“Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.). And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.” Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them, the one who also had leaned back against him during supper and had said, “Lord, who is it that is going to betray you?” When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, “Lord, what about this man?” Jesus said to him, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow me!”
My heart. My heart is so prone to envy–so unbearably prone to comparison and jealousy. I hold up my life next to the lives of others and I am prone to shake my fists bitterly at my King.
Jesus tells Peter “what kind of death he was to glorify God”, and bids him to come, and “Follow me.”
Peter turns and points at John and says, “Well, what about him?”
Jesus looks at Peter and tells him that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what the Lord’s will for John’s life is. Jesus is talking to Peter. And, He says to Peter, “You follow me.”
I can see Jesus looking at me. Shaking me even. Pleading with me to stop pointing at everyone else. To stop holding up the life I’m leading and pointing to everyone else’s with a childish pout.
The Lord has not called me to live their lives. He has called me to live my own. For my good and for His glory.
Don’t compare, Shara. You follow me.”
I desperately want to believe God, not to simply believe in Him. I want to trust Him at His Word. To know fully and wholly that He is for me. That my frustrations, and disappointments, failed dreams, and heartache are not happening in spite of the fact that God loves me, but because He loves me. Everything is for my good. This God–His way is perfect. There is no flaw in Him.
So often my cry is, “What about me?” or, “What about them?”
It is then that Jesus takes me into His arms and says, “Oh, Shara, you of little faith. Never mind when she gets married. Or when they have a baby. Or when he got his masters. Or when she traveled the world. Or when he got his dream job. Or when she got everything you ever wanted. No, beloved. You follow me.
You follow me.
You follow me.
“I believe! Help my unbelief.”