The Will of God Made Easy 9-5-12

Anderson, South Carolina

Learning, transformation, renewal so often comes in unmarked packages. At 10 AM on a rainy day I participated in a discussion group with a dozen men struggling for liberation from their demons and addictions. We reached some consensus suggesting living in the will of God might put us in those places of greatest emotional safety and sobriety. We’ve come to understand one of the greatest defenses against catastrophic relapse is to find profound purpose and usefulness in one’s life. The sense one is newly following a divinely appointed path is transformative to those long caught in the downward spiral of addictive chaos. The emergent sense of purpose found in the will of God restores self-esteem, producing affective transformation.

Our discussion then leaped to the next obvious question. How does one find the will of God? The fly had landed in the ointment. Thousands of books have been written with formulae for sleuthing the will of God, making it tedious and obtuse. To kill or not to kill. This one’s easy. To steal. Not quite so clear. Do we steal a loaf of bread if it will keep our children alive? Lying. Harder yet. Do we lie to SS Storm Troopers demanding to know if we have a dozen Jews hidden in the cellar wall? Do I spend the winter in Australia? Australia? Guidance is real murky on this.

A few weeks ago I purchased a packet of tickets granting me passage to the far side of the world. In recent weeks I’ve given much thought to the idea of simply dropping out of my responsibilities here, taking a creative absence, a sabbatical if you will, from often intense daily experiences. I’ve begun wondering if this is the will of God for me. I tossed this out on the table for the others to consider as an example. One discussant suggested putting on paper the metrics forecasting my level of usefulness if I stay here over the winter and then do the same thing with respect to spending winter 34 degrees south of the equator. During thirty minutes of discussion my phone rang no less than four times, people here in various forms of distress needing the experience, strength and hope we offer. There may be deep wisdom in this simple advice. Where would you be most useful? These calls would have gone unanswered if I was twelve time zones away. I get perhaps fifteen calls a day.

A fellow down at the far end of the tables said he struggles with leaving home for more than a week at a time to do his job. He becomes disconnected from family, church, his recovery community, those people to whom he routinely offers his experience, strength, and hope. The disconnect puts him into an emotionally precarious place. Was he speaking to me? Probably. I recall several times of profound disconnect when at great distances for extended times. I think about the hundreds of lives I intersect with on a regular basis, lives I would by default disconnect from if I were to leave for the winter.

My ad hoc consensus panel has me inclined to think I need to stay here over the winter, fragile precarious times for the homeless, destitute, marginalized unwanted of society. We often speak of simply suiting up and showing up. Perhaps showing up where I am expected to show up is where I should show up. No one is expecting me to do so on the far side of the world. Hundreds here do so daily. Could the will of God be this pragmatic, this simple? My daily lesson was not yet finished.

I left that meeting feeling well fortified by the wisdom of a dozen men who have learned the hard way how desperately important it is to stay safely in the center of God’s will. En route to a luncheon at the far end of town I was to discover God’s will is a faith journey, a journey of openness, of humility, of willingness, of honesty. It’s not a task or a place.

A small red car driven by a teenager blasted by on the rain-slick road and a nanosecond later it exploded into the life of a young mother and wife. Something quantum happens at such times. Parallel paths suddenly bend and intersect. One’s universe can suddenly become a microcosm, nothing else having been yet born in time. I was suddenly in God’s will in a way utterly profound. I was no longer in Australia or Anderson. I was in deep pain. Another’s.

There’s no more sacred honor than being called to carefully touch the pain of a tortured soul. With my bare hands I tore out the shattered glass in a destroyed car to get to a mother shrieking in terror. While waiting forever for police, ambulance, and fire trucks to arrive I knew there was no other place in the universe I was to be. This was my universe. I was exactly where I was supposed to be doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, leaning into that wrecked car. Over fifteen minutes I watched this precious soul’s terror sublimate into a tentative trust that she would be safe and go home to her husband once again, after a journey to the hospital. As I waited, with a crowd standing behind me, for the firemen to cut her out, I had the most extraordinary experience possible, utter liberation from self. I have never lived so fully in the moment. I was in a space without time. I was in God’s will.

I’m scheduled for a surgical consult next week to have one of my hands repaired. A month-old injury has only gotten worse and now needs surgical attention. When I left the scene I realized I had never given thought to my hands as I tore that glass out, quite liberated from myself. Later I looked at the specks of glass embedded in my hands, wondering if they were at all like cosmic dust from a newborn star.

The father of psychiatry, Carl Jung, described what are called vital spiritual experiences. “To me these occurrences are phenomena. They appear to be in the nature of huge emotional displacements and rearrangements. Ideas, emotions, and attitudes which were once the guiding forces of the lives of these men are suddenly cast to one side, and a completely new set of conceptions and motives begin to dominate them.” I can only hope this might have happened for me out there on the highway. Getting out of one’s self may just be the easiest way in the world to find God’s will.

I learned today life is so fragile. I learned today to love it deeply. Give hope. It’s the will of God, here and in Australia. No tickets required.

Blessings,

Craig C. Johnson