Sometime in my early twenties I began believing the idea that God’s Will can be known. The problem, of course, was that I did not really have an idea of what God’s will was for me. I mean, I understood the idea that I was supposed to love people, sure. But at the same time, since God knew my heart, he also knew how I really felt about the people in my life. He knew how pissed off I got at certain times and how judgmental I got at others. He also knew that, even when I prayed for people who agitated me, I still tended to fly off the handle more often than not. So, I looked for other ways to express my faith that relied more on the concrete acts I could perform rather than I how I felt about doing them. I became a diligent worker and learned how to shut my mouth, believing that tiring myself with hard labor and biting my tongue were sufficient expressions of goodness. I learned how to reason through theological arguments to prove the existence of God and cultivated talents that helped me with articulating these ideas in ways that others could hear. All the while, I was still searching for God’s will for me.

Recently I was thinking about the story of Ignatius and the donkey. The story goes that Ignatius was traveling along when he met a Moor traveling in the same direction. As they traveled together they began to talk, but over the course of the conversation the Moor made a remark about the mother of Jesus that somehow failed to recognize the blessed nature of Ignatius’ favorite lady. When the conversation ended and the Moor continued on ahead, Ignatius started to wonder whether or not he should kill the other man in chivalric defense of his lady. When Ignatius noticed that there was a fork in the road ahead and that the Moor had already taken one path, he decided that the ass would choose for him: if the animal followed the Moor, Ignatius would kill him, but if the donkey chose the other path, Ignatius would let the man go. Luckily, the ass chose the path away from the Moor, saving the life of the man and possibly the eternal life of Ignatius. Ignatius had left his decision up to the choice of an animal, taking a chance that could have had disastrous results. Instead of murder, however, Ignatius moved along the path to Manresa where he began learning how to discern the difference between the movements of the Holy Spirit from those of the other variety.

What catches my attention is that this story says a lot about how terribly our desires to serve God can be expressed and also about how God can still work with us where we are. On one hand Ignatius was drawn by his sense of the “good” to perform a bold expression of his willingness to serve God. The scary part, though, is that even while Ignatius’ desire could have been called good, the expression of this desire was still entrenched in the former knight’s old way of thinking about service. His own interior life, his sense of love and desire to care for others, was so undeveloped that he considered the act of murder a legitimate way to “defend” the honor of the blessed mother. In my own search for knowledge of God’s Will for me, I too have sought out single, magnificent acts that might “serve” God. While I have never considered murder, the problem is that I am sometimes misled into thinking that my own sense of right can be administered at the expense of another. Sometimes I ignore others when they were speaking because I think they are just being selfish with their words by using my precious time. At other times I might speak harshly to people whom I profess to love, calling it a revelation of a hard truth that they need to hear. Even though the desires might be good (we all need personal time and a kind word of concern is sometimes a necessity), the acts come to nothing if I am hurting people who are in need of grace.

Fortunately, God works with us where we are. Going back to my experience of following Jesus in my early twenties, there was one day when I asked a mentor what he thought God’s will for me was. He said, in a soft, raspy voice with a look that I will never forget, “God’s will for you is the same as it is for everybody else: to serve, share, hope and believe.” This was hardly the answer I was looking for. I was hoping that he would have some grand insight about the nature of my talents and how they might be used. It took me years to realize how right he was and that his words were not about a single act, but a way of living each an every act. If I settle for single acts that dramatically express the will of God, the chances are that I will be stymied. If I am always looking for something I can do to boldly proclaim the kingdom, I am putting the cart before the horse (or, yes, in this case, ass). Instead, I want my life to be a series of small events that cultivate a way of life, seeing God’s small movements in every part of my day. That way, when I am moved to act, my desire is not about me proving my allegiance to God or my bold willingness to do what must be done, but rather about living a life so firmly rooted in care for others, that I will be drawn down the path towards the Greater Goodness of God.

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1. At Long Last, Here?