Stop Praying for Clarity

[Reimagine Curator]

 

Stop Praying for Clarity

Or, at the least, stop expecting it to structure your faith.

 

A.J. SWOBODA

When I was younger, it almost felt like I heard Jesus every day give me direction for my life. He felt so clear, so near, so audible. There was a tangibility to God in those early years of faith. But, as I’ve grown older, that same clarity rarely comes to me in the same ways it used to. I’m always walking in faith, for sure. But I don’t always have the same clarity I once had.

You too?

At the same time, I’ve become less and less convinced that clarity—at least the kind we talk about in Christian circles—is everything it’s cracked up to be. Or that it is something we should expect from God. Are there times God speaks in our lives that are undeniable? Yes. I’ve experienced these decisive moments. And perhaps you have as well. But clarity is often the exception, not the rule, to the Christian faith.

The seed of this lesson was planted in me years ago in the main seminary lecture hall where I went to grad school. One afternoon, one of our most revered professors confessed that as he moved increasingly into older age, things seemed to get less and less clear as time progressed. Sure, there were still glimmers of clarity. And when they come, he said, he always knew those were moments in which he needed to act. But these moments don’t always happen. Sometimes, when clarity has taken its vacation, we are left to live in faith.

Others have spoken in earnest of this lesson. Father John Kavanaugh (1941-2012) was a prolific Christian ethicist whose incisive work helped reshape for a whole generation what Christian faithfulness might look like in a consumer Western society. Among others, his book Following Christ in a Consumer Society (1981) stands as a decisive call to reawaken the modern church from its slumber of greed and materialism to a freshly imagined way of discipleship based on simplicity and character, not flash, power, and prestige.

Kavanaugh once told a story. He had decided to go to Calcutta, India, to find and meet the famed Mother Teresa. His travels to the distant land had a very clear purpose. Kavanaugh wanted the saint of simplicity—who had set up a community of love in one of the most hopeless parts of the world—to help him find clarity in his life. As he met with the famous nun, he asked her if she might pray for him. He once told of her response.

“What do you want me to pray for?” Teresa asked the visiting priest.

Kavanaugh simply replied, “Pray that I have clarity.”

“No, I will not do that,” she surprisingly responded, “clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of...I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God.”¹

Reading Kavanaugh’s story may catch you off guard. Especially if you have been taught that clarity is a virtue or a goal that can be achieved through brute force or willpower. Lord knows: how many times have we all asked God for clarity? But the response Kavanaugh received from Teresa is one that should cause us to pause, ponder, and reflect. Should we expect to have clarity? And is clarity a normative part of the Christian experience? Is clarity a Christian virtue?

What if the goal of the Christian life is walking in trusting faith rather than in perfect certainty?

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

 

In the Gospels, Jesus wasn’t always as clear as people wanted. This, I’m convinced, was intentional. One of the things we notice about Jesus’ interactions with people is that he wasn’t always as crystal clear as those around him wished he would have. For instance, Jesus teaches the crowds in parables. When he does, they often walk away more confused than before he spoke. It is often only when the disciples pull Jesus aside and ask the meaning of the parable that was just told that his instruction becomes clear (Mt. 13:1-24). Truth often confused the crowds more than anything. Similarly, the Pharisees would scratch their heads at many things he taught—such as when he compared himself and his disciples to a shepherd and his sheep. “Jesus used this figure of speech,” John records, “but the Pharisees did not understand what he was telling them.” (Jn. 10:6)

This seeming intentional lack of clarity was anything but a failure of communication. Jesus intentionally spoke in these ways to draw the right people to himself. He didn’t want groupies who simply wanted a free lunch or mind-bending seminar. Jesus was calling to himself those who would pick up their cross and follow him into his death and his eventual resurrection life. Jesus was most clear with the people whom he was most intimate with. This is where we see that Jesus speaks in clear, plain, and incisive language.

But just because Jesus is clear does not mean he is understood. Jesus was misunderstood during his time on earth. Even after the resurrection of Jesus, his disciples allegedly did not fully grasp what he was about. As Luke records, just before his ascension, the disciples ask, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” (Ac. 1:6) They are still, after years of time with Jesus, thinking he was the one who was to bring a violent uprising that would return Israel to her political glories. Even after the resurrection, the disciples have muddied thinking and misunderstandings. Even people who receive Easter morning with joy are prone to continually misunderstanding the work of Jesus.

And Jesus is misunderstood today. I would love clarity. I know you would, too. Who doesn’t want clarity? If you have it, praise God. But don’t get caught up believing you must have the clarity you think you need to follow Jesus faithfully. If the disciples in the first century were allowed to imperfectly follow Jesus in the flesh during their lifetime, then we are, too, today, without him being physically in the room.

As Jesus gently told the man Thomas, who’d been overcome with doubt: “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (Jn. 20:29)

Jesus is talking to you, friend. Blessing isn’t reserved for those with clarity. It is ascribed to those with faith.

Here’s the invitation: stop asking for clarity. Or, more pointedly, stop expecting that you’ll always get it. Instead, ask for faith. Clarity can be a gift. But don’t make the gift of clarity into the idol of certainty. Sometimes, clarity causes us to chase the thing we can now see perfectly rather than the One who is sending us.

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Thanks again for being a reader of the Low-Level Theologian. As you can see, this post is a one-off. Next week, I will offer the final in the “Relational Genius of Jesus” series we have been walking through. You can always find me wasting as little time as possible on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Or, check out my podcast with Dr. Nijay Gupta at Slow Theology. Remember that I have a book being released on April 29th entitled A Teachable Spirit: The Virtue of Learning from Strangers, Enemies, and Absolutely Anyone with the fine folks at Zondervan Reflective. As announced, I will lead a reading groupthrough this book beginning on May 5th through Substack. All you need is to pre-order the book, let me know you did so here, and be ready to join us for the journey.

1.

Kavanaugh, John. America 173, no. 3 (July 29, 2005), pg. 38. I originally heard this little story in the powerful little book Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God (San Francisco, CA: HarperCollins, 2010), 5–6.