In the movie Rudy, a young man is anxious to play on the Notre Dame football team. He goes to a Catholic priest to ask his advice. "In thirty years of theological study," the priest says, "I've discovered two things: There is a God. I'm not Him!"

If only Jesus would take my advice! I've given it to him for years and it's so good! I tell Him that if He lets me fall flat on my face, He won't be glorified! What does He do? He lets me fall flat on my face! I tell him that if I don't get what I want when I want it, I can't praise Him. I know he wants me to praise Him. So why won't He give me what I want? I tell him I need power and influence so that His will can be done on the earth. He laughs at me! Why?

I guess it's because He's God . . . and I'm not. Jesus is the Leader, and we're not. If we choose to follow Him, that is.
To carry a cross, then, will sometimes lead to frustration. It will be like having our arms bound when we want to swing them; like having our feet fixed when we want to walk and run.

So why would anybody want to carry a cross? If you've followed Him a long time, you probably know why: Being able to help ourselves doesn't mean that we will. Being free doesn't mean that we will stay free.

I was never a good student. In fact, I was lazy. I didn't want to study because study seemed like work and I didn't want to work. What did I do? Instead of studying, I threw snowballs and paddled on the lake. And I failed the class. Now I was free, right? I wish. I had to take Biology all over again. I had to get up early and drag myself to the same old boring class. I had no choice but to study. Whereas, a semester before, study had felt like leather straps binding me to my chair, now it felt like nails pinning me to wood. I'd helped myself to what I wanted, and I'd found that Self-Help is no help at all. I'd saved myself for myself — and ended up kicking myself.

We're afraid to deny ourselves for Christ's sake. Why? Because we're afraid we will be cramped or hurt. We know (or think we know) what we're running from, but what are we running to? In a word, frustration. We give as much of our time as we think we can spare — and gripe about how our efforts go unappreciated. We give as much money as we think we can afford — and resent it. On the outside, we're bubbly. Inside, we seethe.

Of course, we think we're still in charge. We're angry and resentful and full of pain, but we're in control! It's like cutting off a dog's tail a piece at a time to make it easier on the dog. Still, it's better than a gory old cross, isn't it? Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven! The truth is, one way or another we're going to carry a cross. One way or another, we're going to be nailed down. The only choice is the cross Jesus offers or one of our own making.

We understand that Jesus wants us to lose everything for His sake. We know He doesn't want so much of our time, money, or labor — He wants us. This is what rattles us, this business of losing our lives. But our fear fogs the other side of the equation: Finding our lives.