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Dear American Jesus,

For the longest time I thought you were real.  I spent the majority of my life being so thankful for you.  “Wow!  American Jesus is great!  He forgives me of my sins and promises that he will help me accomplish anything that I want as long as I pray and go to church sometimes and am nice to others.”  
Of course, I never called you “American Jesus.”  That’s just plain silly, because Jesus is for everybody!  But deep down, I knew (or thought I did) that you liked us best.   This free land of democracy and success…Christianity practically started here!  
But you made me very confused, American Jesus.  You said you had numerous wonderful plans for my life.  You made me believe that if I just did enough good that I too could be successful and rich.  It was the dream scenario.  Pray a little bit, have a Bible on my bookshelf, find a nice church and have a nice family…I mean, for such a small investment to yield such huge gains!  To live my best life now and to fulfill every dream I ever had while never really surrendering self or what I wanted.  It was a no brainer to identify with you.  “Thank you for dying on the cross for me so I could live the good life.”  
Then one day I started reading my Bible.  I know…I know…I’ll never amount to anything if I sit around and read some dusty old book.  But I kept noticing something so odd.  American Jesus…your voice was not speaking from the Scriptures!  How could that be?!  There was a different Jesus speaking.  He wasn’t making people financially rich.  He wasn’t promising his followers a great and easy life on earth.  He wasn’t passing out “Vote Republican” buttons.  
Instead, Real Jesus was saying weird things like “don’t be surprised if the world hates you…for it hated me first,” “if anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me,” and “blessed are the poor, hungry, meek, mourners, etc.”  And I realized that Real Jesus and American Jesus are two different people.  One promises prosperity and recognition and success, while one promises persecution and struggle and opposition.  One lets me be the boss while the other demands I give up my rights.  One tells me I can isolate myself from the world’s problems because they got themselves into that mess while the other tells me to seek and save the lost.  One promises instant gratification while the other says in this world you will have trouble.  
So American Jesus, I wish I could say thanks for the memories.  But I must say with the Apostle Paul, “anathema!”  You are accursed.  Your promises are hollow and just enough people accomplish what they want to think that you’re real and nice…but they go to their graves dancing around an idol of their own making.  Your teaching is shallow and insubstantial and it leads to death.  I wish I’d never met you.  
But thanks be to God that along with Buddha and Allah and Zeus, American Jesus will never sit on a throne surrounded by angels in constant worship.  That seat is reserved for Real Jesus, the One speaking in the Scriptures.  His Word will never pass away though American Jesus and all his fake promises will surely be consumed by fire.  Good bye American Jesus.  My prayer is that you would be exposed for what you are: a fraud.  

I hate you,

Matt

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