Lent Day 30: All Knowledge

 But you have been anointed by the Holy One, and all of you have knowledge.

OR

But you have been anointed by the Holy One, and you have all knowledge.

~1 John 2:20

A blurry bud opening on a lilac tree.

In the middle of a rant on the coming of antichrists (note the s: there will not be one, but many), the first letter of John has this little jewel of a verse. You have been anointed by God, and you all have knowledge. Or, you have been anointed by God, and you have all knowledge. It's one of those tricky moments in translation when two different things are perfectly reasonable translations of a Greek sentence.  

But look closer, and you can see that the writer is encouraging a group of people-- this letter is not to a solitary person, but to a community. They lovingly address this community as "little children." We don't have to choose a translation; both are true. 

  But you [all] have been anointed by the Holy One, and [together] you have [all] knowledge.

In a fearful time, a community of faith may struggle to know what is the next best step to take, the next right thing to do. There are always competing priorities, with very good rationales behind them. What does it mean that we have "all knowledge" when it can be so frustrating and overwhelming to come to consensus, let along making a decision that excites and energizes us as a community?

Sometimes things take their own time.

Years ago I was trying to come to a decision about a huge change--leaving one denomination and joining another. It was torturous. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure. I didn't want to do it for the wrong reasons. I wanted to be sure I was being called by God. But I couldn't tell. 

In frustration I went to a friend's house and said, Help! I'm trying to make this decision, but I just can't. I don't know what to do.

I went on like that for a while, essentially saying the same thing in a lot of different ways. Finally I was silent. And my friend was silent.

It was an icy winter night. My friend's house was warm. I sat in the silence with her for a bit. 

Finally, my friend said, Maybe you need to accept that this is a time of not knowing. And then there will come a time of knowing. 

This bit of wisdom resonated with me. In fact, it was a huge relief--the idea of saying, I don't know, but practicing being ok with that, with trusting that the decision, the knowledge, would reveal itself in time. It was a gift. It was a revelation.

So I entered a period of not knowing. And, in this case, it didn't take long. Several weeks later it was as clear to me as a blue sky in spring. 

Sometimes things take their own time. Things are gestating--even in our souls. They are growing, and developing, and coming to maturity, and we have to allow them the time they need to do that.

Because, it is true. By virtue of our baptism, God has anointed us and we have a knowing that can't be undone. In community, we can share our ideas, discern together, pray together, and trust that, yes, there may be times of not knowing. We can learn to abide in the not knowing, but with trust. Eventually, we will know--when the time is right.