I fear too many Christians have a Wizard of Oz relationship with Christ. He's not a real figure to them; only a scary voice that sounds strangely like John Hagee, infused with ultimate cosmic power and somehow projecting from a lifeless symbol screwed to a cross and hanging on a wall. But what about that guy walking on the road to Emmaus with a couple of disciples, or that fella making breakfast for his buddies after a morning of fishing? What about the reality of the old hymn:
And He walks with me,
And He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.
We presume a lot in the American church. We go to altars with tears and foreboding, confess all that's not right with us (at least in summary form), invite Jesus into our hearts (?), and then press cruise control and go on with life, eternal life insurance now safely in hand. I don't know how we convince ourselves that all this works, when the first time God gets a little too close and a little too real, we're scared witless and want to run away. Let revival break out, Ichabod be replaced by Ebenezer, and those who worship brass saviors on sticks will howl the loudest about emotionalism and excess.
We have a real God, not a fake wizard. He was dead, but is no longer. Although we remember him until he comes again, he is not relegated to live only in our memories. We ought to be walking with him and talking with him now. As excited as the first disciples were to see him alive again, to know that the passion wasn't the end, but only the beginning, so too we ought to be excited, enthused, and passionate about walking with and knowing intimately a living Savior. Does knowing Jesus, the King of Glory thrill your heart and capture your imagination? If not, personal revival is needed and, thankfully, can be found somewhere along the road to Emmaus.