The Curious Pilgrim
Daily Office Reflection
Psalm 18; Jonah 3:1–4:11; Acts 27:27–44; Luke 9:18–27
My first sermon, when I was fifteen years old, was about taking up our cross and following Jesus. Looking back across the years, I realize that the boy who preached those words was still struggling to understand them.
I thought denying myself meant denying who I was. I carried that understanding almost to the point of self-hatred. I wanted to be faithful to Jesus, but I believed that faithfulness required turning against myself.
Today, I look back at that boy with compassion. He was trying to follow Jesus with the understanding he had. I am still following, still learning, and still asking Jesus to help me see.
In Luke’s reading, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter identifies him as the Messiah of God. Then Jesus begins explaining what lies ahead: suffering, rejection, death, and resurrection.
That must have challenged what Peter thought being the Messiah would mean. It challenges me, too. Following Jesus asks something of us. There is self-denial, dedication, and obedience. But I am coming to understand those words through the love of the One who calls us.
God loves the person I bring to him. I can bring my mind, my emotions, my body, my questions, and my history into that relationship. I can acknowledge what needs healing and changing without deciding that my whole self is something to despise.
One way I express that surrender now is through the Jesus Prayer:
Lord Jesus Christ, teach me to see with compassion like you.
Lord Jesus Christ, teach me to listen with wisdom.
Lord Jesus Christ, teach me to speak with love.
Those prayers reach into ordinary life. How do I see the person who irritates me? Do I listen to understand, or am I preparing my answer while someone else is speaking? Will my words offer kindness and truth, or will they deepen a wound?
Jonah makes these questions uncomfortable.
He receives a second chance and goes to Nineveh. The people repent, and God responds with mercy. But Jonah becomes angry. He knows God is gracious and compassionate. That is precisely what troubles him: God has extended compassion to people Jonah wanted punished.
I recognize something of myself there. I am grateful for mercy when I need it. Can I welcome that same mercy when it reaches someone I resent?
Jonah delivered the message, but his heart still needed changing. I can do what I believe God asks and still struggle to love the people God loves. Willing obedience reaches into that struggle. Sometimes my prayer must begin, “Lord, I am resisting. Help me become willing.”
Psalm 18 gives us David remembering God’s deliverance. He cried for help, and God heard him. His strength and his victories came from God.
David’s larger story includes failure, repentance, and forgiveness. As I read his song, I remember that forgiveness is an expression of God’s love. Through faith in Jesus Christ, I can receive forgiveness and begin again. I do not have to keep punishing myself for what I have brought honestly before God.
That grace also calls me to take responsibility. Being forgiven opens the way to changed living—to repairing what I can, learning from what happened, and becoming more compassionate toward others.
In Acts, Paul faces a storm that eventually destroys the ship. His faith does not remove the danger. It helps him respond within it.
He encourages the people to eat. He speaks up when lives are threatened. He helps frightened people hold on to hope. His trust in God becomes practical care for those around him.
I find that deeply meaningful. Complete dedication to Jesus belongs in the way we care for people, make decisions, receive help, and face difficult days. Our whole lives can become places where God’s love takes shape.
Taking up my cross daily may mean surrendering my need to be right. It may mean admitting a mistake, listening patiently, forgiving someone, or offering help when it interrupts my plans. It may mean accepting that I cannot control everything.
It also requires discernment. I need wisdom to recognize what love asks of me, to honor healthy boundaries, and to acknowledge my own limits. I also need compassion.
The fifteen-year-old boy did not understand all of this. Neither does the older man looking back. But I believe I see a little more clearly now.
Self-denial asks me to surrender whatever keeps me from loving God, my neighbor, and myself. Dedication asks me to bring my whole life into that relationship. Obedience asks me to follow Jesus into the next faithful act, even as I still learn.
So I continue to pray:
Lord Jesus Christ, teach me to see with compassion like you. Teach me to listen with wisdom. Teach me to speak with love. Heal what is wounded in me, and change what keeps me from loving. Help me receive your mercy and welcome it for others. Guide my steps as I take up my cross and follow you today. Amen.
How has your understanding of self-denial changed over the years? What are you asking Jesus to help you see more clearly?
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