God’s Will

 April 22, 2022

John Wesley was a young Anglican priest. He had been sent as a missionary to the colony of Georgia in the Americas to convert the Indians there. The mission was by all accounts, a disaster, and sailing back to England, he was despondent and filled with doubts. In his journal he wrote of his return in January 1738:

I went to America, to convert the Indians; but oh! who shall convert me? who, what is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of mischief? I have a fair summer religion. I can talk well; nay, and believe myself, while no danger is near; but let death look me in the face, and my spirit is troubled. Nor can I say, 'To die is gain!'

In March, he wrote again of his despondency:

Saturday, March 4.—I found my brother at Oxford, recovering from his pleurisy; and with him Peter Bohler; by whom, in the hand of the great God, I was, on Sunday, the fifth, clearly convinced of unbelief, of the want of that faith whereby alone we are saved.

Immediately it struck into my mind, “Leave off preaching. How can you preach to others, who have not faith yourself?” I asked Bohler whether he thought I should leave it off or not. He answered, “By no means.” I asked, “But what can I preach?” He said, “Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith.”

In a roundabout manner, Wesley’s question keeps niggling at the back of my mind. I don’t wonder if I have faith; that issue was settled long ago. Mine is a different kind of struggle, and it relates to my son’s cancer diagnosis. I have no doubt about God’s ability to heal him. I would easily stake my life upon it, but it’s not my life that’s at stake. It’s my son’s. He told me the other day, “I have no fear.” I believe that, and I can’t say I am fearful. But I am wondering.

As a part of our worship service and prayer times on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, we pray the Lord’s Prayer. I’ve preached my way through it on more than one occasion. I’ve read scholarly books about it; it has often given my own prayers shape and form when I didn’t know what else to say. But today God challenged me as I’ve never been challenged before. 

“Every time you pray that prayer, you utter the words, “Thy will be done.” Do you mean it now?” The question left me stunned. I want to mean it, but I’m not sure I’m there. How can I pray those words when what I really want is for MY will to be done? I could easily pray those words if I were sure God’s will and mine were in alignment, but I can’t be sure of it. I feel like Abraham when God ordered him to kill his own son as an offering. Looking back from 4,000 years later, we know how the story ends, and say with confidence, “Of course, God was going to spare Isaac.” But at the time, Abraham didn’t know that. He believed God could bring him back to life again, but God hadn’t told him anything of what he planned. For all Abraham knew, he was going to walk to Mount Moriah with his son, and trudge home alone.

Faith is a funny business. When I was a teenager, we would sing lustily, “Faith is the victory that overcomes the world.” I had no idea then how my world would be thrown to the winds and how I would have to fight and scrabble for my faith. If we only have faith in the sunshine, it’s not much faith at all. The test comes in the storm. Like Ulysses hearing the siren song between Scylla and Charibdis, I lash myself to the mast of God’s unwavering love, because I know I will not always be strong enough in myself to hold on. If I were not bound by the strong cords of Christ’s love and power, I would surely sink. But tonight, I sail on, like Wesley, proclaiming the faith I do not feel, praying the prayer I’m not sure I can honestly pray, till it carries me through the storm to God’s will on the other side.