Bathroom wall art in a Japanese restaurant reminds me of three little words: Trust Pray Wait. The passing reminder feels timely, because a few days previously an acquaintance shared with me her method of listening for God. She types a question into her computer, then hits the return key a few times to give God a new line. And words come. She says she can tell when God is speaking through her typing because God uses her name and communicates in brief phrases; usually four or five words only. I think this is lovely: trusting that one’s own fingers can be a divining rod for God’s will in matters grand and small. God, how can I right this wrong? God, what is my next move? Trust that God is there and that God understands. Pray. Then wait for the spirit to find an expression that one can see, feel, or hear.
Holy week makes me wonder about the ways Jesus attuned himself to the Holy Spirit. Did he hear God through dreams? Did God’s voice reach him through feelings that would then organize themselves into thoughts and convictions? Did he feel God when he was in nature, or see God when looking into the eyes of a child or friend? Was there a particular moment in time when Jesus heard God say, “My son, I’m sorry that this will be painful for you. I will give you all the strength and courage you need to endure what lies before you.”
When Jesus learned that his life would end with humiliation and pain, he accepted. It was not just faithfulness or courage that compelled him to accept his fate. It was love for us. Jesus loved the nameless crowds who ridiculed him, as well as the generations who would come after. If he stopped to ponder the mechanism by which his sacrifice would save us, maybe he imagined us in years to come loving him. Maybe he drew comfort from the thought that during Holy Week years hence, people feeling lost, afraid, ashamed, lacking conviction, or isolated from God would remember a brave human from antiquity who accepted the cross, trusting that God’s love would overcome death. Maybe our remembering is his answered prayer.
-Frances Baxley