3 min. read
It is impossible for us to manufacture the will to love.
Pride is a nasty vice. At the same time it enables us to achieve something, it also cuts at the base of that same achievement. Most of our blind spots about ourselves have their genesis in pride. I’m recently aware it has prevented me from seeing something clearly.
I can do so much. We all can. As Whitman wrote, we are large and contain multitudes.
But I realize there is something I cannot do.
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I cannot do this, whatever this is. I think this has something to do with my will. And I cannot will myself to be that which I could be.
As a follower of Jesus, I know he not only submitted his will to his Father’s will. He let the divine will become his will. And that’s what I must do.
As a follower of Jesus, I know he not only submitted his will to his Father’s will. He let the divine will become his will. And that’s what I must do.
But still I cannot do this.
The will to power is an intriguing philosophical concept, but it does me no good here. The ethical will can often keep my baser self in its place, but it does not help me here. What I’m missing is the will to love.
I have held this for far too long. Held in my tight grip, the Father could not get to this. God is ever so polite and does not force his will onto others. I spoke the words over and over, “This is yours; have it!” But I see now they were only words. Even as I spoke them prayerfully, passionately, meaning what I said, I did not realize I was still holding this. And God, who exists by and through an uncontrolling love, will not take what is not freely given.
I do not want to simply offer my will. To much is made of our will, often to no avail.
I want to offer a space for God’s nature to have being. I want to do just what Jesus did.
There is a visceral trepidation in letting go of control. Yet I know the will to love means relinquishing control.
The will to love means relinquishing control.
The will to love means relinquishing control. Click To Tweet-|||-
For the will to love to take up residence in me means I’m not so much losing myself as gaining my true self. Making space by giving this away could yield the opportunity to gain myself … all of myself.
I want to take that leap. Maybe you, too? It’s definitely a step in the dark. A trek into unknowing. It’s Kierkegaard’s leap of faith.
I cannot make the leap on my own. I cannot do this. We cannot do this. In a mystery, the One who originates the will to love is also the one who enables the leap.
I’m ready.