Set Your Cell To Stun… …I mean Silent. Yeah. Silent.

It wouldn't be good enough to say that it was a difficult week.  I've spent some time just thinking to myself about the trial and its implications.  It's been a tremendously difficult thing to wrestle with.  In spite of that, I wrestle none the less.

First of all, -for my own sake and the sake of those around me whom I am close to and absolutely love- I would like to acknowledge that there isn't really a right or wrong emotion to feel in response to what went down that week.  Peter's impact on us was profound in such a different way.  What he did was terrible.  It was terrible for everybody involved.  It was terrible for everyone NOT involved.  It was terrible for everyone. 

I would submit with a certain degree of hesitancy that it was a terrible thing for God, too.  I have to believe that Jesus, being fully God but ALSO fully human (many tend to forget the implications of that) is writhing in his right handed seat at the throne of God.

I hope nobody -and I mean absolutely nobody- is at all confused about where I am with it.  Peter is hands down and by far the most cowardly, sick and twisted individual I've ever had the burden of laying my eyes on. 

I remember in fifth grade we always had a wicked word of the week.  Now, I remember one of those words: pusillanimous.  I did some research on the word, and I don't think it quite describes him accurately.  Poltroonish definitely is more or less what I'm getting at here.  That's probably what I am thinking.

I have a tremendously difficult time believing that Jesus would give His life up so weeks like this would happen.  Did Jesus want this to happen?  Hell no!  Did it happen? 

...um, I don't want to answer that question.  But the answer is obvious.  It happened. What is considerably worse is the reality that it still happens. I hate that.

I was seeing a councilor about some of the fairly extensive emotional damage Peter laid into my psyche, and the councilor's thoughts on Peter were a bit humorous, but quite accurate:
"We have ALL KINDS of medical terminology to describe the kind of twisted individual Peter is."

All joking aside, what Peter does is dangerous.

But so is God; dangerous, but good.  Our group of friends isn't the one that you do this kind of thing to.  We're stronger than that.  God undeniably makes His dwelling place His people, is living large, and is tremendously powerful among us.  For some reason, this word keeps on bouncing around in my head and I need to get it out before something bad happens:

Conquer.  Conquer.  Conquer.  Conquer.  Conquer.  Conquer.  Conquer.  Conquer. 

God's power at work in us will help us conquer these ugly realities that peter dished out to us. When I have wiped the tears away from my eyes, I will grab my metaphoric battle ax, and do what I can to fight for the freedom of my people.

Having said all that, I have tremendous respect for all the people who testified.  I have tremendous respect for Erik.  He is a warrior, whether or not it's a politically correct thing to say so. In his brute, however, he maintains a remarkably humble attitude. That isn't just impressive, that's encouraging.

Yet even Erik will tell you that he has learned so much from Brianne. I am humbled by how well she has maintained her composure. God or no god, that's impressive, encouraging, and very respectable.

Jesus didn't desire or intend for hardships like this to happen.
My beef with God: Intent never makes a sound.

Jesus didn't intend for us to be defeated by this, either.

He died so that we would be victorious. That's more than intent. That makes a noise that echoes into every empty crevasse of who I am. It resonates loudly with every humiliating and painful moment I've ever had. It resounds continuously, even if we cannot hear it: Victory is the Lord's. Intent never makes a sound. Jesus made some noise.

 

Wait. I should say that again. Intent never makes a sound.

Jesus made some noise.

 

I guess this is me saying I can hear something. At this point, it would be a safe and honest thing to say that this situation goes far beyond merely trivial good intentions.
I don't intend to be defeated.

 

 

…Intent never makes a sound.