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During my church years, I heard countless sermons about God, but far fewer about Jesus. Mostly, when Jesus was mentioned in a sermon, it was because the pastor was talking about the cross. How ridiculous is it that even though I’ve spent my life in denominations that claim Jesus as Savior, I didn’t know all that much about Jesus?

Of course, I knew about his birth and the miracles and the cross. But it wasn’t until I began reading and researching on my own that I began to learn anything deeper about Jesus. I learned He was funny, sometimes sarcastic. He was patient. He was tender. He got angry. He was, to my surprise, human . . . with emotions.

God, on the other hand, in my early years, was shoved down my throat almost every Sunday to the point that I had an unhealthy fear of Him. I learned about an angry, vengeful God who didn’t like me all that much. In fact, He just kind of tolerated me and my pitiful inability to overcome sin. Over the more recent years, He was presented as a sort of parole officer: I wasn’t under 24/7 scrutiny, but He was checking up on me from time to time, making sure I was doing my duty as a Christian and not breaking any rules.

Turns out, I feel like Jesus is a friend. God? Not so much.

God, Jesus, Holy Spirit — they’re all one, so it’s just semantics, right?

Yet I have opposing views of them: Jesus, defender and lover of sinners. God, punisher and hater of sinners. And Holy Spirit? Well, he (it?) was rarely mentioned in my church experiences, so that’s a whole other convoluted mess for me.

It’s a strange predicament some of us find ourselves in — loving Jesus and hating God.

My last pastor used to say, “The most important thing about you is your concept of God.” If that’s true, I’m not sure what my concept of Him says about me. Maybe it’s the reason I feel I can’t do enough to please anyone. Or that no matter how much I want to be loved, I’ll never be good enough. Or that I feel I’m a nuisance to be tolerated.

Jesus, however, makes me feel like I have a defender, an advocate, a friend — someone who would draw a line in the sand and stand on my side. I think Jesus would rather wash me clean than focus on my grime, and he wouldn’t be afraid to get his hands dirty doing it. I think — I hope — Jesus would entertain my questions, and answer me with intriguing stories.

When religious beliefs have been the core of your entire existence, and suddenly, that core is warped with opposing concepts, middle ground ceases to exist. Is it crazy to have such opposing concepts of God and Jesus, considering they are one? Probably. And I think there are far too many of us riding the crazy train. There are many of us who grew up in fundamentalism, who then found grace, but can’t seem to let go of those insidious core beliefs.

I wish I had answers . . . some resolve. I wish it were as simple as letting go, but I know that’s easier said than done. I wish reading the Bible and praying would work like magic. I wish . . .