He Couldn't Even Cast the First Stone

Today in the park, a very enthusiastic pair of college students (one male, one female) eyed me, and once they seized me with their tractor beam-like eye contact, made a bee line toward me. They both had the smile. I know that smile. For several years as an undergraduate, I wore that smile and put it on every time I went proselytizing on campus. ^*

This particular pair were from a respected college ministry with which I am familiar, not one dabbling in brainwashing or cultist marriage rites. When they found out that I am their brother in Christ, they were happy, and asked how they could pray for me.

Tell them about my most recent homosexual encounters and ask them to pray for God's grace in my life? This seemed like a lot to confide in people who were strangers, so opted for the more generic "I'm going through some personal difficulties."

Without much more explanation than that, the guy evangelist launched into this story:

One day Jesus appeared to a man, and told him to push three boulders that were outside his home. The next day, the man went out to push the first stone over the nearby cliff.

He dug his heels in the ground, pressed his hands against the stone, and exerted all of his strength. After about twenty minutes, the man was exhausted. He looked at the boulder, and didn't think that it had moved at all.

"Surely if God has asked me to move this boulder, He will give me the power to do it," the man said to himself. He measured the distance from his front door to the rock, and began pushing again. At the end of the day, he measured again to check his progress. Nothing.

The man went out the next day, and pushed for ten hours. He continued like this every day for two months [why the man did not need to go to work, I am not sure.] After that time, he measured again, but found that the first rock had not budged even a millimeter. [The man, fancying himself a citizen of the world, had wisely converted to the metric system years ago.]

"Lord Jesus!" he called. "Why did you ask me to move these rocks if you would not give me the power to accomplish the task?" he asked with great frustration. "After two months, the first one hasn't shifted even a millimeter.

Jesus appeared again. "I never asked you to move the rocks," Jesus replied. "I only told you to push them. And see how much stronger you are because of it."

The man then looked at his body. His shirtsleeves, once slack, were now filled with hefty biceps. His chicken legs had likewise become powerful and muscular.

Sure that God had sent these students to enlighten me, I tried to discern His message. Will the boulder of homosexuality strengthen my faith, growing it from a tiny mustard seed into a large tree? Will this trial prepare me for greater work for His kingdom?

Or was He simply admonishing me that I will push this boulder for the rest of my life, but never once make progress in advancing it?

Or perhaps He was simply telling me that I had His instructions all wrong: Push, not move; push not move! He might be saying, shaking His head that my misunderstanding has caused me to pursue the wrong goal entirely.


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^*Even in a large crowd with other evangelees from which to choose, I am singled out almost invariably as the recipient of all kinds of religious teaching: protestants, Jehovah's Witnesses, the Bahá'í faith, Jews for Jesus. One time, I was even brought into a special proselytizing room for the Moonies, and made to watch a video about Sun Myung Moon, after which I was invited to participate in a mass wedding--no joke. Not that I mind; it's flattering that mine is always the soul designated by so many for salvation.)