I was thinking about how Christ said he who would gain his life must loose it. And I was thinking of the sanctimonious sacrifice this clearly involved, giving up your life to prove your love or whatever.And I was thinking, and I now say this sarcastically, that this is our cross to carry, surrendering our desires to God. And oh me oh my! How hard it is sometimes.
Not to say it might not be, just that I, anyway, have no right to think or act as if it is so.
Then in one of those peculiar tangents which occur either through the Grace of God or the entirely unrelated chemical reactions, I thought that possibly the greatest burden any human soul, the greatest cross they carry, is themselves. And this is precisely what I am to loose. I am called to loose my life, to loose myself: loose selfish me; foolish me; ignorant me; rude me; gluttonous me; angry me; impatient me; mean me; spiteful me; worried me; nervous me; jerkish, twerpish, stupid me.
What I have always supposed to be my sacrifice is yet another instant of Christ offering to carry me. What I have supposed a harsh command is a terrible blessing.
Now if you’ll excuse me I have a life to discard of.