Dearest Rachel –
I mentioned just the other day in replying to you that I feel a sort of futility in the idea of praying to an omniscient God – although what kind of “god” would One be if He wasn’t that, along with all the other “omni”s ascribed to him? Were He to lack knowledge, presence, power, and especially benevolence, He would just be a slightly more elevated creation by Something greater – in that He knows everything one could ask of Him, so why bother? His omniscience precludes the conversation, when He already knows the script. You can’t surprise Him – although I suppose it does the soul good to admit one’s own lack of understanding as to what’s going on; which I guess I need to build upon in order to jumpstart my own prayer life again.
But for all these understood propositions, are they true? Can God be taken by surprise? It sounds like an insane question, and yet… it did happen, now, didn’t it? Despite being fully God – and being able to perform miracles to prove it – Jesus found Himself taken by surprise more than once, even as you’d think he must have known what was going to happen.
Usually, it had to do with the faith that his fellow humans (since he was also fully human, with all the limitations that being confined to a physical body was subject to) had – or didn’t have. How many times did He turn to his disciples with the line, “oh you of little faith; why are you doubting?” It was as if He expected everyone around Him to be able to know and perceive what He could, and their expressions of fear and inability, while perhaps not shocking to Him, still seemed to give Him pause and cause Him to marvel at their lack. “You’ve known Me all this time, you’ve heard Me say this and that, and you still don’t get it? What’s wrong with you people?” like a professor dealing with a particularly dim class of students – which, effectively, they were.
But at the same time, there were others that crossed His path that surprised Him in the opposite way. While He seemed to expect those steeped in the Law and the Prophets to understand who He was and what He could (and was meant to) do, He didn’t have the bar set so high for those who weren’t. Thus, when the Roman centurion claimed to be unworthy of His physical presence at his home (any more than he would have invited his commanding officer – or Caesar himself! – there), and only asked Him to say the word to heal his servant, Jesus was shocked, literally telling his students that “I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel,” and granting the centurion’s request as presented.
Likewise, the Syrian mother, when given something of a brush-off – “It‘s not appropriate to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs” – pushed back on His assertion – “Yes, but puppies may eat the crumbs that the children drop around their seat at the table.” Whether the response, quick-witted as it was, actually surprised him, might be debated, but his second response – “Oh woman, great is your faith! It shall be done as you ask” – suggest a tone of at least slight wonder. So it was possible at several points to actually surprise God; or at least, one aspect of Him. Which means that perhaps there is something to coming before Him with requests, even if we’re to understand that He already knows everything.
And on the subject of knowing everything, there was at least one more great shock that He endured, and one that addresses something that’s puzzled me for my own life. I’ve discussed with you about how I don’t sense the Spirit around me, especially with regard to guidance and what direction to take in my life. But of course, I’ve also raised the possibility that it’s because I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t around, having started on this walk so early in my life. I’ve compared it to fish in water, while Jesus spoke of the effects of the wind. And with Him, the presence of His Father and the Spirit was as natural to Him as the air that surrounded Him.
So picture this; in the days leading up to His arrest and crucifixion, there are moments when the intent reader can detect an attitude behind his eyes of resigned reluctance; a sense of “oh boy, this is gonna suck.” His prayer in the garden is the most obvious, but He also tells Judas that “whatever you do, do it quickly,” and even gets annoyed with the attachment sent to arrest Him – especially after they fall back when He announces Himself – telling them to get on with it. He knows what’s coming and, seeing as He can’t get out of the plan He and His Father devised, He wants it over with as soon as possible.
And considering that what He is about to do has the ability to save every last individual on earth (not that it does, but that’s on them for refusing the offer), the hours of anticipation, torture and suffering actually seem like a bargain. The thing is, even as He knows what’s coming, He doesn’t know what it will feel like until it happens.
It seems like a weird comparison, but one can watch a film shot from the front car of a roller coaster and get a rough idea of what the experience is like. We’ve gotten to the point where, with sufficient manipulation of external stimuli, like shaking the viewers’ seats on cue, it can almost feel real. But until you’re in that car, and you’re being pulled up that hill, you’ve no real idea as to what the sensation is truly like.
So it was with Him; there He is, gasping for air, trying to pull Himself for His next breath, but feeling the nails tear at His feet and hands as He attempts to. Suddenly – and this isn’t described by the witnesses, because how could it? – he experiences the sin of however many billions of humans who have existed or will exist poured into Him. Can He, even? A billion such events, even given but a second’s notice, would take nearly His entire lifespan, and there have been multiple billions of us throughout history and at present. And let’s not forget that just as none of us are free of sin, I doubt that any of us have only sinned once in our lives. So this is overwhelming in terms of sheer volume.
Now let’s not forget that God, by virtue of being holy, could be described as being allergic to sin. He cannot have it in His presence; and yet, there it is – quite literally, all of it – covering His Son. What can He do but turn away from Him?
Meanwhile Jesus, who has been fighting for literal air for some time, suddenly has the air of His Father’s presence removed from Him. He may have known this moment was coming, but one gets the sense that He hasn’t expected it to be this bad. He knows why His Father cannot stand to be there, and yet He howls out the question, in a soul language most of those around Him apparently don’t understand (or if they do, it doesn’t have sense to them as literally translated, so they go with what they think it sounds like). Devoid of both literal and spiritual air, the shock of this deprivation – delivered to God Himself! – essentially kills Him.
To be sure, we are personally unable to create such a shock to Him ourselves any more; we don’t deal with Him face-to-face in the flesh like that (although what do I know? Perhaps you do where you are, honey), and the worst we have ever done has already been dumped on Him in that moment. He’s already seen it, lived through it, and has written it off, if we let Him (although maybe our refusal still surprises Him these days, for all I know). So I don’t know if we should strive to do so.
But I guess I shouldn’t give up on getting in touch with Him, even if there’s nothing I could say that would come as a surprise. Maybe I could just surprise myself.
Thoughts, honey?
Letters to Rachel 