Luke 22:31-34 New International Version – UK (NIVUK)
31 ‘Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. 32 But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.’
33 But he replied, ‘Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.’
34 Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, Peter, before the cock crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.’
Mr. Braggart. Cue the cheesy Bryan Adams . “(everything I do,) I do it for you.”
I think every Christ follower wants to be the one who does it better than Peter did. Oh, yeah, he did exactly what Jesus said he was going to do.
I really really thought I could. But no, I’m a fuck up. Having started fairly courageously on the path of being a Christ follower, I’ve stumbled more than I’ve walked, and spent more time doing nothing for the cause of Christ than any other Christ follower I know.
Don’t get me wrong, I never asked to be sifted like wheat. That procedure really sucks. And it’s still sucking. I want the test to be over, because I’ve failed. Just give me the “F” already and let’s move on. My faith fails all the time. It’s a whole hell of a lot easier said than done, to say, Oh, yeah, I’ll follow you through death and back, than it is to actually endure it.
My life example fails all the time too. It’s a whole hell of a lot easier said than done to say “I Do,” and then stay with the one who knows you inside and out, and knows how to push your buttons and piss you off and then chooses willfully to push them every day, for the rest of your life, without ever thinking (which is the same as doing according to Matthew 5:27-28) maybe someone else would be better. I keep coming back, but the seething anger I feel at the indifference and cluelessness about what I want and what I need IS the test. If I told Mrs M what I want, again, she would respond the way she’s always responded. And would I give the same if she were asking? I said I do and I do keep trying.
But all that said, I’m really fucking sick of rejection. Yay, thanks for all the rejection, let’s go another 50 years with that!! It’s easier to sleep by myself on the couch when the answer to my amorous hope is “ZZZZZZZZZZZ!” or worse, “leave me alone I have to go to work in the morning.” And much easier than the complete shutdown of rejection when what I want is different than what is apparently “on the menu.”
It’s easier to just do it myself when the kids have chores and fail to take care of them, than to be the bad guy and yell and fuss and cajole and call them back when they’ve retreated to their solitude in their rooms. I feel exactly the same way, I want my solitude, even if solitude means doing the housework myself.
Add failure to failure when considering my income level hasn’t appreciably grown in years, I don’t want to have to get another job to get a raise but that’s the way the modern economy works. I hate change. I want the stability of the job I’m in, growing with time and appreciating me for my stability and stamina. If they raise minimum wage, I’m below where I started after the economy artificially inflates and then levels off, deflating like a pin-struck balloon.
It’s a whole lot easier to curse the darkness than to find a damned light switch, but I sure wish I could get lucky in my search.
Dear God, it’s me, Deon.
I don’t want to be sifted. I’m just going to keep failing. At least I learned quick. And having learned I’m a hopeless failure, can we just stop with the sifting? Or maybe, you could sift me over to that light switch so I can figure out what I might succeed at? I can’t be another Peter or Paul. Paul said I should be grateful and I’m not. Peter said he’d follow you to death and didn’t. I don’t mind being dead, I just don’t want to die over a long span of time. So, Yeah, I’m a failure and I’ve known that for a while now. Thanks so much for teaching me that. Amen.