No-Yes Rather than Yes-No

In my weaker moments (weaker than usual, that is), I may find myself sliding down that slippery slope of speculation on deity. My mind wanders a mine field of God questions: What is my Maker trying to tell me? Just what is the Creator up to? Is the Trinity even paying any attention to me so that I could slide a quick sin by the Them who is One? And, most certainly there is the big question, what is God’s will for me?

On any given moment in my daily interrogatory reveries, with one or more possibilities staring into my aged eyes, I can usually work out which of the choices is God’s will by applying the Knee Jerk Test. If my initial reaction is negative toward the impending task/call, then it is likely from the Boss. To substantiate the validity of my head-shake approach, let me trot out another in my bottomless bag of embarrassing anecdotes.

Several years back I was floundering around the Church, trying to find a round hole (some ministry/activity) where I could pound in a square peg (me, that is). Having disposed of my treasure adequately, I was having some difficulty with the time and talent distribution. It didn’t take long to discover that my timing was off and my talent questionable. I won’t go into details on this aspect—there is a limit to the amount of literary humiliation I can withstand.

If all else fails (and by “all else” I mean me), I pass it along to the Spirit in the Sky. With no obvious answer to that inquiry—I noticed no lightning bolts, mystic manifestations, or still, small voices—I did what every allegedly sensible spouse does, I called in the wife who just happened to be in the process of retreating. Not retreating from me, but heading to the monastic manor to pray, fast, and get connected with the Three in One. I emptied my prayerful plate, asking her to mention it to the great Planner if she got a chance. And she did.

Two days after her return, I received an email from a hitherto unknown member of our church. This stranger from among the flock told me they thought I would be a good fit for a new ministry that was starting. It involved a regular commitment, moderate responsibility, and lots of interaction with parishioners. In less time than it takes electrons to circle the nuclei on this page, I coughed up a big fat NO! Not my type of work—have no talent for it—too much talking—setting myself and the Church up for failure—blah blah blah. I trotted out every argument reasonable and irrational, all the time trying to figure out how I could dodge this bullet while still appearing to be the sincere searcher of the truth from The Truth.

There was one glaring, flashing neon message that continued to pursue me, no matter how many excuses I piled up in its path. In the words of a very old automobile slogan: “You asked for it—you got it!” In the deep, dark recesses of my mind where I lock away that fun house mirror that shows me as I really am, I knew this was the God thing I had asked for. After all, I didn’t want to do it.

When I relate to others my God’s Will Detection Method, they usually give an uneasy chuckle. I take that as an affirmation. The jitter in their titter lets me know that they have stumbled down this road and may have also tried to run away, Jonah-like, from the being who created all the hiding places. There is something about dysfunction in numbers that is comforting, and it means that God has more than one target to seek out.

Jesus is in the know when it comes to this inclination of humans to beg for help and then ask if it comes in another size or color. He realizes that we may be fast with the tongue, but we are slow on the uptake. And sure enough, in the case I just related, I eventually agreed to try the ministry out, and spent several fairly successful years in it. That response, actually has the Savior’s Seal of Approval. Just check out His teaching concerning the Two Sons (Matthew 21:28-32). Our Great Parabler gives the thumbs up to those of us who No-Yes Him, while disdaining the opposite approach. He commends the sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes and other societal outcasts who shake their head at the love of the Lord, and then decide that is exactly what they need. On the other hand, the so-called spiritually privileged who give God the nod and then go about their own merry way, Jesus consigns to the end of the line for the Kingdom—maybe they’ll get in before the door closes, maybe not.

In the grand scheme of the Grand Schemer, doesn’t it make sense that the stuff He is going to assign will be those very things one would want to eschew? If it was something that we wanted to do, we’d either be doing it already, or if we were unaware of the need, Our Lord would only have to troll the bait our way, and we would instantly gratificate ourselves. Perhaps a fine-tooth combing of the scriptures would unearth sentiments similar to that of my grade school principal who would constantly remind me that “Doing things you don’t want to do builds your character.” It also instills obedience, patience, and humility, even if one starts out drinking deeply from a cup of instant gratification.

And what wafts into my gray matter while contemplating all this doing what I don’t want? It is a pearl of wisdom from St. Augustine that I encountered in the Breviary recently:

Granted, the simple act of doing something I’d rather not may not be suffering on the grand scale of Christ or the martyrs. But each individual act of setting aside my pleasant present to take up a less than desirable task for the greater glory of not me, brings me nearer to the one who pottered my clay. At the very least, dragging myself off the pleasure path to fulfill a piece of my divine destiny, brings me closer to the “good” creation the Creator intended me to be. And if that isn’t preparing me for the eternity we all desire (and maybe less time in purgatory), I don’t know what will.

Therefore, the grudging choice (after an initial refusal) to help my annoying neighbor through an arduous experience knowing I will get only complaints no matter how it turns out, is a sacrifice. It is taking up my cross. It is what Jesus would do. And though it may make me look like a dupe to those scoping out the scene while overlooking the unseen, I am nonetheless victorious, having restrained my passion, put my ego in its place, and kept my eye on the One who not only knows the score, but is refereeing the action.

An old preacher once said to me that God would get His way with or without me. The big payoff for working with the Chief is the gradual realization that the Author of Life ain’t makin’ it up as He goes along. Rather than feeling like a lottery ball being knocked around in the great randomizing basket of a universe with no heart, I find myself slowly shaking off the stupor, only to realize that there is purpose in what God hath wrought, especially in that I wish He hadn’t. In the midst of artificial intellect, genuine ignorance, premeditated misery, senseless selfishness, and widespread apathy, there is a power that lays it all low—the love our Maker has for all of us who are inane, in pain, and intensely vain. And aren’t we expected to practice that self-same sensitivity and regard for all who are so much like us that they don’t like us?

Ultimately, that is what is at the heart of every assignment from Divine Parent that I’d like to take a pass on. All that pitifully profoundless prattle that I spout about my commitment to the Grand Plan can only acquire meaning when I am willing to plumb the depths of my connectedness to all other poor souls like myself, saying “No, No,” but who desperately want to know the One who knows it all.

¹“Second Reading,” Office of Readings for One Martyr, The Liturgy of the Hours, Vol. III (New York: Catholic Book Publishing Co., 1975), 1714.