Then it struck me: sure, Jesus may have founded a big-deal religion and inspired love and devotion in millions of guys around the world, but when you crunch the numbers, I’m actually doing quite a lot better than Jesus was when he was my age, thank you very much. I’ve done tons of things that would make the Son of Man’s jaw drop—like fly in a plane and cook a risotto. Can you imagine Jesus trying to do either of those things? You'd have an air rage incident and a messy kitchen on your hands!
Compared to Him, I’ve got my shit together. And I can pretty much guarantee that I won’t be arrested by high priests, whipped by Roman soldiers or forced to parade through the streets on a fly-covered donkey in the coming twelve months. But don’t take my word for it. Let’s compare my accomplishments to Jesus’ and see who comes out on top. May the best man win!
|Me at 33||Christ at 33|
|apartment in downtown Toronto||lived with parents|
|have a girlfriend||nope|
|spotless criminal record||ne'er do well|
|have been to New York City||wouldn't know where 5th Avenue was if it jumped up and bit him|
|can play guitar and harmonica||no musical talent|
|able to laugh at myself||big old sourpuss|
|expect to be alive for a while||winding down|
As you can see, the only area in which Jesus beats me is “magic.” I accept this with good sportsmanship. I've never been magical in the slightest. The important thing we've learned is that I have nothing to fear about turning 33. (In fact, after reading all my qualifications, I admit to being a little jealous of myself. If anything, Jesus should be worshiping me!) There’s only one person in this study who should feel bad about turning 33, and we both know his name.
His name is Jesus.