I am learning something that may prove too provocative for some. Nevertheless, it is drawing me ever closer.
“Not my will but Thy Will be done, oh Lord” frequently resounds amongst the largest congregation to the smallest prayer group. Collectively we, of course, lay claim to knowing what His ultimate Will is (or we pretend to know lest we find ourselves shamefaced before our Brethren). The importance of the Collective Body/Bride is for another day. The singular, very personal and at times intensely private walk with our Lord influences the Collective more than we think. And it is in this walk that we leave the comfort of the Collective to go home and repeat the same “Not my will but…” with a little less abandonment. And often with tears and an intensity that is so because of a secret, quiet resentment.
“WHY NOT MY WILL?”
And then feeling slightly ashamed at thinking something so decidedly un-Christian. But let me tell you, I found a Holy Respite while frazzled, ashamed, annoyed and sitting on my toilet. Right there–brushes and combs and lotions and creams scattered all about. Right there–mirror streaked, water spots from flicked toothbrushes, cat litter strewn all over the tiles. Right there, this drops into my spirit: “My Will is to shape and guide. To help you define your will within the confines of My Love and Mercy and Grace.” Holy Respite.
Thoughts of my same desires for my own little Kismet arose to further cement this truth. I don’t want her to be a Good Little Girl Automaton, irrespective of her autonomy. I want her to be Kismet, strong and free within the safety of my watchful eyes and comforting arms. I desire to guide her toward that which is good and whole. To aid her in the shaping of her will and desires to be most beneficial for her (and in turn the Collective).
I flushed that secret resentment and got up a little more free. Because He wasn’t asking me to relinquish my autonomy. My desires. My will. He was asking me to allow Him in. To edit. To fine-tune. To aid. All within the parameters of His Presence.
And there I love to be.