“But whatever anyone else dares to boast of—I am speaking as a fool—I also dare to boast of that. 22 Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they offspring of Abraham? So am I. 23 Are they servants of Christ? I am a better one—I am talking like a madman—with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death. 24 Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. 25 Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; 26 on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; 27 in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. 28 And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches. 29 Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to fall, and I am not indignant?” (2 Cor 11:21-29 ESV)

Probably the dare level of Christian faith means that, though reason and surface-level investigations of theological bent would suggest a happy camper mentality, it is a regrettable turn of events that lead the would-be Saint to live out the Gospel.

Falling in love. Working a rewarding job. Raising a forward-thinking and upright family. Any of these, and we are squeezed, desiring to acknowledge Christ but finding some, any, easier route. Hard-working route, indeed, as well! Hard to be in love, but preferable to Christ’s religion. Difficulty to labor in a job all day, but preferable to the forlorn adventure into a liminal environs of so many prayers unanswered. Impossible to raise a family, but coping with the challenge, it is easier than to resign to the Lord.

The would-be Saint therefore knows indeed that Christ’s Truths are all-truths. They are unsurpassed. They reckon themselves worthy of His voice and imperative, because they are the bee’s knees of Progress, of Sagacity, of Wit. But to us, though we believe, yada yada yada, that first will come a Death, then a Judgment, then a Resurrection to New Life, any Saint would trade it all in just to have some answers to life’s existential questions or possible duties and hobbies.

Whom to love. Where to set roots. Why nose-to-the-grindstone to work. It is a bit like finding ourselves maligned for someone else’s sin: yes, that makes us Christ-like, but no, it doesn’t pave our road with loving persons of ill repute who join us at the party, nor with accolades of worldly honor and praise, nor with some eternal “gotcha”, “I win”, “see me bask in the loving arms of Christ”. It simply is suffering. With no window to a better tomorrow. It simply is someone “else’s” job, we find ourselves hoping in the final issue.

Therefore to be soldier and adherent of Christianity has a “somos loco” (“We are crazy”) aspect, where having once walked the walk to the Cross, the Saint has burned in, etched in, branded and tattooed on the soul, an imprint called Cruciform. Wherein he or she sees clearly now because the intoxicating unthinking material sins are burnt out, gone, and not missed. The way we ravish a meal having fasted or stretched our bodies in workout mode. The attempt in all things to act mindfully, with intent and not nose to the winds of temptation and fashion. The unlevel-headed way we make decisions at times out of panic or fright mode, less thought through. After all, all decisions of import may be of this variety: because lest we find affection or temptation, we would never love nor eat nor put down roots.