Sticking With It

Last night I picked up a book about holiness and the fear of God. After reading only a few pages, I wanted to hurl it across the room, not because I am opposed to holiness or God, but because I am tired of being confronted with my inability to be perfect in my life, especially when it comes to the area of my faith.

The book wasn't even about that, really. But somehow that's what I got out of it, and it set off yet another of my "temper tantrum" prayers to God, wherein I basically tell him to leave me alone because we would both probably be better off if he did. He doesn't let me get away with that attitude for long, but I'm not always thankful for his interference in my pity parties. At least, not right away.

I think this may explain why I go through what some call a "crisis of faith" about every two minutes or so. For me, the nature of my personal faith crisis has little to do with wondering about whether or not God actually exists, and a great deal to do with whether or not I want him to, because sometimes I think my life would be much easier if he didn't.

You would think that years of being a Christian, being active in church life, leading a high school youth group, leading Bible studies, playing and singing in a worship band, and being a missionary for nearly two years would cure a person of any lingering doubts about how great it is to follow God, but in my case that's far from the truth. I don't always think it's great. Sometimes it seems terribly hard.

Someone may ask, "So why do you stick with it?" Well, I guess it's like the apostle Peter said to Jesus ages ago, when Jesus asked him and some of the other disciples if they wanted to call it quits. A bunch of the disciples had, in fact, decided that following Jesus was too hard, and they said forget it. So Jesus turned to his inner circle and said, "What about you guys?" And Peter said, "Well, where would we go?"

Where would I go if I left Jesus?

The thought depresses me, because in spite of my struggles I feel like the world will be a lot emptier and lonelier without him. I don't WANT to go anywhere else. Even though sometimes I kick and scream and want to have my way, at the end of the day what I really want is to curl up in the arms of a God who loves me, who knows all about my imperfections and failures and unholiness and will take me anyway. I don't always know if I really believe God is like that, but when I look at his son Jesus, I get an idea that yeah, maybe he is.

So I'm not leaving him, not anytime soon. I'll hang on with gritted teeth and clenched knuckles and I guess if I fall along the way, or have trouble walking, well, I'll do my best to crawl. I have a feeling I'm going to have some bloody knees by the time I get to the end of this crazy road, but by the grace of God, I'll get there.

Here's hoping...