Body Double

What Christian can’t identify with the burden of living a Spirit-led life that parallels their claim of faith? We are called to be “imitators of Christ” [Eph. 5:1], our destiny is to “be conformed to the image of God’s Son” [Rom. 8:29]. We have a cross we take up daily [Luke 9:23]. And for my friend, Les, all these admonitions take on another dimension from the moment he looks in the mirror each morning.

This humble son of Brazilian missionaries is the featured face of the Holy Land Experience, a popular Christian ministry/theme park in Orlando, Florida. Several times a week, Les materializes fresh from a scourging and stumbles his way through church groups and mesmerized, ice cream-smattered faces, down a makeshift via dolorosa to his final destination between two thieves. Yes, he plays THAT role.

To do this for a living — something his chiropractor considers ill-advised, yet loves him for — isn’t nearly as impressive as walking around in his skin each day when he’s “off the clock.” You see, Les doesn’t ‘put on Christ’ with the aid of makeup, a faux beard and spirit gum. He’s a dead ringer.

With his flowing mane, blue eyes and rugged features, Les is the archetypal, waspy Anglo-Savior that most people picture in their heads. Children flock to him like he’s made of chocolate, and I’ve seen complete strangers corner him in public to confide their secrets as if he were their intercessor. His life is not unlike that of a man who wears a Santa Claus suit year-round. And with that identification come certain expectations, realistic or otherwise.

Though he is far from uptight or self-conscious (he insists that the real Jesus would also constantly ask you to pull His finger), Les is consistently aware of his speech, attitude and testimony. He guards his reputation and integrity with godly fear because the stakes are high. But, he’s as human as the rest of us ... trust me.

Ever seen Jesus on a bad day? I have.

Les once recruited me to help him build an office for a mutual friend. (No joke, he is also a carpenter). Having no skills with the skilsaw, I kept short-boarding his plywood by a consistent ¼ inch, leaving us barely enough to complete the project by the time he rescued me from my incompetence. The subsequent scene was similar to that of the temple and the moneychangers, as he indignantly slung large sheets of wood across the room in my general direction. I kept waiting for him to banish me like an unfruitful fig tree that cost him trips to Home Depot, but instead he just muttered what I think was a Portuguese obscenity and then complained about the disappointing value of free labor.

What a friend I have in Jesus!

Having a kindred spirit like Les to share life’s defeats and victories has been a huge blessing. And in forging our friendship through the years that I’ve watched Christ’s flawed understudy walk in this world, the Lord has reminded me of His expectations for my holiness. I bear the Father’s image as much as the man who gets all the stares at Starbucks. It’s not a role I could play. No amount of makeup or prosthetics could ever produce the genuine article or hide the false.

From the moment we proclaim Christ, our responsibility to represent Him publicly (even when there’s no one else watching) is no less crucial than a man who bears an outward image that makes people do a double-take. If we truly bear His likeness, our lives will have the same effect.