When you want to quit..

There was a time when I was a much more carefree person. I loved to dance and play games and make jokes, hang out with all kinds of people. I loved to study and learn new things. I loved meeting new people, seeing new places, grasping at deeper understandings of the world. I was sincere and honest with everyone. I loved horses and reggae music, and late nights with friends from all parts of the globe. I ate sushi on Saturdays with Japanese college students, went to parties in Mexican communities, talked politics with Taiwanese friends and practiced new recipes with my friend from Chile; I learned some French from my friend from Paris, was good friends with exchange students from Kazakhstan and Russia. I was a internationally minded guy who wanted to help change the world. And, my love for God showed me how - by helping people know Jesus, sincerely and deeply.

I looked for every opportunity. I worked in the inner-city of my hometown with a ministry I eventually oversaw. I preached the gospel from my podium in my classroom as a school teacher. I shared my faith with neighbors and new acquaintances. I moved my family to Bolivia to labor as missionaries. I love seeing lives change because of Christ. It is the root of my hope and my joy. However, somewhere along the way, cynicism made its way into my thoughts. Sadness and anger became silent companions. Resentment is now a lingering shadow. Deeper love tends to be reserved for those who've earned it, not those who need it. Indifference to both the Call and those hurting has become a daily battle. Why? Because the flesh is weak, and the labor of the believer is arduous. 

This morning I was thinking about the final hours before Jesus was betrayed by Judas. His mood makes a stark change as he and his disciples go to the garden of Gethsemane. He takes Peter, along with James and John (the two sons of Zebedee), with him further into the garden. As they are walking, scripture says that he becomes troubled and deeply sorrowful, so he asks them to wait, to watch, and to pray as he goes even further away to pray. In his prayer we see the deep foreknowing, not just of his death, but the torturous and painful process that awaits him. Jesus would not fear death, he knows what death brings. Simple death, I believe, would not have troubled him so much. Yet, we read in his words a profound sense of obedience in the face of immense imminent suffering. Jesus says, "My father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." He was saying "Dad, if there is anyway, let this be for someone else. But do what you see fit, I'm willing." I assume in his temporary humanity, he was fearful of what awaited him. Luke says that he was so filled with anguish that his sweat was like drops of blood. This is the result of a rare occurrence called hematohidrosis where the body sweats blood due to extreme stress, fear, or anxiety. There are stories of soldiers sweating blood just before a final brutal battle or prisoners facing torture or execution. 

Jesus is in emotional pain, in a state so stressful that he is sweating blood. He'd asked his disciples, his friends, his brothers to watch and pray during this time of extreme mental exhaustion only to return and find them sleeping. Though Jesus told them at the last supper that he was going to be betrayed, they didn't seem to sense or to understand the reality of what he said. He tells them "Couldn't you keep watch one hour? Watch and pray so that you don't fall into temptation. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." The scene plays out repeating itself two more times as Jesus prays the same anxious prayer and finds his men sleeping each time he returned. He spoke three important truths to them. "Couldn't you keep watch one hour." He asked them could they not choose to suffer a little, while he was preparing to suffer much for their sake. He was going to suffer the cross for their redemption, even though they (nor we) did not deserve it. He also told them to watch and pray so that they wouldn't fall into temptation. He was telling them, "you're going to be tired and things won't seem that urgent or important, but be careful not to give into your flesh." Our flesh wants us to sleep, to look for comfort. Our flesh minimizes the reality of our situations, and when we give into the flesh, we fall into temptation. Jesus then gave them the reason it would be so difficult, "the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." He was saying, the spirit - that part of you which is obedient to me - is willing and ready; yet your flesh - that part of you which is opposed to my father - is weak, or in other words, it has no restraint or self-control. Paul gives much more detail to what Jesus was saying in Romans 8 when he tells the church in Rome that the flesh is enmity with God but that the spirit gives us life. He repeats the idea in Galatians 5, but adding that those in Christ have crucified the flesh with it's desires. This we should parallel with Jesus's words to daily pick up our cross (a tool for crucifixion) and to follow him. 

In four years of labor in Bolivia, I've seen many things to the thank the Lord for. I've been a part of many incredible projects and beautiful opportunities. I've been given the privilege to pray with and walk with many new believers and accompany them on their new walk with the Lord. I've counseled and prayed with many people who are hurting and I've been a friend to those who feel lonely. I've seen lives change from night to day through the working of the Holy Spirit in their hearts. I've helped the poor find income and the hungry have food. I've participated in home buildings and helped provide medical care. Nothing would have been possible without our faithful supporters. Yet my point, though, is as the face on the field, I do and I see a lot. And there are times when it is exhausting. And other times when it is incredibly painful. To see a teen in whom you've invested so much turn from the Lord to a life of poor choices and self-harm, is painful. It is heartbreaking when you have a young person participate in the ministry or get close to your family only to use you for a benefit, lie to receive resources, then return to their old life when you are no longer needed. It can kill your passion to have people zealous in conversion, yet afterwards make no strides to conform to God's word or involve their families in the hearing of the gospel. It can be incredibly discouraging to work tirelessly for months only to see little to no change around you. Obedience is difficult, especially in the season of suffering. And our flesh is weak. Cynicism becomes easy, even natural, and indifference establishes itself a defensive mechanism for self-preservation. Lately, I've been tired, depressed, sad, angry. I've been so exhausted, I can't hardly focus on my duties. Pessimism has become my attitude towards the responsibilities of ministry, only guised as realism. This is frustrating, because I'm a natural idealist. 

So, what is the cure? How do I fix this? I take a cue from this sobering story from the gospels. I listen to Jesus's words to his disciples. I consider my suffering in comparison to what he suffered. I remember that it was for the "joy set before him that he endured." I meditate on the reality that this present suffering I face is "nothing compared to the glory to be revealed in us" (Romans 8:18). It is necessary to remember that I'm to watch and pray, not give into temptation or my flesh. I'm to watch expectantly for the Lord, praying his words and living them out. I'm not to close my eyes or be succumbed to fears, frustrations, and offenses. I'm to remember that the spirit is indeed willing. That the Spirit of the living God is within me to "give life to these mortal bodies." That in walking in step with the spirit, I'll walk in step with the Lord. But also to remember that the flesh is weak and I need to daily pick up my cross realizing that if I am in Christ, the flesh is daily crucified along with it's desires. When I am overcome with the exhaustion of ministry, the pain of betrayal, or the sorrow of loss, I remember my hope is in Christ. And I choose to proclaim the words of Isaiah, "those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." In the midst of my sorrow for the loss, as I weep inwardly the way Nehemiah wept outwardly for Jerusalem, I will declare as he did, "the joy of the Lord is my strength." When I feel lost or without direction, I will remember the words of Solomon in Proverbs 3, "lean not on your own understanding but in all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your path." I will chose to make Christ my anchor each day, to hope in him rather than my own abilities, to trust his word over my perceptions, and choose his joy while boasting in my weakness rather than letting those weaknesses discourage me in the labor I've been called to.