On Safety, The Illusion Of.

It ain't easy being T O D.
Sorry, that phrase is stuck in my head.

I wanted to talk about control, as that was part of the sermon this morning.  The Sabbath, and what it teaches us about slowing down, giving up both self-importance and control. Good stuff.
I was struck by the idea of controlling things, but my brain started running around with the idea of security. Security (or the illusion thereof) is probably the biggest reason why we try to control things. I know it is for me. If I can get into a good working band I'll have money and moderate success and be happy. Maybe if I get a nice girl I'll be happy. Maybe if I didn't have to clean up my roommate's dog's crap, I'd be happy.
But why do I care? Why must I control these things? Why must I have this security?
Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid that maybe I'm wrong and God isn't watching out for me, or maybe He's not big enough to help me out when I need Him, or that what He has for me isn't what I want, or that I don't love Him enough. Blasphemous thoughts, I know, but we all have them at times, especially when things get hard.

A friend of mine recently broke up with his longterm girlfriend and suffered bouts of depression in his process of grieving. But the other night at a show he said something to me. "I flirt with girls, I play the game, because when I win, when I know that I could take this girl home, it makes me feel like a man."
And it's true. It's scary, and it's true.
And I do it too. I talk to girls who take an interest in me because it makes me feel important and powerful, much like a man should. I don't much need to have an interest in any of these girls so long as they have an interest in me. Because I'm afraid that I'm not a man. That I'm not justified, that I'm not in control.

And this brings me to Peter. Always at Jesus' side, always seeking His approval, wanting to say the right thing, do the right thing. I wonder sometimes if he signed on with Jesus because Pete thought the coming Kingdom was to be a military kingdom, but it doesn't matter much because eventually Pete got it.
He had foot-in-mouth disease, always saying the first thing that popped into his head, which could get awkward. But that very trait made him the perfect man to get out of the boat and try and walk on water with Jesus.
But on the night of Jesus' death, Pete denied Him three times. I bet he was scared. He was scared of being associated with Christ, possibly dying with Him, but more than that, scared that he was wrong about Jesus. Deny now, apologize later.
And he had to look into the eyes of the man he denied as Christ was being dragged away to be beaten. That had to hurt. He had to watch a man whom he loved, a man with whom he had lived the past 3 years, a man who carried his heart and soul, get crucified. He had to watch Christ die in order to give up that fear. But that was love. It didn't feel like it at the time, but it was.
We all have to die, and we have to watch our dreams die, our hopes die, our loves die. Because without death, nothing can be reborn, nothing can be renewed. The Phoenix rises from the ashes, my Christ rises from his tomb. Carrying my fears on their back, giving me hope and grace to live a life without fear.
That scares me. As well it should.