I recently saw Jesus in a place I never expected.

Granted, my lack of expectancy is completely my fault. After all, there's absolutely no reason at all that I should have been surprised to see Jesus in such a place. Sure, there are many people who would claim that Jesus would never be caught dead in a tiny bar in Columbia, but those people are wrong. Having fun among the people is precisely where Jesus found Himself. Heck, His first miracle was replenishing the dwindling supply of booze at a party, and, if you pay attention, nearly all of Jesus' major events took place at Jewish festivals. So the truth is, it's my fault that I didn't think I'd see Jesus in a place like Mojo's.

I was there with a few friends to see a South Carolina band called All Get Out, who just so happen to have created a masterpiece in their new record, 'The Season.'Ordinarily I find that I'm well past the age where going to shows - even of bands I love - is fun, but this time was different. The venue was small, and the band wouldn't even play until after 11 P.M. on a school night, so I assumed that I wouldn't be overly jostled by teenagers (I'm well aware how this sounds; I'm absolutely an old man when it comes to some things). And after the show, I couldn't have been more happy that I had gone - All Get Out was absolutely mesmerizing to see live, putting on one of the best shows I've ever seen. But long after I forget what the concert was like, I'll remember what I saw earlier in the evening.

The local opening band was doing what every local opening band does: muddling through a setlist with around a dozen people paying attention. As they got to their final song though (universally a band's 'best' offering), something happened: the three piece band suddenly lost one of their members. The singer and guitar player had broken a string, and while trying to plug in and tune his backup guitar, he realized that something was wrong. He had burned through two working guitars in less than a minute, and now, stood helplessly on the stage sans instrument. The band wouldn't be able to play their last song without it, and the singer began to explain to the 'crowd' what had happened.

And that's when he was interrupted by a guy he'd never met. It was Mel, the lead guitar player for All Get Out, handing him HIS guitar so they could finish the show. Now, if you don't play guitar, you may not understand just how significant this is, so know this: guitar players NEVER let anyone else touch their guitars. And that goes double for quasi-famous touring bands. For this situation to go down like this - for a touring band to give an instrument to a random guy they'd never met, just for one song, after they'd shown an affinity for breaking guitars - can only be explained by one word: love.

I got an opportunity to talk to Mel after the show, and he refused to think that he had done anything special. Sure, he'd allowed a small struggling band to finish their set by making a sacrifice that literally 99% of musicians wouldn't make. But to him, it wasn't even a choice - as he said, he'd been in that spot before and it felt terrible. He wouldn't want anyone to go through that.

When we think about serving God, we rarely think of it in the terms that Jesus did:loving one another, whether we're 'friends' or not. And when we think about loving one another, we rearely think of it in the terms that Jesus did: in small actions that mean big things. It can be giving a man a glass of water or visiting someone when they're sick or offering your guitar to a tiny band in need; the smallest actions can be the biggest messages of love.

I saw Jesus that night at Mojo's. I saw him in the hands of Mel, the guitar player for a band who poetically peppers their lyrics with profanity. I saw him in the face of the local band's guitar player, who was clearly the 'least' of the musicians that night who simply needed a little bit of help. And it caused me to pause and think: do people see Jesus in me? Do they see Jesus in you?

I hope so. And I hope when they do that it's something they can come to expect.

Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love. - 1 John 4:18

There are a great many things in this world that I am legitimately fearful. For example, bears. No, not the ones on unicycles or behind the cages in zoos. Or these ones. But in a dark alley? In the woods whilst my body is covered in honey and marshmallows and bits of Halloween candy wrappers? Then, yes. In those cases, I'm definitely afraid of bears.

Also, I'm afraid of heights. Or, rather, I'm afraid from falling from them. And if you've ever walked with me for a city block and realize just how clumsy I truly am, you know that falling is an every day part of my existence, whether on the ground or otherwise. So, I'd say this is a legitimate fear.

There are other things too. I'm afraid, for example, that I'll die before the Cincinnati Reds ever win another World Series; that one day whatever horrifying creature that lives under my neighbor's shed will get ahold of and vanquish the life of my six pound dog; of what exactly is contained in the Taco Bell taco meat that I've eaten so much of in my life. But for all of my fears, there's one that will never be in my list: God.

The reason is fairly simple - the whole message of the gospel hinges on the fact that we SHOULDN'T be afraid of God. Sure, we should have reverence and respect for the creator of the universe, but think about it: God became a man and came to this planet to die for the sins of mankind. He didn't do that because He hates us or wants to punish us or wants us to quiver at the mention of His name; instead, it's the opposite. The biblical record exists to explain how God loves us, and He wants to accept us and He wants us to rejoice when we talk about Him. And He wants us to love Him back.

And you know what can never produce love? Fear. When someone makes a decision based on fear, they do so not out of appreciation or gratitude, but instead, out of intimidation and guilt. To make a decision based on fear is to be manipulated and threatened and bullied, just as I am every time I think I should go into the woods looking for bears.

The fact is that you can't really love someone you're afraid of; at best, you can be glad you're not suffering at their hands (or, perhaps, their fur covered claws). That's why when Jesus was on earth, He didn't try to bully people into believing in Him or threaten them if they didn't. Sure, He talked about negative consequences from time to time, but that was truly only for those who had already made up their minds about Him. He spoke that way to people like the Jewish leaders, who - oh by the way - employed fear as a primary tactic to keep the people in line. In the face of Jesus' miraculous love, the only way they could keep people away from following Him was to via threats of judgement, rejection and condemnation.

That's not how Jesus operated then, and it's not how we should operate now. So, the next time you find yourself guilted into worshipping God or you hear someone try to bully you into 'repenting' (as if true repentance can come from anywhere other than love and appreciation for God), remember one simple fact:

God is not a bear.