Jesus, I Trust in You --- How Much?

I often pray that short Divine Mercy prayer:  Jesus I trust in You.  A picture of Jesus with that saying is on my kitchen wall, and a plaque hangs in the upstairs hallway.  Of late though, I’ve had to question my sincerity in saying those words.

I’ve written here the example of the man who constantly begs for some trifling amount of money.  The constancy of his begging is irritating.  I wish he would “straighten out his life,” but know that isn’t going to happen.  (You know someone like that.)  Friends counsel me:  “Stop giving if it bothers you.”  I, looking at my humility, question why it bothers me --- perhaps it shouldn’t.  And so I continue to give to him, although I now always give with a request to him:  Please spend some time praying for God’s help in your life; He WILL hear you, and I’m somewhat heartened by the positive response I’ve heard to that request.  So in this matter, I now DO trust in Him.

Recently I received some free tickets to a concert.  I offered them to friends I wished to reward for their goodness to me.  There were no takers.  So I offered them to acquaintances.  No takers.  I offered them to the nuns I see at mass --- not a convenient night.  I offered them to a friend as we ate breakfast at a restaurant.  He also declined, but then a stranger came over and said:  “I overheard your offer of free tickets; I’d like them if possible,” and he gave me his business card.  He was a promoter; he’d probably give the tickets away to promote his business, I thought.  I told him I would get back to him, and I sent out emails to even more remote acquaintances.  No one was interested.  Finally, the day of the event arrived, with still no takers, and I wondered:  should I call that stranger as a last resort?

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I’ve written about how money is not a problem for me.  I wouldn’t think myself rich, but certainly compared to many others I am.  I have money I don’t need; I give it away.    When mom died she left me a sizeable amount, and I chose some investments to store it.  If I feel called, I readily give chunks of it away to what seem worthy causes, and I offer to help those in need.

I received a note from a friend, a priest friend, yesterday asking me for a substantial donation.  He wishes to begin a new initiative in his parish, one that seems good and needed.  We had talked about the changes he was considering --- but I don’t recall mentioning money in the conversation.  The amount he asks for would dent my bank savings --- and I’d lose the whopping 0% interest I am earning there --- and his note implied that perhaps a greater request would be coming in the future.  I might have to cash out some of those investments.

His note left me, I don’t know to describe it, perhaps a bit scared?  It was a lot of money, but truly money I don’t expect to need.  It was mom’s money in the first place, and the request for a very good cause which I am sure is needed.  So I wonder:  why am I scared of the request?

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My Jesus I trust in You;  I say that prayer often, but just how much do I trust?  Looking at the example of the tickets and the giving of money to those in need, I perceive that there is a limit to my trust:  it seems to end when I lose control. 

If I choose to give away the tickets, it seems a good thing.  If a stranger asks for them, it seems, well, perhaps not.  If I choose to give away a trifling amount of money to a beggar, even an irritating beggar, it seems a good thing.  And even if I choose to give away a larger sum, it feels a good thing.  But if someone, even a priest, asks for a lesser amount for a good cause, I hesitate.  Why?  Is the answer that when I offer the tickets or money I expect to receive a response of “thank you” for my generosity?  Is that part of the reason why I give --- because it makes me feel like a bigger man, or just one in control?     

I think the answer lies in not how much I trust Jesus, but in how much I trust myself --- more.  I have been thinking and praying and writing about humility and its relationship to charity.  This week I saw more examples of that relationship in my life.

Charity is a matter of will; I must will to love my neighbor.  He does not have to be “lovable;” I can love him anyway.  That’s how Jesus loved even the sinners --- even me.  I just need to “will” to love Him, as I seem Him in my neighbor.  I think my hesitation is my confusion on my will and God’s will:  which am I trying to do?

I’ve seen examples this week of how I am willing to love my neighbor, but with MY will, MY discernment, MY choosing of a neighbor worthy of MY love.  But, I say that prayer:  My Jesus, I trust in You,” and if I am truly saying that prayer from my heart, what I should be saying is:  “Lord, Your will, not mine, be done in me.”  By definition, I am not God, and so I can never truly know the will of God.  I can only pray, and trust He will show me His will.  Did He show me his will in that stranger asking me for the tickets?  Did He show me in that priest asking for help with his ministry?  How do I know; how much do I trust?

I don’t think there is an easy answer to that question, but certainly the path to that answer begins when I learn to move from trusting myself first.  And that path is the path of humility.

One man asked me for tickets which cost me nothing.  Another asked for a substantial amount.  What if someone with a very good cause asked for all I had?  How would I decide; how much would I, should I, trust?  I don’t know --- but Jesus asked a similar question of a rich man once. 

But the same Jesus also told of the parable of the talents and how they must be used wisely ---- He’s counting on us, who have been given much, to use it wisely.

It’s hard to choose, to decide to love, really love my neighbor, without counting the cost, without thinking I know what’s best for him.

Jesus, I trust in You.  Or, I’m trying to.

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I wrote the above words last night, and after writing them, I continued with my Evening Prayer for a Monday night, and I read the following:

Do not judge others, and you will not be judged,
For as you have judged them, so God will judge you.

The words seemed another shout about my willingness to give, another consideration for my prayers, and my humility.

But then later in the Night Prayer I read these words from Psalm 86:

In the day of distress, I will call
and surely you will reply.

Ah yes, there’s words showing my level of trust --- when I call to God and it’s for me and my distress, then I really do trust Him.  But if I am (as I pray in the Prayer of St Francis) seeking to be an instrument of His peace, to be God’s presence to my neighbors, then why can’t friends and even strangers call to Him in the above prayer, and God use me to provide an answer from Him, and be a real instrument of His peace in THEIR time of distress? 

Why can’t I listen for that small, still voice of God’s call, and recognize that sometimes it comes to me from my neighbor’s mouth?

And then finally last night I read this:

Humility is to charity what the foundation is to a building.
-- Divine Intimacy, Monday, Second Week of Lent (p301)

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At mass this morning, I had one final thought on these matters.  I was saying a short prayer to Fr. Benedict Groeschel to intercede for me this day when I recalled a check I had given him one Christmas many years ago.  It was a large amount and I told him to give it to someone he didn’t want to give it to.  If they ask, give this money to them, even if you don’t want to, I said.  Call it a lesson in humility for yourself.  He did what I asked, and in subsequent years as our paths crossed, he always remembered that request. 

And now, as I prayed about giving to someone I don’t want to, these thoughts of Bennie, and my request came to mind.  He probably whispered them in my ear in response to my prayer to him.  And I can almost hear him laughing.  And I almost wanted to laugh aloud with him.