Reflection - Limiting God's Authority

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/042617.cfm
Acts 5:17-26
John 3:16-21

Late in the last century, when I was employed as the Director of Religious Education for a large parish in Arvada, I was asked to lead a weekly Bible study. Now, that wouldn't have been a problem if the subject of the proposed study was to be the Gospels. But that wasn't the case. These people wanted to study the writings of Paul and, specifically, the significance of the Holy Spirit in the writings of Paul. That might not seem like a big deal, but my Scriptural studies hadn't, at that time, included much concerning the writings of Paul, and my knowledge of the Spirit was confined to his work as the inspiration behind the Books of the Bible, and his appearance at Pentecost.

Fortunately, I remembered that all of Scripture was the word of God; it was what God wanted to say. It was not about my education or my understanding. It was about the education which The Father was providing and the understanding that the Spirit was offering. So, in preparation for each session I would pray for guidance in selecting the Scripture passage to be discussed and I would follow that with additional prayer for guidance in formulating the discussion questions. During the term of the group, which was more than two years, the number of participants more than doubled. 

Ten years later I found myself assuming control of the family printing business after only a few years of employment there. My management experience was limited. While the parish religious education program had been exceptionally large --- eight classes at every elementary grade level, approximately seventy five teachers and assistants and a budget that approached $100k --- business and education are not exactly in the same category. I had grown up having some contact with printing equipment; but that involved little more than being able to identify the machines by name. My management of the company was, at least initially, more fiction than fact, more illusion than reality.

My father retired just a few years after I joined the company and shortly thereafter developed cancer. In the context of the printing environment, occupying the position that I did, I frequently found myself at a loss. My experience was woefully inadequate and my preparations for dealing with the problems that arose were minimal at best. Consequently, I frequently found my sleep be-labored with business matters. After months of struggling with repetitive events of restless nights, I eventually settled into a pattern. When I found my mind wrestling with business issues at bedtime, I would deliberately give it to the Lord: "Father, I have no idea how to resolve this so I give it to you." Then I would fall asleep mentally repeating a prayer of praise.  

The idea of placing difficult matters in the hands of God was not something that I have found particularly problematic during my life, provided of course, that certain criteria were met.

What I turned over to The Lord:

•      1. Could not be matters where I wanted the credit.
  
•      2. Could not be matters I had reserved to myself.
  
•      3. Could not be matters pertinent to ordinary daily life.
  
•      4. Could not be matters outside what I perceived to be the scope of God's normal activity.
  
•      5. Could not be matters where he might provide an unacceptable solution.  
  

The Bible study issue easily avoided the exclusions in the above list while simultaneously having the specific advantage of being squarely within the scope of things God is supposed to do. The business matters, on the other hand, were slightly more questionable as matters to turn over to the Lord. I didn't want to reserve the issues to myself and I realły didn't want the credit, just a solution. These business problems 'sort of' pertained to ordinary life, but could be viewed as being on the border. Since almost any solution was acceptable to the problems I was facing, the nature of the resolution wasn't a problem; so I just crossed my fingers and hoped these matters were within the scope of God's activity. Apparently, they were; for in one way or another he resolved them all.

I thought I had this issue settled within my philosophical/theological framework. That is, I did until recently. My criterion had become a bit less restrictive, though they essentially remained the same. Nevertheless, routine life events had me reconsidering that position, and reflecting on today's Gospel toppled my established order. An early verse from today's Gospel selection reads as follows: 

          "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,

          but that the world might be saved through him.

          Whoever believes in him will not be condemned."

After reading this passage from John I found myself asking what I understood by those words, specifically the words: ". . . that the world might be saved through him."  How exactly did Jesus do that? How did he save us? This was a question I had considered before, but I wanted to review and update my thoughts on the matter. The pat answer is that Jesus saved us by dying on the cross; yet, nowhere in the Gospels do we find Jesus saying that his purpose in coming was to die. As I reflected further, it seemed proper to assume that we should be able to understand how Jesus saved us by examining the text itself. What I found were statements like these: 

"My food is to do the will of him who sent me, and to accomplish his work." (John 4:34)

"I can do nothing on my own authority; as I hear [from the Father] I judge . . ." (John 5:30)

"I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me. . . . " (John 6:38)

"My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me . . . " (John 7:16-17)

"I do nothing on my own authority but speak thus as the Father taught me." (John 8:28)

"I have not come of my own accord; he who sent me is true . . . " (John 7:28)

"I speak of what I have seen with my Father . . . " (John 8:38)

"I do as the Father has commanded me . . . " (John 14:31)

"I must work the works of him who sent me. . . " (John 9:4)

"I glorified you on earth, [Father,] having accomplished the work which you gave me to do . . ."  (John 17:4)

What I understand from all these texts is that Jesus came, not to die but to do the will of the father. He did the works of the Father who sent him. He spoke the words he heard from the Father. He offered not his own teaching, but the teaching given him by the Father. In fact, all his words were spoken and all his actions were done, not by his own authority, but by the "authority of the Father" 

You do see my problem, don't you.

In examining the question of Jesus' saving work I could find no examples where he wanted to take the credit. I could find no issues he wanted to reserve to himself. I could find no examples of things too menial to release to the Father's attention. I could find no examples where Jesus felt his proposed words or actions were beyond the purview of what the Father should be involved with. I did find one example where he suffered from the eventual resolution, but even there it was not the Father's  resolution, but that of evil men, whose actions the Father had to work with so that all things could work together for the good.

In the end, I find that the business of surrendering to the will of the Father does not allow for qualifications, restrictions and reservations. Yet, when I examine my life I find I have been doing just that: "Here, God, you take this one. This other stuff I'll take care of myself." Since I was handing over the hard stuff, I felt I was in good spiritual shape. After all, God helps those who help themselves. Doesn't he?

Not exactly!

I've been living the life of a schizophrenic.

There is my life: the one that deals with ordinary day-to-day affairs, the one that struggles with decisions, the one that participates in a variety of social activities, the one that has political opinions, the one that decides what my day will look like, the one that's chooses when and what to eat.

Then there is my spiritual life. That's the one that takes time for prayer, the one that turns to God in times of pain, weakness, and turmoil, the one that momentarily recognizes the grandeur of God's creation, the one that shares in the praise of the community on Sunday mornings, the one that turns over to the Lord those things where I don't care who gets the credit, where I don't choose to reserve the matter to myself, where I'm just doing ordinary human things, where I feel like God probably should be involved, where I'm not afraid of the direction God might lead.

I think I need to think this out again.