In the end, you're 24, you're almost (almost) accepting the freefall...But you can't quite muster the guts to let go of the fraying rope and latch on to the only one who can save you now.
I have a confession. I am mortified of the mundane. Mortified. The most frightening thing in the world to me is that I might live my whole life having done nothing for the Kingdom of God.
There. I said it. It's out, for all to see, to hear, to read.
I fear failing my Master.
And yet he keeps walking, and I keep plodding (slowly) after. Because, really, whom have I in heaven besides him, and by what other name shall I be called?
As Peter said, "Lord, where else would we go?"
I don't have a lot of faith. I can't really say I know how to pray. It isn't really anyone's fault but mine, I suppose.
All I know is for the last two years, since I asked him to teach me, he's said simply:
Cease striving. Why do you kick against the goads?
A question for which I have no answer.
And so, with Luther, I say, "I am yours. Save me."
And in answer, our Lord replies...
I have you now. And I will not let you go. "