Thy will be done

This morning, we hear Jesus describe the intimate connection that he has with his Father (Jn 5:17-30).  Their wills are one with each other, and the Son can only do – out of love – what the Father does and what the Father wills.

We all seek this intimate connection – and it is precisely what God desires for each of us when we become one with Him in heaven. 

It seems so simple and so desirable, yet in my seeking, I often get lost.  I wander far from God’s will, far from the promise that transforms death to life, anxiety to peace, distress to joy, and condemnation to mercy.

In my occasional moments of clarity, when I realize how far I have wandered, I often find that I have made one of two mistakes. 

The first, and most common, is simply forgetting that God, as my creator who loves me with a constant and infinite love, is my unfailing compass and guide.  Rather, I decide that I can set my own direction, follow my own desires and goals.  I assume that my own intelligence, hard work and disciplined dedication to my goals and desires will somehow win for me the eternal happiness that only God can offer. 

While I am often successful in achieving my goals, my victories are short-lived.  It is never enough, and, as St. Augustine found so many years ago, it is a restless life, always seeking, rarely finding; always struggling, rarely at peace.

The second mistake is more subtle, yet perhaps more deadly.  Here, I understand that I should be following God’s will, but I confuse God’s will for me with what is happening to me in the moment.  I assume that if things are going good for me, I must be doing the right things.  God must be rewarding me for the following Him so closely, for being such a good and loyal disciple.

But things don’t always go so well.  In fact, things go horribly awry.  At first, I think it’s me.  I have done something and God is justly punishing me for my sins.  But I can’t see it.  I have done what I have always done.  I have tried to be good, to be obedient, to ask forgiveness when I faltered, but horror and terror surround me.  Then, I become angry with God.  I lose faith that God is a loving, caring Father, for no loving father would subject his faithful child to such pain.

Only Jesus can bring me back from this brink.  For Jesus, the constant, the true, the Son of God, took on my life, my world, and my sins.  Jesus understood his Father’s will perfectly.  Jesus was to be constant as His Father was constant; to love all of creation as the Father loves all he created; to love in the face of hate; to live virtue in a world of violence; to offer divine mercy in place of self-righteous vengeance.

As a result, He suffered grievously – even to the point of gruesomely dying on the cross – not because of his sins, not because He deviated from his Father’s path, not because His Father did not love him, but because the world – including me and you and all humans, born with Adam’s sin – often rejects the selfless, unconditional, and undeserved love of God.  And by rejecting God’s love, by rejecting God who is love, evil, pain and suffering thrive.

My mistake is thinking that this is the end, there is no more.  I remember Good Friday, but I forget Easter morning.  I remember the agony, but not the triumph.  For God is so much greater than the evil.  God’s love conquers death itself.  I forget that the compass of God’s will didn’t lead me into the desert of sin and desolation in which I often find myself, but rather leads me through that desert to paradise, as it led Jesus through Good Friday to Easter morning.

I may often lose sight of God’s will, but Jesus opens my eyes.  I may often wander far from safety, but Jesus brings me back.  I may suffer the great pains of sin in this world, but Jesus has gone before me and has prepared a place for me in His father’s house.  I need only follow Him who is God’s Son; Him who is God’s love; Him who is God’s will.