"For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." (Philippians 2:13)
I think if we truly believed this verse, there would be less "adultolescents" among us. By adultolescents, I mean people of whatever age, who, among other things, cannot seem to step out and make a decision or commitment about anyone or anything for fear of finding a more pleasing option around the next corner. You know, the kind of people whose search for the will of God looks more like a search for the Holy Grail or the Fountain of Youth.
I say this not to minimize the importance of the will of God, but to try to add some perspective to the search. When it—the search—becomes a way of life instead of a means to an end, we find ourselves floating through life looking for some ethereal sense of fulfillment, purpose, and destiny. As Kevin DeYoung describes this kind of Christian in his helpful little book, Just Do Something, "Too many of us have passed off our instability, inconsistency, and endless self-exploration as 'looking for God's will,' as if not making up our minds and meandering through life were marks of spiritual sensitivity."
Reading DeYoung's book has provoked me think again about the will of God; because, as he points out, it's not something to be grappled with by only the young. Circumstances in life change, and we may find ourselves faced once again with basic decisions we thought had been settled. I realize my thoughts will not confine themselves to one visit, so my intent is to start here and see what will come of it.
I have chosen to call it, "To Will and To Do," because I think some of us only get halfway in our Christian walk. We want the will of God, or so we think; but we find ourselves teetering on the edge when it comes to the doing of it, and often for seemingly good reasons. We like to talk and sing about the "sweet will of God," but the way we fret and worry over it is anything but sweet. It's as though we see God dangling His before us, just out of reach, in order to keep our attention. Yet why would the God who admonishes us to "take no thought for the morrow," expect us to agonize over our own futures?
Have I got your antennae twitching yet? Well, stick with me; I think we're all going to get some help here.