried, the shoes were too large to fill.

I can’t help but think such a notion was a bit too ambitious. Each and every one of us would be better served with a different interpretation of that acronym. How about “What wouldn’t Jesus do”?

I believe he wouldn’t hate people for their color, gender, sexual orientation, religion, nationality or politics. He wouldn’t lie, steal or cheat, and he wouldn’t hate others for simply being themselves.

You see, it’s real easy to say what Jesus “would” do when we cherry-pick righteous deeds. But what about flipping over a few tables in the face of injustice? That behavior is too risky and could hinder acceptance into the cool crowd, whose only price of admission is silence.

When it comes our time to condemn hypocrisy or injustice, we’d just assume those tables don’t turn. Suddenly those bracelets lose their luster when the rubber hits the road.

When did it become so complicated to be good? If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, maybe we should start looking for the exit. Good intentions are useless without action, and talk is cheap. Whitewashing misdeeds in the name of religion is harmful, counterproductive and irresponsible. Only our actions have a voice, and they should speak so loudly that we can’t be heard talking.
Rather than working through the Lord, maybe it’s time to let the Lord work through us.

So I ask again, what wouldn’t Jesus do? I think deep down we all know the answer.

I can’t speak for Jesus, nor would I try, but there is one deed I’m sure he would do. He would encourage one universal theme that exists across nearly all enduring faiths. We learned it when we were young, and if you time it just right, you might find it at the roundabout written on the bumper sticker of a Honda Accord.

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist. Email him at [email protected].