When I was in high school, I decided that I needed to get in better shape. One evening, I announced to may family that was going to "go on a diet." I didn't really know what the term meant; I had just heard said on television.

A few minutes later I went into the kitchen and helped myself to a generous bowl of ice cream. "I thought you were going on a diet," my mother pointed out. "I am," I replied. "Tomorrow."

Most of us have a number of conflicting desires. Some, of course, are more important than others. We want to be healthy, and we want our ice cream --- that's a pretty common set of conflicting desires.

More serious for me are the conflicting desires to follow Jesus Christ and to be the master of my own life. I mean, I want to live by the teachings of Jesus and experience the fullness of life that he promises. But I also want to do and have a lot of other things; I want financial security, health, beauty, respect and admiration, to name a few.

In today's Gospel reading we find several instances where people want Jesus to endorse their choices, and Jesus refuses to do so. When some Samaritans refuse to welcome Jesus, his disciples want to have them smitten: "Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven and consume them?"

Jesus declines this self-serving request. Another wants to follow Jesus, but says, "First let me go bury my father." Another says, "First let me say farewell to my family." Jesus declines these requests as well.

We would all probably like it if God would adapt to our preferences. It would be nice, for example, to have our rivals suffer setbacks when necessary for our own success, and to call us only to tasks that fit in with our work and family schedules. In our country we are taught to insist on the right to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." Yet Jesus calls us to follow him on his terms, and tells that the way is narrow that leads to life.

"Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head," Jesus tells his would be followers. Personally, I want both my den and my discipleship. But we are not to expect the best of both worlds in our spiritual lives.

We're lucky, of course, that Jesus doesn't give us everything we ask for. If Jesus granted every request to vanquish our perceived enemies, our communities would be littered with victims of our wounded pride. And if Jesus waited for every reluctant follower to tend to other concerns, he would have never made to Jerusalem. If Christianity placed a premium on comfort and convenience, Jesus certainly would not have inconvenienced himself with his passion and crucifixion.

But Jesus had no place to rest his head. Jesus did not destroy his enemies. Jesus did not wait until it was convenient or easy to make his final excruciating journey to Jerusalem. Christianity is not, in the end, a religion of convenience. It is religion of abandonment, where we relinquish our personal agendas in favor of the agenda of a God who loves us enough to die for us.

Bill Peatman writes from Napa.