Compared to an average person, I am generally less likely to try out new things. Once I find something I like, I usually stick with it. I almost always listen to the same music; rooibos has remained my favourite tea for years, but when I go to a café, chances are I will have a cappuccino. Being such a person, it is easy to fall into a state where one lives life on autopilot. I have noticed this before, and I even wrote about it in my blog on routine and oblivion. However, last Friday, this same behaviour and character were highlighted in a different aspect of life that I had not seen before. It was from a preaching based on the first six verses of Mark 6.

In a nutshell, Jesus returned to Nazareth, his hometown. The people there, knowing his family and who he was – a carpenter, rejected him. He was amazed by their unbelief and left.

There are possibly many reasons why the people of Nazareth rejected Jesus. One of these reasons certainly has to be that they knew him, or at least knew of him. They knew his family and his profession. They probably ate with him at one point or another, had conversations with him on the street and sat next to him at social gatherings. He was, in many ways, a familiar person. How then could he, an “ordinary person” from among them, be the awaited Messiah? So they rejected him. This is what was highlighted to me last Friday: my familiarity with Jesus and the gospel. There is a danger in being too familiar. I will get to this momentarily; bear with me.

As I have been thinking about this since Friday, my mind has wandered back to that eight-minute journey between my house and campus in Germany. It was the basis of my blog on routine and oblivion. In it, I wondered why I had not seen so many things on that short journey despite taking the route many times before. I think the reason for that is because familiarity stops us from seeing. When we are too familiar with things, we subconsciously screen them out. That is the danger of familiarity. When we are too familiar with Jesus, we stop seeing him for who he is. He and the gospel become ordinary. We become blind to his power and to what he is doing, even in the ordinary things of life.

The death and resurrection of Jesus are among the important things that set Christianity apart from other religions. As someone who has grown up around Christianity, I have heard many sermons and songs about this and naturally, things have become very familiar. With Friday’s message in mind and with Easter approaching, I have one prayer: that I would not become too familiar with what Easter actually means. I want one thought to linger in mind: someone – and not just someone –  the Son of God, died for me. I have seen the sacrifices different people in my life have made for me to be where I am today. I appreciate these sacrifices, but they do not compare to someone literally dying for me. Jesus did. He died for me. May I not be too familiar and remember this, that it is personal and that he died for me. May I not be too familiar that I stop reflecting on what this means. May I not become too familiar and let this Easter period pass by as though it were just another ordinary holiday. May I never become too familiar with Jesus that I become blind to what he has done, what he is doing, and what he can do.