+JMJ+
Thank you for reading another issue of The Peasant Times-Dispatch, where we explore the life of faith from the perspective of a peasant—we aren’t experts, we aren’t theologians, we are just trying to do our best (and trying to mean it). I announced at the beginning of the month that I am pivoting away from my regularly scheduled programming in the interests of returning to my philosophical roots—the Peasant Perspective.
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Deus Vult
God’s Will. In this month’s Churchyard post I reflected on God’s Will, not realizing that it would form the basis of this months essay. I have a fraught relationship with the whole idea of God having a will for us. I think because I struggle with the idea of there being expectations.
A brief autobiographical sketch: I grew up in an unhealthy environment whereby punishments were dealt out pretty arbitrarily. There was no rhyme or reason that Young Scoot could make sense of, and Young Scoot had a brain that desperately craved to understand and order things. This meant that, after no small amount of frustration, I learned to punish myself in advance for failing to achieve a standard I did not know and which no one would explain to me. Expectations became inextricably tied up with anticipating being a disappointment. “You think I will achieve ‘x’? Well get ready to be underwhelmed!”
I became Catholic in 2018 and started the process of learning what a right relationship with God was. And part of my education was socializing with a group of similarly aged Catholics of various stripes and talking about The Man Upstairs. Catholics are very fast and loose in talking about God’s Will, and vocational discernment, and all these other things. I struggled to reconcile an understanding of God’s Will with my unhealthy relationship with expectations1.
That Doesn’t Sound Right
Some common questions came to mind as I found myself in the deep water of living a Catholic life. Does God will for me to be a priest or a husband? How will I know? Is this disappointment a punishment or is it a test? Are the saints different from me because God chose them and He didn’t choose me? These are the kind of thoughts running through my mind—you can see the common thread here. I was trying to figure out what God wants from me so I can choose correctly. I am trying not to put myself in a position where I have to punish myself ahead of time for disappointing God.
I actually didn’t realize how deeply this problem had embedded itself in my spirituality until fairly recently. I thought I had a more or less good handle on things, but there were a couple hints that something was wrong. I would go into these death spirals when I recognized the need for confession. These became the new expression of punishing myself for disappointing God. Another hint was that I struggled to accept good things except as good luck, an accident of providence that snuck through to an otherwise undeserving recipient. Another hint was that I processed bad things as me having chosen the wrong path and being admonished for it.
In short: bad things were punishments, good things were luck, and my fallen nature was an anomaly, unlike the good and holy Catholics who are obviously sinless. These attitudes of mine were/are wrong.
What He Wills
My dear friend and collaborator on this newsletter, Hambone, has tried to correct me on this many times. We’ve been friends for decades now; investigating faith with him helped push me on the road that led me to Catholicism. He gave me my first rosary and taught me how to pray it. So he’s seen the development and life cycle of this incorrect thought of mine.
He started the process of correcting it by suggesting that I start looking at good things as the loving will of God, and bad things as just rotten luck—an inversion of my typical disposition. Intellectually I could assent but I struggled to assimilate it emotionally, or more to the point, behaviorally.
Something finally sank in, and here’s where I have arrived. The theologians may find this explanation lacking, but from a ground level the thing I struggle with is ‘where am I going?’ So the answer takes the form of a description of a journey. Strip away all the theology, all the technical jargon, all of it:
God’s will is for you to come home, to Him. We are all, in our own way, prodigal sons. And that need not imply a life of wasteful frivolity—just that being in this vale of tears is a separation. God is the father waiting up with the light on to watch for us to come home. This earthly life is the story we tell God when we get home. What have we done? What have we failed to do? He will listen with an eager ear. He has not mapped out particular points for us, by which he will judge how closely we followed His plan2. Virtue is how He told us we would know the way home. Sacraments are the tools that keep us going on the road. Within those constraints—what a wide variety of options open up for us! We can choose any number of things. I can be a priest or a husband equally well. What God desires for us is to choose, and choose decisively, and give our whole being into living that choice well. Do your best, and mean it.
Now, we can go one level deeper. The parable of the talents3 is how we know we can’t spend this earthly life idle. We have the freedom to choose a path, but on that path we are obliged to glorify God and do some work for the Kingdom. Once we recognize the freedom of movement, once we are unconstrained from a narrow understanding of God’s will, we can get to work properly and multiply those talents as best as we can.
Start At Home
So, now that we have a slightly better understanding to work with, what do we do differently?
First of all, a warning. We should, with appropriate scruples, examine our own lives. We should resist the temptation to apply these same scruples to others4. We don’t know what invisible work is happening in their lives, so we should focus the majority of our efforts on the invisible work necessary in our lives and in the lives of those for whom we are responsible.
Second, this might be a good time to take an inventory. Where do we stand on the virtues5? Are we availing ourselves of the sacraments? Are we abiding by the precepts of the Church, the ten commandments and all implied thereby6?
And finally—when we make a decision, hold nothing back. Let your yes mean yes. Our job is to get ourselves home. Maybe we will have the good fortune to help bring others home too, but we should take great care to make sure we are keeping the straight and narrow.
Don’t overthink God’s will. Aim for heaven. Pray the rosary7.
Thank You
If you liked this essay, make sure you subscribe so you don’t miss future essays, dropping monthly on the 15th! If you think someone you know needs to read some of what I’ve said, share it with your friends! Otherwise, thank you so much for reading.
AJPM
It’s probably less problematic for people with a healthy head on their shoulders, but I was starting from error and so it’s taken me basically this long to unwind it.
Perhaps He does intervene at some points, but that is advanced theology and not covered here. The perspective I needed was the simple, stripped down visual.
Matthew 25:14-30, it’s a little more hardcore than I remember
There is no catholic past time more enduring than throwing shade at ones neighbor while simultaneously excusing our own faults. The problem is me, the the solution is repentance. Physician, heal thyself.
Someone should write an essay series about these. Whoops…
Nothing rids the mind of cant and burns away all sophistry like going through the Catechism and examining the plain reading. I was recently corrected from a bad position about which I had done some mental gymnastics to excuse myself, but the plain reading obliterated it. Does it require a theology degree to understand the plain reading? No. Go forth and amend your life.
Our Lady has come, in person, multiple times to tell us to pray the rosary. I’m starting to think it’s important.
Well written and from the heart. The kind of stuff I like to see on Substack.
As someone who was raised in a harmful spiritual environment, this was beyond helpful. *makes note to pray the Rosary more often*