The thing which keeps us from actually following and imitating Christ is fear more than it is disbelief. It is a threatening thing to let go of everything so deeply that your own words and behaviors don't originate with you, even if you are in full cooperation with them. It is a threatening thing to remove yourself from the way everyone else operates, and to not know for certain how you are going to respond to anything which comes at you. It is a threatening thing to surrender control to the Spirit of Christ, no matter how benevolent we know it to be. No matter how much we know it to be good, loving, and have our best interests at heart. It is uncomfortable, and the brain will fight against it.
Every potential threat which comes up will call it into question again, and again, and again. It will create scenarios in the mind to dislodge and disengage the Spirit of Christ so that it can resume control. "But what about this? But what about that?" The brain insists that it must be in control in order to deal with each new thing "decisively" and "effectively."
"Love is fine," it will say, "but it is not practical in every situation." "You have to meet force with force." "This thing is beyond you, you have to flee!" And many more things like this the malfunctioning brain will hammer you with until you turn back to it and let it run rampant, causing as much harm or more in the name of survival, good intentions, or some other well sounding thing.
This is why, frequently, it requires a massive "moral" shock in order to cripple the brain's malfunctioning threat response system into submission. It requires the brain to be the cause of something horrendous, something the brain itself considers to be a moral atrocity, before it will permanently turn over control long term. It has to be shown, repeatedly, the outcomes of the behaviors and responses which originate with it. It has to calculate itself as "bad," causing a contradiction with the malfunction which will drive it to push away the "bad," in this case, itself. Because it will adapt "morally" to what it considers "justifiable transgressions," it needs to be something the brain itself considers unjustifiable.
For Paul, it was the revelation that the harm he was causing to Christians was actually directed against God Himself through the direct revelation that Jesus was actually the Christ from Jesus Himself. A second shock of a kind was his separation from Barnabas over the severe argument about Mark. It was only after this that he was able to fully submit long term. For Peter, it was likely the denial of Him three times when he had sworn he would die with Him. Was their submission to His Spirit perfect after that? No, but it was consistent, and when their own deviations were pointed out, they immediately course corrected.
I think I know the kind of harm I am capable of. In truth, I do not want to know the reality of it. I do not want to come near it, or have anyone else suffer because I need my own brain to be shocked back into submission. It's not a matter of being forgiven for it, but it is a matter of it happening in the first place. Even the most well intentioned words and actions can cause harm to those around me if they originate with my own malfunctioning mind. They can miss the target completely, even if aimed in the right direction. And yet there are still times I allow my fears to take back control from the Spirit of Christ.
"Love brought to completion tosses fear outside." Agape and fear cannot coexist. "There is self, and there is truth. Where self is, truth is not. Where truth is, self is not." Self is built on fear, whereas truth is built on agape. Self is a construct of all of our experiences and biology, everything we're either afraid to lose or afraid to acquire. Agape is not. Agape clings to nothing, and because it clings to nothing it is able to seek the best interests of everyone. Because it clings to nothing, it is able to let go and forgive everything. Because it clings to nothing, it sacrifices itself for the other without thought for itself. As Paul also wrote, "the flesh desires against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh, and these things lie against one another..." The brain is flesh, and its principle operator is fear of loss or fear of acquiring something it doesn't want. The Spirit clings neither way. And so these two things are in constant conflict with each other.
There is a scene in Free Guy where Guy the NPC, who has found freedom and growth through acquiring the sunglasses off of a player, attempts to do the same for his best friend the bank security guard. He takes the glasses from another player and tries to hand them to his friend, knowing what it will do for him. But his friend looks at him, and the fear, the sheer terror at what it will mean and how it will change everything is written all over his face and he refuses them. "I can't, okay! I just can't." This doesn't make buddy a bad guy, or even useless. But his fear cripples him in ways he doesn't even understand because he can't see past it. He knows the changes he's seen in Guy, the kind of person he's become, and they scare him.
Our malfunctioning brains are used to fear and clinging. They don't understand agape and can't really process it until they experience it, and even then need help to do that, just like Guy and his friend needed the glasses. Agape, as wonderful as it sounds, terrifies our malfunctioning brains.
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