This is our lot; at a simple request, we cry for complexity. In our insecurities we are insatiable. "Not just my feet, but my hands and head as well" our ego demands. We demand from our anxiety and are anxious through our fear.
'If only little is asked, what does it say of who cannot accomplish even this?'
What is it we fear? What is it we have impregnated with apprehension? Failure? Rejection? Exclusion? Submission? I can only speak of what I know, but each of us can provide our own cause. The existential anguish then is that only so little is asked, and yet all our prayers beg clarity and direction.
Why then do I plead with God to show me God's will? What does it mean to ask for God's will in my life? Am I not praying for a curated will? That I am the curator? Are we not asking for what has already been given?
If we knock and the door is opened, what more must be done? And so we knock, and the door is opened. The invitation is our lot, a simple request: "love one another". At this utterance many flee, few enter, but we gracefully shift our knocking from the door to the frame, waiting for something greater, careful not to cross the threshold.
It is standing at the entrance, that we serve ourselves. It is here that we insist we are to be served, not to be servants. But to love one another necessitates an outward orientation. It looks past egocentric desires. If we answer the call to love, a new fulfillment is found. One that is unnatural and strangely familiar. The invitation is simple, while entering demands vulnerability and submission. This is why we knock in the face of our welcome.
We forget that entry gratifies our yearning for complexity and purpose. Love unfolds. Participating in God's will permits God's participation in our lives. It isn't until we acknowledge the way that we can begin to follow.
BY ANTHONY GALATI
Anthony holds a B.A. in English and Philosophy. He enjoys reading, music, and spending time with friends. Anthony legitimately thinks The Happening is a worthwhile movie. He is in constant conflict with himself.