Faith

Peter said he would NEVER leave Jesus, even if everyone else fell away, he NEVER would betray him. Jesus responds that not only would he betray him once, but three times. I can’t imagine how confused Peter must have been. In his defense, however, he did not have a clue how bad it could get. Sure, Jesus had been telling him. Jesus kept telling him that ‘where He was going they could not come,’ or that He ‘must be lifted up,’ that ‘He was going to prepare a place for them,’ that ‘the they would indeed drink from the cup which He was drinking,’ that ‘His time had not yet come,’ but that it would. They did not understand. And when the hour came, when Jesus was betrayed, Peter fought against it. He cut off the soldier’s ear. But Jesus stopped him, and once again, demonstrated that he…as well as the others…still did not understand. And until Peter understands… that is, until we all understand, there is no faith.

Until the bottom completely falls out, and there is no sensation to smile at, until we are empty, and not by our own choice, then all of our faith is actually still somewhat based in what the possessing of it DOES for us. All of our faith still makes us feel a certain way about ourselves, similar to how Peter FELT he would NEVER leave Jesus. And so our faith is self-serving, and honestly, it neither accomplishes something nor delights the heart of God. But real faith, faith that comes into play while one is still hanging in the gallows, I suppose that is the least ‘’me-centered’’ faith that is possible in the human experience. The world’s trappings are torn down. There is just Jesus, and we are faced with the fact that we won’t understand Him, and that we will certainly suffer. It is there that we either have faith or do not have it.

So that is where I am today. My soul is cast low. I am aware of the reality of the broken world, of the world where nothing is exactly how it is intended to be. And all I want to do is BE exactly like Peter demonstrated broken humanity to be. I want to BE angry and fight back, or I want to sleep for my sorrow instead of staring the pain in the face. The disciples slept in Gethsemane. Only Jesus stayed awake and battled the pain through prayer.

Jesus battled with vision in sight. He asked “if there is another way, let THIS cup pass from me, but not MY will, but YOURS.” Jesus asked for another way to the end; nonetheless, He set his face as a flint toward the end.

I won’t refuse to watch the death. I won’t numb it out or hearken back to an ignorant, self-serving faith. By God’s grace, if He enables me, I’ll sit here, quietly and aching, and wait. If He doesn’t enable me, I will surely leave, just like Peter did at first. But my desire, I suppose, is to watch the death. I wish I didn’t have to, but the truth is, one cannot escape it. Death is the reality. We deceive ourselves when we live as if it is escapable or explained away in some other form. So I watch the death because I believe, that is I have faith, that resurrection WILL come in time. And to the depth that I have seen death, I will see life resurrected and become the remade, redeemed and made not only right, but new. Right now, I can only sense Jesus, and that He has said being His disciple requires that we drink the cup… He’s asking me if I will go, like the others, and I say… ‘but where would I go…’

My child has died; yet, she has birthed in me faith…