Our Desires Are Too Weak

O Lord, I do not know what to ask of you.
You alone know what are my true needs.
You love me more than I myself know how to love.
I dare not ask either a cross or consolation.
I can only wait on you.
My heart is open to you. Amen. — Philaret of Moscow


John Piper (of whom, to be honest, I am not a huge fan, but I think he got this right) said in a sermon that he does not preach to felt needs. Although it is obviously important that a pastor be able to care for and tend to the needs of the members of a congregation/community, perhaps the greatest service a pastor can do for parishioners is to show them that their desires are disordered, weak, and in need of extensive renovation. C. S. Lewis once said, "Our Lord finds our desires not too strong but too weak." Desire drives human existence, but we desire the wrong things and whatever part of us that might approach or border on correct desire is feeble and flimsy at best. We do not know what we need or even what we want, because the things we think we want and need will never bring satisfaction. If our desire is for money, we fall into the sin of greed; if our desire is for esteem, we fall into the sin of pride; if our desire is for food, we fall into the sin of gluttony; if our desire is for sex, we fall into the sin of lust; and on and on. These desires are disordered and weak. These desires can make our lives seem worth living in the eyes of the world, but they ruin our lives in the eyes of God. We were made to desire God so passionately that this desire would thoroughly ruin our lives on this earth. Jesus did not say that if we follow him, everyone will love us; he said, "If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you" (John 15:18).

Julian of Norwich knew full well that if she were to pursue anything short of the fullness of God, she would always find herself lacking, her needs and wants unfulfilled. In her record of the divine revelations, she prays, "God, of your goodness give me yourself, for you are sufficient for me. I cannot properly ask anything less, to be worthy of you. If I were to ask less, I should always be in want. In you alone do I have all." This is the desire for which we were created: to be worthy to abide in the fullness and mercy of God. Before partaking in Mass, the monks of Christ in the Desert Monastery in New Mexico pray this simple request: "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you. Only say the word, and I will be." There are desires that we can try to fulfill on our own. We can seek out power and prestige to sate our thirst for the approval of others; we can find someone who will sleep with us and slake our lust. But when our desires are reoriented and strengthened, we find that the only one who can satisfy those desires is God.

But here's the question: what can a preacher say every Sunday in the pulpit to shape and convert the desires of those in the congregation? How can a minister strike a balance between taking good pastoral care of people while turning their worlds on end? It seems to me that the task of caring for and tending to the perceived wants and needs of people while simultaneously telling them that their desires are misguided and weak would be extremely difficult and even delicate. Too often I feel that pastors spend so much time trying to meet people where they are that they forget that there is a better place to which they need to help bring them. On the other hand, plenty of people speak the hard truth that we want the wrong things and that the desires we do have are weak and pathetic, but in such a way that those who hear it feel attacked rather than loved and challenged. This is one of the most daunting of the tasks before me: to love and cherish those to whom I will one day minister as they are while shaking them out of the slumber that lets us be lulled into complacency by desires that do not align with the reality that we were made to want God more than anything else.