Isaiah 6:1-2a, 3-8
Psalm 138: 1-5, 7-8
1 Corinthians 15:1-11
Luke 5:1-11
“The Lord is with me to the end.
Lord, your mercy endures forever.
Never forsake the work of your hands!
— Psalm 138:8
As I start drafting this post, it’s Thursday afternoon. There will be new readings this weekend, and I haven’t posted about last week’s. This is the first chance I’ve had to write. Because I’m short on time, I’m going to try a different format.
As I struggled with what to write about last week’s readings, I got into an internal conversation with God. Both sides of the dialogue below come from my own head, but my words are just as much the work of God as the rest of creation is. These Scripture readings above remind me that no weakness, sin, failure, or doubt can permanently stand in the way of God’s work. God doesn’t just work in spite of those weaknesses, failures, sins, and doubts. God works through them. So here’s to God working through my thoughts and my time crunch, and here’s how the conversation unfolded, roughly.
Me: I can’t imagine trusting you the way Peter, and Paul, and Isaiah did — to the point of death. I don’t even want to pretend to want to, though I do like the idea of staying eternally connected to you and to everything and everyone else that’s interconnected through you.
God: Do you think those guys wanted to suffer or to die? Do you think I wanted them to. No, but no one can live in fear and self-preservation mode and at the same time give and receive freely, which is what it means to love. Do you think Isaiah, Peter, and Paul trusted or suffered on their own?
Me: No, I don’t think that. You suffered with them.
God: I did. Because love is who I am. It’s the reason you exist, too. It’s what holds you and all of creation together, as the Rev. Fr. Richard Rohr says. And remember that when I touched Isaiah’s lips with the burning coal, I didn’t unveil all of his journey at that time, nor had Paul reached the end of his earthly journey when he wrote his letters. You’re reading about only parts of their journeys in the Scriptures, especially when you look only at certain passages.
Don’t forget that in the Gospel passage you’re wrestling with, I wasn’t asking Peter to do anything risky or dangerous yet. I wasn’t even asking him to do something that he hadn’t done over and over before. I was just asking him to do it one more time. You aren’t even aware of all the times you do the ordinary for me, one more time. You aren’t aware because it’s what’s uncomfortable AND out of the ordinary that you remember most. Finding with me the strength to persist in ordinary service despite fatigue is different than being called to do something outside of your comfort zone, let alone something life-threatening.
Me: I guess that’s true.
God: And don’t forget about the time Peter got so excited to see me when he and the rest of the guys were sailing during a storm.
Me: Was it stormy that time, God, or am I thinking of another time when the guys were sailing?
God: Doesn’t matter. That’s not the point of this conversation. Anyway, do you remember when Peter was so excited to see Jesus that he insisted on walking on water to come to him?
Me: Yeah.
God: Did Peter make it over to Jesus?
Me: Nope. He freaked out and sank.
God: And did Peter always admit to being friends with Jesus?
Me: Um . . . No.
God: There you go.
Me: Thanks for the reminders.
God. I’ve got plenty where those came from. Want another one?
Me: Sure.
God: Remember, every relationship is different. It’s helpful only to a point to compare your relationship with me to Peter’s or Paul’s relationship with me. And there are parts of every intimate relationship that only the two involved know about.
In case any of the words I’ve used in this exchange are unique to the translation of the Bible I commonly use, here’s a citation for my translation:
The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
Sitting with the Sacred 
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