Losing Control

Recently I re-read Eager to Love, Richard Rohr’s remarkable book about Francis of Assisi. From my earliest days of following Jesus, I have been fascinated, moved and challenged by the life of Francis. This book is filled with much to ponder.

“It takes great inner freedom to be a follower of Jesus. His life is an option, a choice, a call, a vocation, and we are totally free to say yes or not or maybe. You do not have to do this to make God love you. That is already taken care of. You do it to love God back and to love what God loves and how God loves!” (p.23)

The great invitation of the Gospel is surely, “Follow Me.” It is not a one-time choice or call; rather, this is an ongoing, often day-by-day decision that we make (or not) throughout the seasons of life. It is an invitation filled with the promise of abundant life––the life of our secret dreams, and the life of Jesus’ great intention for us. So why is it hard to commit to this following that Richard Rohr writes about?

I suspect the reason is that this call to follow Jesus is so counter-intuitive. He doesn’t so much lead us into places of comfort and confidence, as lead us directly into our weaknesses, our fears––the shadows of life. Following Jesus really does mean losing the lives we have (and protect and cherish) in exchange for the promise of a different kind of life with a different orientation and compass point. Rohr defines suffering in a unique way: whenever we are not in control. The loss of control over our lives may be the most fundamental fear of all.

I think back to seasons when life was so obviously out of control: a season of unemployment when I had a young family; the terrifying time when my young son was in the hospital with a mysterious illness; times of being misunderstood; times of watching a dream disintegrate. For all of us, these are the stuff of life, the things that provoke primal fear and pain. But they are also opportunities for me to choose the way down, the way of smallness, the way of Jesus. After all, in going to the cross, Jesus chose to suffer––to not be in control––as an act of solidarity with all of the pain of the world.

To embrace what is broken, weak and out of control in my life, rather than to either deny it or fight against it is an act of faith. Faith in resurrection life, not just after I die, but resurrection life in this life. Life free of self-protection, free of the “upward pull”. Life free to embrace others in their suffering, to love what God loves.

I don’t have to go on this journey in order to make God love me or be happy with me. The wonder of grace is that He is always for me and He is always with me. Rather, I go on this journey––stumbling, inconsistent and often fearful––because the One who loves me invites me to follow Him into life with Him and in Him. Resurrection life now.

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross”   (Heb 12:2)