I cannot stop following Christ. But I find it so difficult at times. I get tired of setting my face to it and treading the journey. The road is narrow, and few find it.
Yet, if I don't follow; if I allow my heart and soul to be side-tracked down a selfish, godless path, I know my life would be drained of all richness and strength and compassion. And grace.
I noticed a woman crossing the road the other day; as I drove past, she was walking out, to cross. She was beautifully dressed; lovely lime green linen top and cream pants. Gold necklace, rings. Her hair and makeup were perfect. She exuded expensive and stylish taste. But what I also noticed was her face. She was scowling. It seemed like the default setting of her face. She had such a hard-looking countenance.
Of course, we can't judge a book by it's cover, but alternatively, who we are on the inside eventually and inevitably finds it's way out, and imprints the calibre of our souls, on our faces.
Perhaps my face might look hard-bitten and scowling too, if I stopped following the Servant King; the Suffering Jesus; the Intercessor Saviour.
I find it so hard to follow this Jesus because his precepts are so very likely to cause me to be open to the vulnerability of honesty,compassion, servanthood and self-sacrifice. Sometimes, I would rather follow a one-dimensional Good Shepherd Jesus who only claims to look after my material and physical comfort. (The Good Shepherd never promised that, but it doesn't seem to stop me wanting to follow this Fairy Godmother deity).
It would be easier not to follow at all. I would be free to think only of my own comfort and desires; to get what I want even if it meant treading all over other people's dignity and feelings; I could treat people with the contempt they might deserve and get my own back once in a while. I could be absolutely committed to getting what I want out of life and damn everyone else.
Instead, I can always hear the Spirit of this redemptive, outrageously gracious Jesus, calling me to a different way of treating others; a way that looks out for their interests before my own; a call to ever more refined holiness and selfless attitude. This cross-wracked Jesus who forgives those who tortured him, calls me to return good for evil.
It's a big ask.
But the Servant King; the suffering, forgiving One who called me long ago to follow, calls me still. Indeed, he will not let me go.
He promises nothing can separate me from His love.
But sometimes, it doesn't feel like love. Sometimes, I remember so keenly, all my sorrow; all the things, by His sovereignty and this broken world (and my own naivety), have been taken from me. The very precepts He exampled me to follow, have allowed others to inflict great wounds upon me. And he wants me to return good to them? To bless their very heads with kindness and forgiveness?!
Yes. How else can I be healed from their viciousness? By becoming like them?
That will never work.
I carry, always, these wounds in my heart, and cry to Him and say "Why have you allowed these terrible things for me?!?"
And He replies:
"Because you are my child and these things have always been waiting on the path for you. Would you rather have travelled them without me to help you bear them? Take heart, strong one, they have given you garments of sanctity and fragrances of grace. They have given you much richness to take with you to heaven. These others, who have chosen the easier path will not be so well-dressed. You cannot know all the answers until the Great Resurrection Day. Your choices were anchored in my precepts and will be rewarded in my own time."
"You chose the way of humility and meekness which will often allow others to hurt and mistreat you. I could not stop them from hurting you because they must make their own choices too. Just like my choice of the cross allowed men to crucify and vilify me; if they have done it to me, they will do it to you"
This is not always the answer I want to hear because I am tired sometimes. My will to keep following the path of selflessness which Christ has trodden, falters. Have mercy on me; I know the cost of following and I don't always want to do it. But always, when I take my eyes off the Christ and tread my own path, I am never as happy; don't have the same peace in my heart.
The great paradox of following is that as you give up your life for His sake, you find it, in greater richness and meaning. You also have a great anchor which keeps you strong and stable and well-adjusted.
The by-product of following Christ... is happiness. No matter what.
And who doesn't want that?
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