Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven (the Lord’s Prayer as a statement of faith, part 4).

“My food is to do the will of him who sent me, and to finish his work” (Jesus in John 4:34).

“I wish that God would just tell me what to do, and I would do it.” With these words, a friend of mine stated his unequivocal belief that, for him at least, doing the Father’s will was simply a matter of information. Having at times fallen prey to the same lofty opinion of myself, I could only reply that he was subjecting himself to the certainty of abject failure in his pursuit of following, serving, and pleasing the Lord.

My assessment must have seemed harsh. If we count ourselves as disciples of Jesus, we likely believe that we really want to see the fulfillment of every part of this prayer. After all, what is the will of God? The Book of Revelation sums up a large part of what happens when his kingdom comes: No more death, suffering, weeping, pain, sin. The end of the separation that plagues people and nations. A true multicultural festival of sorts. The cessation of war and the inauguration of eternal peace. These are pretty much universal desires and I don’t know anyone who doesn’t heartily pray for them.

But while we’re all visualizing world peace, God brings a different picture into focus. Every time we pray “your will be done” verses in both the Old and New Testaments hold up a mirror for us to gaze into. In Psalms 40, the writer says, “To do your will is my delight.” In John’s Gospel, chapter 4, Jesus says to his disciples: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me.” The Bible is presenting the aspiration of a faithful believer. The will of God is not just something that happens “out there” somewhere, but a divinely desired reality right here in my life.

And therein lies the challenge. In my experience, every time I pray “your will be done” I do three things. First, I open myself to the revelation of God’s purpose for me. Second, I expose the true state of my heart in the places where my will coincides or contends with his. Third, I (at least theoretically) offer myself to the correction of my ways by the Father’s grace.

How this works out in us is somewhat complex. Most Christians immediately think that the notion of God’s will refers to divine direction for personal decisions. Where should I live? Whom should I marry? Which college, which career, how many children … These are important questions that we rightly bring to the Lord for his wisdom and guidance. But as I study Scripture, it becomes clear that what to do is only part of the equation. The Father is even more invested in who I am and how I do things than the decisions I ultimately make.

Another way to put this is that God is most glorified by and most interested in displaying the character of Jesus Christ in us. “Our Father” means “we, his children” who carry and express his image and likeness in the world. So, if we are considering career choices, for example, or whether to buy that new Bugatti Veyron, we have a lot more to consider than what is good, better, best. Our problem is that, with every choice, there are multiple reasonably acceptable outcomes, and that we often spend a disproportionate amount of time on the end point, rather than on the process and the dispositions, attitudes, motives, and virtues that arise in that process.

I have a close friend who has recently been undergoing a trial by fire in a personal struggle over where to live. He and his wife want to move, and he believes they have found the perfect home for the two of them. Unfortunately, she is not on the same page. It is pretty clear that this particular move would carry a larger personal cost for her than for him. And yet, he really, really, REALLY WANTS THIS HOUSE (substitute home for car in the above picture).

Now, in some respects, it doesn’t really matter whether this couple moves or doesn’t move into any one home or another. But it matters very much how they come to a conclusion. For my friend, there is a fundamental call to surrendering his preference in a way that honors love, that engenders patience, and that allows faith and grace to interact with his own will and desires. The temptation is to give way to manipulation, pressure, various passive-aggressive behaviors – whatever it takes to gain an advantage and get his way.

This is a common pattern that occurs as we negotiate our existential path. Countless decisions present themselves, usually simple and straightforward, but sometimes complex enough to evoke revealing responses from us. I have recently had to play the “where will my children attend college?” game. This isn’t a matter of moral right or wrong, but the process of winnowing their list might shine a light on my pride as I seek vicarious personal success through their educational destiny.

And what about that Bugatti? Ok, I’m not interested in one, but I do want to trade up a couple levels when it comes time to replace my current vehicle. I find that as I grow older, there is a kind of “I’ve made it” vanity that creeps into what would ordinarily be a rather prosaic process. Over and over again I am forced to confront motives that might be in almost violent opposition to the Lord’s will for me. This even – OK especially – happens when temptations to sin arise, where there is no ambiguity about what to do. When it comes time to overcome the lure of lust, or deception, or greed, we find not that we are weak-willed, but that we are in fact strong enough to overcome commandment, conscience, and fear of God all at once.

Earlier I said that praying “your will be done” exposes the state of my heart. I look at the Bugatti, my son’s college application list, the real estate web sites, and sometimes see telltale signs that I am contending with the Father. I can be like King Ahab in 1 Kings 21 when Naboth wouldn’t sell him a family vineyard. Verse 4 says that Ahab left “sullen and angry, went home to sulk on his bed, and would eat nothing.” Many such emotions arise in us when we think of not having our desires fulfilled: We can be angered, out of sorts, feeling a kind of mourning or grief. We engage in self-justification; we come up with signs or a manufactured peace to support our decisions. We gloss over rational objections to not having our way. In short, we have created an idol.

When we are thus exposed, we are at a crossroads, called to allow grace its sway in two ways: First, by laying down our wills and decisions so that the Lord can take away our anxiety and intensity. In doing so, we are believing that his sovereign goodness can turn everything in our lives to good purpose.  And second by giving our hearts to him, to let him “test and try us so that there is no evil in us” (Psalms 139:23-24) we allow grace to transform and change us.

In Jesus, who perfectly lived his own prayer, is the power and freedom to do the Father’s will and to have it be our very joy and our sustenance, even as it was for him. Lord, give us a hunger for that food that truly satisfies.